#had this lying in my drafts for a while decided to do something about it

[mayearies]

☆.

QUEENS TREAT

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒

˚ʚ property of ©hiimayee ɞ˚

genre: fluff (angst if you really squint) | warnings: spanish request: “a miles morales x reader, with the reader spoiling miles because a bunch of fanfics have him spoiling us, like reader has a job, and when she gets her paycheck; she decides to spend it on her man, because he’s always spending whatever he can on her; so to make up for it she brings him to one of his favorite stores and is like ‘get what you want’.” requester tag: @gw3ndyswonderland a/n: I POSTED THE DRAFT ON ACCIDENT AND LOST THE REQUEST IM SO SORRY but here you go hope i did it justice 😞

summary: miles’ girlfriend spoils her man after her shift translations: mi corazón / my heart . no te preocupes / don’t worry . amor / love . déjalo, por favor / drop it, please . no tenías que / you didn’t have to . gracias / thank you . mi teroso / my treasure

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

e42 miles and you were laying on his bed, you watching tv while he was scrolling through his phone laying on your lap. you would peek at it from the corner of your eye once in a while to see what he was looking at but it didn’t peak your interest that much. that is, until he came across an ad on his homepage.

“mi corazón, you like those?”

miles turned his head to you and flipped his phone upside down on your lap, “yeah, but i can buy them myself. no te preocupes.”

you felt a little guilty with the same answer you would get every time. yoou offered to buy something for him. after overhearing a conversation about his mom struggling, you wanted to start making it up to him—buying him the things he would buy you.

“that’s not what i asked.” “c’mon amor, i can’t have you spending money on me.” “nuh uh. do you want the shoes or no?” “… no.”

and that happened every time too. he would switch his answer last minute. but you could tell he didn’t mean it and he did want those shoes. but also knowing him, he wouldn’t let you buy them for him.

thats when you had the idea. “wait, sit up for a second.” you grabbed two jackets of his—one for you and one for him. he was skeptical until he heard your keys jingling and some rustling.

“are you leavin’, ma?” “no, but we are.”

☆ you took him to an outlet down a couple of exits, encouraging him to pick whatever he wanted and you would pay for. you didn’t want anything, and you didn’t want your paycheck to just be lying around or else you might get the temptation to buy something you don’t need.

☆ after some back and forth, he loosened up and confied to your offer. he didn’t want to be too greedy with his choices , so he intentionally stayed where the cheaper shoes were (even if they were ugly as fuck) until you caught on and had to push him further out of his comort zone when shopping with his lady.

“mami, i mean-” “you don’t want sketchers, miles. they aren’t even in your size. déjalo, por favor.”

☆ he left with two pairs of new jordans that night, and in return he gave you a bunch of kisses all round your face.

“gracias, mami. no tenías que.” “it’s no big deal, only the best for mi teroso.”

after he kissed you delicately on the lips, you saw a crocs store only a few stores down and your face lit up. he smiled when he saw it. “you want matchin’ crocs?”

“do i??” “haha, only on one condition—i pay for ‘em.”

©hiimayee

#miles morales #miles g morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales blurbs #e!42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales earth 42 #miles 42 #42 miles morales #earth 42 #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader

[ivestas]

underlying bitterness

Summary: You were depressed. The family is quick to notice. 

Tags: platonic!yandere!batfam x fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, depression, coddling, isolation, etc (you know the drill)

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: temporarily back from the dead! decided to finish this since i had it collecting dust in my drafts LMAO---apologies for my lack of writing, i have several projects im combing through and school 😭

The manor never really was quiet; there was always something going on.

The only time the quiet came was when they were out for patrol, or when everyone was asleep—but even then, there always seemed to be a pervasive spirit of noise and life that, on a good day, didn’t bother you.

But today was a bad one. Today, everything was an unbearable stretch of life, a near-constant torment of both mind and soul, leaving you incapacitated by your own head. 

It was these days where the bearable—hell, even the nice—was acidic on your gaunt body. 

A knock on the door had you wearily raising your head. 

A call of your name bounced through the door. The voice was bright and chirpy, downright dripping with honey. “You okay in there? Can I come in?” 

Eleven minutes alone? New record.

You sighed. The question only had one answer. 

“Yes, and yes.” 

The door to your bedroom opened silently, barely a squeak from the hinges. Dick revealed himself with a giant dopey grin, Damian just a step behind him. 

You didn’t bother smiling. “Hey.” 

“Hi!” Bright as always, his movement carried an excitable sway, acting more like a kid than a 20-something bonafide detective/vigilante. There was something predatory about it, an inherent layer of manipulative intent with it that never left you at ease. 

At least Damian was always himself, the deep-set frown never leaving his face in anyone’s presence, including yours. 

You would’ve been inclined to like him had it not been for the palpable softness that eased the furrows of his brows. 

Shifting under the heavy blankets, you pat the other side of the bed, the movement practiced and learned. Routine. 

Damian was the one to take the invitation while Dick sat at the end of your side. He rarely sat there. You didn’t care to decipher his intentions, merely regarding him with the same placidity as you had before. 

“So..?” 

“The family’s noticed you’ve been off lately?” 

Ah.

You shifted some more, feeling the weight of their stares assess every micro-movement made. It wasn’t subtle. This was an interrogation, not their self-indulgent visits that had you puking right after. 

“I’m on my period,” you responded bluntly. 

“Your cycles aren’t during this time of month.” Dick’s voice was deceptively light. 

"Hm, well, the female body works in mysterious ways.” 

“Then I’m gonna go check the washroom garbage.”

The silence of your mind buzzed to life. “What?” 

“I’m gonna go check the washroom garbage.” He repeated, rising from the bed. 

What the fuck.

You could let him go and find out for himself that you were, indeed, lying. However, you weren’t in the mood to deal with the punishments that came with that...

...Though, regardless, you were going to be punished. Lying—especially to Dick of all people—never bode you well. 

Really, maybe you just weren’t in the mood to deal with the drama, the stormy face he’ll don when he walks out the washroom after finding out the lie. 

So you sighed tiredly, back sinking further into the thick pillow. “I lied.” 

Dick’s pleasant expression flickered. Damian’s stare deepened in its calculating weight. 

Dick spoke slowly. “You know what happens when you lie.” 

You sighed again. It bordered a scoff. “Hurry up with it then.” 

The smile turned to a neutral line, though you knew he was feeling anything than neutral. Dick loathed lies, but he kept a calm voice. “Why’ve you been off lately?” 

“I lied, Dick. Aren’t you supposed to do what you usually do? Neglect and all.” You were flippant. This was gonna make it worse, and at this point you knew better, you always tried to avoid this, but something was possessing you. 

A will, or more accurately, a lack thereof. 

“Just tell him,” Damian hissed. 

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “No.” 

Dick breathed slowly. “Why?” 

“Because you’ll make me feel bad for it.” 

He blinked. Surprised. 

Why was he surprised? Is this another manipulation tactic? 

Probably. Why did you even bother trying to decipher his intentions? Their intentions?

“You’ll make it about you guys. How bad you guys feel. How you want the best for me.” You yawned. “I’m not in the mood to humor that. Pull that some other time, I just need to recuperate. Touch bases with my soul and all that hippie shit.” Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Okay?” 

A pause thickened the tension in the air tenfold. 

Then, it was Damian who spoke. “You’re..?” 

“Depressed.” Dick finished, mild disbelief lacing his words. What stood out was the underlying offended tone the word wore. 

You didn’t bother responding, keeping your eyes shut, pulling the covers over your chin. It was only midday, but you were tired. 

“Why are you... ‘depressed’?” Damian was the one to speak, now with incredulity. 

“Why is the sky blue?” You muttered. 

Cold fingers brushed your cheek, a colder voice poking through. “Open your eyes when you talk.” 

You did as told, looking up at him from your curled position. “Why are you depressed?” He repeated with a voice of iron. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded. “None of it does. I’ll be better soon. I just need you to give me space.” 

Another pause. 

Then, uncharacteristically, Damian slipped away. He glanced over where Dick was. 

Dick, even more uncharacteristically, nodded and slipped away, walking with Damian out the room. 

In any other circumstance, your blood would run cold. 

But, at that moment, you were thankful for the temporary relief. 

-----

You hadn’t thought you’d sleep, but you did, only to be awaken by Tim. 

“Dinner’s ready.” He said, eyes burning into yours. 

You grunted, tossing the sheets away. The cold raked your body. Getting off the bed, you glanced out the barred window. 

Sunset. 

How long did you sleep? 

And how come they let you sleep for so long, undisturbed? 

You didn’t care to wonder. Blearily nodding to Tim, you tipped your head to the washroom. “I’m gonna clean up a little, give me a—”

“You look fine, just come.” His hand, now wrapped tightly around your wrist, left no room for complaint. 

Faintly sighing, you nodded again. He led you out the room and through the colder corridors of the manor, down several staircases and past various pillars and paintings you’re always surprised to see, as if you hadn’t been housed in the manor for two-something years. 

Two years. 

730 days wasted here. 

730 days, never to be recovered. 

Your chest tightened, but your heart was empty.

Pushing the thought away, you blankly focused on the outstretched dining table you’d eaten countless meals on. 

Tim said your name. 

You look at him, confused. 

“Sit?” 

Oh. Right. 

You slipped onto the chair, vaguely aware of your surroundings. 

“...That’s my seat.” 

“Sorry,” you moved to get up, but his hands pressed down on your shoulders. 

“No, it’s fine, I’m just surprised. That’s all. You’re usually pretty attentive.”

“Sorry,” you repeated. 

Tim didn’t respond, opting to sit beside you. 

You were vaguely aware of the rest of the family settling in their respective positions—Bruce sitting at the head on your left, Dick sitting across you with Damian to his right, and at the end of the table Jason settled with a tired huff.

What you were fully aware of however was how good the food. The aroma was thick and savory, leaving your mouth to water 

Raising a fork, you dug into the food. 

“How was your day?” Bruce was the one to break the silence, and you notice him looking at you. 

“It was good,” you mumbled around the food. 

A silence cradled the room for a moment, the clanks of silverware mute. 

“Was it?”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“What, is there a right answer to this?” You were daring, careless with your tongue. “Should’ve given me a textbook, woulda studied real hard before coming down.” 

“The right answer is the truth,” Jason spoke up, mouthful of food. “Dickie’s all red and angry you can’t even tell the truth. Honestly? So am I.”

“We all are,” Tim murmured. 

“But you know? We care for you. So just tell us what’s up, yeah?” Although his voice was light, there was an underlying threat to Jason’s words. Tell us or else. 

You set the fork down and looked at Bruce—whose eyes were sweeping all over your face, calculating—the both of you having frowns tugging at your lips. “Okay. I feel like shit. A dumpster fire. Like my very body has been corrupted by dark—I don’t know exactly what that means, but I feel it, so worth mentioning, right?—anyway, all I ask is to be left alone for a bit. That is what will make my mind better. Just a day of quiet. Please?” 

“...Voluntary isolation is a sign of clinical depression,” Bruce began. “And that would do you no good. What you need is the support of family to help you through this illness.” 

“God, no—”

“Listen.” Damian hissed. 

You shut your mouth, eyes downcast. 

“What will happen is every night, you talk to Dick about whatever’s bothering you. Or anyone else. You will talk, and that will help. Anything you need, just tell them; you know this.” 

“Why not get an actual therapist?”

“You can’t trust all therapists,” Dick jumped in. “I’ve trained in psychology, I know all the therapy ins-and-outs. I can help you as well as any licensed one would—if not, better!”

You stifled a sigh but didn’t bother pushing saying anything. 

“You don’t look to happy about that,” Dick commented. “It’s okay. I know its hard to open up when you’ve suffered in silence for so long, but we’re all on your side, okay?”

Jesus. 

You looked down at the food, picking up the fork. It took you everything not to bash your head against the table.  

#yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #batfam x reader #batman x reader

[likedovesinthewindd]

Hii I little angsty request but could you do one where reader comforts hobie after his Canon event?

Somthing where reader keeps rambling because she doesnt know how else to fill the silence and they end up having the- "do you want me to shut up" "No" "do you want me to leave?" "...no"- conversation

ok so in the movie itself it doesn't really go into detail ab what hobie's canon event is exactly, and a lot of theories talk about it being him killing a police captain. then there's also the shot that shows him throwing away his suit. in the comics he kills president osborne and reveals his identity so that could also be it but idk!! maybe i didn't catch it but i left it as ambiguous so that you could kinda go with whatever.

hobie brown x fem! reader

warning: mentions of death, ingury

wc: ±1400

a/n: this was slow-cooking in my damn drafts but i finally got it done.

The pelts of rain that fall against your bedroom door in their uncoordinated rhythm does little to lull you back to sleep as you thrash around in the sheets, your mind torturing you with the recurring thoughts of 'what if?'

What if he got hurt? What if he's lying somewhere, bleeding out and slipping right through your fingers? What if he was already dead, killed in cold blood by one of the many people against him and the message he so fearlessly and shamelessly carries with him.

You turn around in bed once again, willing the thoughts away as you try to focus on something less pessimistic.

You haven't heard from Hobie in days, haven't seen him even longer ago. It wasn't uncommon for him to dissappear like this—you almost expected it from him considering what he did—but it's never been this long before. The longest he's been gone was four days. It's been ten today.

You knew he could take care of himself, and you knew he could protect himself well. Hell, you've both heard and seen what happened to the people that underestimated him. But you still worried, it was in your nature to worry about him every time he left you. He knew this, and he'd do his best to reassure you in his own laid-back, almost cocky way.

"You worry too much, love. 'll be back before you knowit, yeah?" was what he'd always say, leaving you with a kiss to the forehead. You couldn't exactly remember what he said when he left days ago.

At that, your mind whirred back to life, the what if's and gruesome scenarios plaguing you for the umpteenth time this day alone. Before these thoughts could once again pull you into a depreciating hole of anxiety and stress, you shot out of bed, the cold air at once causing goosebumps along the expanse of your arms

You had to do something; move around, clean your room, watch TV, fold laundry, anything to get your mind off of things, even if only for a little while. You decided to make your way to the kitchen, make yourself something to eat, considering you've been too on edge to stomach anything truly filling.

The soothing voice of Billie Holiday filled the kitchen from the old record player, as you absent-mindedly stirred at the pot of pasta, the pan next to it simmering with sauce. Your reverie was broken by the sound of your bedroom window being slid open, followed by the thud of boots and a loud sigh.

Your heart sunk down to the soles of your feet, as you quietly yet excitedly made your way to your bedroom. There he stood, pulling at his mask, the rest of him soaked from the heavy downpour. He pulled the mask from his face, and once his eyes met yours, you knew something was wrong.

You made your way over to him, your socked feet trying to avoid the small puddle his boots had made as you took his cold hands in yours. He took a second to look down at where your hands connected, and released another tired sigh. "Bee?" you asked, trying to get him to look at you. He looked up at you with sullen eyes.

"Are you hungry?" you asked softly. You didn't ask him where he was, or what he was doing. He wasn't going to give you a real answer anyway. Not right now, at least. You didn't pry at that part of his life, although the various news reports and newspaper articles kept you more than informed most of the time. That was if they weren't being filtered through by the regime of the higher ups, them not very keen on telling the story how it really is. Much more interested in keeping their hands seemingly clean, and painting him as the bad guy; the wannabe hero trying to further worsen the state of the already near-apocalyptic nation.

He only nodded at you question, and you nodded along with him, already seeing that it was going to be one of those nights; where he much rather preferred you did all the talking, while he mulled over whatever event had occurred.

"Go take a shower, I'll finish up the food," you said softly, leaving him and returning to the kitchen. After a while he emerged from the bedroom, changed into dry clothes as he made his way to the kitchen table. He sat by the island quietly, watching you cook and listening to you as you talked about what you'd been up to. He didn't miss the small "I missed you, bee. You had me worried," thrown in.

It wasn't long till the both of you sat in your small living room after finishing your food. You could see he wasn't really hungry, but he ate just to give you some peace of mind. The sound of Billie Holiday was by now traded for Amy Winehouse, her beautifully gruff voice mixing perfectly with the sound of the rain that still pelted against the windows.

"—I knew she was only joking, but I was still scared as hell. You know how easily I get stressed out," you rambled on about whatever stupid story you could think of, anything to fill the deafening silence between the two of you. You, by now, were on your third story already, and you could feel how irritating you probably were. You were trying to get him to react, to snicker, laugh, make one of his sarcastic remarks, anything to tell you he was alright. You could see he wasn't alright, though.

He looked so tired, like something was eating at him, and it killed you to see him like this. It was obvious that whatever had happened was not just one of those nights, but something much more serious.

You followed his line of sight, where he had been staring at the coffee table with a blank stare, eyes trained on the cover of a newspaper you had bought.

"Do you want me to shut up?" you asked quietly, at your wits end. He finally looked at you, shaking his head slowly. "No," he added, voice gruff and deep from no use. You nodded, moving closer to him and placing your hand on his leg, giving it a light squeeze.

"I decided to buy one today, when I passed the convenience store 'round the corner from work," you started, "yeah...haven't read one in ages. There's actually an article about you in there, don't know how they managed to get that printed," you laughed weakly. "They called you 'Spiderpunk', I know how much you hate that," you added quietly, your resolve crumbling when the only thing you got out of him was a scoff. Usually he'd go on a tangent about how much he hated the term, but tonight he was so quiet, so sullen it actually unnerved you.

"I'm here if you want to talk, you know that, right?" you asked, and he gave you a nod. "Perhaps not right now, but when you're ready, I'll be here. I'll always be here. Even if we end up never talking about it, it's fine." For a moment his face faltered, looking as though he desperately wanted to talk to you about whatever happened, but the words got stuck in his throat, making him swallow dryly.

"D'you want me to leave? Give you some space?" you asked again, and when his eyes met yours, you could see every hidden emotion in them, every unsaid word he so desperately wanted to utter to you. The sight made your heart clench. How badly you wanted to wrap your arms around him, make him forget, but if he wanted distance, it was what you'd give him.

Once again it was just the sound of Amy Winehouse and the downpour filling the small room, along with Hobie's deep and steady breaths against your collarbones.

"No, stay a bit," he said, and you nodded once again. You moved impossibly closer to him, finally wrapping your arms around his neck and engulfing him in an embrace. He accepted your affection, responding by wrapping his long arms around your waist and practically pulling you into his lap, placing his head on your shoulder and letting out another exhausted sigh.

He can only hold her, miss Winehouse sang.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown angst #hobie brown fic #hobie brown #spiderman atsv #likedovesinthewindd

[dragonismo]

— of lies and empty promises.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Strong! Reader.

trope: something between star-crossed lovers and friends x enemies.

synopsis: while you enjoy a pleasant afternoon together, the differences between your families begin to make their way into your friendship, giving rise to moments of discontent between both young highnesses.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: Young Aemond and reader. I would believe there is no more warnings. Only Aemond is a tad bit possessive, jealous, and manipulative. Perhaps.

an: I've had this story saved in drafts since season 1 ended, but I've been neglecting it. Now, after seeing how hot handsome Aemond looks in the season 2 trailer, my fixation is back and so is my desire to publish this. This is something like a small introduction to what I have planned, so please, if you are interested, stay tuned for the next chapters!

You and Aemond were resting under the shade of the weirwood, with the sunlight filtering through its branches and red leaves. It was the most tranquil place in the Red Keep, ideal for doing nothing but enjoying a well-deserved rest after a day full of study and sword training, and as it was a rather warm summer afternoon, the mood was truly pleasant.

"I wish every day were this peaceful," you commented as you lay on the grass. "I would spend my entire life here if I knew no one would dare bother me. Can you imagine? Just lying in the sun, with no one behind rushing us to our lessons. And so, perhaps we could spend more time together."

"As far as I am aware, no one keeps you from my company," Aemond replied as he lay down next to you, palms flat on his stomach, legs crossed.

His comment made you frown: was he playing the fool, or was he really oblivious to certain glances? While shading your eyes from the sun with one hand, you tilted your face towards him before responding. "Oh, but they do, they sure do. I bet you know it is so."

"Oh, and by whom?" he inquired with a mischievous grin, one that vanished as soon as he heard the answer to his own question.

"The Queen."

Oh now that made him roll his eyes.

It was an immediate reaction, as Aemond was more than used to hearing you refer to his mother as if she were an impediment to your friendship, being that she never raised any objection despite her own opinions regarding Rhaenyra's children.

And how could she not have them? It was more than clear to him not only the truth hidden behind his mother's suspicions, but also how they were much more than mere prejudices towards the Princess.

"As I have told you countless times before," he said, not bothering to hide the subtle hint of frustration he felt at bringing up the issue again. "My mother holds no grudge against you."

"Then maybe her face hasn't caught on," you countered. "Or have you not seen how she scowls upon seeing me?"

"Believe me, you are not the source of her complaints. Mother spends more time grumbling about your brothers than about you, and rightfully so. They are fiends. You are not to deny it."

But to you it didn't seem such a far-fetched idea. You were about to argue once more, but then suddenly refrained from voicing your own opinion on the matter. You knew Aemond's position; how he preferred to turn a deaf ear and therefore often dismissed the matter. After all, what could the Queen do? She was not going to succeed in separating you both when the King was more than delighted with your bond.

Moreover; was it really worth arguing? It would do nothing but sour things between you two, something you feared greatly, for you held Aemond in high regard.

"Do as you wish," you replied. You did not want to interrupt the peaceful mood with reminders of the many quarrels that prevailed in your family, and so as usual, you decided to remain silent and put the whole matter aside. Still, your discontent showed on your face. "I was only expressing my desire to spend each day as I do now. I wish my only duty was to lie here and take a nap."

Aemond chuckled. "I fail to see where I fit in."

"I m afraid you are too irritating to be a part of it."

"Well, that is rather unkind of you. And selfish, I would say, as I want to be included anyhow," Aemond retorted stubbornly.

As he sat now with his hands on his knees, he looked at you with a determination unbecoming of someone his age, for not even men sounded as certain when they chose their greatest pursuits. But in Aemond's eyes, at nothing but ten years old, there wasn't a hint of doubt when he said, "Every time I imagine where I wish to be, you are by my side. Even in my dreams I relish in your company. I believe it is only fair that I am part of your ambitions and yearnings too, would you not think so? I would like it that way."

"But I never asked for such a thing," you replied. "Why am I to even consider it? I want my dreams to be my own, and not shared with anyone else. Dreams are one's own thing after all. So I wonder, why share them with me?"

"Because I love you, of course," Aemond answered you without further regard. "And if you love me as much, you must include me in yours, for not to do so means our friendship is not as important to you as it is to me," he added that last bit with a hint of playfulness.

You then turned to look at him. "Not as important?"

How confusing. It should bother you to hear him claim such a thing, for after all, were you not the one who had always defended him from the ill-treatment of your brothers? Were you not the one who had shown him unconditional affection despite the growing differences between your family? Were you not the one who, even in these moments, and as hard as it was not to, had never been upset with him? For even when you were accused of loving him less or branded as egotistical, you worried that those concerns were far more than harmless banter.

"Of course I love you as much. I would say more, even."

Aemond's smile widened, as he had expected such an answer. "And yet, it is I who always has you in mind. Who loves whom the most, then?"

"Me," you wanted to say. But was love not too big a concept for such young people?

You were taken aback. Not because the answer would be disheartening, and certainly not because you doubted the extent of your affection for him, quite the opposite: for one as young as yourself, the dephts of your feelings frightened him.

Then, instead of answering his question, you sat up, wiped the dust from your hands on your robes, and with sudden curiosity asked, "And what is that dream of yours, pray tell? I reckon it is no more mind-boggling than mine, where I gorge myself in lemon tarts as I ride the Black Dread."

Aemond snickered at your comment, but his words sounded a bit too serious to be a jest when he uttered them. "Well of course it is simpler. It is just about…"

"Your highness," a voice interrupted him.

A handmaiden approached from the opening, looking somewhere between hurried and delighted, something that intrigued you as much as it annoyed Aemond, who hoped this interruption would be brief so he could resume his comment. After a bow, however, he found her words rather daunting.

"Your mother sends for you, your highness. She wishes to introduce you to a new brother," the woman announced, which caught your attention so much it made you forget all about your previous conversation with him.

"My mother, you said?" you beamed before you pushed yourself up from the ground in no time, dusted off your clothes and bade Aemond farewell with such haste he could barely make out an "excuse me" as you and the handmaiden walked away.

He watched you as you ran ahead of her, clearly excited to meet what awaited you in your mother's chambers. As for him, he remained seated under the tree for a few seconds longer, a hint of jealousy souring his smile as his brow furrowed.

What a pleasant afternoon you were having so far. And yet again, your siblings always seemed to interrupt you both, even if they were not doing so directly. Will he ever be free of the burden of kinship?

How you could choose your brothers was beyond him. Was he not the one who often amused you? He had always considered himself closer to you than Jacaerys and Lucerys, but what was it about those bastards that always pulled you away from him nonetheless? And now there was a third!

Were his concerns correct then? Did he love you more than you loved him? But no, the very idea seemed so absurd it brought a scornful laugh from him.

You would never dare choose them over him!

"Damn them," he exclaimed before standing up as well. There was no use in staying here now that he was alone.

#aemond targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x male reader #hotd aemond #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon #hotd

[20-th-centurygirl]

distraction

jude bellingham x fem!reader

warnings: smut

summary: jude distracts you while you're tying to catch up on a show 🧎‍♀️

a/n: inspo from this on @judethluvr 's blog <3 decided to add this from @judeswhore 's blog too bc its so 🤭 also yes this ask is from a very long time ago this fic has genuinely been sat rotting away in my drafts for ages but enjoy

masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

jude had been away for the past few days so when you both finally had the chance to catch up on your favourite show you both jumped at it. jude was lying flat on his back on the sofa, you lying in between in his legs with your head on his chest. his steady breathing relaxing you and you couldn't help your eyes fluttering shut.

your eyes were fluttering closed, but they swiftly opened when you felt judes hand drifting further up your shirt, changing their position of being flat on your stomach to cup your boobs. it wasn't an unusual thing for jude to do, him often falling asleep that way and at first you assumed it was just another way of him trying to he close to you. his thumb gently stroked over your nipple and you hummed out softly. your own hand moved up and down on jude's thigh, drawing little hearts on it.

his fingers moved to trace your thighs, both of your gazes still fixed on the tv. jude mirrored your actions and he began tracing little hearts on your inner thigh as you leaned further into him. it didn't take him long before his fingertip moved to rub lazy circles on your clit over your shorts, while his other hand continued groping your boobs. he mumbled a barely audible "this okay?" and you hummed a yes, closing your eyes again.

without saying anything else he pulled them gently to the side. his gaze hadn't faltered and his actions were practically muscle memory. he grazed your clit lightly, dragging one finger down to gather your wetness before moving back to your clit. you bit your lip, attempting to stifle any noises that were threatening to escape your lips. you wanted more so you subtly bucked your hips up once but decided to do nothing else, hoping jude would get the message.

you felt him slide one of his fingers in and you couldn't help the little hitch in your breath. you knew jude would be cocky and would never let you live it down if you started moaning loudly or begging so you tried to keep your moans at bay. jude pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sliding in another finger as you whimpered out.

he curled his fingers in just the right way, that combined with the small flicks on your clit with his thumb and the way he rolled your nipple with his fingers had your eyes squeezing shut. really you had no reason to be quiet, but there was something about the way he was so casually making you feel so good while still entirely focused on something else was just so insanely hot to you and you were determined to not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much of a mess he could make you so easily.

you felt your orgasm creeping up on you and you gripped his hand that was moving inside of you. your chest was heaving and your eyes squeezed shut and you were sure judes hand has nail marks in it. you let a few small whimpers slip, jude still fingering you through your orgasm.

you stayed there with your head rested on jude and his hand splayed on your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. when you eventually shifted to look at jude you were greeted with the cockiest grin plastered on his face. "didn't even need to say anything and I got you that worked up huh?" he teased as you rolled your eyes at him, moving to straddle him.

you brought a hand down to squeeze his now very present bulge in his joggers "cause its impossible to get you worked up isn't it" you quipped back, leaning in to kiss him. judes hand moved to cup the back of your neck to hold you closer to him as yours travelled up his hoodie clad chest. your fingers slipped into it, tracing the warm skin of his stomach. when your fingers followed the small patch of hair that was present on his lower stomach he let out a small groan. you took advantage of that, sliding in your tongue to brush it against his.

you rolled your hips gently as jude pulled of your shirt. he peppered your chest with light kisses, swirling his tongue around your nipple in a way that had your head spinning instantly. "baby" you whimpered, gripping his shoulders. "desperate again?" he mumbled against your skin, feeling the smirk and the teasing undertone. 'yes i am just do something please" you whined, attempting to roll your hips again but jude gripped them to stop you.

he pulled down his joggers and boxers just enough for his cock to spring out and you felt yourself salivating at the sight. he pulled your shorts to the side again, wrapping an arm around you back to lift you on top of him. you gripped his shoulders as you both let out breathy moans.

judes hands guided your hips into a steady rhythm, attacking your neck and chest with kisses, sucking and biting until he was satisfied with the marks he'd left. you being almost naked while jude was still fully clothed sent you into overdrive, too overwhelmed by everything going on to focus.

the burn in your thighs became too much and you collapsed onto him 'jude I can't" you whimpered and he smirked for what felt like the hundredth time. 'aw poor baby' he mocked, sending you a fake pout before thrusting his hips up, perfectly hitting that spot that made you see stars.

your hands gripped onto his biceps, whining at the way they flexed in your fingers. 'doing so good for me angel. feels so good' jude grunted, his fingers harshly gripping onto the flesh of your ass. your head fell back and jude took advantage and attacked your throat with kisses, sucking harshly before soothing over the spot with his tongue. 'jude you're gonna make me cum fuck' you whimpered and jude's head began spinning.

'only me yeah? only i can make you feel this good huh?' his smirk and cocky tone only making your orgasm approach faster. you nodded and jude landed a particularly harsh slap to your ass 'use your words beautiful, i asked you a question?' one of his hands gripped your chin, angling your face so you could lock eyes with him. 'only you jude. only you can ever make me feel like this' you whined. jude leaned up, angling his mouth right by your ear 'good girl' he whispered before placing a delicate kiss to your cheek.

that was all it took for your orgasm to wash over you. your legs shook around him and your fingers dug into judes shoulders. his head fell back and loud moans tumbled from his throat, your orgasm triggering his as his whimpered out your name.

your head fell into the crook of his neck, collapsing onto him and his arms wrapped around your back. jude let out a breathy laugh, peppering kisses to the side of your head. 'fuck, that was amazing' he whispered and you grinned, lightly kissing his neck. you moved back to look at him, catching his mouth with yours. 'think we're gonna have to rewind this abit' you giggled.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham fanfic

[qrrieterisunnq]

Omgggg can you plraseee write about zegras with a fantilli sister????

thank you so much for requesting anon!! I have this in my drafts for a month, so it's finally here I hope you’ll like it! It's not the best thing I have written but...yeah... I have never written something with the Fantilli brothers so before... 🤍

California Secret - Trevor Zegras

trevor!zegras x fantilli!sister Summary: Trevor and y/n have been dating for a few months now, but what if her brothers, Luca, and Adam, have a game in California the same week, and decide to visit her, but find her in Trevor's apartment. requested: yes/no Warnings: insulting, mad Adam, crying, protective Trevor likes are good, reblogs are better <3 gif not mine Word count: 1,4K

masterlist | wip's

Lying in bed, warm body against your back, hot breath fanning over the back of your neck. You yawn quietly, stretching out your limbs as you turn in his hold.

His soft features are dazzled by the sun's rays, making you fall in love with him even more. Your fingers trace over his cheeks, down to his nose, which he scrunches under your touch. You smile at the action quiet giggle escaping your lips. Your fingers trace lover on his lips. Another giggle leaves your lips when he kisses the tips of your fingers and his hands tighten around you, flipping you on top of himself.

“Morning.” He whispers opening his blue eyes. Leaning down, you kiss the tip of his nose and then his lips.

“Good morning,” you whisper back, pushing yourself up, your forearms resting on his bare chest. “How’d you sleep?”

“With you in my arms,” he looks away from you, a wide grin forming on his lips. “Amazing.” He looks back at you, his eyes shining with love.

"I love you, T," you murmur on his lips as you lean down to kiss him. His hand slides up your back, resting on the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue finding its way into your mouth.

"I love you more, my love!" he sighs in the kiss, the feeling of his breath on your lips makes you smile widely. ”Okay get up! We have a lot to do today.” He pats your butt signaling you to get up from him and get something on your naked body.

“And that’s what?” you asked confused not remembering what you had in plan for today.

“I don’t know that yet, but I think just a lazy day on the couch with a movie and hot chocolate would be great.” He shrugs slipping his boxers on.

”Oh, okay!” you giggle slipping a shirt and panties on you, before you make your way down the hall to the kitchen to make breakfast. “Babe!! Wanna coffee or tea?”

“Green tea please!!” he shouts from the bedroom. A smile forms on your lips as you put the water in the teapot. Walking over to the radio that’s sitting on the window you turn it on, you’re hips immediately sway in the rhythm of the sound.

When Trevor comes into the kitchen, he’s dressed in a black hoodie and grey shorts, his hair is messy from the multiple times he’s been running his hand through them.

“Go put something on, I’ll make the breakfast.” He taps your butt a few times, kissing your neck.

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek making your way into the bedroom.

While you’re dressing yourself up, Trevor is getting the toast with avocado, and egg done. Just when he’s about to call after you, the bell rings. With furrowed eyebrows, he makes his way to the door swinging the open. His eyes grow wider when he realizes the two silhouettes standing there are your brothers. Adam and Luca.

“Oh, uhm, hi guys?” he let out a nervous chuckle stepping outside and closing slightly the door after him. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Had some free time before our flights so we decided to honor you with a visit.” Adam smiles showing Trevor's shoulder causing him to stumble backwards slightly. The two boys make their way inside the apartment sitting down on the couch.

“What’s the smell?” Luca asks his eyes roaming around the living room, straightening himself up when he catches a glimpse of something that looks like his sister's painting, but he shakes his head. There’s no way Trevor would have something that belongs to their sister. She and Trevor aren’t even friends.

“Breakfast, I just got up and-“ Trevor is interrupted by your voice.

“Who was that, ba-“ You stop in your track, your jaw dropping down and eyes widening when you see your brothers sitting on Trevor’s couch. Their backs are straightened, and surprised and confused looks make their way to their faces. –“What are you doing here?” your voice is pitched high as you nervously walk over to Trevor.

“What are we-” Adam mocks you laughing in the middle of his sentence. “What are you doing here?” this time his voice is rough, making you flinch.

Your hand grips Trevor’s, who’s pulling you closer to him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in your dorm?” Luca asks this time, anger in his voice. “And why the fuck do you have Trevor’s shirt on?”

“I-I-“Before you get any chance to say something, Adam is speaking again.

“You’re screwing him?” a scoff leaves his mouth when he catches a glimpse of Trevor’s hand on your hips. “Oh my god, you do.” He laughs sarcastically shaking his head.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “We-we are dating.” You try to explain the situation. “Dating?” Luca laughs standing from his position. “Wake up, y/n! You’re acting like you don’t know him!” he starts pacing over the living room, his hands in his hair. “You’re acting like a slut!” before he knew this sentence left his mouth. Luca’s eyes widened as soon as his words left his mouth. You choke on your sob when the words get to your ears.

Trevor’s hands clench in fists at the words, pulling you behind him. “What the fuck did you just call her?” his voice is deep and full of anger. Your hand is gripping the back of his shirt, while the other one is over your moth as you cry silently.

You expect some kind of bad reaction from them, but never in a million years you expected for Luca to tell you something like this.

You’re acting like a slut!

Acting like a slut!

Like a slut!

A slut!

Slut!

“Y/n…” he starts his eyes wide, his voice full of regret. “I-I didn’t mean to say this!”

“D-don’t!” you whisper, stepping from behind Trevor’s body, your eyes locked with Lucas. Sadness in his eyes and the tears are clear to see.

“Y/n…” Adam says this time, taking a step towards you. Trevor wants to step in front of you, but you stop him and Adam in their way.

“Can we just sit and talk about this?” you let out a sigh, pointing towards the couch. The three of them just nod their heads sitting down. You and Trevor sit on the opposite couch to them, your hand finding his.

“Y/n! I-I really didn’t mean to call you like that!” Luca says his voice full of regret and sadness.  

“I know, Lu,” You let out a sigh massaging the bridge of your nose. “But it still hurt, you know,” Luca nods his head tears welling up in his eyes, as soon as you see them spill over the edges you walk over to him, pulling him in a hug. “Don’t cry, Luca, it’s okay! You said it in the heat of the moment!”

“I’m awful brother.” He tightness his grip over you.

“No, you’re not! Now get your shit together so we can talk about it!” you scold him sitting back next to Trevor.

“How long?” Adam says for the first time since his yelling.

“A few months.” you look over to Trevor squeezing his hand in yours.

“Eight to be clear.” Trevor looks up at you, a loving smile resting on his full lips.

“That’s a long time,” Adam says, his eyes glutted on the ground, his hand on his jaw. “Why haven’t you told us?” he then looks up at you his eyes flicker between the two of you. He hates that you weren’t able to tell them about your relationship with Trevor.

“Adam, that’s really stupid question,” you shake your head chuckling slightly. “You just saw how you two reacted, how do you think you would react if I just told you?”

“Yeah, probably worst.” He chuckles, the atmosphere in the room lightening.

“Yeah.” You nod looking at your brothers who are looking at you with so much love in their eyes.

“I uhm…You ugh mad?” Trevor asks them, voice low and full of uncertainty.

“The hell I am! You are fucking my sister!” Luca exclaims. You can see his lips quirking up how hard he’s trying to not laugh at Trevor's expression.

“Relax, my love, he’s making a fun of you!” you laugh with both of your brothers nudging Trevor’s arm.

“Piece of shits, you are.” He shakes his head laughing with you.

#nhl #trevor zegras #tz11 #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras fic #luca fantilli #nhl hockey #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras imagine #adam fantilli #anaheim ducks #nhl fanfiction #trevor zegras fanfic

[strniohoeee]

Broken

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is depressed, and Matt takes notice to her behavior. Matt being the good friend he is he tries to get her out of her funk, but will it work?🫂

Warnings⚠️: None just mentions of depression. This was a request but Tumblrs being a munch and not letting me add it

Song for the imagine: hope ur ok- Olivia Rodrigo

But, God, I hope that you’re happier today

Cause I love you

And I hope that you’re okay

It’s been getting worse. I hate this feeling, this darkness that consumes me. I wanted nothing more than to feel okay. I hate the way my depression swallowed me whole and made me want to disappear from the face of the earth.

I just wanted to feel okay, I wanted to feel normal and not drained. I know my friends were getting annoyed with me. I would slip into these phases of not wanting to talk to them, see them, go out with them. I mean I could barely get out of my bed to do anything. Often skipping meals and not drinking water. I would just sleep all fucking day and cry when I was awake.

I was fortunate enough to be an influencer, so I didn’t have to worry about actually getting up to work. I posted YouTube drafts and TikTok drafts. It worked for a while, but people started to catch on, and were wondering where I went. I couldn’t even be honest and come out and say I was so depressed I couldn’t even sit up in my bed.

The one person who noticed the fastest was Matt. Randomly one day he started texting me wondering how I was doing, what I was doing, if I wanted to hang out with him and his brothers, if I wanted to join them for dinner, if I wanted to film a video with them. I appreciated it truly, but I also kept lying to him. Telling him that I was busy or I had plans, or I was filming. I could not allow anyone to see me this way. I mean I didn’t even want to see myself this way…..

Matt had put me in a groupchat with Chris and Nick, and honestly it was making me feel better. They kept my mind off of things by constantly making me laugh. I mean they would text from 10AM till 2AM every single day.

The blue eyed freaks🧿🧿

-Y/N can you pleaseeeeee come hang out with us we haven’t seen you in like two months- Chris

-Idkkkk -me

-plzzzzz like you never hangout with us anymore-Nick

-yeah I’ve just been busy-me

-busy??? Yeah right not busy enough to not hang out with us- Chris

-hey if she doesn’t want to hangout don’t force her, but we do miss you and would love to see you-Matt

-thanks Matt🖤-me

-booooo boring come over now, or I’ll come pick you up-Chris

-you can’t even drive Chris-me

-okay….ill get matt to drive me to come pick you up-Chris

-fineeeeee okay fine I’ll be over in a hour-me

-FUCKKKKK FINALLY OMG YES- Chris

-see yall soon<3-me

I had gotten up and decided to shower, washing my hair and just really try to clear my mind, and enjoy the fact that I’m getting to see my friends again. I hadn’t been out of my house in a good month, and this was giving me major anxiety.

I felt like once they’d see me they would know I haven’t been okay, and that’s something that scared me. I had to seem okay. I was never the one who broke down… ever.

I hadn’t finished getting ready. At first I wanted to put on some makeup to hide my dark eyes, but I decided against it because I really wasn’t in the mood. I headed out, and drove to the triplets house. When I got there Matt texted me letting me know that the door was unlocked and to meet them in his room.

I let myself in and walked to Matt’s room.

“Y/N” Chris yelled coming over and hugging me

“Hi guys” I said laughing

“She’s aliveeee” Nick said hugging me

“How have you guys been?” I asked plopping myself down on Matt’s bed with them

“We’ve been good, just filming honestly” Matt said

“Nice that’s always fun” I said

“I love it so much truly, but how have you been?” Nick asked

“I’ve been good, you know. Just uhhh been busy” I said lying straight through my teeth

“Nice, what have you been doing” Matt asked

“Oh you know just filming and editing and just going out with some of my other friends” I said

“I love your hair color by the way, when did you dye it red?” Chris asked me

“Oh like two months ago I need to get my roots done actually” I said running my hands through my hair

“Two months ago? I thought this was recent all your TikTok’s and YouTube videos your hair was black” Matt said looking at me suspiciously

“Oh uhhh” was all I could manage because I knew Matt was onto me

“Okay anyways I’m hungry” Chris said breaking the awkwardness

“Me too” Nick said

“McDonald’s?” Chris asked

“Fuck yes” Matt responded

“Okay Matt can you pick it up for us” Chris said pleading

“Uhhh I guess i have too since yall can’t drive” he said rolling his eyes

“I can drive” I said smiling

“Yayyyy this is why I love you” Chris said

“I’ll mobile order it so it’s less stressful” Nick said

They all put in their orders, and they handed the phone to me. My anxiety making me nauseous and not really in the mood to eat

“Oh I don’t think I’m going to get anything” I said

“WHAT? McDonald’s is your favorite” Nick said

“Uhh yeah I’m just not in the mood” I said

“Do you want something else?” Matt asked

“No I’m not hungry” I said looking at him

Matt nodded before taking the phone, messing with it f and then handing it to Nick.

“Alright let’s head out” I said

“Nick and I want to stay back y’all can go though” Chris said

“Sneaky fucks” Matt said laughing

Matt and I had gotten into my car heading over to the McDonalds

“What’s really going on?” Matt asked

“What do you mean?” I asked glancing over at him

“I know you’re not okay” he said looking at me

“Matt I’m fine” I said

“No you’re not. Your eyes…..I can tell that you’re sad” he said

“I’m just tired is all” I said swallowing thickly

“Y/N be honest…are you okay?” He asked reading my face for an answer

My lip quivered, and a lump formed in my throat. Nobody has asked me if I was okay.

“No” I whispered out in a croak

“Talk to me” he said sitting up

“I just don't know. I’ve been so depressed lately. I haven’t been able to get out of my bed. I’ve just been posting drafts because I can’t even get up to film. I can’t even get up to drink or eat anything. I miss my parents, I miss home and I just feel so alone. You were the first person to text me, and you have helped me a lot actually. You inviting me over was the first thing I have done in a month” I said letting a tear fall

“I’m so sorry you feel that way. I love you so fucking much, and I knew something was wrong that’s why I reached out. I care for you so much, and I don’t want you to struggle alone. I’m here for you” he said looking at me with saddened eyes

“I appreciate it Matt truly. You’re amazing” I said looking over at him and smiling weakly

“Never allow yourself to struggle alone okay. Please reach out to me or Nick or even Chris as crazy as that seems. We will always be here for you….always” he said

“I will. I just was fighting with myself for so long I couldn’t reach out for help” I said wiping my tears

“And that’s okay. No ones pressuring you to reach out, but know that the option is there. I would never turn you away. You know I’ll come flying to you in a heartbeat” he said nudging my shoulder

“I know Matt. I love you so much thank you for being here for me” I said nudging him back

“Also I got you your favorite from McDonald’s. I’m making sure you eat. I can tell you haven’t eaten. I can see it in your face” he said

“Thank you Matt what would I do without you” I said smiling at him

“I’m not sure actually” he said

“Don’t get too cocky” I said pointing my finger at him

We laughed, and I pulled up to the drive thru. We got our food, and we headed back home

We got back to their house, and started to eat in the kitchen. Laughing and catching up. Matt occasionally looking over at me, giving me reassuring smiles and glances.

I spent the night at their house, and I slept in Matt’s room. We watched my favorite childhood movies as he kept asking me if I was okay, and taking small glances at me.

Eventually we ended up falling asleep.

What would I do without Matt?

The End

This was a request, but Tumblr is actually being a dickrider so it wasn’t letting me put it with my story. But anywho I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines

[tangledupinyellow]

Unexpected Phone Calls | Javier Peña X F!Reader

authors note: A quick little Javier drabble that I had in my drafts for a bit!

summary: Feeling a little lonely, you decide to give Javier a call while he’s caught up at work.

warnings/tags: 18+, no use of y/n, phone sex, female and male masturbation, dirty talk, some POV switching

word count: 1.7k

You were bored, to put it simply. You had spent what felt like hours scrolling through television channels, trying to find something that would occupy your mind while waiting for Javier to return home from the office. Eventually, you’ve settled on a movie you’ve seen nearly a thousand times before to pass the time. But as the film went on, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock.

Time was going by incredibly slow that you felt like you were going to lose your mind. Every minute felt like an hour. Usually, you manage to be more patient. But tonight, there was more of a yearning to have Javier with you. Or, more specifically, inside you if you were being honest.

You had spent all day at work fantasizing about being with Javier tonight. Fantasizing about what he would do to you underneath the bed sheets. Before Javier, you never felt needy towards anybody. You’ve never actually had sex just for the pleasure of it before. But that’s because nobody has ever made you feel just as good as Javier does. He knew exactly where and how to pleasure you, and the more time you spent with him, the more you craved his touch. The more you craved him. And the more you craved him, the more painful it was to wait around for him.

Leaning back against the couch with an exaggerated sigh, you look over at the clock once again to see that five minutes haven’t even gone by since the last time you checked. You groaned and leaned your head back on the throw pillows, staring up at the ceiling while the movie you had put on played faintly in the background. You weren’t even watching it anymore at this point. All you could think about was Javi and how good it would be if he could just come home already. You didn’t know how much patience you had left in you.

With a roll of your eyes, you lean over on the couch, now lying on your stomach, to reach the telephone on the sofa table. You picked it up and rested it between your ear and your shoulder before going over your voicemails, deciding it would give you something to do while waiting for your boyfriend to return.

As you went through countless messages from spam calls and family members that you weren’t sure were worth recalling, one voicemail caught your ear when you heard Javier’s voice on the other line.

“Hi cariño, just wanted to give you a quick call and let you know that I’ll be home later tonight. Not too sure when, but I wanted to call and wish you sweet dreams. See you in the morning.” 

His voice rang through the phone, and you sighed heavily. He wasn’t expecting you to stay up late for him to arrive home, but that’s exactly what you were planning on doing. There was no way that you would be able to sleep, especially being this worked up. And so, you did what you had to do and gave his work phone a little call.

You rested back on the couch with a smirk as you listened to the phone ring a couple of times, each ring being agony to you. At this point, just hearing his voice would be enough.

By the final ring, your hand is already reaching your needy clit, and your panties have been pushed to the side.

“Javier Peña, DEA.” His tired voice introduces himself professionally as he grudgingly accepts the phone call.

“Javier Peña, so professional ..” You teased, your fingers now finding their way to your clit, a quiet gasp escaping your lips at the contact.

You could hear him groan on the other end of the line, and you could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose while leaning back in his ear, “It’s late. I thought that you would be fast asleep by now.”

You glanced over at the clock that hung above the fireplace, “And I thought you would be home from work now..” You countered back, your fingers caressing your folds with ease, considering how wet you were, thinking of Javier’s fingers pleasuring you instead of your own.

“You know I would love to be home with you instead of being stuck here, but I’ll be sure I get home as soon as I can. Thought I left a voicemail?”

“You did,” You said, confirming that you did, in fact, receive his voicemail, “But I wanted to hear your voice.” You let a purposeful moan leave your lips as you played with yourself, wanting him to know just how needy you were for him.

Javier immediately sat up in his chair when he heard the unmistakable moan come from the other line, “Cariño,” he warned with a low voice, keeping his voice down as he looked around a little, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” You questioned innocently, your fingers keeping a slow and steady pace on your clit, “Just waiting for you to get home.” You weren’t lying to him, but the reason you wanted him to come home was for more than just some company. 

“Tell me what you’re doing to yourself.” He repeated, his voice more firm than it had been previously.

“Why don’t you come home and find out for yourself?” You smirked, giving him his answer without directly saying it, “I’ve been thinking about you all day, Javi. Been thinking about those fingers and how good you could make me feel with them.” You murmured out. The soft pads of your fingers were nothing compared to his rough ones, but yours would have to do the job for now.

“Jesus Christ,” Javier grumbled and ran his hand over his thigh, his thumb just missing the bulge that was growing in his jeans, “You can’t just call me like this when you know I’m working.” He lectured you, trying his best to keep his voice calm even if his heart was beating in his chest. The thought of you sitting on the couch of your shared living room, touching yourself, and practically begging for him was driving him insane.

“You have no idea how much I need you right now, Javier.” You moaned quietly, your fingers picking up their pace.

Javier slowly shook his head as he listened to you, now palming the undeniable bulge in his jeans. He thought to himself briefly before setting the phone down on his desk. 

You furrowed your eyebrows together slightly, your fingers slowing down while you tried to figure out what was going on through the other line. However, you were able to put the pieces of the puzzle together rather quickly when you heard the lock of the door.

“Shouldn’t be doing this when I’m working.” Javier mumbled while picking up the phone, resting it between his ear and shoulder while leaning back against his chair. 

“Just couldn’t help myself..” You whispered quietly through the phone.

You could hear him unbuckle his belt and zip down his jeans, making a smirk appear on your face.

“You enjoy this?” He grunted through the phone, his hand now wrapped around his cock, “Distracting me when you know I’m supposed to be working?”

“I just need you, Javier. Wish your fingers were inside of me instead.” You groaned, causing him to hiss while he slowly began pumping his cock.

“That needy for me huh?” His voice was almost condescending, but that made you even wetter for him.

You nodded your head quickly, even though you knew that he couldn’t see you, and you were forced to use your words, “Always needy for you, Javi.”

“Naughty girl..” He spit on his hand before working his cock again, closing his eyes so he could picture you sucking and slobbering on his dick instead, “Gonna fuck you so damn hard when I get home.”

You moaned a little louder at his words, “Need your cock, baby.” You whimpered as your fingers moved even faster, paying attention to every word he said to help get yourself off.

“Keep touching yourself, baby. Make yourself feel good while you wait for me to come home so I can fuck you properly.” He encouraged, pumping his hard cock with his fist, already leaking with precum.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could wait for him. You cursed the fact that he had to stay late at work when you needed him so desperately. All you wanted was his cock deep inside of you.

You rubbed your clit a little bit faster, purposefully moaning into the phone so Javier could hear you pleasuring yourself loud and clear. The sounds of your moans and whimpers made his hand work faster around his cock.

“Goddamn baby,” He cursed with a grunt, leaning back in his seat with his neck hanging back, veins protruding out of his neck, “Gonna make me come like this, you naughty little thing.” An almost vulnerable moan escaped his throat as he worked at his orgasm.

The little moans that he made were almost enough to make you cum on your fingers, making you work faster and faster at your clit, “I’m so close, Javi.” You told him, your two fingers never slowing their pace.

He grinned at your admission before licking his lower lip, “Let yourself go for me. Get yourself all nice and ready for me before I get home.” He encouraged with a heavy breath. You could hear the sounds of him jacking off on the other line.

At his words, you were unable to keep it in longer. Being all his was all you wanted and needed to finish. With a loud moan of his name, you were finishing all over your fingers, whimpers and soft moans leaving your mouth.

“Fuck, that’s right, baby. Gonna have you screaming that name when I get home.” He hummed out, “Gonna make you. All. Mine.” He grunted, quickly grabbing a tissue from his desk to catch his cum.

Laying back on the couch, you slowly remove your hand from your cunt and take a moment to catch your breath. Javier seems to be doing the same back at his office, for all you can hear on the other line is the sound of his heavy breathing.

“Can’t have you calling me at work like this..” Javier mumbled, going back to his previous lecture. But you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Sounds like you had a good time.” You teased. You could practically hear his eye roll on the other line.

“Oh, cariño..” He cooed with a shake of his head, “I’m absolutely going to destroy that pussy when I get home from work. And you can count on that.”

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #18+ #female reader #writing #fiction #javier pena smut

[yesimwriting]

Hi, I'm kind of picky of FF in general, smut especially, but your "Pulling away" is just beyond perfect. Do you maybe have time and the enthusiasm to write something like that again? Not sure what other characters you'd write for (out of your master list) but another Joel would be great anyway. Thank you for your work!

A/n ahh thank you!! the feedback i've gotten on "Pulling Away" has been unbelievable,, and i very rarely usually write smut without being prompted to lol, i feel like it's too obvious that i'm a virgin who has had very few sexual experiences, even less if you don't count the ones i didn't fully consent to,, but that's neither here nor there, i'm doing better now i promise :)

also ik my masterlist is super limited compared to who i actually write for lol,, updating it is my absolute enemy but i'm working on it 😭

also the build up in this fic is criminal!! that's my bad!

Summary: You, Ellie, and Joel have recently decided to permanently settle in Jackson. The promise of stability seems to lead to boundaries adjusting during a sleepless night after Joel appears in your bedroom.

smut warning, 18 plus !!

----

It's existed in him as undeniably and permanently as the lines etched into the slightly calloused skin of the back of his palm. Control is something that Joel Miller knows, something he clings to the same way he keeps a gun in his hand when he needs to.

Control is what keeps him from reacting when your arm moves too carelessly and your elbow manages to push against his ribs. The side that you know is more yellow-purple than the soft tan it should be. If you weren't lying next to him, you would have assumed that the shift of your arm had no affect on him. But you're pressed closer to him than you've ever been, so you can feel the shift despite his intentions. It's subtle. A pinch in his breathing and a brief wave of tension in his spine.

"Sorry," your blurt out is instinctual, and you're not sure if it might be making things worse. You've never been this close to him and it burns so much you can practically feel it melting the thin ice holding the two of you above water.

Burns in a good way. A way that you've only ever felt through brief flutters that have come up more and more recently. Lingering touches patching up injuries, reassuring squeezes of hands that are always brief and never mentioned, the press of Joel's knee against yours as you sat at that table in Jackson, overwhelmed by the presence of so many strangers.

And now this. You, Joel, and Ellie had been given a place to stay. You used to dream about your own bed. A safe roof over your head and a clean blanket keeping you warm. Finally getting it left you restless. Being away from Joel and Ellie felt unnatural even if they were in the same building as you. There are so many strangers here, and even though they have no reason to strike you down, it's still weird.

You couldn't help the obsessive thoughts. It felt oddly compulsive, the urge to wrap the two of them up in warm blankets and bubble wrap and just watch them be okay. It's weird, but what can you say, Ellie and Joel are your people.

And then Joel wandered in after some talk with his brother. It had surprised you, considering the way he had avoided you earlier, but you'd never complain about having him close.

You're still not sure how it happened. How Joel started asking you about how you were settling and telling you that Ellie was just fine. He had gone in to check up on her and then lingered until she fell asleep. The thought of that domestic moment made your heart swell and you found yourself relaxing.

Somehow Joel ended up taking some of your covers. There's a draft, it's winter. You forced yourself to not focus on that in any other context. Refused to give it any other meaning. And then he moved closer, eventually laid his head on your pillow. You almost convinced yourself it was just a way to be a little comfortable while keeping up conversation. But then the talk eventually faded and you had to move to let him fit and you ended up like this. Safe and fragile.

This stray from what's normal is okay tonight. Everything is still weird, you three like awkward, feral cats compared to the people of Jackson.

"You're fine," he breathes, voice rough with sleep.

His acceptance is easy but it does nothing to make you less aware of your position. You're more on top of him than you need to be and your mind is suddenly scrambling, trying to remember every injury you've ever seen him receive.

Untangling yourself from the gentle cocoon you've created is an ache in your chest, but the thought of hurting him is worse. You move your leg close to the edge of the bed and start the careful process of retracting your arm.

Joel shifts with a slight sigh, his own hand following your own. He snags your wrist, pulling you back into place. "You're fine." Joel repeats his earlier words, so half thought out and mumbled together you think they might even be sleep idled.

"Careful," you try, fighting against the blood rushing to your face. "I don't want to hurt you."

Joel's hand moves down your forearm with a slowness that almost feels deliberate. You have to press your lips together to keep from exhaling too sharply. He turns his head and even in the dark you can feel the focus of his gaze.

He swallows once, lips parting for a moment before he speaks, "Hurts more the other way." It's vulnerable and not, undercut by something that feels so factual you briefly have to think about whether or not that's physically possible. "It's good pressure."

Your eyebrows draw together at the realization that he's not entirely joking. The audacity. He's always referencing his age and the soreness that's going to have to catch him at one point or another but now there's not a single concern for his joints or potential hip damage. You've always had a feeling that at least a part of that rant has to be bullshit, or at least some kind of exaggeration.

You scoff but make no move to pull away as Joel settles. "I don't believe you." Normally you wouldn't state anything so transparently. Any flash of softness is glass and barely tangible. Trying to grasp it by speaking about in the open makes it vanish. Like waking too suddenly from an incomplete dream. But you don't feel at risk, something about the dark and the warmth and his hand on your forearm. "You're so full of shit--what happened to old man knees and arthritis and hip joint iss-"

"You're making up those last two."

There's silence for a brief moment and then laughter. A stupid burst of giggles that has you forgetting the little bit of normal left. Your forehead briefly falls down, your face pressing against his shoulder as you try to keep it down. He laughs with you after a second, a reluctant, almost annoyed display of amusement.

You're still recovering, breathing a little heavier than usual and coming back enough to realize that this level of closeness may be pushing it. You lift your head just as Joel's hand finds a place between your shoulders. First a fist and then his fingers patiently relaxing. You don't think you've ever been this still in your life.

"I can't keep track of all your old man ailments," it's a whisper that's more against his skin than not.

He lets out a breath, "You needed me to help you onto a horse today."

You halfheartedly glare even though you're too pressed into him for him to be able to see you. "I could do it by myself now." Likely a lie, considering it had only taken a second with Joel's help and the concept of casual horse riding still feels foreign. "I just hadn't ridden one before."

His hand shifts up your back, an unbelieving hum escaping him. Has Joel always been this warm? And somehow both so evidently sturdy but still comfortable? Safe? You don't know what possesses you, maybe it's the urge to not feel so divided from him in any way, but you turn head slightly to make it easier to speak: "You're not actually that old."

He pauses at that, fingertips freezing against the fabric of your pajama shirt. "Older than you."

You let out a sigh, feeling like there's a hint of something else tucked into his words that you're too tired to explore. "So?" He lets out another flat breath, a sound you don't quite understand but makes you want to compensate, "You can get old, though, when it's your time."

He shifts in a way that feels like a combination of stifling a laugh and a display of a touch of reluctant curiosity. "You givin' me permission?"

"Not like that," you shake your head against his arm, "I just--I don't know--I think it'd be good if you got to be old with arthritis and bad hip joints and whatever else happens. It'd mean you were still alive."

You don't realize what you're saying until the words slip out. The blankness of your statement is too honest and you blame the fact that you're actually starting to feel like you could benefit from the sleep you've been putting off. It's instinctual to turn into him in a vain attempt to get closer even though you're already hanging onto him in a way that feels ridiculous. Your fingers curl in to him a little more, clutching at the surprisingly soft fabric of his shirt.

It's a subtle change, but you're not surprised that Joel notices. You are, however, not expecting him to understand. The hand on your back draws up even further, pushing you against him more firmly. Maybe Joel did have a point. Good pressure.

"Don't go thinkin' about it."

For once, you want to listen to him without putting up a fight just to see that line between his forehead reappear. But you can't. It's not that easy. Even here, as safe as it's ever going to get, there's still a chance of loss. And even if the world was perfect and Joel could guarantee that there would never be a dangerous patrol or anything threatening him again, there are still other things that worry you. There's no reason for you all to stay together.

When your only response is to halfheartedly nod so that he can feel the motion, Joel lets out a partial sigh. The movement of his chest is more noticeable than the sound. His hand travels down the expanse of your back, something you only recognize because of the warmth his touch leaves in its wake. You're only half there until his fingers brush against a small expanse of exposed skin where your sleep shirt had ridden up. Nothing insanely suggestive, nothing that should be considered too intimate. It's likely an accident, too. It's too dark for it to be intentional.

Knowing this is not enough to keep your body from tensing. Joel's fingers move upwards with no warning, slipping between the only layer dividing you. The cotton of the T-shirt is trapping him and the heat of his touch as his hand settles on your hip.

"You here?" His question is low, like he's trying to compensate for the hint of worry leaching into his tone. "With me?" The second part of the question is an afterthought, said so quickly and earnestly it feels like an impulse.

You're melting, and you don't mind it all. In fact, you're starting to think you might prefer it. "For now, at least."

It's half joke, half something else. A punch that some cynical, over worrying part of your brain needs to throw. You hope he won't see past the shell of humor, but feel the uphill battle in his silence. In the eventual drag of his thumb across the curve of your hip. The gesture is a contradiction in itself--small and cautious yet so natural. What should feel foreign is so familiar it coats it all in a layer of intimacy that's difficult to just sit with.

An odd sense of almost panic that makes it impossible to think settles in you. Something in you feels like it's burning, a slow fire that's patiently spreading. You don't know if you want him closer or farther or something in between.

The mix of unknown emotions is enough to distract you from your derailing train of thought. Maybe that's the point. Some strategy on Joel's end to force a mental reset. If it is, it's working. You wouldn't say you're breathing any better or more calmly, you're just more aware of the way air enters your lungs and filters right back out. The world seems to be reduced to that. Just your breathing. And Joel.

The little of him you can make out in the dark and the feel of him everywhere without him feeling close enough. He's steady, secure in his firmness like he's some immovable force. Joel is also starting to feel like a natural heater, radiating just enough warmth to make everything comfortable.

What is wrong with you today? These thoughts might be more dangerous than the other ones. They're definitely close to being more overwhelming. All of this has to be in your head, the result of all the feelings you've been attempting quell all day culminating and a touch of something else. The thoughts about Joel that you've been fighting against since you first met him finally winning.

Every time you've forced yourself to stare at your hands after the edge of Joel's shirt rode up as he reached for something or moved a certain way. Every stray thought that rooted itself in your mind like an invasive species while you patched him up after a rough day. Every painfully overwhelming moment where you let yourself get distracted by his hands for reasons you could never justify. Those same hands are on you right now.

Okay--you need to get it together. Stop playing at something that's definitely all in your head. Your eyes drift up, searching for Joel's expression in an attempt to convince yourself to be normal. To remind yourself what's at risk if you don't get what you've been begging yourself not to let be actual romantic feelings in check.

He's already looking at you, eyes focused and jaw so tense you can tell from your position. Joel presses his lips together. The hand that's on you shifts upwards. Nothing drastic, but the heat of his pinky is now melting into the skin above your ribs.

You have to bite your tongue to keep from letting a shaky breath escape you. It's too much and nowhere near enough. It's another contradiction that throws you through a loop. You need him closer and the desire twists at you even further. There's a level of hesitant care in all levels of him. In his touch, in the way he's watching you. Like he just can't help it.

It's so overwhelming you have to do something. So you do the only thing you can think of. You reach out to him. Your hand finds his upper forearm.

The motion seems to shift things. Joel lets out a breath, but it's not the easygoing sound it was earlier. It's strained. "Y'should get some sleep."

You're not all that tired anymore, but his tone and your own confusion makes you want to listen. At least he hasn't done anything to imply that he's leaving.

A part of you wants to leave it at what it is. There's no reason to risk his presence by pushing. You don't know what that last moment was about, but Joel's earlier gruffness from today seems to be coming back. "You okay?" The question feels awkward hanging there on its own. "You've been moody."

The hand still under your shirt adjusts with him. "Moody?"

"Mhm." His fingers ghost up your spine, making it twice as hard to organize your thoughts. "More earlier than now, when..." God, you can barely remember with the way he's tracing patterns onto your skin. "When we were with that group?"

Joel's lips briefly pull into a frown. "I know that Jackson people are a little different than us, but trusting them all so soon--" He cuts himself off briefly. "Just don't think it's a good idea for you to accept it all so--"

He pauses as you shift against him as you move to sit up. Joel watches the separation with sharp caution. He doesn't ease until you settle again, your chin resting against his stomach. "Seriously?" It's a lighthearted enough disagreement. "I'm not overly trusting anything. I feel like a crazy person half the time because I feel like I should be staring down anyone that talks to Ellie or you for a second too long."

The confession eases Joel much more than it should. It's proof that he's been searching for...proof that he's needed. That you're still here. Still his and Ellie's above anything else.

But it's been an unsure couple of days. You're good with people, likable in a natural way. You know how to make people feel easy. It's not your fault that you're the natural communicator in the trio, and it's a good thing that at least one of you is inclined towards that sort of thing. It's just been harder than he thought, to watch people always talk to you, even if it's just a way of communicating something to all three of you. Especially when you smile or laugh as another way to ease them.

It's even worse when it happens to be other men. You don't see it, the way their eyes linger or their tendency to lean in just a little too close. Don't know the way your polite smiles and words draw them in. There isn't exactly a plethora of new women appearing daily, so your novelty is only an amplifier to all your good traits.

Tommy's been giving him shit about it. How long did you have to close the deal on that when you were her only option?

It was an almost brotherly form of teasing, but it still rubbed Joel the wrong way because of how true it is. He can't justify the bitter, protective vile that leaves his chest feeling too tight when he sees how well you fit. How easy it'd be for you to end up with one of the guys from here, closer to your age and a lifetime less of baggage.

Joel hates the breathlessness of it, hates that he has time to think about these kinds of things now. The resentment is too much, bubbles up and comes out in the form of something mean, "Doesn't always look that way."

It's not an overly done insult, and somehow that's worth. Joel's faint accusation is personal and it lands the way he knew it would. You sit up so quickly, Joel can't even try to stop you. "What the fuck does that mean?"

The bed is small, clearly meant for one. Sitting up didn't exactly accomplish what Joel has to assume was your goal--to create distance. You're still tangled together, only it's different now. You're practically sitting on his lap. His mind, which should be focusing on the fact that he's upset you, that he's pushing you in the exact direction he doesn't want you to go in, can only think of your sleep shorts.

Maria promised to get you some pajama pants as soon as some came in, but that hasn't happened yet. Winter makes clothing a little scarce, so you've been managing in a pair of elastic shorts. Thin, elastic shorts.

"Just that it looks like you've been getting comfortable. Trusting others, spending time with Ben."

Your lips pull into a firm pout. "I'm not going out of my way to trust shit. Yeah, I talk to a lot of people, but that's just because I rather that than have them talk to you or Ellie first. It--it feels safer that way."

There's such a genuineness in that, Joel almost feels bad, almost feels the need to back step. But your indignation at the implication that you're trying to leave is too alleviating. Until you try to crawl towards the edge of the bed. Away from him.

Joel props himself up on his elbow and reaches for you. His hand finding your forearm feels like giving something up. A silent, too raw plea for you not to go. He knows it isn't quite that in so many words, but you understand. You always do in your talent for feeling the way he bends for you when he can.

For a moment, that's it. Just his hand on your arm, still perched on the edge of the bed, still flighty. One move and you might be gone. It'd be so easy.

Joel's never really considered himself a pissing on his territory type of person or one to be found of dependents, but he'd be lying if he didn't say Jackson didn't worry him. He's not an idiot, he knows he's been rough to travel with and that he's taken time to get to here, but you've always stayed close. Some of that must have been influenced by survival.

Not that Joel wants you to stick around because you have no other choice. He'd never use that against you, it's just something that he wonders about from time to time. A fear that this might be how he finds out that's the only reason the two of you have been together for so long.

He's been thinking about loss more lately. After the decision he made, after what almost happened to Ellie. Losing Sarah left him stagnant for 20 years and some days that grief still flares up and makes breathing feel impossible. It's a wound that will never fully heal, and maybe that's for the best. Hurt means not forgetting, but Joel knows he doesn't have anymore of that left in him.

What if he did just fuck everything up? Not just for him, but for Ellie as well. He sees the way she looks at you, like you're everything. He's peered into your mornings together, the world that is your little routine and your inside jokes. If he messed all of that up because he only knows how to be an asshole when any type of feeling comes up...

Joel knows action better than he knows words. Caring is easier an action, and so is apology. His hand releases your forearm, trailing down your arm and settling on your exposed thigh. When you don't push him away or try to move, Joel feels like he can fully inhale again.

"You know my priorities, right?" Your voice sounds more hesitant than before. Nervous. "It's you and Ellie. It's been you and Ellie and nothing's going to change that. It doesn't matter if we're here for two more days or two more decades."

A pinch of guilt rises in his chest. Normally that level of promise would make him feel the need to cut all ties. Safer that way. But Joel doesn't want to hold you at arm's length, not right now. Carefully, his hand moves forward, closer to your inner thigh than knee.

He should say something. Admit to his own insecurity or apologize. "I know," is all that comes out, even though it doesn't really matter, you have every right to walk away. Your eyes still soften, though, like he managed to come close to saying what you needed to hear. "I shouldn't have said that."

His hand moves up even further and this time you have to react, your breath catching itself on your throat. The noise fucking gets to him. Gets to him in a way nothing has in a minute.

"You're kind of an asshole, sometimes," it's breathed out in a way that feels like you're accepting his apology, "And it's only going to get worse as you settle into your old age."

There it is. The joke was forced through the uneven timbre of your breathing, but it's there. All you, all forgiveness in the way the corner of your mouth turns upwards.

Joel's thumb drags across the soft skin of your inner thigh, "So now I'm already there?"

You blink, unsure on how to react to anything with his hand tenderly working the skin of your inner thigh. Everything in you is only capable of focusing on the feeling, of chasing it. "Getting there." Joel's thumb and pointer finger briefly pinch at your skin in a way that has to be intentional, right? His touch is approaching the end of your shorts.

The closer he gets, the worse the distance feels. Your face feels like it's burning at the thought. This is Joel, not some random guy that things could be casual with. Or maybe he could be casual, but you--god, you're getting ahead of yourself. This isn't--it--

"Too old?" Joel stretches forward, sitting up a little more. "You lookin' for younger like Ben?"

There's something odd in his tone. A flat attempt at humor that misses because it's too straightforward. Ben. Again. This is the second time his name's come up tonight. Why? And that's not even the strangest part. His assumption is what sticks out the most.

"I'm not..." Fuck, his hands are killing you. "I'm not looking. Not actively and if I..." Okay, it's officially too much, he's turning you into a transparent puddle. His hand pauses and pulls back down, settling on your knee. Firmly. Unbudging in a silent demand to continue.

He traces circles onto your knee with his thumb. "You can say it," he encourages in a way that feels like he's patronizing you.

The words feel like too much. Some lines might have been crossed today, but nothing life changing. You two could still dismiss the whole thing, crawl beneath thin sheets, fall asleep, and wake up the next morning like nothing ever happened. But his hands on your thigh and the needy ache you're not sure you fully understand it left you with. And what it felt like to have him closer.

Joel's sitting up fully now, waiting. "If I was looking, it wouldn't be at Ben, it'd be..." His hand calmly trails back to its previous spot on your leg with each of your words. Fuck, you're struggling to think again. "At you."

At that, his fingers push upwards, touching directly between your legs. "Really?" He's quick to create a steady rhythm, pulsing his pointer and middle finger at a speed that makes it impossible to breath. Your eyes screw shut so tightly you see stars. "You're so wet, can feel it through those shorts of yours."

The way Joel's voice catches on itself makes a weak sound slip out. You'd be embarrassed by it if he gave you the chance to be, but before you can even think twice about it, Joel's free hand finds the back of his head. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls you forward so harshly you try to gasp. The sound doesn't make it out, Joel's mouth is on yours before it has a chance.

He holds you against him as he takes his time pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth and letting his tongue glide over the bites. Your mouth opens for him instinctually, asking for more.

Joel's taking his time and moving at a speed that has him everywhere all at once as his fingers continue to work you through the fabric that divides you. He releases you with no warning, the hand at the back of your head finding a new place right beneath your chin. His fingers pause, forcing out an instinctual whine.

He's panting near your ear in a way that makes you miss his touch even more. "So this is all for me, sweetheart?" His eyes flit from your face back down to your lips.

Even though the question is dripping with roughness, there still manages to be a hint of something else there. Something genuine. It doesn't matter, though, because all you have the willpower to do is nod. Joel turns his head, pressing a kiss to your temple that's so close to tender it leaves you spinning. He trails the barely there kisses down to your ear before whispering, "Then prove it."

The word's send a jolt through you. "Prove it?"

Joel tugs you closer, you listen clambering back to where you were before trying to leave. Joel rests his back against the wall and makes a point of extending one leg. You don't fully get it until he's helping you ease onto his thigh. The material of his sweats is nowhere near enough.

"Joel--"

"Sh," he hums, soothingly as he runs a hand up and down your back, "It's okay, sweetheart." The hand that's still on your hip squeezes firmly. "I've got you, y'know that." He helps pull you forward on his thigh and the pressure after so long without nothing hits you harder than you thought it would. "There you go," you push down harder, faster, "Just like that."

The longer you go, the more Joel encourages you, whispering sweet nothings and words of encouragement as the knot in your stomach continues to grow until your body feels it. You're seizing up, body ready to throw itself off of a ledge. Your thigh squeezes around his leg, which must be how Joel knows you're close, because before you can find release, his hand is leaving your back and moving onto your arm. In one, fluid motion that should be impossible, he flips you two.

Your back is on the mattress and Joel's above you, pinning you in place with his body. You can feel him, all of him, hard and struggling between the layers that divide you.

Your lips part, but you don't know what to say. You're still reeling from your stolen orgasm, and you're not sure if you want to curse him out for it or simply ask why and how. Bad back your ass the way he just turned the two of you over with no real effort.

Before a single sound can come out of you, Joel folds the edge of the T-shirt you sleep in, exposing your stomach. A fluttery kiss to newly exposed skin. Again and again until he has to push up even more of your shirt to continue. "This," his voice comes out lower, harder as he tugs at the fabric, "Off."

You sit up just enough to help him tug the shirt off as quickly as possible. The desperation makes it harder than it ever should be to take off a shirt, but the offensive piece of fabric eventually finds its way to the floor.

The bareness you feel is startling, even in this level of darkness. Joel doesn't give you a chance to let your mind wander or insecurity take root. His mouth is exploring the newly exposed skin immediately. It's a rabid mix of love bites and placating the irritated marks with soft passes of his tongue and genuine, devoted kisses.

It's then that you realize there's a reason he's taking his time. He's definitely hard, you can feel him pressing against your thigh, but that doesn't matter to him. He's taking his time because he can. Because he's enjoying it, getting off on having you writhing and desperate under him.

"Joel," your voice is so small it feels like it belongs to someone else.

He pauses, lifting his head just enough that the scruff of his facial hair scratches comfortingly against your skin. A reminder that he's still him. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You carefully lift a hand, making sure your movements are easy to follow in the dark. Joel lets your fingers settle in his hair. "Need more-need you."

"I know, sweetheart." His voice is low and soft, impossible to not trust. "You can wait a little longer." His teeth drag against your skin again. "Can't you, baby?"

Fuck, he could ask you anything like that and you'd have to say yes. "Mm."

He takes it as the answer it's supposed to be. Joel goes back to it until his fingers finally snag around the elastic band of your shorts. In one swift motion, he tugs it and your underwear away, leaving you fully exposed. He gives no warning before moving his mouth to your thighs, slowly moving up until the only thing left is your center.

With no warning, Joel licks through your folds. You practically cry out. "I know, sweetheart," he mumbles, barely looking up, "You can take it."

After that, he picks up the pace. Just as you think you're going to get used to the overwhelming pleasure, Joel moves his hand down your waist to use his thumb against your clit. Fuck. You're panting, whining, begging.

Joel groans. "You're close, I can feel you." His fingers replace his mouth, "You gonna come?" Another whine, like your body has forgotten how to make any other sound. "Yeah?" He's picking up the pace, pushing his fingers into you in a way that hits you somewhere deep. "Come on my fingers, sweetheart, I've got you."

His pace reaches its peak and his thumb works at your clit until you're finally pushed over the edge. Joel reaches you before you can scream, muffling the sound of your orgasm by pressing his lips to yours.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as he works you through your high. Joel knows when to stop, when the pleasure comes close to bordering on painful, he moves his hand back up your waist and focuses on just kissing you.

After a few minutes, you regain control of your thoughts. The urge to pull him closer takes over once again. Without thinking, you're tugging at the hem of his shirt. You almost think twice about it, but decide that it's only fair. He's touched so much of you and seen even more. All while fully clothed.

You're not as good or tactful about it as he is, likely due to the gap in your experience, but Joel picks up on what you want. He pulls away cautiously, eyebrows furrowing together like he's debating before finally giving in.

He discards his shirt just as carelessly as he got rid of his own. Joel tries to reconnect the two of you together again before you can take full note of him. It's a tactic you find the strength to beat, turning your head just enough to indicate that you're pausing.

Joel allows that, stills against with no protest. The silent promise that it's your pace is comforting. You let your eyes rake over his chest in what you hope is subtle, but really doubt actually comes off that way. You can feel him tense under your gaze. You stretch out a hand carefully, touching him because you can. Your attention focuses on the details that you can make out despite the limited light. A few marks of varying sizes are visible across his skin.

Scars. You wonder how many of them there are and the stories behind each. What it'd feel like to touch and learn each of them until they're as familiar as the lines of your palms. Your hand drifts down, faintly touching a particularly long mark.

Joel's hand moves, catching your wrist before you can make it any further. You frown up at him. "I want--"

"I--" He cuts himself off, unsure on how to explain it. You deserve to know what a war it will be to get him to open up, but he doesn't want that to change things. "Not yet, okay?" He squeezes your hand in his. "I'm not an easy person to care about, to get close to, but I--I can try to--"

"I disagree." He frowns at being cut off, but lets you continue. "And you don't have to worry about forcing anything right now, whatever you have to give, that's what I want."

That's all it takes. Joel crashes his mouth to yours, holding you there for much longer than before. He shifts away just enough to be able to pull down his pants. He strokes himself briefly before lining himself up with your entrance.

Joel enters you with no warning, easing himself in until your hips are pressed together. You're a mess despite his soothing words. He pulls back and pushes back, again and again until all you're seeing is white, blinding pleasure. "Fuck!"

"You're squeezin' me so good, sweetheart," his groans are hot and heavy against the shell of your ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he's losing his tact, his movements becoming more and more desperate. "You gonna come with me?"

You nod, eyes screwing shut as Joel picks up the pace until you're a mess again. He clamps a hand over your mouth as your second orgasm hits you fast and hard. It takes all of Joel's strength to pull out before finishing.

He lets himself relax against you after, a mess of sweaty limbs as you both recover. After a minute, Joel sits up. "You leaving?"

Joel brushes back your hair out of your face gently. "No, sweetheart, just need to get something to clean you up, okay?" You're about to protest again, but Joel beats you to it, "You don't want to sleep like this." When your only reaction is to pout up to him and cling to his arm, Joel leans down and finds a shirt to offer you. "Ellie's an early riser that never learned how to knock. You want to deal with this in the morning while pretending you're not?"

That's a point that sticks. You could probably explain Joel being in here early in the morning or he could climb out of your bed at first sunlight to keep this from being weird for Ellie...but your current state? Yeah, that's undeniable. "Come back?"

Joel squeezes your hand, taking a moment to watch your small expression fondly. "Promise."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfic #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou x reader #joel miller x reader smut #pedro pascal x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller smut

[nostalgink]

Due to some past trauma from previous fandoms, I'm not particularly one to engage in fandom related discourse anymore, but when you not only name-drop me, but continue to perpetuate lies about not only me, but also my friends.... that's when I'd rather "clear my name" than allow for a nasty rumor to circulate when I know it's out there.

I want to go through everything that went down in order as best as possible. Even though I’ve spent so much time on this receipt post, truly this issue was something very small, the root of the issue lies with CookieRuby herself, given she decided to continue to create and perpetuate lies and rumors about myself and others. I know she will most likely continue to make up whatever she wants to have happened to obtain pity from those who do not know the context, but I thought that if she was going to do so regardless, I might as well let everyone know mine and my friends’ side of things. Because sadly I got some very worried and confused messages wondering if the statements were truthful. Hopefully this reassures most that they are in fact not.

I also would like to say while I am deeply upset that someone would lie about me like this and continue to emotionally manipulate, then double down on it all… I still do want to say that if you know people who act as such to please help them get the help they need. The timeline of this basically showcases us interacting at 3 points ever, but its obvious in her own obsessive world she has created, it has been brewing with her much longer. Which all of this is genuinely concerning and I hope she gets help. Despite my anger.

In the beginning

I believe I knew about them prior to them joining the old Darkwing Duck RP server I used to be active in back in 2022. If you know me, I follow practically every artist in the fandom. Especially as the fandom loses traction and there are less and less of us actively creating works. So naturally I followed. I even found her oc interesting. I mean why wouldn’t I? Magentus, while more of an oc now than he was in the past, at the end of the day still is my sona so to speak. I love seeing others put themselves into their own work in their own ways. Unfortunately once I got to know them, their attitude towards others when it came to their oc soured my interest.

In a lot of her posts, she makes claims towards my friends and I (as well as I suppose vague unknown other “harrassers” prior to us. I only put it in air quotes because the amount of lying she does, ironic I know, makes me question the validity of anything she says.) that we actively hated and made fun of her for disliking Drakepad. As you can see in the screenshots provided, that is exactly the oppposite.

I also want to mention the screenshots here are an anonymous friend’s server that I used to be active in. In the screenshots provided by Soy, it refers to their old server. Though I believe there is a point in our screenshots where one is referenced in another. (I am currently not looking at them, so I can recall which is referenced in which.) I wanted to make sure there was no confusion with that. These were provided to me by Drake. I could not find them on my own. This was her asking about playing her oc initally. and some stuff I didn't screenshot previously I think?

On Soy’s Side of things

Initially I had another draft of this whole rant, but because of these screenshots I got so peeved that I spiraled into a mad disorganized rage due to the ridiculousness of all of this. So I thought it would be best to rework my words into a more composed response. Personally I had read the first set of messages after they had happened, but when it comes to the discord screenshots, these were new to me. We were all suspicious of her potentially using an alt account on tumblr to ask as a “friend”. Because while I cannot say the same for my friends, I had online friends when I was young who pulled very similar stunts to continue to emotionally manipulate me into remaining their friend and under their thumb. I do not fuck with that sort of behavior anymore. And to note from Soy they said that they had joined their old dead DWD server and immediately dmed them. The obsessive manner of her continuing whatever game she thinks this is is a genuine concern and big alarm sounding that she needs to talk to someone. She is older than me, but I have already dealt with extremely similar people in my preteens, so it’s sad to see someone being so immature like this. (I hit the 30 post limit so the screenshots will be in the reblogs for anything missing)

responses to tumblr posts

Starting with the post that finally prompted this response, I want to cover my personal opinion of each thing mentioned. Unfortunately as you will see, I do not have proof for my own ponytown run in personally, but if you read all of the messages provided, you can probably tell who’s more truthful considering it’s a 1-0 with me having evidence and her none. You’ll notice she remains vague when she can, which is most of the time.

First we need to all heavily note that this was a supposed dream. She is her character Hannah in her dream, alongside Drake. Soy, an anon, and myself appear as “hooded people” in her dream and do an incantation on her in order to curse her to not be with Drake. I suppose this causes a curse that forces Drakepad to be real in her dream? Then we say quotes she is claiming we said. I will get to that in a moment. This is a summary so that if she deletes the post linked, you still have me explaining it. (I wrote this last night, unfortunately as of right now while I was acquiring links she did in fact delete the post. Likely because of my warning post from the other day. So she is stalking my account still.) Then her own oddly crafted happy ending where the spell is broken and she gets her ending of support.

Now I’ll cover the “quotes”

“Drakepad is the only true ship”

You will here her claim people saying this to her often. In reference to my friends, such claims have been proven false. We supported her opinion despite our own. Even comforting her and letting her know its awful for anyone to try and pressure her over such a simple difference in taste. Also adding the fact we supported her oc x canon even though she could not RP it in the old server.

“Darkwing DENIED YOU” with her claiming it is something I said to her in Ponytown.

I will go more in depth in exactly what I said in ponytown further down, but I never once said this. She insisted that my opinion was that her oc x canon was not valid. I was Negaduck in game, then I specifically swapped to my Magentus pony and stated how hypocritical it would be for me to say such a thing. Then proceeded to let her know, though I was annoyed, that it’s alright for her to not ship something she does not like, but continuing to bring up that you hate a ship to people you know don’t mind it or even ship it themselves is rude. Then she proceeded to do something I can only describe as something I am seasoned to as the son of an emotionally inmature mother. Again I will elaborate in the ponytown section.

“She gaved me PTSD by her DrakePad hate. And with her tumblr post who HURTED my friends saying we “FORCED” Drakepad on our server she lied.” Which was aparently what Soy said.

I cannot speak to how soy feels completely on this, but I know they did not develop post traumatic stress disorder from this. Nor have they said this quote if you could not guess. I believe the friend was the one in the screenshots between them and soy on discord I shared above. Again, I do not trust that these are her actual friends. This is not to say she couldn’t potentially have friends who agree with her, I just don’t trust her truthfulness especially with said discord dms. But you as the reader can make your own opinion on that. From what I was told by Soy, they joined (I believe after they realized they couldn’t do oc x canon with our Darkwing in the old server, which was his choice to make.) and asked if they could do darkwing x hannah. Soy and others kindly let her know that they were working on a drakepad relationship, but saw no problem in doing dw x lp x hannah. She accepted I think? But regardless then returned to our server to both brag about how someone finally let her, but soon ranted about how uncomfortable poly stuff made them. Some of this is word of mouth, but you can see other parts referenced back above.

“You deserve no friends.” by an anon

Again, I question the validity of this claim, but assuming someone actually said this to her this is horrible to say to someone. Back in 2020 I dealt with prosh*ppers in a problematic fandom harrasing me because I outwardly was against their adult x minor ship. Unfortunately if you know what fandom I mean. (keep guesses to yourself, I don’t want to bring it up in public.) You know it’s very popular unfortunately. I was sent death threats and people telling me how unworthy of friends, love, or anything they could throw at me. I would never say this to another nor condone saying this to another. Even if CookieRuby is in the wrong here. Everyone deserves the chance to have friends and flourish as a person. I’m angry but I’d never wish such a thing. And while I’m at it I would like to suggest to you as the reader that if you are considering doing such a thing don’t. Block her, move on. It’s not worth it. I’m only here right now to give context, then I’m done. I do not want anyone going after her. I’m just here to show my receipts, not to harrass her. I’d just prove her point if I did that. I’m not that sort of person.

And I was shown her speaking about her inferiority complex. I do not have one, so I cannot speak to how true this is, but considering this was March 2023...it seems despite her admitting this, she has obviously continued to lie about people. So I don’t know if she has that complex, but she is a chronic liar at the very least so there’s that I guess.

Ponytown run ins

The provided screenshots below are from before what I’ll be describing to you. I had to re-listen to a voice note I sent after this. It’s all I have besides the discord message of me realizing it was her. I do not want to attach it just because I keep my voice to myself most times. I’m shy gang.

Starting off I was just finishing my Magentus pony. For a while they had a color palette I had just chose myself without reference and I was finally giving them their reference colors. I was returning to the darkwing rock circle I was hoping to start a darkwing pony hangout at, when I saw a Darkwing pony approach. Now, I don’t know if this was coincidence of perhaps she knows about the hangout from my story. Considering she has alts, she probably was checking my story, but that is speculation. I immediately am eager to friend them because of their pony. But of course the first words from her are “why do you have me blocked?” my mood immediately changes as it hit me that someone had told me prior she had an account. Likely due to the incident in the other ponytown screenshots. I ask to confirm if it’s her and she says yes.

So I simply put that she cause discomfort to my friends and I and that I use the block liberally. During this I am scrambling to try and block her on ponytown too, but unfortunately my block list is too full because I have been blocking Dream SMP ponies left and right. So I decide maybe here is where I can put my foot down on things. I also mentioned a side thing about how the old server I was in had a policy about posting over people, but she seemed to focus on this more. (I do not recall if this was enforced at the time, but still it was focused on way more than the main issue I was bringing up.) I mentioned how she’d post over others. I told her that it wasn’t my main point and to forget that and move onto the main issue. I explain to her as adult as I can back to her Drakepad issue that “You were being rude to people because you could get your ship. We tried to be nice and I just blocked you because I didn’t want to deal with that [anymore].” and the only thing she got from that was me saying “rude” I suppose so she responded saying “oh so I’m the toxic one?” and boy have I heard this one get pulled on me before. It’s giving emotional manipulation. I calmly reply “That is not what I said.” I said something else that I couldn’t recall, though likely just me restating what happened, then she said “well I guess I’m sorry-” I was on a call at this time with my boyfriend while he was on break as this went down, so I began speaking to him irl. I guess I did not respond to her in time because she continued with the classic backhanded comment of “Since everyone wants me to apologize anyway” or something to that effect. It was in that way that someone who does this wants you to just accept the apology even though it was not a meaningful one. She does not have to apologize, no one is making her, but that was her attitude about it. I thought I’d just end it off there with a joke to myself so I didn’t lose it. I went “I have a mother, I can be emotionally manipulated at home, I don’t need this game from you. Bye.” and logged off. Honestly there is when it actually got personal. Somewhere in the middle she insisted what I had mentioned earlier with us hating oc x canon and drakepad and all that and that statement from earlier still follows.

I even have a later note worrying there would be a post on her tumblr, but I checked once and there was nothing so I thought maybe she had gotten over herself…..we are here now so nope. Also this was 2/2/2024 for timeline’s sake.

I was transcribing from a voice note, so if it seems like there are any holes in that ask me, I’ll try to fill in what I missed.

Misc

Lastly here are things I did not know how to organize into the rant. As well as some people making mention to their experiences with her in reply to my Instagram story. I swore I would get all I could and I meant it.

And anyways thank you to those who actually took the time to read all of this mess. I don’t know how I did drama back in the day this has truly been so exhausting to write, but it was important that I did. Honestly despite my anger this is really dumb to have to make, but I do not like being lied about. I especially don’t like my friends also being lied about. And again just block her and do not engage. I do not condone harassment of any kind. I am going to go sleep as I finish writing this. This was a tiring experience. She’ll probably continue but now I am satisfied knowing we’re all on the same page.

#jack flaps #callout post #receipts #drama tag :/ #darkwing duck #ducktales #oc

[ay0nha]

hello xx

Are you plannnig on doing a part two to ode to ruination? It is so good! you are fantastic

An Ode to Temptation | T.S.

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, talk of food/eating, Angst, smooches, guns being pointed, angst, drinking/being drunk, etc.

A/N: Hello!! I actually received A LOT of requests for this, which thank you all so much for the love!! I thought about it and Tried to write something, but I just wasn't feeling it AT ALL or as an ~ official ~ part II. BUT, I'll post the Rough Draft here.

Be kind; she's all over the place with rushed ideas/unedited/unfinished parts. Comments are always welcomed. Enjoy.

You were a master of speaking silently—you've spoken silently all your life, and you’ve had to live through entire tragedies because of it. However, once the yelling and failed attempts to leave wore out, it had become weeks of the same; the days held a repetitive blandness.

Your mornings were spent isolated, the overwhelming echo of the estate’s silence guiding you. The loneliness didn’t seep in until the afternoon when the rain forbade you from stepping past the door frame. However, the nights were unbearable. Even if you didn’t see or hear when Tommy came home, you could feel how the walls groaned at his presence.

You knew the maids whispered; you would, too, in their position. Nothing explained your sudden presence or what felt like your lack thereof. If anything, you were the ghost that haunted the house.

For your own good, you were told.

Tommy had fooled you that night. The party was performative, a distraction while he sent someone for your things. If Ada had known, you don’t doubt she would have tried to stop him. Or at least bought you some time. However, if she had realized your life was in danger, she would have already bought your ticket to skip town. Regardless, your destiny was determined.

You comforted yourself by the fire when your thoughts became overwhelming. It warmed your feet while the gin resting precariously on the chair’s arm soothed the pit in your chest. At some point, you stopped portioning yourself a glass. Holding the bottle by the neck, you lulled yourself further into the cushion with every slug.

“Not eating now, eh?” Tommy threw down his jacket in habit, marking his entrance. The sigh that followed conveyed his annoyance.

You looked up from the fire at the intrusion. You couldn’t decide if he was earlier than usual or if the grandfather clock was lying to you. Either way, you tipped your head against the side of the chair for solace.

“You want my attention, that it? Well, you ’ave it. ” The strike of his match was motivated by agitation. On the first exhale of his newly-lit cigarette, he said, “Don’t waste it.”

Tommy’s eyes bore into yours blankly. There were other things on his mind that even you thought were more pressing. You knew he found it easier to treat you like business than anything else. Tenderness was reserved for the nights the tunnels became too claustrophobic.

“Your cook’s shite.” You mocked drunkenly.

Hailed all the way from Italy, the chef you insulted was anything but. Nor was he at fault for your lack of appetite. It was childish behavior, but everything had become tit for tat. Tommy knew what you were doing, able to lure him in with such superficial words.

The call received was passed through his secretary only to be brushed off—another complaint of your behavior. They always reflected stubbornness, the same determination as the tales of the boy who cried wolf. And yet, Tommy struggled to ignore it as it frequented.

“Right…” Tommy ceded to himself. His frustrations were in vain, and he reminded himself he could be fair. “Let’s get something in you.”

“Offering to cook, hmm?” Your eyebrows raised in genuine amusement. He knew you well enough that you craved company. “Or is that below the Thomas Shelby?”

Something swirled in his chest, but Tommy brought the cigarette to his lips to suffocate it. Yet, with his free hand, he held it out to you.

When you were children, you barely knew Tommy. To you, he was just one of the Shelbys. You often confused him for his brothers, but he became definite when you finally spoke to him. Overlapped memories crowded the logistics of the conversation, but you could never forget your appreciation for someone like him.

The memory should have been bleak; the funeral brought lightening that highlighted every tear that streamed down your mother’s face. She was an unmoveable force, and for some reason seeing your mother break changed your own grief.

Neither of you nor Tommy had the capacity to understand death the way you knew it now, but Tommy guided that grief with knowledge beyond his years. You learned to grieve someone you didn’t know you could love.

The simplicity of the action entwined your lives, but it was lost after France. Everyone, including yourself, had changed. But for the moment, eyes closed, the memory made the thought fade.

You slid onto the kitchen counter, catching how Tommy rolled his sleeve until it met his forearm.

The actuality of the situation hadn’t hit you yet until you filled the humming silence. “I barely recognize you…”

Tommy seemed content entertaining you. It was the first time you’d offered him your undivided attention. “’m all heart tonight.”

“That it?” You mused, head cocking to take him in. Your tone was deceiving, posing genuine curiosity over your inner dissent.

Tommy was attentive, though, listening even as you trailed off into mumbling. However, he remained dexterous, concocting something simple. He knew the things you held dear, the comfort you found in your childhood food.

He had even memorized the particularities of their preparation; jam spread with a spoon from left to right; sandwiches cut diagonally, warmed to be able to feel its nourishment travel down; tea so hot that the heaping amount of sugar disappeared with one stir.

Tommy slid the plate to you, a mix of what he could find that hadn’t spoiled by the end of the day. He leaned back, arms tight across his chest as he waited for you to indulge. However, you slid it back to him first.

“Didn’t poison it…” He said, picking at the plate to prove his point. You rarely witnessed his appetite outside of cigarettes and booze.

You nudged him as you extended your dangling leg. There was no thought behind the action, but the attention pulled him closer to hear your words. “And I should trust your word?”

With a sigh of your name, the food was forgotten—Tommy took the bait.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You shook your head softly, the action dizzying. Without his jacket, the skeleton of Tommy’s gun holster highlighted his frame. It made it easy to place him between your legs.

He just wanted, needed, you safe. “It’s only until things settle in—

“London.” You finished the repeated lie. “Why is that, Tommy?”

You wanted to hear his confession. You knew why people were after you; you were leverage against such an unbreakable man. However, they seemed to understand Tommy’s feelings better than you. He never said it aloud. It had been years, decades, of a mutual lure that purposefully avoided the judgment you held for Tommy’s decisions or actions, ones you never compromised with.

For him, you were it.

“Tom?” You prompted again. You could see his struggle to form an admission even in your state.

Tommy broke.

He caved into you, your lips meeting his hesitantly but meeting with a longed-for firmness. Each time he pulled away, he only returned with more tenderness—the breaks between lessened, and so did the distance between your chests.

You almost got lost in something you spent years yearning for. However, you moved slowly in the way you knew would distract him. With the first layer of his guard down, the leather straps of his gun holster caught on your fingertips as you trailed along his shoulders. His body was yours; his shudder proved so.

Yet, once you hit metal, Tommy’s laugh mocked your insincerity.

You expected your hands to tremble. You hoped they would see if you had any trace of regret in the action. However, it felt freeing to rest Tommy's gun just below his chin. In your hands, it grew warm, a transferable heat of anticipation waiting for its purpose only you could provide.

Tommy's grip on you remained firm at the hips, lips still ghosting your own as he turned your threat into his own. “Go on, then. I taught you well."

#q #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x f!reader #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #personal #ask #anon #cillian murphy x reader

[pervertedreams]

Eddie who finds the reader reading soo hot and eats her out while reading

it’s crazy cause i have an idea just like this in my drafts so i mind as well explore on it. and ty for the ask i love when y’all send them in, gives me something to write abt !! ♡

mdi

it toasty and warm in your beloved bedroom, the temperature is just right for the biting winter breeze that abuses the outside, you’re sat cozy on your heavily decorated bed, fluffy pillows giving you cushion against the hard wall. the few candles you lit flicker and bounce around the room, giving it the perfect yellow sim setting.

you rented out a book a few weeks ago, coming to the brutal realization that you’ll have to return it soon and what better time to read it than now. it’s too cold to do anything right now anyways. so you finally got around to reading the book you had been putting off for days, fully engulfed in the pages, the chapters, characters, the storyline. half way through reading it you’re surprised it took you this long to get it it, it’s was really good.

you glasses sit at the bridge of you nose as your eyes scan each line, a vague visual going along with it in your head. you were so submerged in your reading that you didn’t realize eddie standing at the doorway. the only reason why you noticed him was to push your glasses up your nose, and his tall shadow nearly made you jump out of your skin. your book nearly falling out of your grip, free hand clutched at your beating chest.

“whatcha up too four eyes.” normally you’d give a potty chuckle to his corny remark, but you’re still focusing on regulating your breath and slowing down your heart beat. “jesus eddie, how long have you been standing there.” it’s wasn’t a necessarily a question to be answered, not that he could properly answer it cause he’d been standing there for quite some time, ogling at you.

he had just finished tidying up the kitchen after an atrocious attempt at making dinner, which despite the gruesome mess it came out quite delish. his plan was to shower and drift to sleep with you in your comfy bedroom, but those plans quickly shifted when he caught you in somewhat of a vulnerable moment. you had been reading the book you had been talking about all day, all week to be honest. and you finally got around to it. hair pushed back behind your shoulder, bringing his focus to your collarbones. reading glasses sitting comfortably on your nose as your eyes flicker back and forth between the lines on the pages. he wondered his eyes to the cover of the book and realized… it was an erotic story. and his dick nearly jumps when he scans down a little further and sees that your legs are completely bare, subtly squeezing together with excitement. your feet are bare too, daintily painted toes rubbing against each other out of habit. it was hot, you were hot. and a little voice in his head is telling him how embarrassing it is to get hard over the sight of you reading, but at the same time he’s turned on by anything you do. he is your boyfriend after all.

you wedge your finger on the last page you were reading, shutting the book around your finger and holding it to your chest when eddie gets closer. he’s climbing on the bed, the weight he’s putting on his knee creating a small dip in the mattress and creek of the box spring.

“whatcha reading?” he doesn’t even try fighting off the smug grin on his face, and you snatch your book closer when he tries thumbing at it.

“it’s nothing, just the book i been telling you about.” you mumble, a silence falls between the two of you and your glare at each other, he’s mindlessly tracing circles into your inner thigh. you both know you’re lying, but he decides to leave it alone to an extent.

“the book you told me about hm?” his tone is mocking but slightly slurred, now placing a kiss where he was just rubbing. your legs twitch open wider from his touch and he can literally smell you. and again— he doesn’t fight the smile that grows across his face. he watches as you swallow, and something about you looking down at him makes his hips buck into the bed.

your breath is shaky when you speak, “you never told me how long you were watching.” you tried flipping the script on him, and thankfully it works.

the vibration of his chuckle against your flesh makes you clench. he kisses up your thighs more, a few nips and bites here and there. “for a couple of minutes if i’m honest.” he repositions himself between your legs, getting another desperate hump into the mattress as he readjusts. “you looks sexy under this light, reading your little book.”

he places his chin aright above your abdomen, pulling his neck back to place a kiss directly over your panty-clad clit. your hips instinctively buck, a small whine exacting your lips. he’s looking up at your with those doe eyes like he always does, “can you read some for me, baby?” his hands smoothing up and down the sides of your hips, waiting for an answer. his plead seems to get taken into consideration when you’re slowly opening the book. the cold bite of his rings against your skin make you wince when he happily grips your hips, hooking his fingers along the sides of your panties so he can yanks them down.

he wasted no time in latching onto your clit the moment you start reading. stumbling and skipping over words, certain words dying on your tongue and morphing into a whine or a moan, and because eddie is naturally a menace he’s telling you to, “c’mon baby, read it again for me. i couldn’t understand you.” faux look of worry and concern plastered on his shit-eating face.

sorry i don’t too tired to write detailed smut. but i love a good build up so i hope you enjoyed ! and asks are ALWAYS opened pls don’t be afraid to send in a hc or concept or whatever you want me to elaborate on.

#answered┆ ➵ ✩ ◛ ° #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson concept #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x black!reader

[reysdriver]

Sirius x reader where he’s not answering letters all summer and so the reader decides to sneak into Grimmauld Place to check up on him. Up to you if they get caught or not

You pay Sirius a visit after a month of lost contact — sirius x gn!reader fluff

warnings: slight angst, mention of Sirius' crappy family but no details

words: 0.6k

a/n: it's actually embarrassing how long it's taken me to get to this. I may be going through a lot rn but I admit this has been sitting in my inbox and my drafts for a while, so anon, I'm really sorry and I hope you like it

Even though you and your boyfriend had spent the better part of the last month of school talking about how you can still stay in touch over the break, Sirius hadn’t responded to a single one of your letters so far this summer. You’ve sent at least two per week for a whole month and they’ve all gone unanswered. 

 All kinds of thoughts were digging into your mind as to why this was happening, all of them increasing in intensity the more you let things spiral. 

He’s run off with some pureblood girl his parents set him up with. No, he’s just been lying to you about liking you for months. He’s so relieved to be out of your presence. What if something really bad happened to him?!

But you knew Sirius, you knew yourself, and you knew that these thoughts were only going to get more unrealistic the more you let them fester undealt with. So, you decided the best thing to do was run off and pay your boyfriend a visit. 

✦✧✦✧✦

You hadn’t brought anything other than your wand—which was concealed in your boot—and two sturdy books on your venture to visit Sirius. They were inconspicuous enough so as to not grab any attention from muggles, but effective at what you needed to do. 

After making sure no one was around to see what you were about to do, you placed the two books on the ground and planted a foot on each one, then pulled your wand out from your left shoe and cast a simple levitation spell on each one. It was tough to keep your balance, but you held onto Sirius’ windowsill so it would be easier to stay in one place. 

Sure enough, there he was when you looked into his room. You tapped on the pane of glass separating you two to get his attention and it worked; just as quickly as he turned to face the window, he stood up and rushed to open it for you. 

“What are you doing here?!” Sirius asked, holding your hand to help you inside. 

You shrugged like it was obvious. “You weren’t answering any of my letters. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

He looked back at you, defeated. He slumped down on his bed, and you watched him feeling nothing but worry. 

“I’m so sorry, love.” Sirius mumbled sadly. “I wanted to, I really did. I just get so stressed when I’m with my family and then writing back slips my mind. Then the more I leave writing to you, I just feel more guilty and I just feel bad writing back at all.”

Instead of a verbal response, you embraced your boyfriend in a tight hug, knowing this is definitely the most loving interaction he’s had since you parted ways at the train station a month ago. 

“It’s okay. I understand now that you’ve told me.” You told him. “Do you want me to stay here, Siri?”

He looked at you with teary eyes. “Yeah, as long as we don’t do anything to get caught by my parents.”

“Okay, I’ll stay as long as you promise me one thing.”

He looked up at you, slightly confused, as you brushed your fingers through the silky hair you missed all summer. “What is it?”

“No more one-sided communication. Even if it’s just you sending back letters complaining about your family. I want to hear from my boyfriend when we’re apart.”

He pulled your hand down from the top of his head and brought it down to his lips so he could kiss your palm before answering. “Promise, my dear. I’ll start writing one right now if you’d like.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader #sirius black one shot #sirius black imagine #sirius black angst #sirius black fluff #marauders era #marauders angst #marauders fluff #xena's requests

[nattinatalia]

Urban Wyatt x Reader : JUST ONE

A/N : I know I’m late with the Christmas fics but this was in my drafts and I’m trying to clean it out lol so enjoy.

You were just a few hours away from Christmas so you were running up and down trying to get everything for dinner. This year you were hosting and you were stressed to the max, to say the least. Your best friend and her mother-in-law always go all out for the holidays, so you wanted to make it just as special as ever.

Just your luck, you had forgotten the most important ingredient for the dish you were making tonight, so you had to run to your local mercado in hopes it was open and not crazy packed. Luckily for you, it was open but it was filled with crazy people running around.

You made sure to go in and grab only the things you needed so you could get out quickly and make it back in time to prep everything. Once out of the store, you drove quickly- but safely back home.

“Please, daddy.” You hear your four-year-old daughter whisper, as you’re making your way inside the house.

“I don’t know Princess, your mom will kill us both.”

“I tell her I dids it.”

Urban chuckles, “No lying to your mom, baby.”

Cassie groans “But there's a bunch, just one pretty please.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, trying hard not to give it away that you were overhearing them.

Urban looks between Cassie and the gifts under the Christmas tree. “Fine, just one but it has to be a small one.”

Cassie immediately shrieks in excitement “Thank you, daddy.”

Urban reaches for a gift so you decide to make your presence known, “I know you two aren’t being naughty.” You look at them with a raised eyebrow.

Cassie gasps “Mommy, ¿cuándo llegaste?”

You smirk “I’ve been here long enough to hear what you two naughty Wyatt’s are planning.”

“It was all her fault.” Urban points to Cassie.

“DADDY.” she glares at him, “It was him mommy.”

You smile and shake your head, “You two are something else.” you make your way to the kitchen to put down the groceries on the counter.

You start taking out the different spices, dough, and meat for the posole you were going to make for dinner, you go wash your hands and rinse down everything you just bought. You grab your apron and notice a shadow by the entrance of the kitchen, you smile and ignore them.

“You ask her.”

“She's your wife, you ask.”

“Yeah but she’s your mom, so you ask her,” Urban whispers back, pushing Cassie all the way into the kitchen.

“How about you both ask me?” You suggest, turning your head to look at them while peeling the chiles.

“She wants to open a present,” Urban says, picks her up, and heads towards you.

“Hmm.” you look at your daughter. “Have you been naughty or nice all year?”

Cassie smiles, “If I was naughty, why Santa bring all those goodies?”

You’re left speechless, “She got you there babe.”

You glare at Urban, “Tell you what princess.” you smile at her, “I’ll let you open just one.”

“Yayy”

“Only if your dad helps me peel these.” You point to the pot you had filled with water and chiles California.

“Daddy, get peeling.” Cassie pats his shoulder.

“Ugh.” Urban groans, sets Cassie down, and goes to wash his hands. “Can I get some gloves?”

You nod and point to the cabinet next to him. “On your right babe.”

“Only because I love you, Cassandra Wyatt,” Urban says.

Cassie gasps, “Not because you love mommy?”

“I- you know I do.”

You can’t help but laugh at that.

“I know, just messing with you.”

Urban shakes his head, “You need to stop hanging out with The Harlow spawns”

“Not uhh.” Cassie shakes her head. “They my best fwens.”

You smile, “Cassandra, I bought some stuff to make cookies.”

“Oh yum.”

“Want to do that while daddy does his job?”

She nods “Yes please.”

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

Urban had taken a few pictures of you and Cassie while you two were baking and having fun. After a few hours of baking and prepping everything, Cassie was growing impatient and wanted to open her one present that you had promised she could.

Urban and you were now seated in the living room, waiting for Cassie to pick the present she wanted to open.

“Okay, this one,” she announces, blows the hair out of her face, and sits down in front of you two.

“Wow look at that wrapping Cass,” Urban says, admiring the Hello Kitty wrapping paper.

“It’s so cute.” she nods.

“Okay, open it,” you tell her.

“What is it?” Urban leans towards you and whispers into your ear. “ I didn’t see you wrap this one.”

You smirk. “She’ll love it. You’ll both have fun.”

Cassie gasps. “OH MY GOD, I LOVE IT.”

You smile but Urban sits up and tries to look at the box, “What is it Cass?”

She smiles and looks up at her dad, “A camera.”

Urban quickly sits down next to Cassie and pulls it out of the box, “Oh this is neat Cassie.”

She nods, “I wrote Santa a letter.”

“Yeah? And what did you say?” He asks her.

“Camera to be like you daddy.”

Urban smiles and kisses the top of her head. “Want to test it out?”

She nods. “Say cheese mommy.”

You smile, throw the peace sign, and wait for her to snap the picture. After a while of messing with the camera, she finally gets tired and is ready for her nap of the day.

You start picking up the wrapping paper from the floor when Urban grabs your hand and stops you. “W-what?”

“That shit tugged at my heartstrings and you knew it would.”

You shrug, “Maybe.”

He smiles, “Since when did she want to take pictures like me? It was always sing like her Tio Jack Jack or her mom.”

You smile, “She’s been saying that for a while now, she would always try to use my phone for pictures but she claims the quality sucks.”

Urban chuckles, “You were right you know?”

“About what?”

“We’re gonna have fun with that, even if it’s a Polaroid,” he says.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

“For what?” He asks, confused.

You wrap your hands around his neck, “For coming back to us.”

He smiles, “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Promise me, Wyatt.” You close your eyes and place your forehead against his. “Promise me that you’ll stay.”

“Baby, look at me.” he places his hand under your chin. “I promise you that we’ll make this work, I promise that I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay even when you want to throw a cup at me, I’m here to stay.”

“I love you.” You whisper.

He gives you one last peck and smiles, “I love you more.”

You raise your eyebrows, “You know what else Cassie wrote on her letter to Santa?”

“What?”

You smirk, “A baby brother or sister.”

He looks shocked, “Wait what?”

You shrug, “I know we said no more kids, that we’re happy with just Cassandra. But we can always practice.”

Urban smirks right away, “Oh you got yourself a deal Mrs. Wyatt.”

•••••••••••••

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree @toocriticalharlow @thefemalestorywriter @lightsoutstyles @violetslays818 @fantasywritersstuff @vanwritesfan-fiction

#urban wyatt #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt x yn #urban wyatt x y/n #cassie wyatt #jack harlow

[hangmanssunnies]

Sfumato

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

Summary: Loving Jake Seresin isn't difficult but accepting that he won't ever love you back is. So you have to decide if what Jake does give you is enough. Can you with it? Can you love him enough that it fills the gaps in between? After all, how much does a confession really matter? At this point, you're pretty sure it can't rival how it feels to help Jake paint coyotes flying planes.

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

Word count: 23K

Playlist

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Abuse (Implied and mentioned), confrontation with the abuser (mentioned), Child abuse (mentioned), Slow burn, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles (mentioned), Rejection, Drinking, Lying, Arguments, Yearning, Deployment, communication, hyper-specific!Jake, Neurodivergent coded! Jake. Please let me know if I missed any for this part; I know it is a long one.

Authors Note: I am not sure what to say about this. I agonized over this for 8 drafts, and now I just I hope you enjoy at least some part. Thank you for your patience in waiting on this second part. Coyote and Hangman BFF supremacy.

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

++++

It wasn’t that your attempts to convince Jake to be yours weren’t going well. It’s just that they didn’t seem to make any difference. You baked his favorite dessert which ended with the two of you dancing in the kitchen together to a slow song he had thrown on the record player. Just when Jake had been about to kiss you, his phone rang, and it was work so he had to take it. 

Another time you had been sitting with him in the garage, while he worked on your car. Jake had been wearing overalls, and you found it so hard to think that before you knew it you were pressed as close to him as his sharp elbow would let you, asking how you could help. If Jake hadn’t been covered in grease, and dirt you would have kissed him right there. Again, it just didn’t seem like the right time. These moments kept happening so frequently you had practically given up at this point. You decided that you two would happen eventually. You just had to keep doing the small stuff, so when the time came you would have plenty of supporting evidence for your case. Enough evidence that it would be impossible and illogical for Jake to not want you back. 

“Sugar, would you mind helping me out?” You hear Jake call out.

“What’s up?” You call back to him already standing from the couch and walking towards the laundry room. Jake smiles widely once he spots you near  the doorway. 

“Would you mind taking those upstairs?” He asks, nodding towards a pile of towels and sheets. 

“I absolutely cannot do that for you,” you tell him, sounding dead serious. However, you are already gathering the laundry up in your arms, earning a laugh from Jake. 

“Can you just put them by my sink? I would do it but,” he gestures to the heated-up iron he is holding. 

“No problem, Jake.” You tell him. You make your way upstairs with the laundry and into Jake’s room. It is as clean and tidy as it’s been all the other times you’ve seen it 

Although when you step into Jake’s bathroom you have the sudden realization you had never been in there before. It’s clean, of course, which is no surprise. You set the towels and sheets down on the counter. As you turn to leave, something catches your eye and makes you gasp: Jake has a bathtub. 

He doesn’t just have a normal bathtub, no, it’s a large luxurious looking porcelain claw foot bathtub. The walk-in shower and double sinks don’t even catch your interest after you’ve seen this. Almost immediately, you are flying out of Jake’s room and down the stairs, sliding to a stop by the laundry room’s doorway again. 

“You good?” Jake asks, confused by your sudden reappearance and slightly elevated breath. 

“Jake, you have a bathtub!” 

He nods his head and looks confused. “Yeah, and?” 

“Why did you keep it a secret from me?” 

“I thought you knew.” He responds with a small shrug. 

“I had no clue.”

“Honestly, I rarely ever use that thing, but I keep it clean. So, anytime you ever want to take a bath you're more than welcome to go right ahead.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah of course. I got Epson salt, some soap that’s supposed to make bubbles, and those bath bomb things in that chest next to it. Which, please use.”

You want to ask why Jake would have all those things if he isn’t a bath guy. The answer seems obvious to you though which doesn’t make it less of a stab to your heart. The only thing that’s better than a bath after all is a bath with someone else. 

“You wouldn’t mind?” you ask him, double checking. 

“No, Ma’am. You go right ahead.” 

“Thank you, Jake!” You exclaim walking to his side. You make sure you’re careful of the iron’s cord, so you don’t trip. Jake is leaning downwards waiting for his cheek kiss before you even reach his side. You place a quick soft kiss there. 

“Anytime. There’s also a speaker under the sink if you want music.” Then he starts ironing again, and you linger at his side longer than necessary enjoying his closeness. 

Just after you leave the laundry room and start down the hallway Jake calls after you. “Yell or text if you need anything.” 

Jake’s bathtub is just as nice and luxurious as you had anticipated it to be. His chest of bath items had a much wider selection than you were expecting. It was just like Jake to be over prepared with all the variation.  

You soak to your heart’s content, and you are fully relaxed before getting out of the tub. After that and your post bath needs you throw on some lounging clothes and head downstairs again. You feel warm and happy. You wonder if you’ll be able to coax Jake into cuddling with you on the couch. 

It normally doesn’t take much effort on your part. An offhand comment that you’re cold, or telling Jake he will really like the show you are watching with a pat on the seat next to you. Oftentimes it won’t take any effort at all, you simply just make yourself close and Jake would naturally gravitate to your side. 

When you get downstairs though you pause, hearing a dripping sound. Following the sound to the downstairs guest bathroom you gasp at what you find. There is a huge bubble in the ceiling with water dripping out. Luckily enough it’s mostly dripping into the shower. However, it looks like the rest of the trapped water could burst at any moment. 

You stare at the compromised ceiling as if keeping a watchful eye on it will prevent anything from happening. And you yell out “Jake!” 

You don’t hear anything, so you yell again a bit louder this time. “Jake, I need help!” 

 You hear a door slam just as Jake calls out for you. “Sugar?”

“In here,” you call back. 

“Are you okay?”  Hangman asks as he comes down the hallway. His eyes scanning your body closely looking for anything amiss. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him. Then you point to the ceiling. “That, not so much.” 

Jake’s follows where you are pointing to the bubble and water in the ceiling. He lets out a low whistle, at the sight.  

“Well, this definitely isn’t great news,” Jake says. He sets his palm on your back to gently urge you to the side to enter the bathroom. His chest still brushes against your side as he passes. 

He starts to look more closely at water bubble. He pokes it experimentally and the whole things reacts by sloshing and shifting. 

Jake hums and steps back around you in the doorway. As he does it, he doesn’t even seem fully conscious of the choice to press a kiss to your brow while muttering a low thank you. You turn and follow his retreat with your eyes. When he comes back from the garage with various tools. Jake steps around you again but you don’t make any attempt to shift for him. He doesn’t seem to mind brushing so close though. 

“You might want to move, darlin.” Jake says to you this time. You have to make an effort not to pout when you aren’t gifted a kiss as he passes. 

“Why? What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to cut open the drywall, well wet wall now, and let the water out.” Jake chuckles at his own joke, clearly pleased with himself. “It’ll probably get messy.” 

You heed Jake’s advice and step backwards out of the doorway planting yourself in the hallway instead. You watch as Jake cuts a hole in the ceiling over the shower and the water releases in a rush. Once most of the water has drained, Jake investigates enough to determine that there isn’t an active leak occurring. Just as Jake predicted he is dirty now, soaked and covered in wet drywall. 

“Okay that’s fine for right now. Sweetheart, can you bring me a towel and a change of clothes? So, I don’t track so much of this gunk everywhere. 

“What do you think caused it?” You ask him while turning to the laundry room and grabbing his requested items. When you come back to the bathroom Jake has stripped down to just his boxers. 

You try not to let your eyes wander. You see Jake scantly clothed around the house less than you have fantasized when you first moved in. He is almost always fully dressed. Really the only times you saw him shirtless was days he went on extra-long runs in the mornings. He would come inside heated sweaty with his shirt draped around his neck. 

Those sightings were always so early in the mornings though. They were always tinted with glowing, sleepy haze, sometimes making a question if you were still asleep, and this was just another dream. 

Right now, there is nothing deniable about the way his body is on display, and by the time you force yourself to be respectful and focus on his face. Jake’s smug smirk tells you he has absolutely no shame or ounce of self-consciousness in him about this aspect of himself. The way you were staring doesn’t seem to have bothered him either. That bottom lip of his tucking in between his teeth, almost taunting you. 

You ignore the bloom of desire in you and hold out the towel first. Jake rinses his hands and forearms off in the sink before grabbing the towel.  The fact that it’s disrespectful only bothers you the tiniest bit while you watch him clean up. You don’t say anything the whole time or when you hand him the change of clothes, too worried it would break the spell. 

Jake catches your eye while he is dressing. The way he stares at you is so intense, it makes goose flesh prickle on your arms. You had always known how charged and heated taking clothes off was, but you had never imagined that putting them on could be just as much so. 

“You didn’t hear a thing I just said.” Jake says.

“Hmm?” You hum.

“You know why I call you Sugar?” Jake asks you breaking the silence while he takes the plain black t-shirt you are holding and pulling it over his head. 

“Because you can take the boy out of Texas but not Texas out of the boy.” 

“Hey, I ain’t no boy unless you’re putting cow in front of it,” Jake says, and it’s a tone that more than borders flirty. He has been doing that more lately, flirting with you outright. You are still stuck deciding between if he actually has become receptive to your efforts to impress and entice him, or if he has finally wholly become comfortable with you around so he isn’t so strict on his filter. 

“Oh of course Jakers. I’m sorry,” you say dramatically. 

“I can’t stay mad at you,” he says affectionately. His thumb grazing your chin tilting your face. “No, even though we both know I’m a Texian through and through. But the reason?  It’s because you are so sweet to me. Sweeter than sugar honestly.” 

Jake’s voice takes on an almost musing tone. His hand drifting and settles on the side of your neck. And you want to melt, his words repeat over and over in your brain melting any other thought. Your own hand reaches up and grips his wrist almost tightly. Mostly as a way to ground yourself because you feel like you might float away, and partly because you want to hold Jake in place scared that he will pull away. 

“Maybe I should be calling you honey instead. I might like that even better.” Jake continues. His thumb swipes across your pulse point and your breath hitches. 

“Which do you like better? Sugar, or Honey?” He asks you purposely and slowly drawling out each word. Part of you wants to back out of this interaction before it can tread into any more dangerous waters. However, this is just the kind of moment you wanted and were desperate for; times that gave you a glimpse Jake might have some sort of want and need for you. 

“I like both those just fine. However, there is a third option which I would like most.” You respond after thinking over the two pet names. 

“Cupcake?” Jake guesses. 

“Nope.” 

“Sunshine?” 

“What are these callsigns?” You ask him playfully. That earns you a small chuckle and Jake inches even closer to you. 

“Darling?” 

You hum in appreciation but shake your head. “I do love darling, but not what I’m thinking of.” 

“Fine, I give up. What is it?” Jake sighs admitting defeat. You have the word ‘yours’ ready to say it’s there on the tip of your tongue finally about to be out in the open. 

However, before you can there is a creaking ripping noise as a chunk of the wet drywall falls and slams hard and loud onto the floor below. Jake is turning to asess the situation while simultaneously gently urging you behind his frame in a quick reaction. It’s yet another moment that sucks all the tension out the air. The ones you and Jake can’t seem to avoid running into at inopportune times. 

“Jake, this isn’t something we can ignore. We should call the landlord to come out and fix it.” You say peering around his shoulder to look more closely at the mess that’s been made. 

“Oh, don’t worry too much, Darlin. I will take a look at it in the morning.” Jake says with a shrug putting his hands on his hips. “It needs to dry out anyways.” 

“I know that you are capable and can deal with it. But this isn’t something you should have to bother with.”  You explain to him. 

“Yes, it is. Who else is gonna do it? I ain’t paying someone to fix this when I know I can and have the time.” Jake says, shaking his head at you with a laugh. You stare at him a bit confused and then suddenly you feel a realization start to dawn on you. 

“Jake, I’ve got a question.”

“What’s up?”  Jake’s hands are on his hips, and he takes a few steps back into the bathroom towards the hole. 

“Who is our landlord?” You ask cautiously.  

“We don’t have one.”

“We don’t?”

“No, sugar.” Jake says, peering at the hole thoughtfully. 

“How is that possible?” You ask. 

“I own the house.” He says it in a duh voice, like this is something you should know. 

You snap your mouth shut, your teeth click together and stare at him.  It is your silence or the intensity of your almost glare that tips him off and Jake looks away from the damage in the ceiling to you. You meet his green sea glass eyes, and his eyebrows draw close together a frown pulling the edges of his lips down. You slowly shake your head and back away from Jake out of the bathroom. 

“Sugar,” he says soothingly. He takes a small step towards you, but you continue backing up quicker. Once you hit the hallway you spin on your heel ready to book it back to your room. Jake catches up to you on the top of the stairs clearly having taken them three at a time. 

“What’s wrong?” Jake calls after you. 

“You never needed a roommate. Did you Jake?” You ask him desperately hoping you’re wrong about the story you’re building in your head a mile a minute. 

Jake's eyebrows lift up his forehead but the way his eyes cast down to his toes and his tongue darts out to wet his lips you don’t even need to know his answer, it’s evident. 

“No,” the word is finally uttered. You have to squeeze your hands tightly into fists to release some of the hurt at hearing it confirmed. It’s like everything around you is shifting but you are frozen in place helpless to watch it change. Your perception of who Jake is threatening to bend with it. 

“So, I was a pity project to you?”

“What? No. It was nothing like that!” Jake denies. 

“Javy told you about his wife’s poor sad friend who was down on her luck, and you couldn’t help but jump on the chance to play savior. Wanted to be a big macho hero. That’s what you live for isn’t it, Jake?”

He stops looking shocked, and you see anger at your words spark up in his eyes instead. You are glad; You want to make him as angry and hurt as you are feeling right now. 

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” Jake responds in almost a condescending tone. You are almost shocked he didn’t throw a nice bless your heart on top of it. 

“No, I wouldn’t actually!  I don’t want to be seen as some fucking damsel in distress. I didn’t need saving.”

“Yes, you did!” Jake cries back throwing his hands upward. The knot that forms in his jaw when he clenches it appears as he grinds his teeth in frustration. 

“Wow,” you laugh shaking your head. You turn to go to your room needing to get away from him. 

“Wait, listen. Please.” 

“I don’t want to listen to you right now, Hangman.” 

“That’s not very fair,” Jake huffs at your answer.  

“Is it an apology?” You ask, turning to face Jake once more while standing in the doorway to your room. 

“No. It’s not.” Jake responds. You can hear the annoyance in his voice which just makes you feel angrier. 

“No?”

“No,” Jake confirms. His fists are clenched so hard at his side that his knuckles are white. “I would never let anyone stay in the situation you were in. There isn’t anything wrong with getting help getting out.”

You stare at Jake wide eyed he had never been this direct with you before. He never brought up you past or why poked at why you moved in. Not even after your dad had shown at the house and he refused to reference any of it. So, it’s startling to have it open in front of you both. Jake not pretending that he didn’t know or wasn’t aware anymore. Jake pulls his hands through his hair making it stand up at awkward angles. 

“Listen you can be mad at me. That’s fine, but don’t be mad at Javy and Marlee. They only wanted you to be safe. We all just wanted you to be safe.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

“Why would that matter?” Jake asks coldly. Then after a few beats where you don’t say anything he continues. 

“I was never more thankful in my life than when I was able to move away from my father. How the hell could I have stood by and left you in that situation?” 

You start a little bit in surprise at his words. Only able to breath out a quiet, “Oh, Jake.” 

“I don’t care if you don’t like it. I don’t care if you feel like it was pity or a handout. I don’t care that you’re mad. I wouldn’t change it. It was the right thing to do,” Jake says steamrolling forward ignoring the hand you reach out towards him.  

“My feelings never mattered then?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying. I shouldn’t have to explain to you that the thing I care about, before anything else, is that you are safe. Once someone’s safe there is time and space to deal with everything else.” 

“How can I feel safe with someone who lied to me?” You ask him venomously. 

A soon as he fully processes your words Jake recoils in hurt. It’s what you wanted but you don’t feel any satisfaction from it. Jake looks disappointed as he shakes his head at you, which makes you feel even worse. Then with a sharp nod and grimace he tries to play off as a smile Jake spins on his heel and goes down the stairs. 

You go into your room shutting the door securely. Then you lay on your bed and try not to cry. Trying to think with any sort of a clear head proving impossible. You can’t stop wondering how you let such a nice night turn so sour. You are also plagued by thinking over every moment you have had with Jake looking to see if there was a layer of pity to him that you had just been oblivious to. 

The next morning you feel extremely nervous to venture out of your room. You had lived on egg shells before, and the feeling was sickening. The anxiety of the situation crawled up your throat strangling you a little bit. You and Jake have never had anything even close to resembling a fight, or whatever you wanted to call what had happened the night before. Despite the nausea gnawing at you, by mid-morning you finally work up the courage to venture down stairs. 

Cautiously you look around, but you don’t see Jake in the living room, dining room, or the kitchen. So, you tiptoe into the kitchen to look for food. Standing there you hear music coming from the garage. It takes you several more minutes to hype yourself up enough to peek into Jake’s workspace and confront him. 

As you open the door and step out the sound of rock music immediately envelopes you, your eyes scan the area until they land on Jake. He is measuring a sheet of drywall, making marks on it with a square pencil. 

If he noticed you enter the garage, he doesn’t indicate it in any way, continuing the task. You make you way over to one of the comfy Ergonomic Camping Chairs that Jake had set up in the shop. Sitting there waiting you are unable to take your eyes off Jake. The garage which was clean and orderly yesterday in now a whirlwind mess. Both your vehicles have been moved out presumably into the driveway, Materials for at least three different projects are strewn out. When Hangman finishes drawing the outline of where he is planning on cutting, he finally looks at you. 

Tucking the square pencil on his ear, Jake turns the volume of the speaker low. He doesn’t say anything, just leans back against the workbench and looks at you. While waiting his fiddles with the toothpick sticking out of his mouth. When Jake flips it before biting down again you decide you're going to have to say something first. 

“Good morning.” 

“Morning,” He responds tersely. 

You don’t know what to say, so silence descends again. Jake remains perfectly still waiting, the only movement is the occasional wiggle of his toothpick. You look at the wall behind him seeing it covered in new taped up project plans and half-finished sketches. 

“Can we talk about it?” You ask cutting through the silence again. 

Jake crosses his arms over this chest but nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, we should. If you feel up to it.” 

“So, you always knew why I needed to move?” 

“Yeah. Javy and Marls told me in not so many details. They knew I had a lot of extra space, and that I would never let anything happen.” 

“So, the three of you were conspiring behind my back.”

“Conspiring,” Jake scoffs in a sharp sarcastic tone. “We got you out of an abusive situation and home. We are such assholes.” 

“The point is you lied to me. You didn’t think I would want to know you owned the house?”

“You never asked,” Jake says, defending himself. 

“Typically, people like to know they are living with their landlord, Jake.” You snap back and rub your face tiredly. 

“It didn’t seem like it mattered. I’m not your landlord anyways. We are friends.”  

You consider his words and suck a breath in through your teeth. “Please tell me what I'm thinking is wrong.”

“What are you thinking?” Jake asks. 

“That you have been giving me an outrageous discount while living here. How when you told me to pay less in rent you were already subsidizing me living here.” 

Jake’s lips tighten and he holds his gaze past your shoulder. If you weren’t watching him intently you would have missed the small nod. 

“Are you at least using my rent to pay any of the mortgage?” Jake’s bottom lip tucks in-between his teeth for a moment and you know he is preparing to lie to you. Exasperated, you warn him, “Don’t lie to me.” 

“It’s been going into a high yield savings account I set up for you.” 

“Jake!” 

“What? I don’t need your money. Plus having a strong savings and an emergency fund is important.” 

You groan loudly and cover your face. It was ridiculous. It was honestly so hard to stay mad at him when he was like this. How he was caring and sweet but going about it in the wrong way. 

“I’m moving,” you say, throwing your hands upwards. 

“Why?” Jake asks, his eyes widening in alarm. “Because if it’s about the money that’s a stupid reason.”

“I’m not running away from anyone anymore, and while I appreciate your kindness, Jake, but it’s time for me to go.” 

“You won’t find somewhere cheaper.”

“Apparently not, when I haven’t been paying rent at all!” 

“Have I been a bad roommate?” Jake asks, he has that same look on his face as he does when he is trying to palace a particularly confusing puzzle piece. One he would often wear when he broke out the magnifying glass, he kept in his puzzle chest. 

“No, you’re a good roommate.” 

“What is it then?”

“Jake,” you sigh exasperatedly. 

“I need a reason besides money,” Jake requests. 

“It’s not just the money.” 

“Ah, Just. So, what else is it?”

It’s how you are embarrassed, it’s how you love him, ache for him. How Jake makes you happy to come home. “I still don’t understand what you are getting out of this. Isn’t your sense of honor bound duty fulfilled?” 

“Flew past honor and gentlemanly a long time ago, actually,” he replies slightly snarky. You roll your eyes at his answer. 

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the syllables. 

“Sugar, there is something you just don’t seem to understand. You make everything better,” Jake is plain in how he says this. The sunsets in the west, otters hold hands when they sleep, and Jake Seresin thinks you make everything better… It's that simple. 

You are stunned. You blink back at him owlishly trying to process his words. When you don’t respond Jake runs a hand through his hair pulling at it. 

“I did need a roommate,” he starts wanting to fill the silence.  “Having someone else here helps me. It gives me a reason to check the locks, use my shop, and talk to someone when I get home. I used to just sit here; you know. When I got back from the gym at night I would just sit alone, mostly in silence. Sometimes I would read, or do sudoku, other nights I would just stare at the wall waiting until it was finally a justifiable time to go to bed.”

That image is a punch in the gut. A quiet dark house, with a lonely quiet Hangman in it. You try to imagine what would happen when he enters a stress phase, but he is here alone, no one to reign him in, no one to tell Coyote that Jake needs help. Even if you’re hurt and mad, you love him. 

“Okay, Jake.”

“Okay, what?” He asks you. 

“I won't move, but you need to let me pay my share.” 

He grinds his teeth at your answer contemplating it. “Is that a deal breaker?” 

“Yes,” you tell him. 

“I’m sorry. It’s a no then.”

“No?” you gasp shocked. “You were just begging me to stay.”

“I will beg on my knees if you want. Money though? I’m sorry, Sugar. I won’t compromise on it.” 

“Why are you so difficult?” You ask. 

“Mama always said I was more stubborn than a mule. I can’t make my Mama a liar, sweetheart.” Jake says, he looks less sullen now that he seems to understand getting you to stay is possible. 

“We can’t have that can we?” You finally respond, deciding to give in. Jake whoops, and later once he wakes up from the nap you forced him to take, he doesn’t stop checking on you like he expects you to disappear. 

~~~~~~~

A few weeks later things seem to be back on track and normal between you and Jake. There was a full week where Jake seemed to be watching you nonstop, hypervigilant to everything about you. He has eased up though, and you were glad to have him at ease again.  

Jake had just finished his post morning run shower and come downstairs munching on a snack in the kitchen. You are on the couch and beckon for Jake to join you. Wordlessly, he bee lines to you only stopping momentarily to grab a blanket out of the blanket basket. Jakes sits next to you. He spreads the blanket over you first and then goes to tuck it over himself as well. 

However as soon as Jake does, he shoots up out of place, shoving the blanket off him. He flips it over and examines the underside. He frowns heavily at the white lining that doesn’t match the dark blue hyper soft outside. 

“What is this?” Jake asks you. 

“It’s sherpa?” you say looking at the blankets lining too. 

He reaches out to touch it again and it makes his nose wrinkle with a stern frown. Then Jake looks like he is at war. He eyes flick from your side to the blanket again. 

“What wrong?” you ask reaching out a hand for him and making a grabby hand. 

“I don’t like that,” he says waving to the fabric. 

You laugh at Jake, but it is born of pure affection. You refold the blanket quickly, and a bit sloppily and hand it back to him. “Then go get a different blanket.”

“We don’t have to.” He says. Jake is looking at the blanket as if he is mentally preparing himself to deal with the discomfort. 

“We have lots of other blankets, Jakers. I don’t care which one we use,” You wave back towards the basket. 

“No, no. It’s fine,” Jake insists. He starts to unfold and tuck the blanket around you again, not leaving any for himself. You frown at this choice, since it means no cuddles. 

“Jakobi Seresin, go get another blanket.” You order, push the blanket off of you as Jake is simultaneously pushing it off. 

“It’s fine. Just a blanket, I’ll get over it. ” Jake tells you sharply. You don’t think his frustration is directed towards you. You take a deep breath resisting the urge to flinch. 

“You don’t have to live in discomfort to prove a point,” you argue evenly. Jake sighs, your name exasperated. It’s such a rare treat for him not to fall into a pet name. It tells you that you need to press the point. 

“We should feel safe in our home. You’re always telling me that right?”

“Yes,” Jake confirms.

"Well, that includes being comfortable. So, you should be comfortable here.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable in our home,” Jake protests.

“I have a question for you.”

“Well then I imagine I have an answer,” Jake responds sarcastically, it was a known fact he hated when people asked if they could ask a question because that in itself was a question. 

“If I didn’t like this blanket, would you switch it?”

“Yes, of course,” Jake responds immediately. 

“Thank goodness,” you sigh, “Because I hate this blanky so much.”

He stares at you frozen. You wait patiently this time for him to react. Finally, after he has thoroughly examined every inch of you Jake’s frown melts away. Wordlessly, he trades the blanket out for a grey one in the basket. You watch him flip a corner to check the inside and make sure this one doesn’t have a lining. After confirming that he hold it up for you, clearly seeking your approval. You nod three times, and even give him a thumbs up. 

“I didn’t like how that stuck to my skin. It felt like it was a million tiny hands pulling at it.” Jake explains not embarrassed, because he rarely is, but something that shares a border with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know we felt that way about it.”

“I don’t think I did either,” Jake says unfolding the newly chosen blanket. 

"We," you correct him. 

"We think this one is softer anyways," he supplies. 

"Yes, we do," you agree. 

He is once again tucking the blanket, fluffing it around you comfortably before claiming his own half. Jake sits there a moment and then readjusts the blanket again evening out the sides a bit. He starts to readjust again, stopping halfway through, he harshly pulls the blanket balling it up tightly. Jake huffs frustratedly as he starts again. 

You patiently wait unbothered and unhurried. Simply content while he gets comfortable. Only humming sweetly each time he tucks your side of the blanket in. Once he determines it is even Jake sighs clearly pleased with the soft texture of this blanket. Jake sinks back, relaxing into the couch, and you notice the distinctive space he places between you. 

Since the two of you had passed into the realm of touch being an easy given between you, Jake hardly ever didn’t take the chance to lean into it. You watch him pick up his Sudoku book, open it up to a page stare at it for approximately 30 seconds before he closes the book and trades it out of the sketch pad he has on the table. Even as he opens his and starts working, he doesn’t lean closer. 

You tentatively reach over and rub his shoulder. “You good, Jakers?” 

“Yes Ma’am.” He responds, as his pencil scribbles along the notepad. 

His response feels short enough that you pull your hand away from him, even going as far as to scooch a little further away on the couch. You wonder why he even joined you on the couch, while you resist the urge to pout. After turning your show back on, you try to ignore the distance between you and Jake but it bothers you nonetheless. 

“What are you sketching?” You decide to ask him a little while later.

“You,” Jake responds without missing a beat. 

“Me?” You ask shocked. Leaning over, you see sure enough, Jake has sketched you. It is a flattering but accurate rendition, that is surprisingly realistic. 

“Oh wow,” you breathe. Jake hums in agreement moving his hand out of the way so you can get a better look. 

“Thank you, Jake. You created a very nice portrayal.”

“Art’s easy when your subject is so beautiful.” 

 You fight against the warmth that blossoms in you at his compliment. “Aren’t you a sweet talker.”

“It’s true!” Jake says. 

“If you say so,” you tell him. 

“God, I need to take you to a museum. I can’t believe you don’t believe me. You are prettier than any of those artist muses.”

“Is that what I am then? Your muse?” You ask him playfully. 

“You are absolutely my muse. Nothing inspires me like you do, sweetheart.” 

God, you could faint at Jake’s words or kiss him. You don’t do either though, instead you just lean into his space until he naturally throws an arm around you, letting you settle close to his chest. He glances down at where you have cuddled against him. 

“Is this okay?” he asks gently. At first you aren’t sure what he is talking about. However, when you feel his arm start to shift from where it’s wrapped around you catch his wrist holding him in place. 

“Yes, always okay.” You tell him. Jake does still move his arm out of your grasp though. You feel confused, trying to consider if you have crossed any of his boundaries. Physical touch and affection was so natural and commonplace between you two that you didn’t even really give it a second thought anymore. 

“Is it okay with you?”  You ask checking in. 

“It is, but only if you are okay with it.”  

“Not really how that works,” you tell him.

“That’s always how it works between us,” Jake says. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Jake.” 

“I won’t,” he tells you with conviction. 

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise,” Jake says, kissing your forehead. You can’t stop yourself from pressing a small kiss to his clothed chest. You try to disguise it by leaving your face there, breathing in Jake’s scent. 

He doesn’t comment on it. Jake just readjusts the blanket around you again, tucking it in around you until he is content. His arm wraps around you again pulling you even closer to his chest. With a little more shifting he is situated and goes back to drawing. 

It’s one of those nights that leaves you with the feeling there is nothing in the world you really have to worry about, not when Jake is at your side. 

— — — — 

"Do I look okay? I can't decide if this is too dressy," Jake asks you as he walks into the living room. Once he is standing fully in front of you, he adds, almost sheepishly. "It's for a date." 

Your eyes snap to Jake, and you inhale sharply, caught off guard by his words. You try to play it off, scanning him from head to toe. He is wearing a patterned button-down with the sleeves neatly folded to his elbows, and the top two buttons are undone. You could see the peak of his dog tags underneath. Jake has paired the shirt with some dark-wash jeans. He, of course, looks undeniably good. It doesn't help how your stomach is stuck on one of those whirly fair rides. You gulp down your bubbling emotions, trying to keep level and at bay. 

"You look great. What are you doing?" You ask casually. 

"We are going to some coffee shop," Jake tells you with a shrug. 

"Oh wow, that should be fun. "

"It'll be something," while he sounds confident, Jake doesn't really sound excited. 

"Normally, you are supposed to be excited about a date, you know."

"Yes, Sugar. I am aware of that." He says, rolling his eyes. 

With how hard you had been trying, you think that Jake would have acted on any secret or partial feelings he had for you. This felt like the final nail in the coffin. He wasn't going to love you back; he wasn't going to pick up any of your hints. All signs pointed to that he would never feel that way towards you. It seemed all other excuses now evaporated. It wasn't that he wasn't dating right now. It wasn't that he was too busy or wasn't looking for anyone. It was simply because it wasn't you, and it never would be you. 

God, he was so handsome; even in the trenches of your hurt, you can't help but think so. "It's your hair."

"What?"

"Come here," you tell him, motioning for him to come closer to your side. "It's your hair that is making you feel that way." 

Jake comes to your side and crouches down. You reach up and touch the gelled-back strands. Ignoring the product's texture, you run your fingers through it so that it falls much more loose and free.  

"You aren't going to work; you don't need your hair slicked back like this." You explain to him kindly. You fiddle with one of the strands absently, trying to decide how you want to place it. Jake's eyes flutter shut while you play with the strands. 

"Thank you," Jake says softly, his hand settling on your waist, holding you steady while you fix his hair. You ignore how big and warm his hand feels. It's like his touch burns you with how much it makes you want to cry. You pull away and lean back, making his hand fall back to his side. 

"Anytime, Hangman," you whisper. He pulls back from you and sits in his comfy chair. 

"So, tell me about it," you say after a minute of staring at him. 

"Well, she asked me out the other night at the bar."

The last time Jake went to the bar was on Thursday. That was four days ago, and he hadn't said anything. You feel the knife in your gut twist even deeper. 

"Well, how did it happen?" You don't know why you are doing this to yourself. You know that if you don't ask him any more questions, Jake will sit quietly and content in his chair on his phone until he has to leave. 

"Ah, she complimented my shirt. She is from Texas too."

"She just complimented your shirt, and now you are going on a date?"

"Yeah, I mean, she asked, and I didn't have an excuse to say no," Jake explains to you. It's true he didn't have an excuse; after all, the two of you were just roommates and friends.

"Oh, well, that's nice. She sounds bold," You respond.

"Bold's definitely one way to put it."

"What do you mean?" You are confused by his tone.

"Well, to put it plainly, Sugar. I think that she really only wants one thing from me." Jake gestures down the length of his body before pulling his toothpick case out of his pocket and popping one out to use.

“Gottcha,” you answer. 

Jake sits there with you for another ten minutes, bouncing his leg the entire time before he tells you he has to go. You manage to force out a polite goodbye telling him to have fun. You are anxious for Jake to get back. You try to distract yourself, but nothing seems to work. Finally, a few hours later, you decide it would probably be best for you to try and get out for a while. However, when you get to the garage, Jake is there. 

You are startled and set a hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing back down. He is wearing a pair of earmuffs and hasn't seen you yet. You notice that he has changed clothes since you last saw him. Now he is in one of his ratty garage shirts and jeans. 

Walking across the garage, you call to him loudly, "Jake!" 

He catches your movement out of the corner of his eye. He raises his hand in greeting and pushes off the earmuffs, then takes out the headphones he had on underneath. 

"Hi, Sugar," Jake says. 

"Jakers! I didn't know you were home. How did it go?" You ask. Despite having prepared yourself to be happy for him, your tone doesn't quite hit as easygoing as you hoped.  

"Yeah, I got home a while ago. It wasn't the best date I've ever been on," Jake says, throwing the cloth he has in his hands over his shoulder. 

"No?" You question trying to fish for details. 

"No," he sighs and rubs his face. His hair, you playfully mused earlier, is now almost messy, telling you he had been messing with it. 

"I'm sorry," you apologize. 

"No need to be. I only went to be polite anyway." Jake says, giving you a smile. His answer raises your heart from where it had been residing on the floor. You drift over to the bench to see what he is working on and gasp. 

"Oh my god, Jake, is this it?"

"Yes, Ma'am. One puzzle table, almost done." 

You appreciate the stained juniper and the design that Jake made for the table. It folds open, and the top is removable as well if you want it completely out of the way, not just folded. It has a soft white felt fabric on the inside. On the sides, there are a few hidden drawers to store pieces. You can tell it's impeccably made. The table looks almost exactly like the final sketch he had shown you for your approval and feedback before buying the materials. 

"It's amazing, just like your design," You sigh, going to run your hand over the smooth-looking wood. Jake stops you, his hand catching your wrist in a gentle grip.  

"The stain is still drying," He warns you before letting go of your hand. 

"How did you get so good at all this?" You decide to ask him, turning your admiration of the table back to him. 

"Miss Celeste."

"No way," you say, shaking your head at him in disbelief.

"No, it's true!"

"Why exactly did Mrs. Celeste know about all this?" You ask, waving towards the table and bench. 

Jake chuckles as he twirls a square pencil in his fingers. "She is a very talented woman. But the reason she learned about woodworking was because she fell in love."

"Don't leave it there, Jake." 

"Well, one day Miss Celeste drove into town to go to the store. And while she was in the tool store, she had gotten all turned around. That's where she met my Pop, Mr. Russell, he was also there and asked if she was lost. Now, Miss Celeste would rather die than admit she was in the wrong, or ignorant. So she told him she was exactly where she needed to be. So he asked her, what she needed the wood for, and what was she going to do with it? Then she looked him dead in the eyes saying she was building a new bed frame. And poor Mr. Russ had been so shocked that he laughed."

"He laughed?" you ask. 

 Jake grins widely towards you at the memory of the story. As he chuckles at his grandmother and shakes his head. "Miss Celeste was so mad that she decided she had to do it. She made him carry all the wood she picked out and to the register and then also to her truck. Pops didn't complain once about this small polish woman meeting him and immediately bossing him around either. After all the wood was all loaded up, he wished her good luck."

"Miss Celeste doesn't believe in luck." You say, thinking of some of the other stories Jake had told you. 

"No, Ma'am, and neither do I." 

"She told him that, didn't she?"

"Of course, and she said she didn't need luck, because she had skill and work ethic," Jake's voice dipped into an extra twist of accent that somewhat replicated his grandmother's unique polish southern twang you would hear on the other side of Jake's phone sometimes.    

"Mr. Russ just shrugged, helped her in her truck, and told her that he would believe it when he saw it. And it drove her a little crazy. She became obsessed with figuring out how to build a bed frame. Not just anyone but a good one. She went to the library, checked out a bunch of books, and even took some classes. When Miss Celeste finished it, she had no idea what to do. All she knew about him was he had been in a tool store, and his name was Russell.  

"Miss Celeste went back to the store and tried asking around after Russell, but no one knew anything."

"What happened?" you ask him. 

Jake's eyes absolutely twinkle, and sometimes when he talks about the things he loves, he nearly glows. He turns towards his bench and grabs a trunk off the top shelf. 

You lean close to his side as he opens it. The chest has a few different photo albums and other keepsakes. You spot a watch, a compass, some pins, and some patches. Tucked in the corner, you see a cello bridge you desperately want to ask Jake about.

However, before you can jump topics, Jake traces over the photo album's spines until he grabs one with a dark leather binding. Flipping open the scrapbook, Jake starts turning pages before he stops on one and shows the page to you. You follow where he is pointing. Saved in the scrapbook is an aged newspaper clipping. It's an advertisement for two handmade bedside tables; payment only accepted in one matching bed frame.

"He put an Ad in the paper?" 

"Every single Sunday after he met her, for months." Jake sighs and runs his fingers across the paper. 

"So, Miss Celeste finally saw it?" 

"Yeah, she contacted him and invited him over. Pops pulled up to her house with two bedside tables that matched the bed frame. Miss Celeste demanded that he put the bedside tables in her room to go with the frame. He asked her if they could go on a drive and dinner after. She said absolutely not. They had to test out how sturdy she made the frame. Pops was a smart man who said yes, ma'am, and followed orders. They have spent every day since then madly in love." 

"Wow, that's such a beautiful love story they had."

"Yeah, it was something."

"So, you are close with Russ too?" you ask. 

"I am, even if he ain't my grandpa," Jake says.

"What? He's not your Grandpa?" You ask surprised. 

"My actual blood grandpa, the one I'm named after, died young. Mr. Russ and Miss Celeste fell in love later. He always bothered my Da', but Russ is a good man."

"And good to you?" 

"Yeah, and good to me too." 

Jake turns the page, and you see the couple. They are sitting in two rocking chairs side by side, holding hands. Celeste has a neutral, if almost stern, look on her face, but Russell is grinning wide, his face happy and bright. The only thing that gives Celeste's true feelings away is that she is leaning towards him. It reminds you vaguely of how the sunflower can't help but turn in the direction of the sun. 

"He's the reason I applied to the naval academy. Helped me get my congressional nominations and write my application. My namesake was in the army, but Russ is a navy man, just like me." Jake turns the page again. 

The next picture is a huge barn with Celeste and Russell standing proudly in front of it. Russ has an arm thrown around Celeste's shoulder. She has a hand on her hip, and a hammer in the other. Celeste has a pleased look but not an actual full smile, while Russell is once again grinning. You reach out slowly without thinking and touch the picture. While Russell doesn't look like Jake, there is something you can see in the picture that is reminiscent of him. They have the same sort of aura around them.

"He is your grandpa, then."

"Yeah, he's my Pops." Jake says, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. 

"They built a barn?" 

"Yes, Ma'am, and it's still standing today," Jake answers proudly. Then he closes the scrapbook and puts it back in the trunk. Before you can jump on the opportunity to ask about anything else in the trunk, Jake snaps it closed and puts it away. 

"Thank you for sharing with me, Jake." You tell him. 

"Thank you for listening."

"One of my favorite things," you answer almost cheekily. You glance over to Jake and find him already staring at you. 

"I can't imagine and don't understand people who settle for anything less than what my grandparents have," Jake says seriously to you.

"Is that why it didn't work out tonight with your date?"

Jake is quiet for a minute, like he is contemplating your question. "I guess you could say it's something like that."

"Wow. You really don't want to tell me about your date." You laugh. 

"You don't tell me about your dates," Jake says, a bit annoyed.

"Maybe that's because I haven't been going on any," you defend yourself. 

"You haven't?" He asks.

"No." 

"Oh," he responds. Then his eyes drop down to the puzzle table. He twists the top of the stain off and dips a rag into it. Your nose wrinkles a little bit at the smell, but you stay close next to Jake's side. 

"I would tell you about them," you finally say. 

"You would?"

"Of course, I would. I always want to tell you everything, all the time." You admit this like it's a secret. 

Jake sniffs before he bumps his elbow playfully into your side. "That's one of my favorite things, Sugar. Now, so this whole day isn't wasted, will you throw on some tunes and hang out while I finish this?"

Your mouth feels a bit dry at his words but you quickly reorient yourself. "Do you need help?"

"No, just company. Plus, now that the table is done, you have a job to do."

"What job do I have to do?" You ask, turning on the speaker in the garage and connecting your phone. 

"Honey, it's your turn to pick us out a new puzzle," Jake says. 

"Are you seriously going to let me?"

"Of course, I'll grab my puzzle chest for you to look through in a minute."

"What if I don't like any of those options?"

"Then we'll order one you do like," Jake shrugs. 

"What if you don't like the one I pick?"

"I'll like it," Jake says reassuringly. 

"Yeah, but what if you don't?" You ask again. 

"If you pick it out, I will like it, sugar," Jake tells you more firmly this time, leaving no room for questions or argument. It's reassuring and a warm sentiment, and it makes it difficult for you to stop grinning when you start digging through the handmade chest and examining the different puzzles in his collection. 

^^^^^^

It's a scene you wouldn't normally involve yourself with. However, it is Javy's birthday, so exceptions do have to be made for the holiday. You had never known how seamlessly Jake and Marlee could work together until watching them pull off this surprise party. 

 Jake had stayed up until two am the previous night finishing the banner. It said, "Happy birthday Javy!" with several planes on it, all being flown by very realistic depictions of Coyotes, the animal that is. You had been enlisted in helping put everything together, which you didn't mind, but Marlee and Jake had really taken the brunt of the work. 

Now, here you are in the bowling alley Jake had rented out, which is now filled to the brim with people enjoying the night. You knew Javy was funny, sociable, and well-liked, but this was genuinely so many people you were shocked. More than any of the bonfires or other parties the Machados threw. 

You were even actually having a lot of fun at first. You enjoyed talking and laughing with your mutual friends who had come to celebrate. You were still grinning from the feeling that had swept over you, watching how widely Javy smiled when Marlee walked him in, and everyone shouted surprise. After Javy kissed his wife silly and started to greet people, the high-five Jake and Marlee shared was so loud your own hand hurt watching it happen. It didn't make the scene any less heartwarming. Nothing quite paralleled the feeling of seeing the people who mattered most in your life together and having fun. All your enjoyment came to a screeching halt when you heard a conversation that definitely wasn't meant for your ears. 

"Showboating at someone else's birthday is a bit much, don't you think?" you hear coming from the conversation a few men were having near you. Curious, you followed where their gazes were turned. They were looking over at Javy, Marlee, Tazina, their little sister, and Jake. The four of them were playing doubles pool, and Jake was laughing at something someone had said while knocking balls into pockets effortlessly. 

"Showboats at work, during class, and PT, showboats at the bar. That's Hangman for you. I don't know why you are surprised. I don't think he can help himself, honestly," one of the men responds. 

"I don't know if his being dick helps anything or anyone." 

"Naw, man, you are just mad he nailed that maneuver before you last week."

"No," the first guy defends himself. "It's not that, dude. Plus you know I was flying earlier in the morning, and the weather was shifting."

"Oh yeah, Amber, you told us all about it." The third guy says, sounding exasperated like he had heard the excuse a million times.

"I don't know. Haven't you noticed something off about the guy?" Amber continues on, turning to more fully face his friends and you inch closer to hear better. 

"What do you mean?"

"The guy is an asshole. He's always making fun of everyone and then showing them up. The other day he had the audacity to tell me he already had the new manual memorized. We haven't had those longer than a week."

"Just ignore him, Amber." 

"Hard to ignore him when he is so loud and never shuts up." 

Jake did draw the eye and attention, oftentimes to an edge you knew he didn't even notice. Jake was high-fiving Tazina, after which he he picked her up and spun her around the table, gloating about their win loudly. It looked like a genuine celebration, though, not designed to specifically rub in anyone's face. And even though it was Javy's birthday, with his arm wrapped around Marlee and sipping a drink, he didn't look anything other than happy. You didn't like people talking about Jake; it made your skin crawl. They were the ones who could take a moment to celebrate whose birthday it actually was.

"Yeah, I don't know why Yote is always keeping Hangman around." One said. The comment shoots anger through you and short-circuits your brain a little bit. That was just one step too far over the line on these guys' part. 

You knew exactly why Javy kept Jake around. You knew just how close Hangman and Coyote were. You knew about the unbreakable bond they had foraged, brothers in every way that mattered to each other, wingmen, and best friends for life and death. Jake often joked that he and Javy would be bunked up together in hell just like they had been back in college. 

You knew about the time they went hiking, and a freak blizzard had trapped them together for two whole days. You knew the calls and hours they would spend together. You knew how Javy would pull Jake back from the edge, and Jake would do the same for Javy. The hours they would spend reading over a manual long after it was memorized, trying to find any hidden details together and discussing technicalities. You had been there before when Marlee called Jake, begging him to bring Javy home. Jake had gone to the gym to collect the aviator, who had been on the treadmill for hours. Times they were both struggling, Hangman would take Coyote to a wing restaurant there they would eat and have a beer before returning Javy home to his wife. 

The implication that their friendship was anything less than the bond of brotherhood, that Hangman somehow didn't give as much as he got from Coyote, was enough to boil your blood. The anger builds more and more, so much so, you decide that you have heard enough of the slander. Walking confidently over, you stop at the little partial circle they are standing in. 

"You guys are wrong," you tell them with a frown, capturing their attention.

"What's that, sweet thing?" One asks you, clearly confused. 

"Hangman is the one who put this together for him and flew their little sister out." 

"Okay, and?" Another one of the guys asks. 

"I heard what you were saying, and you are wrong. Hangman is the least selfish person I have ever met. If you can't keep up with him in the sky, that is a different issue. Maybe you shouldn't be paying so much attention to other pilots, and you might fly better. I understand not having a photographic memory must be hard for you, but I promise there are worse real handicaps people have to get over every single day." 

All three men's mouths fall open shocked at your words. One of them opens his mouth as if he is going to try and tell you off, but you don't give him a chance barrelling on.  

" And it's a real low blow for you to bring his brother into it like that on the man's birthday, too. You can talk shit about Hangman, and he will laugh it off any day. Say something about Yote; that's a different story. So, maybe y'all are the ones who should focus on the birthday boy while drinking the liquor Hangman paid for." You add sharply, nodding to the drinks in their hands from the open bar. All three men stare at you for a long moment, and you are surprised none of them has jumped into being an asshole to your face. You are a bit pleased when they all avert their gazes and look at least a little 

"Sorry, ma'am," the one in the middle utters, lowering his head. 

"I'm not the one you should apologize to." You say with a point towards the pool tables. The group nods and then scurries away and over to Javy, greeting him quickly and striking up a conversation. 

"You didn't have to do that," you hear a  familiar voice say. You turn around, shocked to see Jake lingering close. 

"What's that?" you ask, pretending to be confused, smiling at him. You aren't sure how much he heard or how long he had been there. 

"I don't care what those guys think, and Javy knows I care about him."

"I know," you say, and it's true. You know Jake cares very little about the opinion of people he doesn't deem impressive in their own right or part of his inner circle.

"I don't like hearing them say things that aren't true, though."  

"Unfortunately, whatever they were saying before was probably more on the side of truth than you want to believe," Jake says. 

"Hmm, maybe not about Hangman. They are wrong when it comes to Jake, though. And regardless, even Hangman cares about Coyote." 

Jake gives a full belly laugh at that statement, "Yes, that's true, Jake or Hangman, Coyote or Javy. We go together."

"Machado and Seresin, two peas in a pod."

"Wingmen for life," Jake confirms. 

"Best buds. In fact, y'all are so close I think that you are the only person that Marlee would get jealous over."

Jake only laughs more, but he doesn't disagree. "You didn't have to defend me. I've heard worse, and I'm sure they have said worse." 

"Of course, I will defend you, Jake. You would defend me," you say with a shrug. As far as you are concerned, it is easy math. 

"I wouldn't put up with you being lied about. If someone was saying something about you, I would do more than just defend you, sugar."

"I know you would," you say, taking a step closer to Jake. Jake welcomes your closeness and leans toward you as well.  

"I'm worried you don't know that I'm a bad guy." Jake suddenly says. He takes a pull of his drink and finishes it in one smooth motion. Setting his empty glass on a nearby surface, Jake steps even closer to you. The two of you are almost chest to chest now, only a few short inches between you. 

"You aren't a bad guy." You say, shaking your head at his words. 

"God damn it," Jake groans and rolls his eyes. He turns away from you and to the open bar full of alcohol behind you. He grabs a glass and starts to pour himself a shot. Jake throws the tequila back without flinching and licks his lips slating those intense eyes back on you. 

"I am, actually. You don't got to—" Jake says, but you cut him off. You don't want to hear anything less than nice and praiseworthy about Jake for the rest of the night, least of all, from him. It makes you too upset.

"You are good." You say insistently, needing him to understand. Jake just starts to pour another shot, his jaw clenching at your words. However, when he doesn't protest, you continue on, "I don't know who convinced you otherwise, but I am going to have a talk with them. 

"I would never let that happen," Jake says in a surprisingly forceful tone. 

"No?"

"Nope," he pops the p sound. "I would never have let him within a hundred feet of you, sugar. Let alone close enough to have a conversation." 

"Oh, Jake. Who?" you ask, trying to press him for details on the subject that has come up glancingly several times now. 

"Naw, I don't want to actually talk about it. I just wanted to set the record straight."

"You could talk to me, though." You set your hand on his arm, stopping him from hastily throwing back his next shot. 

"It's nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart," Jake grits out. 

"I'm sorry," you start feeling a little bad. "I won't push you anymore on it, but you can always talk to me." 

He does take the shot he poured, but it's much more deliberate and controlled than the first. When he sets the glass back down, he reaches for a lime slice and bites into it. After which, he finally utters a quiet "Thank you." 

Jake doesn't stay down for long. As often happens in social situations he blossoms, earning easy and casual attention by simply being himself, a feedback loop that puffs him up more, making his natural draw that much stronger. 

As the evening continues, everyone is pulled together to sing Javy happy birthday while he blows out candles on the massive cake Marlee had ordered. Once the cake is cut, everyone starts drinking more than any other activity, but the whole atmosphere is happy and warm. As the party starts to wind down and people leave. You observe and enjoy the atmosphere when an arm is wrapped around your shoulder. 

"Thank you," Javy says as his arm curls pulling you into one of his famous bear hugs. You squirm a little bit, trying to find breathing room, and laugh at him.

"Your callsign should have been Bear because of your hugs."

Javy finds this suggestion hilarious, and you attributed that more to him being drunk and less to do with your joke. As his chuckles start to enter the giggle category, you join in with him. 

"What are you thanking me for, birthday boy?" Once you two manage to stop laughing.

"Thank you for being so good to Marlee and Jake. I love them both so much. It's nice to have someone I know cares about them as much as I do." Javy says sincerely. 

"Well, they sure make it easy," you said with a shrug. Both you and Javy turn to look for the pair. Most people have left now, leaving only a handful of Javy's friends left as well as Marlee and Jake. Neither of you are surprised to see them sneaking over to the bar and picking out shot glasses together. 

"When are you going to give Marlee what she wants?" You ask Javy conversationally, settling an arm around his waist but pinching his side affectionately. 

"When are you going to give Jake what he wants?" Javy throws back just as casually. 

"Jake doesn't want anything from me," you say, deflecting that comment away. Javy just laughs and rolls his eyes. His laugh dies down, and he starts fiddling with his wedding ring. 

"I've been trying to give her what she wants. Well, I should actually say we have been trying for what we want, just no luck yet." Javy says it lightly, but you know your friend well enough to tell this is something that's weighing heavily on him. 

"Oh. I'm so sorry, Javy. Marlee didn't tell me." You rush out, feeling bad for bringing up the topic. 

"No apologies allowed. We have been keeping it on the down low. Just until there is something to tell, you know. If there is ever something to tell. It's been hard on us, though. Marlee feels like there's something wrong with her."

"That's not how it works," you say as concern fills you for your friend.  

"I know. We know. But I'll say this, you and Jake will probably be some of the first people we will tell.' 

"Oh, Javy, we'll be so excited for you. I'm here, you know. If y'all ever need anything. If she ever needs anything."

"Yeah, we know," Javy says and kisses your forehead. "Thank you for helping them put together this party. I know you helped more than you will admit."

"Anything for you, Coyote. You've had fun?"

"Yes, I have had so much fun. But I think that it is time for me to get the missus home." 

"Not before you have another shot. It's your birthday!"

"That's true," Javy says with a wide grin. "But only if you take one with me." You agree, as that had been your intention from the start. You tug a bit on his hip to get momentum going as you let go and move away from Javy. 

"Come on, before we miss another round," You say, starting to walk towards where Marlee was deliberating between different liquor bottles. Javy falls in step with you no hesitation. 

"It'll only happen when you say you are ready, you know." Javy throws your way. 

"What will? Shots?" you ask him, confused.

"No, what I'm saying is there is no rush with you and Jake. He is going to keep waiting. At this point, I'm pretty sure he will wait forever, as long as you need." 

"Coyote," you sigh. "He doesn't feel that way for me." Javy doesn't acknowledge what you said with anything more than a frown that quickly melts away. A few feet later, he throws his head back and howls at the ceiling tiles. 

The sound makes Jake's head snapped up and towards you two. With a wide grin, Jake throws his head back as well and howls in response. Jake is at your favorite stage of drunk, where he is giggly and overly affectionate. His eyes light up, seeing Javy. 

"Coyote," Jake says gleefully, borderline yelling. 

"Hangman," Javy replies, grinning back. 

"Where did you go? Jake asks, a pouty frown replacing his smile. He looks so upset you have to resist the urge to pull him into a hug and pet his hair. 

"I made sure Tazina got in her taxi safely, but then I was just over there, bud." Javy gestures generally in the direction that you two had been before. 

"Do you want to do a shot?" Jake asks, already pouring the drinks.

"Yes, we do." Javy agrees, gesturing towards you. He pats Jake's shoulder, giving him a little turn to face you better. Jake shifts his eyes off Javy to consider you for a moment, and his grin reappears. Once Jake moves, Coyote slips over to wrap his arms around Marlee, kissing her soundly on the lips. 

"Missed you," Marlee says, pulling Javy closer into a kiss that quickly starts to become less than PG-friendly. You snap your eyes back to Jake and away from your friends. Jake is completely oblivious to them, or more likely, it is that he is better used to their PDA. 

"Sugar!!" He says enthusiastically. "Thank god you're here. I have a huge problem."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" You ask Jake with a laugh. Marlee pulls her lips off of Javy's and turns to Jake wide-eyed. 

"Oh my god, Jakers! You are brilliant." Marlee gasps. You feel a tiny twinge of jealousy in you at someone else, even Marlee, using your nickname for Jake. 

"Marlene, of course, I'm brilliant. Has it taken you this long to realize that?" Jake says back to her sassily. 

"Hey, you don't be mean to my wife!" Coyote says, glaring at Jake. Javy untangles himself from Marlee, and then a few moments later, the two men are playfully roughhousing. Marlee drifts to your side, and you wrap an arm around her waist in a half hug. She immediately follows in kind, wrapping you in hers. 

"Love you," you tell her quietly. Marlee grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and squeezes you a little tighter. 

"I love you too, bestie." 

You both watch  Jake and Javy playfully shove each other a few more times. When Jake goes to put Javy in a headlock, you decide to intervene. 

"Hangman," you say. His attention is pulled off Coyote and to you instantly, his eyebrows drawn close together. 

"Yes, ma'am?" 

"What's this problem you were having?" You ask, directing the question half toward Jake and half toward Marlee. 

"Well, you see, Marlee and I have been trying to finish this alcohol, and we just desperately need help."

"That is something I think we can help with," you say, and Javy nods enthusiastically, which makes Marlee and Jake cheer loudly. 

The four of you all take some final shots. Then you ordered Javy and Marlee a ride home. Javy and Jake hug for almost five straight minutes while waiting outside for the taxi. You make sure to take several pictures, sending them in your group chat with the guys and Marlee. You are already looking forward to hearing them try to explain their behavior in the morning. You imagine that Jake will give a long-winded explanation about how it was Javy's birthday and there is nothing wrong with hugging his bestie on his birthday. 

Once your friends are headed home safely, you and Jake, who is still shockingly coordinated, clean up the remaining decorations, drink water, and settle up everything with the venue. Then you call a taxi for yourself. Now you two are waiting outside for your taxi. 

"We should repaint," Jake decrees. 

"Repaint?" You clarify. 

"Yeah," Jake says, and he hugs you from behind. His arms wrap around you snuggly, pulling you close. 

"What are we going to repaint?" 

"The kitchen, your room, the whole house. Everything, anything." Then he hums in your ear. Dragging his nose up your neck, giving you a small nuzzle. "Whatever color you want."

You take a moment, then think of Javy's words from earlier in the night. How Jake is just waiting. You wonder for a moment if that's true and what he could possibly be waiting for. What more did you need to show him for him to be convinced that you love him and it might be worth his time to love you back? You had been putting in the work and done everything you could think of. Not that the things you did for Jake were only to win him over, you did them because you loved him, of course. It just all seemed so obvious. 

"I don't get you, Jake," you whisper to him.

"Well, that's just not true. Honestly, I think you understand me more than anyone else," Jake says, squeezing his arms around you a minuscule bit tighter. 

"No. I don't think so. You build me tables, you cook, you make me laugh, and you cuddle with me. Now you want to let me choose the paint for your house. Why?"

"Why?" Jake echoes, sounding just as confused as you felt. 

"Yes. Why?" He spins you around, his hands find purchase on your hips holding you steady. 

"How could you not know why?" Jake looks visibly distressed, and his hands squeeze your hips almost tight. He is searching your eyes and face frantically, trying to understand. Then closes his eyes like he is trying to do some really hard mental math.

"I need to detail your car." He says a minute later with a solid nod. Then he turns you around and hugs you close again.

"No, Jake. I don't need you to do that," you squawk, having no clue where that idea even popped into his head from. 

He just hums against the crook of your neck where he settles his head. His breath is warm against your neck, making shivers run up and down you. 

"Seriously, don't," you reiterate. 

He nods his head against you, "It's happening, Sugar."

You are at war with yourself. You want to be upset at him; you want to love him. You want to shake him hard and make him see, really see you. 

"Jake, how drunk are you?" you ask.

"Hmmm, why?" He wonders. Jake doesn't get actually drunk very often. Normally he drinks in measured, careful amounts. Rarely brushing completely out of his limits of control. 

 "Because I'm wondering." 

"I'm not very drunk. I've been layering  in water all night." He tells you, and it's a relief to hear. Because maybe Jake not completely in control, is what you needed. There was a difference though, between letting loose and being entirely inebriated.

"I have a question for you."

"I have an answer," Jake replies easily. You are still deciding if you are going to take the jump when your taxi pulls up. You start to wiggle out of Jake's arms to greet the driver, but he holds you still.

 "What's your question, sugar?"

"I'll ask you when we get home," you say gently. 

Jake accepts that and unwraps himself from you. Once you two are settled in the back seat together, it is like a switch flips in Jake. He is alert, and if you hadn't been watching him do shots and drink all night, you would believe he was sober. He confidently gives the driver your address and makes an easy casual conversation. 

You can't take your eyes off of him, admiring what you can see in the dark. Your eyes flick down, and you watch as his hand slides across the seat, it is a confident movement. Jake's palm flips over, where he leaves it there open and waiting. 

You hesitantly brush your fingers against his but don't settle them. Jake's whole hand flexes, clenching, going to hold you but coming up empty. Then he relaxes again, letting his fingers spread a little wider. You look up and meet his gaze, which is now pouring into yours. He is still making casual conversation, but you know he is lasered in on you. 

So in the dark, in the back seat of the cab, you settle your hand into Jake's. As soon as you do, Jake curls his hand into yours, slotting your fingers. It's not the first time you have held hands, but it feels so charged and intimate that your breath hitches just slightly. 

Jake's thumb draws against the back of your hand the whole rest of the drive. It's a slow, steady repetitive movement. You try to figure out the pattern, and when you two are nearly home, it hits you that he is drawing a question mark, tracing it into your skin. 

You are home. Jake had let go of you only once, and it was to jog and open your car door for you. Your hand was placed back in his as he helped you out of the car. He hasn't let go of it again since then. 

Neither of you says anything as you make your way into your home. Jake stares at you expectantly, and you are considering chickening out of your earlier plan. Even more so when the time has stretched awkwardly that you've stood in the entry, and Jake pulls his hands out of yours.

However, before the panic can settle at the loss of his skin,  Jake is bending down on his knees, helping you out of your shoes. He massages each foot and then your ankles. You can't help the sigh of satisfaction that falls out of your lips. After which, he places your shoes on your shoe rack. He is much more methodical and quick about shucking his own shoes. Placing them in their spot, Jake stands and pulls off his jacket, still not saying anything.

Part of you wishes that he wasn't letting you out of it so easily, but the part of you that is scared, and a bit of a coward, is thankful, glad even. You expressed gratitude too soon. 

"Sugar," he says, following you as you start to make your way to the stairs. You turn to face him, swallowing down the nerves you feel. However, you don't say anything yet. 

"I have an answer," Jake reminds you steadily. His eyes are burning bright despite the dim hallway; only one of the nearby living room lamps you had left on provides light. 

"But you don't know the question." You tell him. Jake's eyebrows crease, and his lips purse. 

"I think I do." He says carefully. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment, and you watch intently as he bites it a few times before letting go. "Why don't you ask it anyways." 

"What's the answer?" You ask him. 

"What's the question?" He repeats. 

You clench your fists tight and drop your eyes to the ground, trying to steady yourself. He has never been explicit with you about any feelings and what you want to ask is a big jump. You try to think of how you can ease him into it, how you can entice him, let him know what you want, and spur him into action. You stare into his green eyes, looking for answers, and he gives you a tiny encouraging nod. 

"Do you care about me?" You finally ask. 

"Yes," Jake says almost before you finish the question. When he processes it fully, he nods his head again as if deciding that was actually true. His answer helps ease some of the tension you feel, and you feel slightly more confident. 

"I have another question." 

"I have an answer," he replies playfully. You step so you are close to Jake and rest your hand his chest. He dips his head down a little bit to get a better look at you. He adopts a soft sweet smile while putting his own hand over yours. You can feel the steady pace of his heart pumping. 

"Jake?"

"Yes, that's me, Honey."

"Do you want me?"

"Yes," he responds steadily, and the balloon of hope in you raises so high you think you might float. 

"Would you like to fuck me?" You finally manage to ask. The soft smile on Jake's face melts, and he physically takes a step back from you. Your hand falls limply to your side. Jake shuts his eyes tight and scrubs over his face a few times. Then he pulls at his hair before looking at you again.

"No," he responds quietly. 

"Oh," you whisper. 

"No," he repeats more firmly and adds, "I don't want just to fuck you." 

You try to think of something to say, but there is nothing. All you can do is force the closest thing to a smile you can muster on, and you nod your head shakily at him. You watch Jake's eyes widen as his eyebrows draw together. He starts to lean towards you, but you can't bare it. To feel his warmth close to you at this moment is the worst thing you can imagine. It feels as if you have hyperthermia; all the heat has been sucked out of your body. Jake's gentle touch would be like throwing you in the bath, the only thing you want and the thing that would only kill you faster. 

You hurt. You ache. You want to cry and scream and maybe some other dramatic reaction. You want to do anything that would help you get some of this hurt out. You know you can't finish this conversation. You stumble back a little bit. You briefly and wryly think it would have hurt less if he had physically hit you. Bruises fade from view; you just got to give it a few weeks. You don't think that your heart will recover this time.

As you back up, your heel hits the first step of the stairs. You quickly turn, grab the railing, and start to step up the stairs. Right now, all you can think to hold yourself together is that you need to get away and be alone. 

"Wait," Jake rasps and steps quickly after you. His hand catches your elbow, pulling you back a little bit, but you refuse to turn to look at him. He presses his face into your arm. All you can do to hold your sobs in is take short, gasping breaths. You couldn't fathom how he could touch you so tenderly after having just rejected you. 

"Stop it, Jake!" You beg him tugging on your arm. Jake lets it fall from his grasp. It's a slow movement, halting and trailing. You turn to see his eyes there, waiting to capture yours. His eyes burn looking into yours, the edges rimmed in red.  

"Just, stop." You sigh, again barely holding the lump at the back of your throat down. 

"I don't understand," Jake whispers to you. His hands reach towards you but drop back to his side quickly. Where he clenches them open and closed repeatedly. Jake's hands then fist into his hair and he rips at it as his leg bounces restlessly. You can't stop yourself from caring about him. You can't stop yourself from reacting. No matter if he just shattered your heart, you won't let him hurt himself. 

"What don't you understand?" You ask as you pull the hair elastic off your wrists and hand it to him. Jake takes it from you, and his fingers start working and fiddling with it. 

"I don't understand your reaction. Why are you mad at me?" 

"I'm not mad at you, Jake." You take a deep breath and release it slowly, "I'm mad at myself." 

"Were you wanting me to say yes?" 

You just shrug and step back up another step of the stairs putting more space between you. Jake follows, not allowing more than two stairs to separate you. 

"It's a yes or no question. I need you to be direct with me. Did you want me to say yes?"

"The question wasn't about what I wanted, Jake. It was about what you did." 

"Can I change my answer?" He asks you almost timidly. 

"No," you whisper. You are unable to stop the few tears that slip down your cheek. Your eyes are burning from trying to keep the rest of them at bay. 

"But it didn't come out the way I meant," Jake tries to explain.

"It was a yes or no question, Jake. It's okay that you said no," you rationalize, trying to use that as a balm to your own hurt. 

"But, if you let me explain," Jake says as he pulls the hair band so hard it snaps.

"I don't need an explanation. I just needed the answer, and you gave that to me." Then after a small pause, you add, "Thank you, Jake." 

"Please," Jake says in that same small voice. He has his lips pressed tightly together, and you see that this conversation has also upset him. 

"You are hurting my feelings," you whisper to him. Jake staggers three steps backwards down the stairs as soon as he processes the words. You take another step up the stairs, and he doesn't pursue after you this time. 

"Are we going to be okay?" He asks solemnly. You think about his words and what had happened. Sure he rejected you, but it was probably one of the kindest and easiest ways it could have happened. Plus, now you had your answer. You didn't have to wonder anymore. Now you and Jake could just be best friends and roommates. You would never stop carrying a torch for him, you knew you would always love him, and you would get to keep Jake in your life at least, which isn't such a bad thing. 

"We'll be fine in the morning," you tell Jake pushing away a few more tears. He nods but otherwise doesn't say anything. You nod back and go finally are able to finish your escape into your room. 

What you said is true too. In the morning, you and Jake are fine. Neither of you mentions what happened the night before, except for Jake complaining about the picture you took. You tease him back about if he really didn't like them, why did he save them to his phone's camera roll. Jake still details your car and provides swatches of different colors for your approval. It feels like you are both grateful that you can move past what happened. And beyond that gratitude is a lot of heartache. 

======= 

You had seen all the signs again for a few weeks now. It was yet another one of those times that you could tell something was stressing Jake out, but you didn't know what. It wasn't hard for you to assume it had to do with his work, either. Surprisingly, usually, if Jake could talk about something that was stressing him out, like his sports teams, family, friends, or the store running out of the specific brand of yogurt he liked, he would tell you about it. Now that you knew what the signs were, it was easier for you to try to intervene and suggest Jake use one of his outlets. He was always grateful when you did, one time having explained to you that he really didn't notice sometimes until he was in the depths. 

You could tell this one was gearing up to be bad. Jake had cleaned the house from ceiling to floor, literally. He had washed the walls and scrubbed baseboards. Then he power-washed the driveway. The cleaning wasn't enough. You could see it in how he circled around the house like a shark as if ceasing to move would cause him to suffocate and die. He was staying up and working on projects in the garage until midnight. He went through every single box and chest in the attic. He also forced you to climb up the ladder so you would see the entire section he cleared out and left for you.  

What finally set you into action about intervening though was when you came home and Jake had baked 300 Pierniki mini cakes for the Big Brother Big Sister program he was involved with. When you asked if there was an event, he told you his little brother, Ryland, had a bake sale. Checking the flier that Jake had put up on the fridge, you saw the sale wasn't happening for a month and a half. You had sat with Jake in the kitchen as he baked, cooled, and packaged the Pierniki so they could go into the freezer while he cleaned. All the while found and ordered a gift you thought Jake might really enjoy as an outlet. 

When the package arrived, you spent more time wrapping it than you had any other gift in your life. You made sure that every one of the corners was folded and taped perfectly straight, as well as the bow. You were so excited you couldn't wait to tell him like you originally planned after dinner. 

"I got you something," you tell him, trying hard to hold back the excited grin that was threatening to give away your feelings. You wave Jake over, asking him to join you in the living room. 

Jake, who is fresh from a shower, has wet floppy hair and then his eyes take in the wrapped box on the table, and he almost looks alarmed. He approaches the box cautiously and guarded. 

"What is it?" He asks. 

"It's a surprise!" His expression doesn't change hearing that, so you add on, "If you really want to know, I can tell you what it is before you open it. Or unwrap it for you."

"Is it a good surprise?"

"I think so."

"Did you spend a lot of money on it?"

"I will not be disclosing that information," You answer in an overly sweet voice. It makes the expression on Jake's face crack, his lips quirking in a half-amused smile. 

He is reverent about unwrapping the gift. You can see the hesitant excitement on his face as he methodically unties the ribbon and finds each seam to pull. However, once Jake gets a peek at the box underneath, the wrapping is tearing before he has a second thought. He spares the paper a mournful glance. You just nudge the large box towards him, silently telling him it wasn't anything to overthink. 

"An aircraft carrier?" Jake's eyes drop to the model ship box as he takes in the details, analyzing the picture on the front. 

"I know that it isn't the same as yours, but —" 

"Sugar," Jake says, cutting you off. However, you barrel onwards anyways. 

"Listen, I can tell things have been hard for you lately. I don't know what's wrong, and I know if I ask, you can't tell me what it is. But," you sigh, frustrated, trying to remember the planned speech you had been practicing for when he opened this. 

"I don't want it to get so bad I come home and find out you jumped the gun on starting our next puzzle," You say. Jake laughs wryly and grimaces at that reminder.

"Not that would be bad if you wanted to, I wouldn't stay mad about it, I promise. But I thought this could be something different for you to work on with the stress. I think models like this could be right up your alley." you finish with a forced smile.

A minute of silence grows from one to two then three. Jake hasn't looked away from the box once, gripping the cardboard so hard there are indents now.

"Jake?" you ask cautiously, confused by his reaction. He ignores you and stays frozen there.

"Jake?" You ask again, a little louder. 

"Hangman," You finally try. 

Hangman's eyes snap up from the box and meet yours. "I'm shipping out, and I haven't figured out how to tell you." 

"Oh." you are so shocked you have no idea what to say. The box falls from your hands, and despite Jake's death grip, it slips out of his, too banging against the table. Neither of you pays it any mind. 

"When?" 

"Got about two weeks left, now."

Now. Jake said, now. It clicks for you, and can pinpoint it. You know the exact day that he must have gotten the news, about three weeks ago. He had come home after being at the gym for an extra hour and made one of your favorite meals. Jake hadn't said much and had scrubbed the kitchen after until it sparkled clean. 

"Oh, that isn't enough time for us to do this or a puzzle," is what you finally say, gesturing to the model box. Because what else can you say? You can't be mad that he hadn't told you, not really. 

"I was going to tell you, I promise. I've just been finalizing a lot of stuff and getting all the ducks in line."

"What kind of stuff?"

"I," he goes quiet and then clears his throat. "I updated my will, and I've been setting all my bills on auto-pay, making sure most of the maintenance around here is taken care of for a while. You know, all the checklist stuff."

"How long are you going to be gone?" You wonder out loud. 

"I don't know, six, maybe nine months," Jake responds clinically. Your heart clenches. Six months without Jake. Six months alone in this house.

"I'm going to miss you." You eventually manage to whisper out. Jake inhales sharply, hearing it. 

"I'm mad about it," he responds in a similarly delayed manner. 

“No, need to be mad Hangman. You know better than me how the Navy is. You would be just as well off being mad at God." Your joke is rewarded with one small chuckle, but Jake's serious face returns just as fast. 

"I've got so much stuff I've been working real hard on," Jake admits. 

"And you will be able to keep at it when you get back."

"There is no guarantee of coming back with the Navy either, Sugar."

"You'll come home, Jake."

"You think so?" Jake asks you. You are slightly comforted by the playful tone he adopts. 

"Yes, or else I'll reorganize all your books," You say. 

"Hmm, I don't think I would care if you do. Put them any way you like, sweetheart."

"I'll use your tools in the garage then."

"You are more than welcome to the shop anytime. Don't forget the color coding system." You both chuckle and take the moment to draw a steadying breath in. 

"I won't ever change the batteries for the fire alarms ever again." That one does provoke a reaction from him. His eyes dart to his watch. Jake stares at it hard. 

"Good reminder. Thank you, I'll text Yote the battery schedule. He will take care of it." Jake then loosened his watch's dark leather band by one notch; he shook his wrist out after, and the watch twisted out of place 180 degrees being so loose. 

"I'll do the new puzzle with someone else," you say, deciding you have to break out the big guns. 

"You wouldn't dare." Jake snaps. His attention was drawn entirely back to you. He plays up the part of mock outrage with impressive theatrics. 

"I certainly would." You wouldn't, actually.  

"Well, that's it then. I have to come home to you." 

"You never have to do something you don't want. There is no 'have to.'" You remind him, throwing air quotes in around the words. 

"Yes, there is," Jake tells you plainly and honestly. 

"What can I do to help you get ready to leave?" You ask to steer the conversation back on track. 

"Nothing and I don't want you acting differently on me out of nowhere, please. I understand if you need space because I kept it from you. But leaving is just part of my life; it doesn't need to be the end of our universe." 

"I'll try not to be weird, and I'll have months of space later," you console Jake. 

He looks at you, hopefully. Clearly, Jake had been expecting you to have a more adverse reaction. When you don't, and you open your arms to hug him, Jake melts into you. As you pet Jake's hair, you use it as a distraction to not think about the fact that he didn't say he would miss you back. It was probably just another one of those things that he didn't want from you. 

"You got us a new puzzle?" He asks you quietly after a while. 

"Yeah, it was also going to be a surprise. I originally got it as a birthday present for you. But I also thought it would be a good backup in case you didn't like the model." 

Jake shifts on the couch so he is lying down and buries his face into your tummy. His body starts to shake, and alarm shoots through you. You don't know what to do except continue playing with Jake's hair and occasionally running your hand down his neck and back in what you can only hope is a soothing motion. 

"What kind of puzzle?" He asks when his shudders die down. His head is still pressed into you, the words muffled. 

"I had it custom-made."

Jake pulls his face away and looks up at you, his eyes slightly puffy and rimmed red. "A custom puzzle?"

"I found this company that makes high-quality jigsaw puzzles out of real wood and then does a replica painting on it." You explain to him. Jake makes a sound closely resembling a whine and buries his face into your tummy again. 

"What painting? Can I see it?" is the next thing he asks. 

"Do you really want to know what it is?" 

"Maybe not." he finally says after long quiet contemplation. "Then I probably wouldn't stop thinking about it." 

"Don't worry, I won't touch it while you are gone. It'll be here waiting for you." I'll be here waiting for you, went unsaid, but you were sure he must feel it; he must know. 

 Jake sits up then, and he is so close to you, only inches away. He is staring at you intently, his breath mingling with yours. You smell the lingering mint that his toothpicks always leave. It takes all of your willpower to resist leaning forward those last few inches to finally find out how much the taste lingers as well. 

Jake's green eyes examine your eyes keenly. Then he is leaning forward, and everything else freezes. Your breath hitches in anticipation, and your heart beats so loudly it drowns out all other sounds. You part your lips the smallest bit in anticipation. At the last moment, Jake turns millimeters to the left, and his lips catch your cheek and just the smallest corner of your mouth. Jake's nose drags up your cheek slightly, almost a nuzzle, as he shifts to press a kiss to your forehead as well. 

"Thank you for the model. It's a thoughtful gift. I'll find somewhere we can store it." Jake whispers into your skin. 

Jake's warm body pressed against yours saps the strength, and you lean heavily into him. It seems to be what Jake had been waiting for when he pulls you down on his chest and pulls the back of the couch blanket over your form, tucking in the edges. 

"Why did you pick this specific aircraft carrier?" He eventually asks, his hand smoothing down your back. You press your face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, sighing and relaxing even more.  

"It's the same one Mr. Russ was on. I saw it in one of your pictures." You explain slowly to him, hoping he won't be upset you did a little snooping for your gift. He isn't. Jake makes a hum of acknowledgment but otherwise doesn't comment. 

"What do you need? What can I do for my favorite girl before I go?" Jake's asks, also sounding tired. His Texan twang deepens to a level you have only heard when he is half asleep. You would bet if you were to remove yourself from this embrace, you would find Jake's eyes had already drifted closed. 

"I don't want you worrying over me when you have 100 other things to think about." 

"So stubborn," Jake sighs. It's quiet then, and you relax more into Jake, starting to walk the line between napping and still awake. 

It was one of those naps you never wanted to wake up from. If the universe was kind, it would have let you stay there forever, or at least until you had your fill of Jake. But that request would be a bit longer than forever.  

Two weeks is a much shorter amount of time than you had previously thought. You could only hope the time would keep flying by when Jake was gone. There was packing, doctor's appointments, meetings, and so many goodbyes. Every day there seem to be more goodbyes happening than there were before. 

You had asked him one day as Jake was throwing together some lunch how he stood it. Jake shrugged at first, saying that he got used to it, and now it was just part of the process. Then he had opened up to you and admitted that goodbye sometimes could still exhaust him, and it felt like he was handing out more farewell memories than he had left in him. Jake tried to explain to you that he knew most of the goodbye weren't about him but rather the people he was leaving, so he made time for it. 

"I'm sure your barber would understand if you canceled the dinner with him after your next appointment," You suggest to Jake, trying to see where more time could be made for whatever his secret project out in the shop he had been staying up way too late working on. 

"Honey, I don't think you understand how important a man's barber is." 

"Okay, okay." You say placatingly. Better to leave Jake alone concerning the 2 and ½ hour appointment he scheduled for that. 

"Okay, well, I only see two other times you can cut into," You tell Jake, scrolling through the schedule he had made for his remaining time. 

"Yeah?" He asks from where he is standing by the stove. 

"Tomorrow, when Javy and Marlee come over, or you have this blocked-off time on your last night. The whole evening is blocked off. It doesn't say with who, though." You tell Jake while locking his phone and setting it lightly back on the countertop. 

"Those are the two worst things to shorten," he mutters. Jake blows out a long-frustrated breath. 

"Sorry, Jakers." 

"I'm glad you looked because I was setting that time aside for me. For us to say goodbye to each other."

"Just us?" You ask. 

"If you're free, yeah." You hadn't thought about confronting your own goodbye with Jake. Well, you had, but anytime you did, the emotions you were trying hard to bottle up would threaten to explode, rattling violently behind your ribs.

"That works out perfectly, then. We will push back hanging out by a few hours, giving you plenty of time to finish your project." You grin at him, pleased you were able to figure it out together. 

Jake picks up his phone, frowning. "Yeah, absolutely not. I would beg to monopolize you for the whole day if I knew you didn't have an appointment."

"Jake, what are you talking about? I cleared out that whole day." You check your own calendar to confirm this and run through your mental one as well. 

"I know you did. That's why I'm treating you and Marlene to relax and get your nails at the spa." 

You blink at him, not sure that you heard that correctly. He is typing on his phone, but you see the cheeky look he has every time he looks up. Jake is very pleased with his surprise for you.

"I think I would rather spend that time with you," you tell Jake honestly. He softens hearing that from you. His dimples make a full appearance, and Jake seems less exhausted and more alert. 

"I appreciate that, but I think it will be good to relax for a bit. I've been worried that you've been more worried and stressed than I am. It's important to think of your own needs." Jake reminds you gently. 

"Wow, thank you."

Jake's large hand is warm when it covers your and gives you a quick squeeze. "I'll be an hour or so late with the Machados, but they will understand."

"It'll all work out, Jake," you tell him confidently. 

"Yes, Ma'am. I think it will." Jake responds, but he breaks eye contact before saying it, making unease creep its way under your skin. 

Now, it was his last day. By this time, the next day, Jake would be gone. You had a lot of fun at the spa. It was mostly relaxing. Marlee knew the best ways to keep your spirits high and your mind from wandering too far. Jake had asked that you texted him when you were on your way home. You had but never heard anything back. Even once you got back to the house, you didn't hear anything. You got dressed in something cute but comfy, which Jake had told you was the dress code. After waiting a bit longer, you finally decided to seek him out. 

Downstairs, You hear some banging in the garage, which leads you there. You half push open the door but not so wide you risk ruining whatever surprise could be there, waiting a moment before calling his name. 

"Yes, Ma'am?" Jake says after a decent pause. Then you hear the slamming of three different heavy lids, probably one of his trunks, you assume. 

"Is everything going okay? Is there any way I can help?" You ask while opening the door wider. Before you commit to stepping out into the garage, though, a hand stops the door's movement. Jake standing right in the doorway with you now. 

"Just some last-minute list things," he says almost too cheerily. 

"I thought we checked everything off the list?" Just the day before, you and Jake had crossed off the last items on his pre-deployment checklist. Both of you had been glad to have things done a day early. After a high five, he had picked you up and spun you around the room twice before letting your feet touch the ground again.

"We did," Jake responds, reassuring you. "This is just something that popped up in my head. Not a big deal or anything you need to worry about. Plus, some of the last-minute stuff for tonight."

"Jake, I thought we were just being comfy, hanging out, and saying goodbye?"

"We are," Jake confirms. 

"You aren't going to elaborate, are you?" You ask. 

"I don't want to. But if you really can't take it being a surprise, I'll tell you." Jake admits. You think about it before shrugging and stepping back into the house. Jake follows you in and shuts the garage door firmly behind him. 

"I can wait," you sigh with a pout. Your answer makes Jake smile, though, so you can't really be upset. 

"I am going to change. Will you be ready in fifteen?" 

"Sounds good," you confirm. Jake gives you a thumbs up and starts to jog up the stairs, but halfway up, he comes back down three at a time. 

"I'm sorry. I forgot to ask about your nails." Jake exclaims, shifting his gaze expectantly. You show the design you choose to Jake. He compliments them several times, pleased you had a fun time before he ran up the stairs again. 

"I have a question that's going to shape our whole night. Do you want to go on a drive?" Is what Jake asks you when he returns in a different set of clothes. 

"Sure. Let's go for a drive." You agree. You know Jake has the whole night planned, a fact that makes you a little giddy. It also makes the idea that he built choices for you into the plan even sweeter. He guides you out the front door to where his truck is waiting before helping you inside. Then you two are on the road driving, and an almost painful tense silence descends. 

"This is nice," you finally say, fiddling with your seatbelt. 

Jake shoots a small smile at you like it is a hard thing to do. A harrowing sight on the face of a man born to grin. Jake's mouth never knew when to quit; whether a sarcastic remark quip or an easy smirk, it was up to something. 

"You can't relax, can you?" You ask when he still doesn't say anything. Jake's shoulders slump at your question. 

"No, I can't. My mind is flying faster than my jet."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you." 

You hadn't expected him to take you up on the offer, but you had hoped he would.

"Let me help you," you beg softly. Jake's hands tighten around the steering wheel, and his knuckles whiten. 

"Six months is a long time. Nine, even more. I could come home in nine months, and you could have a baby." 

"A baby?" you splutter. Jake nods back solemnly. 

"A baby, a husband, new friends, a different car. You could have a whole new life." Jake says these like each one is not only in the realm of possibility but also that he expects them all to happen simultaneously. 

"Well, I'm not planning for any of those things to happen. And I can tell you, with certainty, there won't be a baby or husband."

"Never say never."

You did want to say never, though. You wanted to hammer that point home to him. The idea of having either of those things without Jake intrinsically involved isn't even fathomable to you anymore. You can't say that out loud. You can't open that conversation because, in a matter of hours, he will be gone. It was beside the point to tell Jake that you already had a whole new life, one with him. 

"Okay, Justin Bieber. Never say never." You tell him by throwing air quotes around the phrase with an eye roll. 

Jake cracks a weak chuckle at your joke and settles back in his seat, fighting the urge to fidget. Then he summarizes, "It's a long time."

"It's not so very long. Less time than I've lived here." You mention. Jake nods along with your words, but they don't seem to help him feel any better. 

"Come, Jake, what's really bothering you?" You pry again. 

"I'll tell you, just give me some breathing room, Sugar. Please." Jake requests. 

You apologize for being pushy, which Jake instantly forgives, and silence descends. Jake drives until he finds somewhere to park the truck for y'all to look at the stars. He had carefully led you across the uneven ground to the back of the truck. You gasp when you see the setup. 

In the truck back, you find a blown-up air mattress filling the space, along with ample blankets and pillows. There is also a cooler and picnic basket in the back corner. Jake helps you get in the back before anything else. As you get comfy, he rolls the canvas top of his soft-shell camper back, revealing the quickly approaching night sky. It's a beautiful setup, and your compliments over it are waved off by Jake nonchalantly. However, he can't completely hide the pink that dusts his cheeks either. 

Once on the bed, Jake settles infuriatingly far away from you, leaving a large gap. No part of you is even close to touching. He stares up at the stars, looking troubled. You have already tried to push him to talk to you tonight, though, so you won't again. Instead, you simply enjoy the moment and look up at the stars.  

"Thank you," Jake says a while later. You don't ask what for. It doesn't feel necessary. You also worry about how long he might drag out a list. 

Jake slides his hand across the space between you. You are alerted to it when you feel the light brush of his pinky along yours. You turn your hand and let it catch his. As always, Jake wastes no time taking what he is given. He threads his fingers with yours, and his thumb starts up tracing along the back of your hand and wrist. 

"Is this where you draw all the constellations out for me and wow me with your impressive knowledge of astronomy?" 

Jake huffs a small laugh, "Not this time, sugar."

"Have I finally found something you don't know about, Jake?" You playfully gasp. 

"Oh, please, honey. You know me better than that." Jake chastises, turning his head away from the sky to give you an unimpressed look. 

"Yeah, I do. You are probably about to tell me how you did an internship at NASA." Jake opens his mouth with a tiny smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. Your eyes widen, and you speak before he can say anything. "I swear you better not be about to tell me you did have a NASA internship. I will lose my mind." 

Jake snaps his mouth shut, but the small smug smirk doesn't fade from view. You move, so you are more propped up to see more of his face. You try to analyze any hidden information on his features there. 

"Goodness. Jake, no way. Did you actually?" You ask. The longer Jake leaves you hanging, the more unsure you are. 

"Do you know what my dream is?" He asks you, ignoring your question and changing the topic. You huff in annoyance. It's not annoying; you can't feel that when trying to be some porous surface attempting to absorb as much as possible. The fact that he will be gone haunts your every movement and word in hours.  

"What's your dream, Jake?" You respond good-naturedly. 

"To go on Jeopardy," he answers automatically. It's a quick, instant response. You laugh at him, and his chuckles join in moments later.  

"We could probably make that happen." You say when you can breathe properly again. You picture getting Jake on the show, where he would insist on wearing his whites. 

"It's not my only dream, though," Jake says warmly. 

"Is it not?" you say lightly. 

"No," Jake responds in a much more serious tone. You abandoned the pretense of looking at the stars. Turning on your side, you stare at Jake instead of trying to memorize him. The slope of his nose and of the line of his neck. 

"Has it always been your dream? When you were a little kid, did you want to grow up and be on Jeopardy?"

"It was one of them," Jake reveals. 

"What were some of the others?" Jake's hand goes loose in yours, and you think that he might pull away. That you had overstepped. 

"Common Jakers, you can tell me. It's okay if you want to be something weird." 

"They aren't worth mentioning, and I don't want to trigger you with anything, sugar."

"Why would I be triggered?" You ask him, giving his hand a small squeeze. 

"Not everyone would call my childhood warm, but it could have been worse. I know that isn't the best topic."

"I want you to tell me, Jake. I'll stop you if it's too much, okay?" You say after thinking of your boundaries and the likelihood something would trigger you. 

"You promise?" He asks. Jake turns his head again to meet your eyes deadly seriously.

"Yes, I promise. Now, what was little Jake's dream job?"

"It was to be a pilot."

"You're living the dream job, then?"

"Yeah, I sure am. However, back then, I wanted to be a pilot, so I could fly far away." The weight of his words isn't lost on you. 

"Jake, what happened? You can tell me if you want." He heaves a heavy hard sigh at your kind words. He is clearly preparing himself to speak about something difficult. 

"My dad wasn't a good man, and my mama let him break her. He broke me too. To the outside world, he seemed like the perfect loving husband and father. At home, it was a different story. My dream was to be free, be a bird finally let out of my cage. 

"The older I got, the better I was at taking the beatings. There was this one time I was 13 years old and chopping some wood for Miss Celeste. I was doing it wrong, I guess, so he threw a log at my head. It hit me so hard that I saw stars, and my ears rang for two days after. Tali had to superglue my head closed enough that I would be able to walk over to see Miss Celeste and get it properly stitched up." Jake reaches up his hand, and it ghosts along the back of his head, remembering the age-old hurt. His eyes briefly press tightly closed, shutting out the memory.

"After that, I figured I could take any beating, any lecture, any mean word. I could take it all. So, I did take it all. I wasn't going to let him hit my ma or my sister. I learned how it wasn't hard to capture his attention. Especially if he was already worked up." 

You want to cry for him. You can't get the picture of Jake as a young, bruised, beaten, and bloody child out of your head. That boy walking the five miles to his grandmother's house, half stumbling, half running. Jake having poked at his dad before a hand came down on his mom or sister. How it was probably a common occurrence. 

"Jake, I am so sorry." You squeeze his hand sympathetically, feeling your heartache painfully for him. 

"When I finished my first year at USNA, I decided enough. After plebe summer, I was probably the most fit I have ever been in my whole life. It's funny how he raised me to go to a military academy, and that was the same place that would be the end for him. I went home for winter break, and everything had changed. I was bigger than him, stronger, quicker. I knew I was better in every way than him. I hadn't just done well at USNA. I had excelled, thrived even. There was absolutely no reason to cower and take it anymore. So, the next time he tried to hit me over winter break, I took it, but I warned him. I said I'm a grown man. You hit me again; I'll hit you back."

"And?" You gasp. 

"I stayed true to my word like any half-decent man would. The next time he hit me I hit him back." Responds Jake not able to completely keep the hint of satisfaction out of his voice. Your fingers flex in his, and Jake takes a long-measured breath. He shrugs nonchalantly but you can see the tension he is holding. 

"I would always goad his anger onto me. If I found him already mad at Ma or Talia, I would find some way to make sure his attention came back to me. I could take a punch in the face, a slap, or some other punishment. It was easier to explain that Jakobi is scrappy and gets into fights with the ladies and church than for my mom to try and claim she fell again or some other half-ass excuse." 

"Everyone just pretends like nothing is happening," you say quietly. 

"Yup. They don't want to address it, but how could they not know?" 

"Exactly," you confirm, thinking of similar situations you went through growing up. 

"It was my first-time home since Winter, and Miss Celeste and Mr. Russ were even coming over for dinner. Dad didn't like how Ma set the table, it wasn't hard for me to step in. Then the next thing I know, he is in my face screaming everything under the sun. Mind you, not any of it was good, and then he tried to punch me. 

"I hit him back, and I didn't fucking stop. Not until there was blood, and then I kept going for a bit more. After taking it over and over for my whole life, I snapped. Don't know what would have happened if Miss Celeste and Mr. Russ hadn't shown up." 

Jake is squeezing your hand hard. Even though the air is cool and fresh in the back of the pickup, it feels tainted, full of long-past memories and hate. Jake takes a moment, clearly needing a breather, regulating the old emotions bubbling in him. 

"It was stupid and risky. If he hadn't been so ashamed, if he wasn't so full of pride, my Da' could have ruined everything for me. Wouldn't have been hard to get my ass thrown in jail and kicked out of the naval academy. 18 years of work and my future and life could have been down the drain in one fell swoop. I am lucky. He knew how that would look reflected back on him. Beat within an inch of his life by his own son, and then that same son was dishonorably discharged. It is probably the only reason I got away with it."

Jake shakes his head wryly; you watch as he uses his free hand to pull his toothpick case out of his pocket. He secures one tightly in his teeth, the minty smell drifting towards you as he snaps the case shut. 

"He deserved it. He deserved every blow, and a million more still wouldn't have been penance for what he did. I think he learned his lesson, in the end. He didn't try to fight me unless he was very drunk after that. Was better to Tali and Ma too."

"And now?"

"Now, he is dead," Jake says plainly, not betraying any grief or sadness over that fact to you. 

"Oh," you say. You think maybe you should say you're sorry, but that wouldn't be the truth. Instead, you are glad that this man who committed such evil and was so terrible to Jake is no longer around. 

"He died four months before I got my wings." 

"Oh, Jake. That is so much. I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that." You whisper. Pulling your hand, he still has clenched in his grasp up to his lips. Jake presses a lingering kiss to your pulse point. 

"No need to be sorry. It's in the past. I wish I could have stopped it sooner. Protected Tali and my Ma better. They never deserved to go through that." 

"You didn't deserve to go through that either," You add to Jake's statement. 

"I don't know. It was my responsibility to take care of them. I never should have let that all happen in the first place. I could have stood up to him much sooner. I will say, at least it gave me a leg up in basic." You try to contain your cringe hearing that mentality from Jake. 

"No, Jake, stop. You don't understand. You didn't deserve to go through that. You still would have made it through Plebe year just fine. And you're wrong. It was never your responsibility." You try to impress upon him. 

"Of course, it was my responsibility," Jake protests. 

You sit up, no longer able to handle the nonchalance of lying down for this conversation. He keeps your hand in his, not letting you pull away from him. Jake needs to know this, though. You need him to understand. Cupping his cheek with your free hand, you make sure his eyes aren't anywhere but on yours. 

 "You were a child, Jakers. A kid. I don't care if you're a boy or the oldest. You were a child. You had adults around you. It was their responsibility to protect you. It was your Ma's and Miss Celeste and Mr. Russ. They should have been the ones helping you. It was their job to do that, not the other way around." 

Jake's mouth drops in as he processes your words. Then he whispers. "I guess I was just a kid." 

"You wouldn't expect Franny to do what you did. Would you?" You ask him gently. At the mention of his niece, Jake's teeth clench together. You can practically see the anger bubbling in him at anyone even saying something unkind to his niece, let alone what he went through. 

"No, I wouldn't," he grits out. 

"No, you wouldn't," you agree with Jake's answer. 

His stubble prickles at your hand, but you ignore the feeling and continue watching him. His green eyes meet yours steadily as Jake tilts his face to kiss your palm. After which, he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath like he is preparing himself for something. 

"I have to tell you something. I can't leave before apologizing or having this conversation. You deserve me to be fair to you, and you deserve to be treated right. So, I need to put something out there in the open, just in case you haven't figured it out or it hasn't been made clear yet."

"You can tell me anything, Jake." You tell him steadily despite that extremely ominous intro. You hope it will help him feel at ease, but if anything, he tenses up more. Moving so that he is sitting up, Jake's face is pulled from your hand. He retracts his hand from yours as well. Your palm feels cold without his and a little sweaty, which only adds to the overall chilling effect. 

"I am broken, Sugar. I think I know what you want from me, but I am too messed up. I can't give that feeling back to you like you deserve. I want it to be clear it's not you. I don't think I can truly ever feel that way. I don't know if I'm capable."

You briefly consider what you are hearing; Jake knows you love him and has probably known for a while. It doesn't hurt as much as you thought it would. What hurts more is that he feels this way about himself. You do your best to swallow down your own feelings and put them in the corner to unpack and deal with some other time when you are alone. 

"Oh. I see." You finally manage to stutter out. Jake does look genuinely apologetic and upset as well, which is some small consolation. 

"I just. I can't. I'm not built for it. Whatever that part is in people that lets them feel and talk that way, I'm missing that piece. I don't think it's even missing. I never had one to start with. I wish I could. I wish for you, but I am broken, Sugar. I am so sorry." 

You want to protest. You want to shake Jake and tell him he isn't broken. He can love, he should love, and he does love all the time. You see that aspect of him constantly. You see it when he calls his niece every week. His phone calls with his Ma and Mrs. Celeste. The way he worries over his junior officers. You see it when he spends time with Javy and Marlee. More often than not, Jake is almost bursting at the seams with love. 

You suck in a deep breath as you consider how Jake can express love. You can't help but consider how he is with you. Jake has been showing he cares about you. You have never once questioned if he had any affection or positive feelings for you, only if any romantic ones were mixed in. That all the actions you thought were hints, a slight implication he might feel the same way, were actually declarations. 

And now here Jake is saying that is all he can give you. How Jake has loved you all along. He is trying to tell you, 'Here it is. Here is my affection. This is the best I can do. You won't ever get more than what you have right now. 

You think about that for a minute. You would never get more from Jake. He will never say the words he loves you, and he will never romantically love you. There won't ever be rings, or a honeymoon, no anniversaries. There won't be a cute baby with a mix of your and Jake's features. 

So, you have to decide if what he does give you is enough. Was doing puzzles with him enough? Was talking for hours on end? Was cuddling? Maybe not, you briefly think. However, when you think of the feeling of safety, he provides that you had never experienced anywhere else. You think of that, and you have your answer. 

You accept it. You can live with it; you can love him enough that it fills in the gaps. Knowing he loves you at all, even a little bit, even if he cannot say it. It's enough. It's enough to get to keep him. It's enough because even if Jake believes he isn't capable of love, that's part of him, and if it's part of Jake... well, water is wet, isn't it? 

"You aren't broken, Jake," you finally say after long and quiet deliberation. 

"I am," he disagrees. "I'm twisted and broken. I can't be good for you." 

"God, Jake. You already are. Sweet man." You firmly reach out to hold his cheeks in both hands, staring hard into his eyes. Your grip is firm. "Handsome, you already are a good man to me."

Jake shakes his head against your hold and slams his eyes closed. You soothe your thumb across the stubble on his cheeks, tracing extra softly under his eyes. However, he refuses to open them for you again. 

"Listen to me, Jake." He screws his eyes even tighter at the request. It reminds of a little bit of a petulant child, and despite your own heartbreak, you just want to smooth the lines of his face out and make sure this isn't hanging over him before he goes. 

"Jakobi," you beg in the softest, sweetest tone possible. You wait for him to open back up before going on. You hate trying to gauge his emotions when you can't see his face. He does eventually open them, with his gaze trained on you. In the dark, you can't wholly make out the green of his eyes, but that's okay. 

"You are good, and you are a gift, an absolute marvel. You are not broken. You don't have to feel any which way for me. You do not have to be anything more than you are right now. You could never change or completely change, but I will still love you the same."

"Thank you," he says. 

"No need to be thankful for the truth," you tell him kindly. 

He shocks both of you by crying. You are so surprised by it that your hands fall from his face. A tear falls down Jake's face, and he pushes it away, looking at his wet fingers in surprise. His eyebrows quirk, drawing together in the middle. Then more tears fall as he blinks in distress. The more he cries, the more upset he seems to be about the fact that he is crying. 

"Jake, can I hold you?" you ask him hurriedly but not wanting to trigger him further with any unwanted touch. Jake nods, and he turns towards you falling into your embrace. You wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest. Jake's arms snake around your hips, pulling you flush to him.

The two of you just hold each other for a long while, breathing each other in. When Jake pulls out of the embrace, he doesn't go far. He only pulls away to fully look at your face. 

"You know, I can't leave without hearing your laugh. I think that's one of the last things on the to-do list."

"I didn't read that on the to-do list, and I checked it twice this morning." You say, pretending to be confused. Jake's fingers flex, gripping you tighter for a moment before relaxing again. 

"It's just my notes app one," Jake mutters, taking you seriously, his eyebrows creasing. 

"That makes two things that on this secret to-do list you are keeping from me. Is there something I don't know?" You try to urge him into the joke with you again. Jake just looks more and more removed from you, though. You are desperate to fight against that, wanting to keep him as close as possible for every second you have left. You nudge his leg with your foot playfully and let go of some of your inhibitions. If Jake will never admit to loving you, you might as well throw caution to the wind.

"I can't believe you have been keeping a second to-do list on the side and not including me," you tell Jake in a more obviously teasing way. You pull lightly at the short hair at the base of his skull. It makes him sigh in a way that leaves you feeling like you need to chase that high.  

"It isn't like that, darling. I promise," Jake says, catching up to the joke now. A playful smile smooths out his face, and his eyes aren't so distant now. 

"Oh, I've heard that excuse a million times."

"A million? That's a pretty big number."

“Well I grant you this, it’s not always to-do lists, sometimes it's calendars, calculators, personal planners, whiteboards, notepads. Somethings always being hidden from me. You hid a whole bathtub.”

“I did not hide the bathtub from you!” Jake protests light heartedly. 

“Sure you didn’t, Seresin. But I have to ask, are you hiding anything else from me?”

“Nothing! I promise.”

“You know you can be honest with me, Jake.” You remind him playfully pinching his cheek.

“I am!” Jake whines while pouting. 

“Okay. Well then I am sure you won’t mind telling me about what I found in your truck glove box…” You trail off trying hard to keep it in.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Jake shrugs in denial. 

“Is that so?” You question him giving him one last opportunity to think. 

“Yes,” Jake whines dragging out the s for an unnecessarily long time. 

“Okay,” you sigh heavily. By his neck you pull him back a bit and try to maintain the straightest most serious face possible. He is nodding along already. “Then how exactly do you explain the 300 hot sauce packets in there?”

Jake gasps and pulls further away from the close embrace you two had adapted. 

“How did you find those?” He gasps. 

“You didn’t even hide them! They were literally under your gas, mileage, and maintenance tracking book.” 

“Sugar, I don't know what to say.”

“Did you not only four days ago tell me we were out of hot sauce?”

“That definitely might have occurred. But,” 

“You’ve been caught red handed, Seresin.” You sigh, shaking your head as if you are extremely disappointed in him. 

“Woah, hold your horses, now.” Jake request clearly ready to launch into an explanation.

“Sir, this is a sting. Please save your excuses for the MP. They are on their way to this location as we speak.”

Jake’s eyes widen and he looks around the empty and very far removed area he had driven the truck. Clearly pretending to be panicked, he turns up his drama meter to the max setting crying out pleadingly, “It’s a misunderstanding. There’s been a  framing, trickery, bamboozlement even!”

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah, by me. ” Jake says intensely THen he shifts his whole demeanor pulling on a serious confidence, and utters “Ma’am I work for the FBI we have been instigating you this entire time.”

“On what grounds?” You gasp in fake outrage. 

“There have been multiple reports that link you to the scene of several art thefts. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What can I say? I see something precious, and I just decide it has to be mine”  You say with a shrug.  “We live in a free country, that should be one of my god given protected rights.” 

“To steal? We should review the commandments, honey.”

“No, to have precious things.” You correct him before continuing, “Isn’t that your whole military shtick? Protecting freedoms and all that?”

It takes two beats before Jake can’t take it anymore and starts roaring with laughter. That’s all it takes for you to crack up as well. Was there anything better than Jake’s smile and laugh? You thought the answer was probably no. Nothing compares.

You and Jake laugh together and don’t stop. It keeps dragging on, cycling through all of Jake's laughs including a snort or two. It's that type of laughing that makes your diaphragm ache. The longer it's drawn out, the more deranged the sounds you two make become. Finally, it decrescendos, trailing off to You and Jake are wrapped around each other, and his forehead presses against yours. 

Your breath mingles together. You appreciate the warmth, the relief, and underneath it all, as is often found in Jake's eyes, the deep-seated sadness there. It almost feels easier for you now. Easier with the guesswork and hope gone, easier to focus on what it should have been about all along, you and Jake. You don't have to think about hidden meanings, secrets, or signs. 

It lets you be wholly consumed by the details of Jake instead. How he radiates heat and almost always manages to smell good. The sturdiness of his hands with their well-manicured blunt nails. The fine lines he had around his eyes. You try to memorize exactly what color green his eyes are in the dark like this. Each detail you notice is more catching and striking than the last.  

You categorize each part of him he is willing to share. Finally, with your chest still hurting, from laughing, from tonight, or from the lingering knowledge of a goodbye, it doesn’t really matter. Jake is here now though still with you.  So you offer him a soft smile and let more of your skull's weight press into his. 

"Ah, there she is," Jake breathes to himself. Then his hand is on the side of your neck, tilting you to meet his eyes a little more directly. He wears one of your favorite smiles, where the edges twitch upwards, and his eyes are tender.  

"I got a question for you," he mutters. 

"I got an answer," you tell him just as softly. 

"Are you sure?"

"Ask me your question," is all you give him for a response. 

Jake leans in closer to you, and his lips brush past your cheek dragging along the skin to whisper his question in your ear. You only take a moment to think of your answer. It doesn't take more than meeting the honest vulnerability in his eyes. The answer falls from you easily. After all, it was the question you were expecting.

It’s the last question Jake asks you for 6 ½ months, his entire deployment, with not one single word, complete radio silence. 

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #long fic #Double tap part 2 #house we share #sfumato #jake seresin x you

[beetlebug-bii]

Part 3 of feral mc but with Belphie being released from the attic. Just imagine Belphie trying to kill mc and they just bite him. Not even Barbatos could handle the child so I highly doubt Belphie could either lol.

Feral Child Mc (part three)

MC Gets Betrayed & Bombastically Side Eyed Their Way To Beating A Bitch.

A/N: I like my writing to be nothing short of silly goofy, i also wrote this at like 4am two weeks ago and was so surprised to see it in my drafts. Did i proof read it? No.

Enjoy anyways💕

Now, you have been a menace since you've arrived

Only truly unstoppable by Diavolo, Lucifer and Barbatos on a good day

Today

Was not one of those days

No

Not at all

You see

Late in the night after being very snuggly tucked in

And then duck taped to the bed

And then your pajamas stapled to the bed

And then tied to the bed

In their defense

Not a single brother has gotten a single decent night of sleep

Not since Mammon awoke one night to see your little face peeking out from the vents

You screamed at him and launched from the darkness, stealing his sun glasses before scrumbling deep into the walls

no one has ever heard Mammon scream so loudly

Needless to say they were pretty fucking done with your scrumbling

Besides, they tied Satan to the bed and look at him! A totally chill and normal member of society :D

Anyways you were built different and managed to escape

You had to check on your little friend in the attic after all, it had been a few days

Upon going in, you glared at eachother for exactly three minutes and fourteen seconds

Before he started the whole sweet act on you

"Awh hey, you can let me out now right? You can do that? Whose a good little human?"

Offense taken

You werent a dog

though you wont lie and say you havent growled back at Cerberus before...

No you know what

Who does this man think he is?

You are a child with 6 of the deadliest pacts in the world!

...

...

...

Wait a second

Who thought that was a good idea

Genuinely

You are feral

A monster

The other students at RAD cower before you

You made the Angel's cry

YOU CHOKED BARBATOS WITH A SHOE LACE

WHO IN THE 7 CIRCLES OF HELL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO MAKE A PACT WITH YOU OF ALL PEOPLE

well whatever it's not like this is gonna come back and bite you

But you werent gonna release the bitch from his kennel

Not without a price

Mammon would be so so proud of you!

It took a lot of back and forth, but he promised 12 firecrackers, a new plushie, and a trip to the candy store

Hell yea candy

Open up oh magic lock

Oh he fucking kicked you across the room

Well that's not fucking candy

Lying prick

So this fucking incel loser started ranting about something or other

To be honest you didnt care

In fact you decided he didnt get a monologue

You were pissed off

You freed him

Were you the embodiment of capitalism while doing so?

Maybe

But that doesnt mean he can just hit you

Like

You have such a cute face

He's just mad that you're the baby of the family now

And that thought gave you a great idea!!

"I'm telling Lucifer"

Would have been your final words

Had you not been

Well

You.

Next thing you know he's chasing you down the stairs, grabbing you and choking you out

Which

Not gonna lie

Was a bitch move

So you kicked him square in the jaw and started screaming, just like papa lucifer taught

Stranger danger kids

Dont release strange men from the attic in exchange for candy

It's not worth it and they are lying

So obviously you pissed off what's his name

You're pretty sure its bitch boy

Anyways so you pissed off bitch boy and he started trying to stab you with a chair leg

Which was like

So rude

And the others were like bro stop

Except more panicked you're pretty sure but you werent a crybaby bitch like this loser so you know

You had to go for the knees

You slid around him, kicked him in the back of the knees

This wasnt your first rodeo

Apparently

Because you climbed on the demonic cow and grabbed the horns man

You were holding on for dear life before you just bit into his head

Like

I dont think he even knew what to do at that point

You ruined his WHOLE SPEECH

THEN FOR SOME REASON YOU GOT MAD AT HIM

gee I wonder why

THEN HIS BROTHERS SHOWED UP

THIS WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE HOW IT WENT AT ALL

PRICK

Recounting this tale now, a few months later, you'd like to think that he was just being the most frfr brother out of everyone

You two had to be torn apart like a pair of summer popsicles

You were kicking and screaming

He was kicking and screaming

Mammon was kicking and screaming, somehow his leg got caught in between you two

It was a warzone

The hallway was destroyed

Multiple bedrooms? Just gone

The brothers?

So

So tired...

None of that fake shit

Deep down you know you would've won though

You still call him bitch boy💕

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me feral mc