#also please don't apologize for coming into my inbox

[clangenrising]

I know u said I don’t have to apologize but I would like to preface this with I’m sorry for upsetting you, I wasn’t trying to say that those with cluster b personalities are more likely to like- Hurt people, just that their “level of evil” is at a point that I can’t imagine someone just… choosing if that makes sense? I wasn’t trying to like make them little sad soft boys just that, based on my own experiences of having a mental illness that does disposition me to do bad stuff, their thought processes seemed similar to mine rather than how I’d imagine a non-mentally ill person’s thought process would work, apologies

I understand that. But I specifically told you not to apologize to me. I know it hurts to get critiques like that, especially in such a public space, but I need you guys as my audience to be brave about that stuff, okay?

It takes a lot out of me to feel like I need to console my audience any time i push back on something they say. It's kind of exhausting to do so much emotional labor.

As well, you're still not understanding my point, or if you are you're ignoring it to justify saying what you said when you really don't have to. Razor and Sardine did "just choose" to do the things they did and they did them for racist, sexist, and egotistical reasons. That's the whole point of their characters. People can choose to be harmful and just because that choice feels justified to them doesn't make it okay and it also doesn't mean that they must have a sympathetic reason for making it or they must be mentally ill.

I'm not trying to say anything about your experience with mental illness. It sucks to have a mental illness that causes you to make poor choices or hurt those around you, I know from experience. But I think you're projecting onto these characters and that was the point of my original response; to say "You are reading my characters extremely incorrectly in a way that is actually very harmful to people who actually have those disorders".

Please stop for a second. Think about what I said and actually work on your beliefs/behavior. Do not return to my inbox to perform contrition.

The behavior itself is the real problem, not whether or not I personally got upset. You don't know me. I'm a stranger on the internet. You shouldn't be trying so hard to make me like you. This goes to all of my followers - you shouldn't be so focused on getting my approval that you ignore the actual message I'm trying to send. I want people to learn and grow, I don't care if they come and apologize for having a bad take.

[luckycharms1701]

*comes into ask how with a shaky smile*

Howdy there Hon. I hope the New Years been treating you alright so far, and I wish that it will continue to bless you with the goodness you deserve ✨🧡

Sorry to bother your inbox again, but this is “Independent Woman” from a request a couple weeks ago and I've had kind of a rough day, and your writing always makes me smile.

If it's not too much to ask, may I request a follow-up on that prompt please? How the Bayverse/Rise boys would react to their stubbornly independent SO having a rough day to the point that they cave and ask for cuddles?

No stress, no worries if you're not in the mood for it. I totally understand. Please take care of yourself first and foremost! Please drink water and know you are appropriated! 🧡✨

howdy anon-chan! 🧡

i'm so sorry that you've had a rough day. i hope at this point it's going a little better and that you're able to get the rest you need. there's a quote that i like to think about when i'm having a rough time: "Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow." -Mary Anne Radmacher

anyway, i hope this helps you smile!

(here's the other post)

Leonardo

Leo has been waiting for (hoping for, praying for) this, for you to come to him in your time of need. He feels bad, he doesn't actually want you to have a bad time or a rough day, but at the same time he loves to be needed. He already has a plan in place.

Mikey scampers off at his signal, and Leo escorts you to his room. There he encourages you to get under the covers and mess up his bed however you need to in order to get comfy.

Then he climbs in with you and holds you. He doesn't ask about what's wrong, doesn't try to talk to you about anything. He can tell that isn't what you need right now.

Mikey comes in (quietly for once) with some tea. He sets the tray down on the bedside table and smiles at you before quickly leaving. Leo tells you that the tea is there if you want it, then goes back to quietly holding you.

You realize, after laying in his arms for a while, that he is meditating. You try to match your breathing to his, and you see a small smile steal across his face when he feels what you are doing. You fell right into his trap.

The two of you breathe in sync for a while, just soaking in each other's presence.

If you decide to talk about it, Leo listens very closely to you. He's not confident that it will happen, but he hopes that you'll tell him if it's something he can help with. No matter what though, if you just need to vent or need advice or need him to do something for you, he will respect your wishes.

Raphael

Raph's first instinct is to find out who hurt you so that he can go take care of them. Fortunately, he goes with his second instinct, which is to bundle you in his arms and carry you to his room.

Once there, he climbs into bed and rearranges the two of you until you are both comfortable. He makes sure you are completely covered with him, his strong hands rubbing your back. "I've got ya sweetheart. What do ya need?"

Raph isn't quite confident in his ability to comfort you, so he does need some guidance. But once you let him know what you need, he's on top of it.

If you just want to curl up on his plastron and be held, he will stay with you as long as you need. He will rub your back. He will be your own personal weighted blanket. Gentle touches or rough hugs, hell if you need him to distract you he will. Anything for you.

(Raph finds that he wants to give you the gentle touches. He wants to hold you gently, he wants to show you softness. But if that's not what you need, he'll just have to talk to you about it later. This ain't about him.)

If you want to talk about it, if you need to vent, Raph'll listen. He'll empathize. He might growl or mutter as you talk, but he won't interrupt. If you want advice, he'll do his best to give it to you.

Anything you need, he'll get it for you. Drink, food, more pillows? It's there almost before you ask for it. You won't have to lift a finger or do anything if you don't want to. "I'll take care of you princess."

Donatello

Donnie immediately has so many questions, but he sets them aside. You asked him to help you learn how to be cared for, so he's going to do just that.

He takes to the lab, because the bed there is comfier than the one in his room. He puts on some music you like and turns down the volume. He encourages you to climb in and climbs in behind you. He lays down and lets you climb on him however you want.

Once the two of you are comfortable, he asks if you want to talk about it. He realizes that you need to be guided into asking for what you want, and he's prepared to do that. Your answer is the beginning of the mental flow chart Donnie created specifically for caring for you.

If you do want to talk about it, Donnie first asks if you want advice or if you just want to vent. Once that's established, he is an active listener. He asks questions and gives you nudges if he thinks you need it. He'll make those snarky comments that make you laugh. He checks in periodically to make sure that you're still okay. Talking to Donnie will always make you feel better.

If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay too. He'll ask if there's anything you need, then send the drone to zap Raph into getting it for you. Once Raph is gone (rubbing his arm and muttering murderously), Donnie settles in for a nice long cuddle session with you.

If you're okay with it, he pulls up some work. He asks if you want a distraction, and if so he'll start telling you about what he's doing. Donnie works with one hand while the other absentmindedly rubs your arm. He still checks in every once in a while to make sure you're okay and ask if you need anything.

Michelangelo

Mikey, much like Leo, hates that you're upset but is so happy that you came to him so he could care for you. This is a huge step, you're making progress! Now it's his turn to make progress, to show you how he can care for you.

He asks if you need anything first, so he can grab it without interrupting the "epic cuddle session" you're about to have. (Later, when you ask him to get you something, he'll interrupt the cuddle session anyway with zero complaints. He just wants you to be happy.)

Once that's all taken care of, he hustles you off to his room, hand on your back. Thank the pizza gods that Leo had forced him at sword point to clean it the day before. You both get in bed and get comfy.

He holds you as if you are a treasure, a beloved teddy bear. It is hard to believe that Mikey can be this gentle. He wraps you in blankets and props you up with pillows until you are surrounded in softness and him.

Then he starts to talk. He chatters on about anything and everything, whatever comes to mind. His skateboard tricks, their latest encounter with the Foot, Raph breaking his most recent lifting record... you are caught up on ALL the turtle gossip.

Mikey doesn't stop until he gets a smile out of you. When he sees it, his answering smile lights up the room. He asks if you are feeling better. If you are, he starts being silly, kissing your face and tickling you until you are crying from laughter. If you aren't, he asks if you want to talk about it. He'll listen and commiserate with you, and support you no matter what.

[getting-messi]

BREAKING NEWS🚨🚨🚨🚨

I AM ALIVE!!!🥳🤩💃🏾💃🏾

[baphmochii]

Thoughts on Sal breeding?

Hello anon!

I deeply apologize for not answering this ask, like.. at all. I can reassure I wasn't ignoring, I don't often check my inbox but.. I'll be doing that from now on. I'll try my best with this too, again.. I'm not great at writing 😅

. . .

CW: NSFW (18+): Breeding // Sally Face (18+)

[ Sal Fisher in this is 22, the age he was in the trial, so obviously an adult. I always use adult characters when writing nsfw ]

. . .

- I believe our blue haired man would be into breeding.

- Sal loves the thought of a mini version of you and him running around the house you both live in with Neil, Todd and Larry. It puts a smile on Sal's face, despite his face being covered with his mask.

- Yes, you and Sal share a bedroom together.

- Sal loves the thought of abusing your tiny cunt with his fat cock for hours just to drain everything he's got in your unprotected womb, filling you up nice and full with his cum.

- Sal is usually a very gentle and soft lover when it comes to making love with you but.. the guy does like to be rough from time to time. Ever since the man discovered his breeding kink.. he gets into it.

- Sal will definitely beg for you to let him get you pregnant, he'll beg for it while he's balls deep inside your pussy: "p-please.. PLEASE baby.. l-let me cum inside! ngh! let me be a daddy - ahh!"

- Of course you just have to let him cum inside, you can't just not let him! He's literally begging for you to let him cum inside your pussy, yes, you're very into being bred as well.

- Whenever you and Sal have sex, I like to think that Sal would fuck you in any position whether that be: doggy style or cowgirl. Sal would always finish off your lovemaking with missionary.. for obvious reasons.

- Just throwing this in there: Sal loves pulling your hair, slapping your ass/cunt whenever he pulls out for a second and shoving his long fingers in that pretty little mouth of yours just to make you suck on his fingers as he thrusts hard and fast inside you. Sal also likes whenever you yank on his hair while he's pounding your tight cunt.

- I also like to think after the two of you are finished, Sal would quite literally push your knees up to your chest so his cum won't leak out from your abused and battered cunt.

. . .

So.. overall my thoughts on Sal breeding is a yes, he'd definitely have a breeding kink. I hope you enjoy this long awaited answer - I apologize once again!

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [3] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! smut, angst!!!!!!, unedited, infidelity, revenge cheating, oral (m receiving), kinda slightttt dub con if you squint w/ Aegon x reader, Aemond is frustrating, so is reader tbh, slight deviation from canon? again, if you squint, soft!aemond if you also squint. But also---angry Aemond (rahhhhhh), tell me if I've missed any warnings!

Author's note: my APOLOGIES on the wait, y'all. Hopefully this scratches an itch!! it's 11PM here, which is the earliest I've ever posted a fic funnily enough. I also reallyyyyy appreciate the love on this series so far!!! Love you all. As always, please don't hesitate to comment or to interact or hmu in my inbox w/ me bc I LOVE yapping with you guys. Send in feedback or criticism (but like I'll cry if it's super mean) or some headcannons!! or even your best dad joke. Anyways, xoxo kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen was an intelligent man. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been acting as the realm’s largest imbecile. 

Time and time again, Aemond had let his ego and his pride run ahead of his brain, and had failed to think of the effect that his actions had on people other than himself. Sure, he cared for those who were important to him. His sister, his mother, his grandfather, Ser Cole, Aegon (although Aemond may not have realised it) and even to some extent his wife. 

He realised, perhaps too late, that you may as well be a stranger to him. And at one point, Aemond had truly believed that keeping whatever unlucky woman he was to wed at arms length would be for the best. 

The first time he met you was insignificant. It was as per tradition and formality. Aemond’s interactions up until the wedding was mainly with your family, despite the efforts you made to acquaint yourself with him properly. You were much more timid then, shyer than Aemond had expected from the to-be wife of a weaponised prince. But then again, he had only assumed that a Lady like his mother would have been chosen for him; confident, cunning and strong-headed. 

At the time he had begun to understand you better, Aemond had lost track of himself. A sort of descent into darkness where he went from a young prince to a man, eager to prove himself at whatever cost. Satisfied by the control he gained through fear, strength and reputation. Now that he had stopped to think about his marriage, after you had left him hard and desperate in his own bed, Aemond came to realise a few things. 

You were a purity among the wickedness and politics of the Red Keep. An inherently good person and a woman of grace, kindness and compassion. He had already noticed the dwindling of those traits brought on by your new life, confined to the walls of a fortress that was littered with deceit, distrust and gore. Aemond was a far darker entity than you–he had accepted this fact after the first true conversation you shared. 

Corrupting you was both tempting and terrifying. Aemond had always been loveless–deprived of the affection he craved and deserved but also clueless about how to give that affection. And while he wished he could learn how to right himself and how to quell the carelessness of his temperament and the destruction that was left in its wake, Aemond didn’t know how to. 

Perhaps it would come naturally. He was a lot more open to that notion now, despite the fact that most of him was convinced he was incapable of such change. 

Aemond regretted–something he didn’t feel often–how he had pushed you away. Even if he had not intended to. 

Because now, he was starting to see you as you were. A woman who had far more of an influence over his emotions than he realised–a woman who he had begun to crave the affections of in such an intensity that it only served to scare him away from you. At one stage, you had been another stranger among the walls of his home bound to him in nothing but title but, at some point throughout this ridiculous game that he had stupidly encouraged, Aemond had started to see you as his wife. 

The whore that he had let into his bed was not actually a whore. It was a woman Aemond had known–a witch whom he had shared the pleasures of his body with before the two of you had wed. Alys was always eager for him and once, he would have returned it with his own enthusiasm. Not anymore. She was simply an easier option. A whore would never sully the sanctity of his chambers. It wouldn’t have made a difference if he had been honest and told you that Alys was not from the Street of Silk. 

To anyone who came asking, including you, Aemond would first admit to taking a whore into his bed than a lowly witch.

He cursed himself for letting his honour fall so short that this is what it took for him to wake up. For him to have tainted his loyalty to you, to have let a woman whom he could barely get it up for shatter the confines of his marriage, for him to have been left unwound with a hard cock, his hand and only the scent of you on his thigh to release the tension that was driving him mad. 

Aemond wished he hadn’t been so short sighted. He would subject himself to whatever punishment he deserved should it be the burn of a whip against his back or the sickening ache of starvation if you were to demand it. 

All of a sudden, in the days that had passed since your encounter on his bed, Aemond found himself looking for you throughout his day. He hoped you’d cross each other in the halls, cursed the world for keeping him too busy to spend an afternoon with you in the gardens, sworn at the war that was raging for binding him to his duties and keeping you apart. 

So at the first opportunity he had to take time for himself and for the first time in your short marriage, Aemond had called upon you to join him for afternoon tea.You stared at the young servant who had been sent to retrieve you, half wondering if you had heard the boy incorrectly. Had he called you simply one moon ago, you would have dropped everything you were doing to meet your husband for tea with a grin and a skip in your step at the prospect of finally spending time with him on his own accord. 

But now? It both excited you and infuriated you. 

You gave the boy a soft smile, holding your reserve together when his face dropped at your refusal. “You may tell my husband that I am otherwise attended to for my tea.”

It wasn’t a lie. You had important plans for the afternoon with the other Targaryen son. 

The servant stood still for a moment. “Yes, my Lady.”

“The rest of my afternoon is already engaged with the King,” you purposefully added, a mixture of adrenaline and excitement beginning to simmer in your belly. “Tell him I will take tea with him another time.”

You were walking away from your chambers before the servant had turned to leave. A part of you felt bad for him. Anyone would be wary of delivering rejection to a prince. It felt as if you were sending him to his death in a way, knowing that the seemingly innocent excuse was balancing on a wire that was already frayed. If the young servant had known of your sly plan for revenge, he would have spoiled his breeches. 

There was a chance Aemond would catch on straight away. There was a chance that he would take a little longer. 

Either way, so long as he caught on, everything would unfold in your favor.

Aegon had been waiting for you, a mischievous smile on his lips at the sight of you eagerly rushing towards him. He was an immature and distracted King, and he was definitely not without his flaws, but he had never been bad to you. Sometimes, you even appreciated Aegon’s efforts to involve you in conversation or to pull a smile out of you when you had clearly been distressed. Nonetheless, he was still an infuriating cad and you had often considered giving in to violent urges at the way he treated Helaena. 

Helaena. 

A stab of guilt in your gut at the thought of her. Sure, she had confided in you on numerous occasions and you knew she felt little care for Aegon’s outwards ventures with women but you knew she was saddened by the state of her marriage. And here you were, as wretched as the whore that Aemond had bedded. It was no different; you were doing the same thing as her. Only it wasn’t your job; you weren’t doing it for the money. 

The satisfaction of bringing Aemond down to the same level he had brought you to was all the motivation you needed. It would be treading a thin line but it would be worth it. 

“I had wondered how long it would take you to find yourself in my chambers, Princess,” Aegon’s voice held that boyish shrill he had never grown out of. The way he had stepped aside to let you pass, eyes holding yours through his lashes as he dipped his head with a grin. “For a cup of tea, of course.”

Comparing Aegon’s chambers to Aemond’s was instinctual. It was brighter here, messier and there was an unkempt feel to the furniture despite the servant’s having kept things relatively put together. A King’s chambers, it was; grand and large and adorned with all sorts of artistry. Aemond’s chambers had held a darker tone; presumably because Aemond was sensitive to light on his blind eye and somehow even the glow of light from the lamps were deeper and warmer. 

You liked Aemond’s chambers better. 

“It has been overdue, Your Grace,” you weren’t sure of that. “Thank you for indulging me this afternoon. I wager a King such as yourself is no short of duties to tend to.” 

Aegon scoffed, pouring himself a cup of wine as he watched you take a seat at the small settee from the corner of his eye. “My family seems to be taking care of my duties on my behalf. I am a king in nought but title, you see.”

There was nothing you could say at his unbridled honesty. Aegon was different to most of the people who presided here in that way. He cared little to hide behind a facade of false indifference and stoicism. 

He fell to the cushion beside you, close enough so you could smell the drink he balanced in his hand. Aegon laid back lazily, resting on his elbows and watching you as you sat pin-straight and brought the piping tea to your lips. “‘Tis not a concern. I would much prefer to have more comely company than those clueless cunts who sit on my counsel.”

“I do not doubt that, Your Grace,” you coughed lightly, growing alarmingly aware of the fact that you hadn’t thought about how this was going to play out. There was absolutely nothing that you knew about seducing a king. No less, a king with Aegon’s track record. “I beli-”

“You have been different,” He cut you off. Swiftly pushing himself up so that his face was beside yours, breath tickling the strands of your hair that had fallen loose across your cheek. Aegon’s lips were gently turned up as his eyes traced every curve of your face. 

Swallowing thickly, you will yourself to meet his eye with confidence. The curiosity in his familiar violet eyes was paired with an immature lust and you wondered if he had any idea how easy it could be to use his forward thinking cock against him were you a woman of cunning ambitions. You didn’t miss how his gaze flickered across your throat and towards the curve of your chest. 

But something in the way that Aegon looked at you in that moment, like you were a woman of such beauty that he would risk whatever consequences were sent his way just to feel your touch sent a slither of saddened longing across your chest. Not even your husband had made you feel as if you were so captivating. 

It made the knowledge of how ever long you’d be alone with him far easier to stomach.

“I do not know of what you mean, Your Grace.”

Aegon laughed, bringing his face so close to yours that the point of his nose touched against your cheek. His hand fell to rest flat just above your belly, brazenly close to where your dress tucked underneath the curve of your breasts. 

“I know well when a Lady is not…” he dragged his nose across your soft skin, eyes carefully watching your reaction. “Sufficiently satisfied by her husband.”

Your breath hitched at how quickly Aegon had set his target. “If you mean to-”

“Does my dear brother forego his duties for the comfort of whores, perhaps?”

Pursing your lips, you gently turned your face so that your lips were centimetres away from his, Aegon’s fringe brushing across your forehead. There was a ringing in your ears, a nervousness about how you were so close to betraying your husband and how you were unsure that you could handle the fallout of what was definitely about to happen. Things are much different for women; infidelity and adultery would be grounds for far worse than simply an annulment. This world was not so kind to a lady who partakes in the same treachery as a lord.

Above all, you were conflicted.

“It seems my husband is no different to any other man who does not hunger for his wife.”

“I hunger for his wife,” Aegon all but moaned at the way your lips nudged closer to his. He cocked his head to the side and pressed his fingers into your flesh. “But I am no fool, my Lady. Aemond has always been the sole object of your gaze. You are here for more sinister reasons, I suspect.”

You blinked. Why did these Targaryen princes so often seem to be one step ahead?

It was a relief that he had not moved away from your closeness. In fact, Aegon leaned further into it. His smile never faltered and he waited patiently for you, watching as you thought of your next moves. There was a flush of embarrassment that prettied your skin and it was clear that your facade was close to crumbling. Aegon was not a man you desired in such a way. Merely a means to an end. 

So you sighed, resigning to the fact that being honest with Aegon would be best. 

“You are right,” you muttered. He shook with a silent laugh at your bravery and the way your chin remained turned up. “I-I believe you are aware of my intentions, Your Grace. Will you have me dragged back to Prince Aemond’s feet or will you allow my scheme?”

Aegon was in front of you in a matter of seconds, bending down so that he met your height as you stayed seated. “I would risk meeting the wrath of a man whose temperament and pride are unchained.”

“Teach me how to make it worth it then, my King,” you held strong in forcing the tremble out of your voice. You didn’t want to bed him entirely–absolutely not. Just what you had seen through the gap in Aemond’s door would be more than enough and there was a bubbling gratification in your stomach knowing that Aemond would not be able handle what he had so easily served out. 

His hand held the back of your neck and he jerked forward to catch your lips, grunting when you turned your head from him. You couldn’t kiss him. You weren’t interested in kissing him–only fulfilling the steady thrum of excitement at the need to both experience what you had been teased with and show your husband that he should be sorry. 

In fact, and you were loathsome to even rationalise it, you felt sick at the thought of kissing him. And you felt a little drop in your gut at the thought of taking him in any kind of way but it was different. Less frightening than kissing a man you were trying so hard to convince yourself was sexy enough.

There was no man for your body’s desires aside from Aemond Targaryen-–

A deep breath and you looked at Aegon through your lashes, bringing your fingers to feel the softness of his lips. “I do not want you to fuck me, Your Grace. But show me how I may give you pleasure with my mouth. And how a man can satisfy me with his.”

Aegon became excited at your use of such foul language, his hand remaining behind your neck as he straightened and guided you roughly to his hips, groaning as your hands instinctively found his thighs and moved upwards. He was painfully hard in his breeches–he had been since the first moment you looked at him with that stubborn intent and purpose. 

There was a strong urge to push him away but you fought through it. 

“I am sure your husband is already searching for his brazen little vixen,” Aegon watched as you breathed heavily, your chest heaving and your soft breasts pressing against the tightly laced corset of your dress. “And I am sure you wish for him to find us. Very cunning of you, I must say.” 

His touch didn’t pull that feeling from you. The feeling of Aemond’s touch that had made you feel as if you were floating in lava and drowning in a molten heat that could only be quelled by him. But it made your blood rush down, growing sensitive between your thighs at the prospect of pleasuring a man who openly lusted for you and had no care for hiding it. 

Aegon didn’t care for games that shattered your self-worth. He didn’t care to make you feel lesser than a whore for your curiosity of how it felt to have a man tremble from your mouth. All he wanted was to feed his appetite for you–the beautiful Lady who he had envied his brother for having to himself.

“I want to learn how to do it,” you whispered, melting into Aegon’s guidance as he hastily fiddled with the embellishments on his tunic to undo half of it and push the velvet fabric out of the way. The laced belt at his waist was discarded in seconds and you took little time to pull him out of the confines of his breeches. “So I can–so I can show him.”

There was a certain light headed nervousness that you felt when you realised that you don’t actually know how to do what you wished to. It seemed easy enough when you watched how that woman had given Aemond her mouth but now that you were faced with trying it out yourself, you worried how you would fare. Aegon triggered a natural response from you, one that you had learned was instinctual of human bodies, but you just could not find him desirable. 

Momentarily, you doubted you could find it in you to disregard your aversion to the King. An aversion that suddenly became more pressing an issue than it was merely seconds ago.

Aegon must have noticed your apprehension because he guided you forward, the hardened length of his cock brushing against your face. He was breathing heavily when he spoke. “Lick it. Use your tongue first and then-fuck, that’s right-” you hesitantly followed his instructions, dragging the tip of your tongue across the sides of him, gentle flicks down to the base and then a long stripe up to the top. It was an invigorating thrill when you felt him throb against your mouth. His hips jerked when you hesitantly wrapped your lips around him. 

It was slightly uncomfortable but it was not a bad feeling. Aegon tasted musky and salty, and a little bit sweaty. You took a moment to find the best way to stop your teeth from grazing against him and started to move along him, watching as he threw his head back, eyes shut tightly. 

The image of your husband stayed ingrained in your head. Would Aemond taste the same? Would he feel the same on your tongue? Would his cock react to you in such a way? Would you enjoy taking him in your mouth more than whatever this was?

Shamefully or not, you let yourself pretend that Aegon was not the man standing above you. That it was Aemond instead, enjoying what you were keen to give him and praising you for being so eager to taste him. 

You wished so hard that it was Aemond instead, that for a moment, when you gazed upwards it was him looking down at you with his hair falling perfectly and his eyepatch discarded. Alas, it was King Aegon, who revelled in staring at you with an amusement coupled with bliss that only felt belittling. 

It did set your body into a light rush of arousal but you couldn’t stop the doubts that flooded your mind. Were you dishonouring the sanctity of your body out of spite? Were you betraying the man you almost loved just to have a jab at him? Guilty tickles grew in your ribcage but you distracted yourself from it, focusing on the way that Aegon steered your movements. 

“Shit,” he hissed. Aegon’s hand found the back of your head and he adjusted your pace how he preferred. “Use your hand. What doesn’t fit–hold it.”

It became slightly easier once you found your rhythm, following each instruction that Aegon gave, drinking in the way his thigh trembled under your hand that rested against it, holding yourself stable as you hollowed your cheeks. Whatever you did, it almost came naturally and Aegon seemed to be enjoying it far more than you had expected. 

But it quickly became too much–Aegon started thrusting in a way that didn’t match your movements and you gagged, eyes burning at the ache of him hitting the top of your throat. You made a noise, pulling off and gasping for air, whining as he tugged your mouth back to him and chuckling. Lungs burning, you tried to meet whatever pace Aegon was moving at in an attempt to make things more comfortable. 

You reminded yourself of why you were here. The image of Aemond, head thrown back and groans slipping past his lips as he let that woman take him in his mouth. The image of Aemond, head buried between her legs, the skin on his chin glistening as he smirked at you while pleasure another woman. 

The feeling when your courtly acquaintances who you once thought of as friends would slyly belittle you for failing to give your husband an heir, belittling you because word of his infidelity had reached their gossiping mouths, belittling you because the Prince who they loathed you for having was hardly yours after all. The looks that they had given you, the way that they snickered and sneered at your failures as his wife. Whispers you had overheard from Lords alike; that for such a pretty thing, you must have been dreadfully dull in the ways of pleasure if Prince Aemond of all men had resorted to whores. 

That was how they all saw you; a failure. Because it was never a man’s fault but always his wife’s. 

You loathe to think that Aemond harboured the same thoughts. But you would show him how mistaken he was and make him feel what you had felt so that he would regret it all. 

“Fuck-” Aegon let out a drawn out groan as he pushed your head down, pushing himself as far down your throat as he could. You struggled to breath and you gagged twice but let him move you as he pleased, a satisfactory moan vibrating against his sensitive skin when he threw his head back and grumbled about spilling himself down your throat. 

It was a chaotic moment. 

The protest of the kingsguard through the wall and the bang of the door slamming open and you didn’t even need to turn and look. Aemond was seething, barely given the chance to put the pieces together before Aegon simultaneously groaned and laughed, the salty taste of his seed gliding past a sensitive part of your throat and pulling another gag from you as you yanked yourself away from Aegon. 

Everything seemed to pause for a moment. And despite the obnoxious laughter coming from the King as he tucked himself back into his breeches, the heavy breathing of your husband and your gasps for air, everything felt silent. 

Your blood ran hot at the way Aemond looked between you and Aegon. Nonetheless you met his eye, holding your chin up and wiping a bead of Aegon’s peak from your lip. 

It felt good. Watching as Aemond forced himself back into his stoic resolve; only bothering to subdue the way his eye filled with the same betrayal you still felt in your gut at the thought of the whore who had been on her knees for him in an almost identical way. 

Stoicism and slow, simmering, silent rage. 

The air around you turned hot enough to light a candle. Aemond’s presence alone had proven to be enough to send you spiralling from the heat he encased you in whenever he was in the same room but this? You were choking, sick to your stomach and doing your best to keep your knees from buckling at his intensity. 

Aemond heard Aegon ramble out some hideous insult, watched how you frowned at him and heard the echoes of his cackle. But the ringing in his ears overwhelmed it all and he had no clue what his brother had taunted him with before his fist met Aegon’s cheek with a loud crack.

He didn’t bother sparing his brother a second glance. Aemond was stood in front of you and despite his obvious anger, he pulled you up from where you were seated with a gentleness which had your mind reeling. 

There was a threat hidden in his voice. “Come with me. Now.”

Perhaps you had made a mistake. The gentle fury in Aemond was terrifying and even though you knew he would never raise a hand at you the way he thoughtlessly did at Aegon, there were so many ways that a Prince could ruin you. 

You felt a pit of regret now that it was over and the curtain of lust had lifted. It was easy to see how simple it is to get lost in the touch of another but it was easier to see how simple it is to avoid it. 

There was satisfaction. And you felt it simultaneously with the adrenaline of being caught and the doubts of your actions. Princes and Princesses and Kings and Queens were so unaware of their hypocrisy until it was spat back into their faces. 

Aemond would never in a million years have understood what he was doing to you if you had just been a submissive little wife and forgiven him. But now? Now he would know. And now things would be balanced and your desire to hurt him as he had done you has been fulfilled. And now you could see how this marriage would really stand against such tests.

And now, you may finally know whether Aemond truly did not care for you. Because if Aemond did not care for you–or even in part; love you–then he would not be hurt and he would not be feeling such betrayal.

Right now, as Aemond silently walked you towards his chambers, hands fisted, jaw clenched tightly and his gaze fixed ahead, you were fearful of how things would fare. As strong as you wished for your resolve to stay, Aemond’s disappointment was showing you a new weakness. And his words, you knew, if they were used as weapons then you would stand little chance against them. There was a heavy weight against your lower back where his hand sat, pushing you gently so that you glided through the halls faster. 

It wasn’t a long journey back to Aemond’s quarters. But it felt like hours to the Prince, the nausea in his gut silencing him the entire way. He felt like a child again, presented with a pig instead of a dragon, the shrill laughs of his cousins and his brother striking him with flashes of humiliation. 

Again and again and again, Aegon would do whatever he could to see Aemond crumble. Aegon would always take Aemond’s dignity, his honour, his crown. And now he just had to take his wife? 

Aemond shut the doors to his chambers roughly and you were quick to put some distance between the two of you. There was a hollow ball of guilt and fear that caught in your throat but you couldn’t deny the elation at the mixture of emotions in Aemond’s eye as he turned to face you. 

It was a reflection of how you had felt upon finding Aemond in bed with another. He would finally understand. 

Only Aemond was worlds away from the damned arousal you had felt and instead it was replaced with a youthful dread, a panic that you had never seen from him before now. 

There was hardly a moment for you to register the harshness of Aemond’s grip on your bicep as he pulled you toward the bowl that was kept by his bath, filled with clean water and accompanied by a tray of freshening oils. He lightly shoved you toward it as he let you go, unfazed by the sound of shock that you could not hold back. 

“Wash your mouth,” he spat. Although your back was to him, you could feel how he suppressed the extent of his rage as he was ever so good at doing. “And then we will talk.”

You bit your tongue and did as he said, wincing at the ice in his words and the angry strain of his voice. There was a lot that you wanted to say, to scream at him. He was angry–and to some extent he had every right to be–but how could Aemond have expected you to be okay with something that he clearly could not take on the chin?

But the way he had held you, the tone of his voice and the harshness in his glare had you wondering if revenge was worth whatever comes next. Because, amongst the whirlwind of fear and guilt and regret was gratification and fulfilment. 

The prickle of Aemond’s glare had disappeared before you were ready to dry your mouth with a towel. Quiet as ever, he had snuck away and by the time you had realised, the sound of the door shutting and the click of the lock had notified you of his absence. 

Aemond had locked you in. When you had swiftly tried to push the doors open, unaware of where you would go and truthfully not intending to leave in the first place, it didn’t budge. And when you called for the kingsguard who stood at the other side of the door, you went unanswered aside from a curt reply that he had been ordered not to let you leave. 

So you had resigned yourself to sitting atop Aemond’s bed rather than the seating arrangements scattered around the rest of the quarters. It smelled strongly of lavender, leather and Aemond’s very own scent–the one that always had you on the verge of drooling. But it only sent your nerves into overdrive, afraid that the consequences of your vengefulness, no matter how satisfying it was initially, may be too dire to recover from. 

The thought of whatever Aemond had planned for Aegon was not nice. You were correct in assuming that your tryst with Aegon would only cut your husband deeper because it was Aegon. The depth of whatever issues these brothers shared was far beyond you but you had only assumed that all second born princes would be affected in such a way. And Targaryen’s were full of complexities, each believing that they were better than everyone. Even their own siblings. 

Aegon had known that his younger brother would become nothing short of murderous. But he had never been a man to avoid even the slightest of temptations. Both the idea of indulging in you and inflaming the ever unresponsive Aemond were far more than slightly tempting. It would be worth the bloodied nose, the split lip and the sick that he’d spewed over his shoes when Aemond had returned to grace him with an inhumanly strong hit to his balls. Somehow, Aemond had made that act of violence seem like child’s play with the threats that he had rained down upon Aegon. 

King Aegon, who simply did not know when to keep his mouth shut and had all but asked for it with the way he taunted Aemond with a sentence he never had the chance to complete. “Seeing as you cannot satisfy even your own wife-”

He wasn’t there long. Aemond’s angry mind was racing and he couldn’t think past the red of his rage. But Aemond still knew better than to stay where he would surely commit a treason he would regret. 

Whatever fury Aemond had unleashed upon Aegon in the short time he was away had seemed to calm him down. He was still clearly angry when he stepped back into his quarters but there was a far less frightening storm brewing in his eye. 

At his return, you had stood from the bed. The air was sucked right out of the room when Aemond stood right in front of you, so close that you could count the creases in the leather of his eyepatch. There was a tense silence in which he stared at you, waiting for you to fold but you only held your head high and met his gaze stubbornly. 

Minutes had passed before Aemond spoke. His voice was far softer than you had expected and he seemed to have settled down a bit as he dragged his knuckles across your cheek, only to grip your chin so that you could not look away from him. Aemond held you tightly but not tight enough that it hurt.

“Enough of this,” It was an order, stern and unrelenting. “No more. This was a step too far-”

You scoffed in his face. “A step too far? Had you not done the same thing?”

Aemond had never in his life apologised for anything. He never felt sorry. And he never wished to admit to his mistakes. But here he was, face to face with the effects of one of the biggest mistakes he had made. If there were anything he could have done aside from apologise, he would have done it. But it was the only thing that would ease the mess of guilt that had arisen inside of him. For what he had done with the whore and for everything he hadn’t done for your marriage. 

“It was a mistake. If I could undo it, I would,” I’m sorry. “This was childish of you. Vengefulness is unbecoming.”

There was a beastly disgust that Aemond felt when he thought of another man even looking at you. The image of Aegon’s cock in your mouth, his seed leaking from your lips made him want to burn the entire realm to ashes. Aemond’s eye trailed along your jaw, to your neck and then down past your stomach. Did Aegon touch you where only he was to touch you?

Fuck treason. Aemond would feed Aegon to Vhagar if he had indulged in your body. 

“It is more than vengeance. You would not have understood what I felt. How I suffered because of you and your whore,” you tried your best to keep your voice stable. The lump in your throat and the tears that blurred your vision forced you to pull out of Aemond’s grip and turn your back to him. “You promised me you would never do that. You dishonoured me. You insulted me. You hurt me–Aemond, do you have any idea the things that they say about me?”

Aemond frowned and you could not see how he reached for you, only to drop his hand back to his side. “I–”

“That I am a failure. That I am-that I am so repulsive and so dull that you cannot even lay with me to produce an heir,” you couldn’t help the sob that escaped you. “And I saw what she was doing to you, what you were doing to her. I could never even have imagined the existence of such an act that had given you so much pleasure-”

“There was no true pleasure with her.” Aemond mumbled. Pathetically. 

Pathetic was exactly the word. Aemond may have been good with a sword, in a fight, with his dragon and when strategizing wars. But he was a pathetic husband–a pathetic partner, a pathetic lover. And he had the urge to take out his good eye for being so mindless and so ignorant. 

Hindsight was his worst enemy, it seemed. Because in hindsight, Aemond would have done everything differently, right from the moment you were introduced to him.

“Lie. It was clear, Aemond. They are all right, are they not?” You felt him step into you, his warm chest against your back. Leather and lavender and him. “I have failed. My womb is still empty. The last time you visited my bed was moons ago. I know you do not love me, my Prince, but I have love for you. Men are not the only ones who need intimacies of the body–I needed that and you have never given me anything. Yet you gave it to her. I wished to hurt you as you had hurt me.”

There were no words that Aemond could find. So he settled for shaking his head and watching you as you sat yourself down on the edge of his bed, staring down at your hands on your lap. You were so wrong in your perception of him but he couldn’t find the words to explain that. But Aemond decided in that moment that he would show you, one way or another. He hesitated before sitting beside you. 

You couldn’t meet his eye if you tried. It was as if your body was telling you to stop talking, that these thoughts were too painful to share, feelings too abstract and tender to put into words. 

“It is wretched, I know–to have turned to Aegon,” you felt him tense beside you and against your better judgement, you placed a hand on his thigh in an attempt to give him some comfort. “I wished to hurt you but I also wished to learn. I thought maybe if I knew how to-how to do things that would make you feel good so that maybe you would feel for me as I have for you. Aegon said he could show me. It is ridiculous, I understand that now.”

Aemond took your hand in his, the heat of your skin against his was fierce for such an insignificant action. He hated that it was easier for you to turn to Aegon than it was to turn to him. “I could have shown you. I can show you so much more. If only we had been honest with each other from the beginning.”

“I thought you do not want me.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. It would be less painful to drive his own dagger through his heart. “I crave for you, my love. I was just too stubborn to admit it and too afraid of what it means. And I did not know how to show you how badly I burn for you.”

The sight of tears had never fazed him until they were yours. Aemond was not particularly pious, he prayed simply because his mother had raised him to pray, but he would be on his knees every hour of every day if it meant that he could take these feelings away from you. If it meant that he could take it all back and start over. 

“I am sorry. No more of this,” you said. “No more seeking out the touch of anyone else in place of each other.”

“I will be a better husband,” Aemond stated, as if he were telling it to himself as much as he was to you. “I will try for our marriage and our duty. And for you.”

“Your promises haven’t proven to mean much to me. All is not forgiven just because we have talked,” You sighed, but gave him a weak smile, turning to look at him. 

He gazed down at you with determination, his jaw tight and his eye glistening with tears that wouldn’t fall. There was no attempt to push you away when you reached up to take off the leather that covered his bad eye. You wanted to see him as he was, even if only for a moment.

Gods, he was beautiful. 

As you stood you forced your smile to turn lighthearted as you teased him through your heavy hearts. “Jealousy motivates you well, my Prince. I shall remember that.”

Aemond hummed, mostly serious as his hands tightly grabbed your hips. “Do not jest like that. I will not be able to look at Aegon without dreaming of murdering him for defiling you how only I should. I cannot afford such treasonous fantasies.”

There was a silent threat in his words. Nonetheless, you leaned down to his ear, gasping gently at the harshness of his fingers squeezing the flesh of your hips. Just his hands on your body alone set you alight. 

“Perhaps my husband should leave the door to his bedchambers open tonight,” you let out a small laugh at the way that he pulled you to straddle his lap so suddenly, gently nipping the skin of his earlobe. You weren’t quite done messing with him. 

“Is that so?” He smiled and you thought that it made him all the more beautiful. 

“Yes,” you smirked, when he groaned frustratedly at your next words, softly throwing you onto the bed. “I may wish to show you exactly what I have learned.”

[skiiyoomin]

HII!! Idk if your taking requests rn but if you still do,can you please do Bakugou having a emo gf?? I honestly don't know if you still write mha stuffs, so ignore this if you don't!! 🙏🙏

ღBakugou having an emo gf

ʚCont: Swearing, fem! reader

⤑Back to navigation

a/n hi!! idk if you wanted it to be texts or a oneshots or wtv so i went with headcanons!! and yess i still write for mha, my inbox is open if you get creative ;)) also, my conception of emo might but kinda stereotypical so i apologize in advance!!

Bakugou had an emo phase in middle school and you can NAWTTT change my mind. Now that he´s older and more mature, he´s become closeted about this phase of his. But trust, if he hears any type of emo music, he knows deep down in his soul that he´s jamming to that shit.

That is why, in terms of how aggressive he is with people, emos are at the bottom of the list, including you.

Of course, when you first walked into class he was still the abrasive person he is. Nevertheless, it was clear to anyone who had known him long enough, that he treated you with just a little more respect than he did with others.

You never understood it, but you never questioned it either. What little bit of peace there was with the blonde was to remain untouched and unshattered. That is until Mina whispered ideas into your head that Bakugou had a thing for you. At first, you tried to convince yourself that it was just Mina gossiping as always. But that didn´t mean you weren´t just the slightest bit more aware of Bakugous mannerisms towards you.

During his infatuated phase, though he would rather die than call it that, he had walked past your room only to stop abruptly when the muffled music reached his ears. The rythm of Panic! At The Disco was heard through your speakers, your melodic voice humming the lyrics. He´d be lying if he said he didn´t know the songs by heart. He did.

And despite his embarrassment of people having this knowledge, his gut told him you wouldn´t judge. Hence why he found himself knocking on your door.

"Bakugou? Do you need something?" You ask, not having expected the sudden visit.

Why did he come here again? His throat suddenly felt dry and his tongue heavy.

"I heard your music down the hallway, it´s too damn loud" Smooth Bakugou smooth.

"Oh. Is it? I´ll turn it down"

Just as you turn back around, he abruptly speaks.

"I like it" Well that sounded dumb "The group I mean. It used to be my favorite"

If you weren´t surprised before you sure are now. Yet you didn´t dislike it.

"Really?....Wanna come in to listen?"

The friendship stage was blurry to say the least. Neither of you knew whether you were treading a line between friends or lovers. But it felt right.

The respect he held for you from the beginning grew the more he learned about you. Between all the dumbasses and extras he was surrounded with, you seemed to be the one with the most refreshing mind. Your passions and views about the world amaze him to no end and he finds himself learning from you.

Of course, everyone else could see the palpable tension between you. It was clear as day yet neither of you made a move. It was infuriating and your dear classmates could only take so much before they intervened. Luckily, a small push was all that was needed for things to go smoothly.

They went with the classic plan. Making plans with friends only to end up ditching you and leaving you all alone with your now crush. Bakugou caught on quicker than you did. And while he wanted to strangle the idiots, he knew it was now or never, he had to stop chickening out.

"What are we?" He asks out of the blue while walking back to the dorms. He could feel your eyes on him, but he didn´t turn his head, too scared to look.

"What do you want us to be?" You counterask, your heart inevitably thumping in your chest.

"If I tell you will you still stay?" You can only muster a nod.

"I want us to stop dancing around our feelings. I want to take you out. On a real date"

With a grin, you lean close and place a kiss to his blossoming cheek. "I´ve been waiting for you to ask"

The relationship wasn´t all that different. Rather, it was more like an upgrade. He still does the things he does but now under the claim of being your boyfriend. And yes, he came out of the emo closet, though it was pretty transparent. Don´t tell him that though.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Sugar Daddy Azriel - drabble?

a/n: so, I have one or two requests in my inbox relating to this sort of dynamic--one I've never written before--so we're doing a test run with Azzie (since obviously they're all feysand-related)

Also I haven’t proofread this so apologies

warnings: uhhh dom/sub dynamics, sugar baby/sugar daddy-ish vibes, no use of Daddy but occasional use of Sir, oral (m receiving), I think we're getting bit of soft Dom Az in this, reader is a reader

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You jolt in surprise when you find him sat at the edge of your large bed, one he'd had made especially to accommodate him and his wingspan. "Evening, pretty lady," Azriel drawls, a playful smirk curving his mouth as hazel eyes trail your form.

You're wrapped in a red, blue, white, and dark green, horizontally-striped jumper that comes down to the tops of your thighs. It's baggy and has a wide neckline, showing off the line of your collar bones as it sits at the edge of your shoulders. Beneath are a pair of soft, navy shorts that only peek out from the hem of the jumper when you lift your arms a significant height, feet clad in thick socks that rise halfway up your calves, full and fluffy, and partially concealed by the chunky dark-blue slippers he'd bought you last solecist.

"Azriel?" You question, smiling despite knowing how odd it is that this is your kind of relationship - with him just appearing at intervals inside your home. Often with Things in tow. "What are you doing here?" You already know what he's doing here, or can at least guess from the black paper bag leaning against his side, printed with that distinctive white and gold monogram on the parchment.

Sure enough his hazel eyes glint, inclining his chin. "I think you know what."

"Mhmm? You got me something?"

"Maybe. Come closer. You can find out."

Your smile widens with fondness as you make your way across the rug you'd had imported from the continent, pausing between his long legs, a shiver of pleasure purring up your spine as he lays his broad palms around your waist, squeezing lightly with his thumbs as they stroke your sides. "Want to take a look, pretty thing?"

"Hmm? No viewing fee?"

"I'm feeling generous."

"Mhmm. Not at all keeping the mischief for later, no sir." He huffs a laugh, before nodding to the bag. "Just take a look."

Inquisitively you slide your fingers between the two trifolds, spreading them to peer inside. Your brows narrow, spotting the thick width of a book, but when you reach to pull it out a cool shadows slinks around your wrist, and he tuts. "I don't think I said you could touch, did I?" A smile curves your mouth, eyes bright and twinkling as you retract from the bag, turning your attention rightfully to him. "And what do I have to do to get my hands on it, sir?"

He scoffs. "You've done this more than a dozen times for me. You know what to do."

"But I want you to tell me," you murmur, lips still curved as heat simmers between your thighs. Azriel's mouth quirks to reflect your pleased expression, hand sliding upward. "Yeah? You want me to give you some orders to follow?" His thick fingers hold your throat carefully, flexing once so you can feel as he lays each digit to your skin. "On your knees, pretty thing."

"There's the Dom I know and love," you whisper against his mouth, before settling into position between his legs. Azriel chuckles softly, "you want a Dom tonight? Have you been good?"

"Perfect," you murmur, fingers already greedily untying the laces of his leathers. "I've been the best."

"The best?"

"Mhmm."

"Have you touched yourself?" You shake your head, halting once you've got his laces out of the way, waiting for the instructions. "Have you wanted to?" You nod, enjoying the heat of arousal that flushes your skin. Azriel raises a brow, his fingers stroking over your hair before lightly taking a section in his fist. "What were you doing when thinking about it?"

"Reading..."

He smirks. "Of course you were."

Arousal intensifies, but you continue to wait patiently, adhering to the unspoken rules. Azriel parts his thighs, lightly tugging on your hair to tilt your face upward. "Tell me why you wanted to touch yourself, pretty thing." You flush, teeth dragging over your lower lip before answering. "There was a scene, sir..." Azriel quirks a brow, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lovely mouth. "A scene?" You nod your head, glancing briefly between his legs, un-wanting and unwilling to hide your hunger. "Eyes up here," he warns, bringing your gaze to his, "what scene?"

"I wanted to watch you read it," you admit, "to share it with you..."

"How sweet of you," he drawls.

"I thought you might like the ropes..."

Azriel chuckles, the deep noise licking between your thighs that you squeeze together. "My smart little reader's been nosing at some dirty things, hasn't she?"

"You'll like them, too," you argue playfully.

"Oh, filthy then."

You flush deeply, silently begging for him to give you the okay. His mouth curves and stark relief floods your system. "Open." He orders, and your lips part on command. His answering smirk would have had your underwear dropping to the floor had you been standing. "Be good," he goads, shadows pulling himself free as he carefully wraps your hair around his fist--for guidance.

You tighten around nothing as he pulls you forward, tapping his leaking tip against your lower lip teasingly, smearing the precum that had gathered there in a glossy mess, liking how it gleams on your mouth before slowly feeding you his cock. Moans are already aching to spill from your throat, but you have the feeling even if you allowed yourself to his cock would muffle them significantly. He's so big.

"There you go. Good girl," he praises, dragging you back by your hair, groaning when your tongue flicks out to deliver a small lick to a spot just at the underside oh his head. "Wicked girl," he amends, the groan hungry and guttural and not helping the gathering wetness in your underwear.

Azriel's mouth curves when he pushes you back down to his base, gently guiding your movements: up...and down...up...and down. "So filthy beneath that pretty exterior, aren't you?" He huffs a laugh that tails into a groan when you do something hot with your tongue. "Fuck. Not a single soul would look at my lovely little reader and think she'd be like this. So sweet on your outside, aren't you?"

Sweet on the inside, too, your eyes say when you suckle his tip, lapping up the leaking precum eagerly. Azriel grits his teeth, his breathing deepening and a flush colouring his cheeks...one that makes you want give him more. He twitches in your mouth, and you take him down your throat eagerly, an arm curving beneath his thigh to place your hand on his hip, wanting to touch more of him.

His wings shift on the bed, flaring wide then tucking in tight, his grip tightening in your hair as he bucks his hips, knowing you can take it. Scarred fingers graze your scalp, thumb stroking across your hair encouragingly, sensing the peak isn't far off now. "Gods, so sweet and filthy. And mine." He laughs when you whimper onto the thick length of his cock. "Yeah? You're all mine, aren't you? My lovely, sweet, thing."

You practically purr when he releases in your mouth, tongue swirling and mixing with his cum, a thrum of biological satisfaction shimmering through your body with sheer pleasure. He pulls tentatively at your hair, asking you to pull away, and you happily obey, keeping your mouth open and sliding your eyes shut as he finishes on your face. A growl rumbles from the back of his throat, panting with flushed skin as he looks down at you, thumb swiping at some of the milky liquid, chuckling when you lift from the ground to take it into your mouth, tongue eagerly licking over the pad.

He pulls you to straddle his lap, and you shiver as he kisses your face, cleaning you up of the mess he's made, occasionally gathering more on his fingers and letting you feed from it.

"Was I good, Azzie?" You murmur, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders--shoulders you've been thrown over more than a few times--curving your spine so your breasts push into his chest, soft and full. "So good, pretty thing," he whispers, lips curving as he plies the hem of your striped jumper down one side of your arm so he can lick and suck marks into you, trailing his way up to a space below your jaw, beneath your ear. "I think you earned yourself something extra."

"Something extra...?" His hand slides from your waist to your ass, pulling away lightly to glance down at your bare thighs, "are you even wearing shorts?"

"They've ridden up my legs," you argue, pulling the hem of your jumper higher to show the navy cloth. "I wouldn't have minded..." he drawls, hazel eyes flicking to yours as his hand slides beneath their waistband, squeezing your ass appreciatively, making you squeal and curve into him, laughing. "You're the filthy one, Az. Not me."

"Mhmm? So you weren't reading those books before you fell in with me?"

"I was..." you reply primly. Your thighs part wider, able to feel him against your centre. "I couldn't let you do all the corrupting."

"Uh-huh. Well, maybe what's in the bag will help with that."

"Can I touch now?" You smirk, clearly taunting him. Azriel grins, his eyes glinting. "Keep up with that attitude," he goads. "I'm sure it will land you in a good place."

You roll your hips to his. "Underneath you?"

"Keep it up and you'll find out." He lands a hard spank to your ass, smirking when you gasp, before nodding to the bag. "Take a look, princess."

You flush at the pet name, pulling the bag between you and pulling free the book. Your eyes nearly shoot out of your head, cheeks ablaze as you scan the bespoke design--the gold-threaded title catching your attention almost immediately. It's the dirtiest (and favourite) book you've ever read. You splutter, staring at him. "Wh- How?"

"Spymaster perks."

"That doesn't answer anything!" He smirks when you shoot him a suspicious glance. "Alright," he relents, "Helion has particular connections."

You shake your head. "That still doesn't answer anything."

Azriel smiles faintly. "Do you like it, though?"

That certainly gets you grinning, holding the thick book in your hands, tilting it back and forth so the thread catches in the light, glinting decadently. "Of course I like it," you mumble, flipping the book to trail your fingers admiringly down the ridges of the spine. "I love it." You glance up, meeting softened hazel eyes. "That's why you got it though, isn't it."

"Maybe I like seeing you contented."

"Maybe I like seeing you coming."

Azriel chokes on a laugh, large palm sliding beneath your jumper to stroke across the bare expanse of your back, hand shifting so his fingers wrap around your ribs, grazing the underside of your breast. "Maybe the feeling's mutual," he murmurs over your lips, and you feel yourself beginning to melt as his mouth slants over your own, his taste still prominent in both of you.

When he pulls away, he pushes hair from your cheek that had fallen from its place behind your ear. Your heart skips, and then you're opening the book, swiftly scanning the pages until you find the right passage. "As a thank you from me, and a reward from you..." You flip the book around, pointing to the section. "Can we try this, next?"

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes @kksbookstuff @feerique @ratgirl2020

[green-alien-turdz]

Hi, I know its been a minute n I don't really like that there is like one or two posts between this n my last 'i'm still alive' post. I'm sorry. I wanted to say thank you to everyone in general, but also the mfs who said some nice ass shit to me. Sorry I said some concernin ass shit n just dipped, that was pretty fucked. I never really had people care like all the people on here, so I ain't too used to havin to be more careful with the shit I do n say.

Thank you to everyone for the kind words, concern, n care. Comin back to see all of it made my fuckin heart melt. I know I'm just some dumbass postin south park shit on tumblr, but you guys are genuinely the most amazin mfs I've ever encountered. To the people who were in my inbox askin if I was still alive, I sincerely apologize for causin any stress or concern, it's not my intention. You guys are the sweetest people, and I'm sorry for doin that. I should prolly stop bein as vocal about bein so fucked, but I also like to be honest n I like sharin this shit bcuz I know mfs be goin through the same shit n bein alone in it feels fuckin awful majority of the time.

I am not well. I am doin very bad actually. There's a chance imma be forcefully medicated in the near future. Which is weird bcuz I used to always want that, I wanted to be fixed, but now I'm not sure for like a TON of reasons. One, ion wanna be changed (in a sense). If the meds take away or dull core aspects of myself, I will lose it further than I have already. Two, my parents raised me to never trust doctors or medicine, etc. Even though I do think modern medicine is a great thing, I still have my fears bcuz of how I was raised. Three, I fear the fuck outta what I will do. I know they warn that adjustment periods n shit like that can make things worse- but I literally cannot get any worse. If I do, I know I will not come out alive. Which bleeds into reason four, which is that I know, at some point, I would try n overdose. Handin me such a quick n thoughtless way to just end it is like the worst fuckin thing they could do. But whatever. Ion even know when it's gonna happen, all I know is that ion got a choice. Like, I'm pretty sure it's a situation that, if I don't comply, imma be locked tf up.

Uhh minor update shit- my cat came back home after almost a month of bein fuckin somewhere. She came back skinny, dirty, n sick, but she is slowly recoverin n I've never been more thankful. ED is still kickin my ass, but I'm forcin myself to at least have a fuckin soup I made bcuz I can't get shit done at work if I keep faintin or gettin injured. I have little to no time to do shitfuck, but still do random shit periodically before or after work. I actually redid my dresser n made some stupid ass video about the handles that I might post to youtube if I quit bein a pussy about it.

I haven't been drawin my fanart as of late- but I do want to. Imma focus on doin the requests I have bcuz I wanna give back the best I can. You guys stick with me through thick n thin. I thank you all so much. I'm sorry I'm always MIA. So my posts for a little bit are gonna be the requests n answerin all of my inbox. Ion know how long it'll take, but hopefully it won't get borin. I genuinely love makin things. I love drawin the shit I do n people findin some sort of connection to their lives or themselves. I just want people to feel less alone, less ugly, less whatever the fuck you feel. Each n every one of ya is fuckin amazin, so please don't forget it.

Imma stfu now. But I hope you guys have a good rest of your day or night or eternity. I'll be back to postin shortly, thank you for stickin with this shit show

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.

Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.

pairing - bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none!! just tooth rottingly sweet fluff <3

word count - 1.7k

author's note - based on these two requests!! i'm also trying a new post format... what do we think?? I promised you i'd get a couple of xmas fics out before the 25th... I lied. apologies!! forgive me. title taken from the poem The Owl by Edward Thomas.

as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

He whispers the words, timid and reserved, directly into your ear as if he's worried someone else will hear. It's only the two of you sat on the couch in your shared apartment, but Bucky's nervous.

Your head whips around in shock, trying to play it cool. Failed.

"Are you... are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

You grin, big and blinding, the beams of it radiating into Bucky's bones. It settles into his muscles, eases the tension from his shoulders.

You try not to make a big deal of it, try to keep your excitement under wraps. But you've been waiting for him to say those words for almost six years.

"I want to do Christmas this year."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

He hates the cold.

No, he's traumatised by the cold.

Years spent frozen, genetically modified and locked in a glorified freezer. Every gust of wind, every flake of snow reminds him of the darkest days with no light to be seen. His blood may run hot, but he feels like his heart is yet to thaw. He debates moving to the desert at least ten times a day.

Then he looks at you. How happy you are when winter comes around. The way your face lights up when it snows. And he figures that if it brings you this much joy... maybe he can tolerate it.

He bites back the chill, grits his teeth at the icy breeze, ignores the shudder of the cold all the way down to his bones. He grins and bears it, because you love it. He thinks you don't notice.

You do.

You've known ever since you met him. His demeanour changes when the winter comes around. He gets a little tentative around the autumn time, as if he's preparing himself for the worst. And then the first snow falls, and he's different. Guarded. Careful. Reluctant. He puts a fake smile on his face and pretends, but you're nothing if not completely in tune with everything Bucky Barnes.

You never asked, never pried. Just stood steadily by his side, regardless of the walls he'd placed around himself. Around his heart.

He broke down one night, wrapped up in bed with you. A chill had blown through your old apartments rickety windows and unearthed old memories, ice running into his veins. He was sure his tears were frozen as they dripped down his face.

You understood him better, since that day.

You've tried to suggest moving in subtle and not so subtle ways, but he won't have it. He knows this is your home. He knows you like it here. He knows he can stay, if he works a little harder on himself.

So, he tries. Every single day, he tries. And that's all that matters.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Okay, so... ground rules. Hit me, Buck. We do this on your terms."

He thinks for a moment before turning to face you.

"I want it to be just us. No one else."

"Done."

"And I don't wanna do the whole Christmas dinner thing. Feels like too much all at once."

You fight the urge to burst into tears at how easily he's communicating with you, how effortlessly he's enforcing his boundaries. You've come a long way.

"Done. Agreed, by the way. Fuck Christmas dinner. We'll do our own thing."

He grins at you, leaning in to kiss you slowly, tenderly, leisurely. Like you have all the time in the world.

"I want to get a tree. And lights. We don't have to do all the ornaments and stuff, but lights would be nice."

"I have an artificial tree in the back of the storage closet... is that okay?"

"Perfect. I don't want to stand on all the pine needles, anyway."

Laughing, you shift closer to him, tangling your legs together on the couch.

"And no gifts for me."

"But Buck-"

"Angel. I don't want anything. I have everything I need sat next to me."

You roll your eyes, but you can't wipe the smile off your face.

"This isn't fair, suddenly."

"It's plenty fair. You stress too much when you buy gifts, and this is going to be a stress free Christmas. Understood?"

He hooks his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Understood," you whisper, swinging your knee over so you're straddling him. "Stress free."

Bucky tilts his head up to kiss you, gentle at first, then firmer when you roll your hips into his. He's a little distracted, admittedly. He got you to promise not to get him anything, but made sure you wouldn't ask the same. His mind runs a mile a minute, trying to wrack his brain on what kind of gift to get for the love of his life, the person that saved him and continues to save him every single day.

He comes up empty, but lets you kiss the thoughts away for a little while.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"My mom taught me this specific way to hang lights on your tree. Look, grab this end and I'll show you."

You're both still in your pyjamas, fire roaring, a jazzy Christmas melody playing from the radio. You decided you wouldn't put up your tree until the day before, to save Bucky from feeling overwhelmed. It's worked, so far - he looks plenty relaxed as he chuckles and rises from the armchair.

"You're tall, so hold this above your head so they don't tangle."

You work diligently, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Bucky's happy to watch you, fighting the smile off his face every time you sigh in exasperation. Eventually, you step back and admire your masterpiece, satisfied and content.

"It's beautiful, baby," he whispers, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

He presses a kiss into your neck, then another, then another. Your eyes slip closed, and you sink into his embrace, feeling more at peace than you ever thought possible. You spend the evening by the fire, lying on the rug, room illuminated by the lights on the tree.

It's perfect in every way.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Merry Christmas, angel."

"Merry Christmas, Buck."

His hand finds yours under the duvet, pulling you in close. You tangle yourself around him like lights on a tree, all encompassed by his warmth.

"What's the plan for today, Sergeant?"

He presses a kiss into your temple, propping himself up on his elbow so he can see you properly.

"I say we make some breakfast, spend all day on the couch, and then maybe make some dinner? I know we said we wouldn't do a traditional Christmas dinner, but it'd still be nice to take the time to cook something."

"That sounds perfect."

In the kitchen, you make pancakes with copious amounts of maple syrup, strawberries and pieces of banana strewn across your plates.

"My Mom made us pancakes every Christmas morning, you know."

"You've never told me that."

"I know. I kind of refrained from ever talking about anything festive, because I didn't want you to feel guilty."

"For making you miss out for so many years?"

"I haven't missed out, baby. I chose not to do Christmas because I love you. And that love takes precedent over everything else."

Bucky kisses you then, across the kitchen table, full and golden and so full of love you almost fall off your chair. He tastes like blueberry jam and syrup and coffee, and you wish you could bottle it up and stick a little under your tongue when you get homesick.

"What changed?"

"Hmm?"

"Why now? I would have been content to never do Christmas again, if it made you happy."

"Because I realised something, a couple of months ago. We were sat in the park, and you were laughing at that dog chasing the boomerang. The sun was making you glow, like some sort of angel, and I just knew. I can do anything with you by my side. I can't put my future on hold because of my past."

You're fighting back tears as you look at him, so happy and content. You never thought this was possible, when you first met him.

And here you are.

Celebrating Christmas, showing him your childhood traditions, making pancakes like your Mama used to. You're sat at the kitchen table as the snow falls outside and the warmth that Bucky's love brings is keeping the chill at bay.

It doesn't get better than this.

"I got you something," he murmurs almost sheepishly.

"Bucky-"

"Don't yell at me! I know it makes me a hypocrite, I know I said no gifts, I know."

You roll your eyes, but watch his every move as he gets up and leaves the room. You finish your breakfast and put both of your plates in the sink, turning on the tap so they can soak. When you turn around, Bucky has returned.

He's on one knee.

There's a ring between his fingers, glinting in the winter sun. You're both still in your pyjamas, warm and full, not quite having shaken off the heavy embrace of sleep just yet.

It's perfect.

"Maybe it's cliche to propose on Christmas day, but... I want to replace all of my old memories with new ones. Memories like this."

You walk over to him, kneeling down in front of him so your eyes are level.

"You've taught me what love is, baby. And I can never repay you for that. But I can certainly try. Every day, I can try."

There are tears dripping down both of your cheeks, Bucky's grin matching yours. The two of you are overwhelmed in the best way, unsure of how to process the gravity of what you're feeling.

"Marry me, baby. Let's do this forever."

You lunge forward and smash your lips to his, laughing into his mouth.

"Yes," you breathe when you pull away. "God, yes. A million times yes, Buck."

His arms wrap around your middle as he picks you up, twirling you in circles around the kitchen, both of you shrieking with joy.

Bucky slips the ring onto your finger when he puts you down, both of you tilting your heads to admire it.

"I love you," you murmur, leaning up to press your foreheads together. "The cold can't touch you now, baby. This love will warm us forever."

The cold can't touch him now. Love will warm him forever.

@lizzystuffsthings <3

[markster666]

I'm not sure if I've made a request with you but if I have please feel free to ignore! I just can't stop thinking about reader just going up to Vox and asking if they can play videogames and use his head as the monitor. idk I just wanna fuck with Vox he's hilarious

My Life is Like a Video Game (Literally) - Vox x Reader (SFW)

Pairing: Vox x Genderless!Reader

Tags: Vox, SFW, Comedy, Not a lot of plot, Vox is pissed off, Vox x You, Cursing

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: 575

A/N: I saw this request come into my inbox a bit ago and I died of laughter. I hope this lives up to your expectations. Unedited, so apologies for any spelling mistakes. Enjoy. LMFAO

You cursed in disgust as the lights went and fucked themselves. You knew Vox had a temperament and when it got BAD, the power shut off everywhere. You were in the middle of beating a really hard boss on Dark Souls, one you spent DAYS UPON DAYS trying to complete, only for his fuck-head lookin' ass to ruin your almost perfect run of it.

You threw down the controller and groaned. You decided to get up and mindlessly walk around the room, actually putting in the time to throw your dirty clothes in the pantry and make your bed.

You were hoping Velvette or Valentino would've calm him down by now, but the complete darkness and lack of gaming audio states otherwise.

You hastily put on your comfort jacket and shoved open your door and slammed it behind you, murmuring obscenities as your feet scuttled down the hallway. Your arms were crossed from how cold it was (the heater electricity was shut off too).

You knocked on Vox's door, stabbing back a foot or two in anticipation of the door opening.

After a few moments, you shouted "VOX!"

Still no answer.

You raised your voice even more, "VOX! OPEN UP THIS FUCKING DOOR OR SO SATAN HELP ME-"

The door opened, slamming against the wall and threatening to break.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT Y/N?!!"

His eyes were glowing red, a snarl coating his face. His hand was still on the doorknob, ready to slam the door in your face at a moments notice.

You rolled your eyes, "I was in the middle of a Dark Souls boss fight and you decided that THAT was the perfect time to completely cut all power."

He groaned in frustration.

"I'm SORRY, okay? I don't know what else to tell ya."

He started closing the door but you pushed past him and into his computer room.

"There's only ONE working TV in all of Pentagram City now..."

He frog blinked at you, closing the door with a look of confusion on his face.

"Um... What are you trying to say?"

You turned to face him, arms on your hips and looking him up and down.

"May I PLEASE use your head-screen thingy to... beat the Dark Souls boss?"

He looked DUMBFOUNDED. Like there's absolutely no fucking way you just asked him that.

"That is probably the dumbest fucking request I have ever gotten from you. No, absolutely not. Power will be back on soon."

He pushed past you, sitting in his chair and rubbing his eyes in exhaustion and stress.

You smirked and went up behind him, massaging his shoulders lightly, leaning in close to his ear.

"I'll go and spy on the Radio Demon for ya."

He perked up at this thought, swiveling his chair around to face you.

"Oh? Ya don't say?" He folded his hands on his lap. "Fine, then, but ONLY 10 minutes."

You squeaked in giddy, sitting down and crossing your legs on the floor, booting up your controller and he switched his monitor to Dark Souls, trying to stay as still for you as he could.

It ended up taking 8 hours because you had beaten the boss but wanted to keep playing so you just didn't tell him you beat the boss.

And you left him even more angry than he already was. :)

Oh and you also didn't spy on Alastor you truly couldn't give less of a shit.

[suugarbabe]

completely fine if not!! just wanted to ask if in the end you were going to write the Mattheo x animagus!reader thingy i sent in some time back, but absolutely just out of curiosity!! i hope i don't come across as pressuring or similar, because i'm also very excited for your other projects and i can't wait to read them!!🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Omggggg I’m trash I’m trash I’m trash! I swear I did have this done. It’s right here. I’m so sorry I had this in my Google docs and lately I’ve been working straight from my inbox so I forgot I even completed it. Please don’t hate me I’m so sorry love :((

One of your favorite things about being in your cat form was basking in the sun. It really helped whenever you were stressed, or anxious, or tired, or whenever you really just needed to get away from other people. Today's basking came from just needing to clear your head.

You stretched your little black paws out, letting out a soft meow like yawn before turning on your side right in a sun spot. You were nearly drifted off into a light sleep when you hear someone slump against the other side of the tree.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you slowly stalked around the trunk to see none other than Mattheo Riddle. He didn’t notice you at first, his head sitting in his hands and breathing deeply.

You nuzzled your head against his thigh, his head snapping up at the motion. “Well hello there, beautiful,” he get your head an affection pet, looking around the courtyard for another person, “Are you out here by yourself? Where is your owner?”

You nudged his hand with the top of your head. He laughed lightly, “Okay, okay, I get the picture.” He started to lightly scratch the space between your ears, earning an affection purr from you.

You stayed cuddling with Mattheo like that for a good hour before he had to go. He said his apologies to you, saying he hoped he ran in to you again soon. You rubbed yourself against his legs before he left, then you went and sat in the sun again.

Later that day at lunch, you were talking with Susan Bones when Mattheo came and sat down next to you, a rather large smile on his face. You rested your head in your hand as you turned to look at him, an inquisitive look on your face.

Mattheo caught you staring, “What? Something on my face, Princess?” You laughed, dipping your finger in the pudding bowl next to you before tapping his nose, “You’ve got some pudding right about…there.”

Mattheo’s mouth dropped open in shock, “Oh you’re gonna pay for that later, Y/l/n. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.” This sentence caught your attention, “Oh? And what has put Mattheo in a good mood today?”

His smile was smug, “I made a new friend. Well, she’s a cat. But she’s beautiful and cuddly and…you know what I should just show you. She seems to hang out in the courtyard.”

Mattheo grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the Great Hall. You gave Susan an apologetic look, but see only seemed to be smirking. When you reached the courtyard, Mattheo was disappointed to see the cat was not there. You tried to give him a sympathetic look, without giving away that you knew why the cat was no longer there.

The next morning Mattheo found you again, in cat form. Giving you cuddles and ear stretches and belly rubs. It was the most physical affection Mattheo had shown you, even if he didn’t really know it was you. But you couldn’t give it up, not with the crush you’ve had on him for the last two years.

At lunch the same day Mattheo tried to show you the car, again. But again, it wasn’t there. For obvious reason. It went on like this about every other day for two weeks. Mattheo would find cat you in the morning, he started talking to you, telling you why he was upset, or about his day, his worries.

You started to feel a little bad every time he tried to show you the cat and it not being there. But nothing could prepare you for what Mattheo was essentially confessing one morning.

You were laying in his lap, stretched out while he made gentle circles on your belly. “Have you ever had feelings for someone that you weren’t sure if they liked you back?” You looked up at him from his lap, your little black ears perking up at his question.

He huffed to himself, “What am I saying, you’re a cat. You just look for rubs and cuddles. Ugh, gorgeous I really like this one girl. But we’re such good friends I don’t know if I should tell her. I keep trying to show her you. I really want to have something just between us, think maybe it’ll bring us closer,” Mattheo picked you up, holding you so your body stretched down but your little cat nose and his were nearly touching, his tone turning to baby voice, “but you always seem to be gone when I bring her, don’t you beautiful?”

He sighed, setting you down. You felt so guilty. You had to tell him the truth, you started running towards a set of trees on the other side of the courtyard. Your mad dash away startled Mattheo, him getting up and trying to chase after you.

Once behind the pair of trees, you transformed back to your regular self. Mattheo peaked around the trees, jumping back slightly when he saw you, his face quickly turning in to a smile, “Y/n/n, did you see her? The cat. She came right this way.”

You looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Teo…I, I am the cat.” Mattheo let out a chuckle, “What do you mean, love?”

You took a deep breath, looking down at the ground, “I, erm, I’m an animagus. A black cat more specifically. It’s why…why, erm, you could never show me her. Well, I was her.”

There was silence. You waited a beat, expecting him to be upset for keeping a secret or get upset for allowing him to be so vulnerable and essentially lying to him for the last three weeks.

What you didn’t expect was his arms to wrap around you, for him to pull you close and squeeze you tight before pulling back, “That is so bad ass.”

Your face broke out into a smile, “Really? You’re not, like, made or anything? I know I should’ve told you sooner but I just…liked being close to you. Even if it had to be that way.”

You met his eyes shyly, only to be met by his shining, “Y/n/n, this is seriously so cool. Merlin, I thought I loved you before but this is so amazing. You’re so amazing, beautiful, gorgeous. Human form and cat.”

Mattheo’s eyes widen at the realization of his confession. “I, erm, I’m sorry I-”

“I love you too, Teo,” you cut him off. He flashed you a dimpled smile, “Yeah?” You nodded your head, lifting up on your tip toes to press a light kiss to his cheek, which instantly flamed.

He looked at you with shy eyes, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “Now that you’re secrets out, don’t think we could maybe…erm, use your animagus to prank the other boys one day?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, nodding, “Under one condition.”

Mattheo placed his hands on your waist, “What’s that, love?”

You couldn’t resist the urge to be cheesy in the moment, “You call me officially yours, both human and cat form.” Mattheo’s smile widen impossibly larger. “That I can do, Princess,” he leaned in, stealing another sweet kiss from your lips.

[moon-alight]

Hi I'm a really big fan of &team can write

When you lock bathroom door and cry after an argument

Hello! Of course, I can. (BTW, all my inbox asks are deleted. The only ones I still have is this one and another one that was made like 5 hours ago. I don't know what happened. Please ask me again if you have more things for me to write <3)

Masterlist

&Team reaction to you locking yourself up after an argument.

Warnings: angst, fluff, arguments, some cussing

Word Count: 762

-K

-He understood that you needed space but when he heard the lock on the bathroom, he got worried.

-Didn't want the argument into what it ended up being but lets be honest, you're both stubborn hot-heads. It was bound to happen.

-Feels insanely guilty after he hears soft sobs (even though you tried to hide it)

-Knocks softly on the door and rests his forehead against the wood as his heart breaks inside his chest.

-"I'm so sorry, baby. Please, open up. Please, let me hold you."

-Feels so guilty and just wants this all to end to be honest.

-Fuma

-It wasn't supposed to happen but you were both blind to the others statement so he lifted his voice a little and saw tears appear in your eyes.

-When you locked yourself up, he realized his mistake and closed his eyes as he stood alone in the living room.

-Fights with himself on what to do because on one hand he wants to give you space but at the same time, he wants to hold you close and assure you he loves you.

-Walks towards the door and thinks he's Anna so he knocks and asks you to open the door. When you don't, he sees this as you want to be alone so he leaves.

-Comes back two minutes later because he loves you and knocks again.

-Nicholas

-I also see him as a hot-headed person so beware.

-He just desperately wanted to win the argument that he forgot to listen to your side and messed but by creating a bigger problem than necessary.

-The moment he hears the lock, he calms down internally and stares at the door.

-Tries to open the door anyway but realized you actually locked yourself in.

-Apologizes as if his life depended on it because for the first time that evening he understands your point of view.

-Will be so happy and relieved when you unlock the door.

-EJ

-You had been arguing to the point where neither of you really knew what it was about anymore.

-When he hears a door shut he doesn't think much of it but when you haven't returned after like 10 minutes he panics.

-Goes to the door to hear your soft sobs and panics even more so he tries to open the door but it is locked.

-A sudden fear of you leaving because he went too far washes over him and he feels his heart almost combust from stress.

-Whispers to you from his side of the door about how you two can fix this small problem and how sorry he is.

-Has an existencial crisis but calms down immediately when you let him inside.

-Yuma

-Hothead number #3!

-Absolutely scoffs when you lock yourself inside your bedroom and waits for you to come out but you don't and he frowns.

-He hears your sobs and immediately feels guilty for how harsh he had been during the argument.

-Immediately calls EJ to ask what he's supposed to do because he is clueless.

-EJ scolds him for being an idiot before he gives advice on what to do.

-Yuma knocks softly on the door and apologizes to you for everything before you open the door and he tackles you in a hug.

-Holds you close and kisses your temple while he keeps apologizing.

-Jo

-Sorry but I cannot imagine a scenario where he would make you cry.

-If anything he would be the one locking himself up and sobbing.

-Harua (I'm sorry I forgot him! SO SORRY!)

-The moment he realized the hurtful words he had said in a fit of anger, he looks down in shame.

-When you lock yourself up, he becomes Anna from Frozen and stands in front of the bathroom door while knocking desperately.

-"Y/N?" He would call out to you and knock a couple more times. When you refuse to open the door, he turns his back against it and slides down until he sits on the ground.

-Tortures himself by listening to your sobs and soft cries from inside.

-Is ready to pick all the stars out of the nightsky to give them to you because he just desperately wants to apologize.

-Taki

-Absolutely the one to blame himself and scold himself for hurting you to the point of you locking yourself up.

-Will leave you alone for a while and wait for you to open the door before apologizing continuesly for being stubborn.

-Won't leave you alone afterwards and has his arms around you the whole time.

-Continues to apologize every few minutes just to make sure if you're still mad or not.

-Kisses your temple and cheek like twenty times. I love him.

-Maki

-Has a hard time understanding why you'd lock yourself up because he genuinly thought the argument was just brief.

-Realizes he might've raised his voice unknowingly and now feels bad about the whole argument. (I swear he wouldn't raise his voice on purpose)

-Knows when you need space and leaves you alone for a while before knocking on your door and talking to you softly.

-Apologizes for the whole fight and asks if he can at least hold you.

-When you open the door, he is so gentle and sweet with you. <3

[satellite-evans]

Chris Evans loving on his pregnant wife for 20 minutes straight

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Summary: a fan made a video about your husband not being able to keep himself from talking about you and your unborn child at all times.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Fluff. Like y’all know you can’t expect anything else from me at this point

A/N: I would like to say before y'all come to me and say 'my omg you copied @astranva how could you' I didn't. Nova herself is cool with it and I'm just sick of you guys always putting us against each other. We are both fluff writers for the same white dude. Similarities are going to happen. So please, don't attack me, and don't full nova's inbox with bullshit. Thank you. <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Chris Evans is a well-known name in Hollywood. Not only for his looks, his iconic role as Captain America, and his famous left boob grab, but the way he kept talking about you in all his interviews.

There was no denying that he was obsessed with you and even more since you carried his child. This obsession was even noticed by fans that they couldn't help but make a video about their favorite Marvel star.

Chris Evans loving on his pregnant wife for 20 minutes straight.

The trending internet video started with a clip of Chris in his famous white suit standing in front of the cameras at the knives out the premiere.

While everyone was screaming at him and trying to get his attention, his eyes were only locked on you, mesmerized by your beauty and making sure you were okay, that the baby was fine.

"Hey Chris, how are you? Good to see you." The voice of the extratv journalist was heard while she was shaking his hand.

"What was it like to be a part of it and work with the cast?" Her first question came immediately after the introduction and made Chris think for a few seconds.

" Uh, I-It was uh, very humbling, y'know a-a lot very talented people who've had uh very long career in this industry so, a lot to learn."

Just when the interviewer was going to shoot him with another question, Chris showed he was clearly not done with his answer.

"Also, also I would like to say that it meant a lot to my wife, Y/N, too." He pointed towards you, where you were standing next to his publicist, trying not to take his thunder away tonight with your very pregnant belly.

"Oh yeah, Y/N is also here tonight! Let's let her join in this interview too!"

Chris then waved the woman off "No, that's okay. She doesn't like this type of thing and I want to respect that. But yeah, she is the reason I accepted this-the job. She is, y'know- my wife is very into detective work and solving crimes so when the opportunity came I just-I had to take it to make her happy."

The next clip showed Chris yet with another interviewer, but this time he was sitting in front of her with Ana de Armas next to him.

"So first, I wanted to say congratulations to Chris. You and your wife are expecting a baby."

In an instant, a smile grew on his face, and he got excited since the conversation was his favorite topic.

"That's right, yeah." He said, with a smirk on his face and his pink in his mouth.

"So how does that feel, becoming a dad after waiting all those years?"

He answered the question with such ease, " It is exciting, but also intimidating, in a way." He started, "Just like you said the need- I wanted to have a family for so long, you think I would've mentally prepared myself, but it is nothing like that. You're scared, you're nervous, you-you constantly thinking if you're going to be a great dad, y'know? All these questions come up and make you more anxious than you already are but, thankfully I have Y/N, she-"

"Omg, she is amazing," Ana interrupted him.

Chris nodded immediately, agreeing with her statement.

"So amazing. I mean, honestly, without her, I think I would be lost. She is the best wife, the best friend, and I know she is going to be the best mother for our child. I-I don't know what I would do without her."

"That's so cute. I'm so happy for you, Chris."

The next clip was him in Massachusetts, on a set of Defending Jacob posing in front of the cameras with a bunch of fans.

"Man, when are you growing your hair back, we loved it in infinity war!" A man said while recording the encounters between Chris and his fans. He smiled and looked towards the guy who said: " I'm sorry but, the wife doesn't like it, so it's not gonna happen. Whatever she wants."

With that, he waved at the fans for the last time before going back to his trailer. He almost missed the guy's response:

"Never thought Captain America was gonna be pussy-whipped!"

Without turning back, Chris shouted back to him : "Why are you saying like it's a bad thing!"

Another video was added of him at the tonight show starring Jimmy Fallon.

"Did you-where you sad when you had to do the end-last scene?" Jimmy asked him after they started talking about the success of Avengers Endgame.

"Yeah, it was very emotional. I mean, it's emotional. These movies are a huge part of your life. And so, when they come to an end, it really it has an impact. But thankfully, I had my wife by my side who supported me throughout everything and, y'know, was there when I needed that extra emotional support."

"Speaking of your wife, Y/N, congratulations buddy she is pregnant!"

The whole crowd started cheering and clapping, Including Jimmy himself, and Chris could only smile and nod, showing how proud he was.

"Yeah, she is. We're expecting a child together, which sounds so odd when I say it because my dream I had for years finally became a reality."

The whole audience was awed, making Chris swoon.

"I am so happy for you pal, I truly am. So how far along is she?"

He looked in the air, thinking and making sure he was giving the right answers.

"She is- tomorrow she will be 7 months pregnant, yeah. Again, I couldn't be more excited about the whole thing. She is incredible. I mean literally, words don't even describe how much she means to me. I love her so much and can't wait to meet our baby."

"That's incredible news, buddy."

The final clip of the video was a self-recorded video Chris made to wish one of his fans a happy birthday.

"Hey Josh, it's me, Chris Evans. So your friends told me you turned 21, and I just wanted to say, have a happy birthday buddy. You're finally at the age that you can drink, at least legally, so go out and have a drink and enjoy it with your friends as much as you can. I would've joined you guys, but y'know, the missus is pregnant and we don't want her to scream at us like a street cat, do we?"

The video also caught you screaming from behind.

"Hey, I heard that!"

"I was just joking honey, all good here!" Chris screamed back. " She just proved my point," he whispered "anyway, happy birthday buddy, thank you for all the love, and enjoy your day. I've gotta show some love to my wife. Don't want her to get too mad at me. See you later, pal."

The video was so loved that it got 10 million in just one day and received many comments from fans:

user1: plsss the way he looks at her, he's down BAD

user2: when is someone going to talk about me the way Chris is talking about his pregnant wife?? WHEN???

user3: I love how he randomly brings up y/n during any conversation lmao

user4: NOT THE STREET CAT LMAOOO

The video got so much love that it even caught the attention of the man himself, Chris Evans.

[hangmanssunnies]

Double Tap

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

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

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

Word count: 19k

AO3 LINK

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

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

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

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

"What happened?" Marlee asks. 

"It's nothing." You respond. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If something happened."

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

"I can't just crash here," you say. 

"You are always, always welcome."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who ?" Marlee cuts in. 

"Jake."

"Hangman?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh really?"

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

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

"Me, of course."

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

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

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

"Well, looks certainly can be deceptive."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have lots of space."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh really?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you don't mind."

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh. No, thank you. I appreciate you making something and sharing. No need for you to put in extra work. I will be fine not tracking my macros for one meal," Jake says. 

"Okay," you say and give him the kindest smile you can think of. You don't want to push him on why he isn't okay. However, you can't stop yourself from sliding the piece of paper you wrote the macros on across the table to him anyways. 

Jake stares at the note card for a long moment and then looks up at you. It's not a look you have ever seen on your roommate's face before. You aren't entirely sure how to decipher the way his green sea-glass eyes are gleaming back at you. He folds the paper once before putting it in his pocket. 

Jake clears his throat, and the edges of his lips quirk up. "Thank you."

"Of course, anytime, Jake," you say back. He puts away his plate a few minutes later after finishing his food. Then packs up the leftovers into some tupperware. 

"I'm going to bed," Jake tells you. Jake doesn't even stop to grab the current book he is in the middle of from where it is placed next to his chair in the living room. 

The moment Jake disappears up the stairs, you are frowning again, considering his behavior. It bugged you, something clearly was off, but you weren't in the position to ask him what it was. As you start to settle down for the evening, you notice that Jake had put it in the laundry basket next to the washer that morning. Seeing that you knew he originally had every intention of starting it before going to the gym that night something that never happened.

You briefly considered that maybe it isn't normal how you have memorized his routine, but also maybe that was just part of living with Jake. You didn't even think before you were throwing his laundry in the washer for him. You stay up to put the clothes in the dryer. Then you find yourself folding items and hanging some of them, not confident that you could iron them correctly. About halfway through the chore, you stop realizing just what you are doing but finish it out, imagining the look on Jake's face when he sees his laundry done. You are in too deep to back out at this point. 

🏡🧩🏡

You knew it wasn't the best idea that morning when you had left to go pick up some of your remaining stuff and random mail from where you used to live. However, you didn't expect it to go as badly as it had. You were still shaking from the interaction you had when you got home. Every moment of the interaction repeats over and over in your head. You hazardously throw your keys into your little key bowl, not caring to notice Jake's there as well. 

You were still trying to take calming breaths and push away the tears streaming down your face. Standing at the entrance to the living room frozen, you aren't sure if you are actually at home or back there with him. 

You startle and jump, letting out a small shriek, hearing a sound in the kitchen. You turn slowly, shocked to see Jake staring at you dressed in his NWUs instead of his flight suit. You are equally surprised by the sight of him home in the middle of the day, in a uniform you rarely see him wear. 

The adrenaline of being scared forces your brain into letting go of the nerves and panic you had barely been keeping in check. Tears spring freely from your eyes as you take gasping breaths. J ake sets down the knife he is holding and takes long strides across the room to quickly reach your side. His hands hover near you but don't actually touch. 

"What's wrong?" Jake asks in a deep voice. 

You just shake your head at him, unable to respond, instead focusing on getting air into your lungs. 

"Can I touch you?" Jake asks then, and that does seem okay, so you jerkily nod your head yes. 

First, his hands settle lightly on your shoulders. Once it seems like you are okay and comfortable with that. Jake goes a step further and wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You press your face into the material of his shirt. Your hands come up to bunch it slightly on his chest as you find purchase to clutch him closer. 

He makes gentle shushing noises but otherwise doesn't say anything while holding you. He is so warm, and his arms feel strong around you. Jake's hold on you doesn't waiver once while you cry. Only relaxing slightly when your sniffles and crying start to level out and you let go of his shirt. 

You take one more deep breath of him. Jake smells of a pleasant mix of his body wash, y'all's fabric softener, and his cologne. Letting the calming effect of the smell flood your system before letting go of your hold on him completely, only then does Jake let his arms slip away. 

Pulling away from the hug, you shyly look to see Jake's face. You find that he is already looking at you. For one of the first times since you met him, you don't like how Jake's face looks. There is a soft and sad demeanor that you see in his eyes. His eyebrows crease and his lips are pressed into a flat line. You feel embarrassment and shame flood you. The way that you just broke down and cried on your roommate, fully processing in your muddled tired head. 

"You're home," you eventually say, trying to break the ice and put a brave face back on. 

"Yeah, I'm not flying today. So, I had the time to come home for lunch."

"Sorry to interrupt." You say, looking down to examine your feet. 

"You didn't interrupt anything," Jake reassures you. He goes back to the kitchen, and you watch as he continues to cut ingredients for his salad.

"Do you want me to make you anything?" He asks.

"No, thank you. "You say not feeling even a little hungry. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jake asks next. 

"No, thank you," you say again and settle at the kitchen island to watch Jake cut the veggies and toss them in a big bowl. 

"Okay," he says. You like that Jake doesn't push you for things. He respects the boundaries you set and doesn't even try to toe up against them. 

"Am I allowed to know why you aren't flying today? I thought someone had broken in. Plus, I hardly recognize you out of a flight suit."

"You don't like these?" Jake asks, looking at the Navy camo print he is wearing as if this uniform suddenly offended him. 

"I didn't say that," you tell him, giving a small laugh. Obviously, Jake could make anything look good, even things that shouldn't. 

"Can't fly every day." He says with a shrug. "Also, I'm going through some maintenance stuff and checks with my sailors." 

You hum, but otherwise, don't comment watching Jake wash the knife and cutting board he had been using then. Then, after he drys them and puts them away, he turns back to you. 

"There isn't anything to be embarrassed about," he tries to venture lightly. 

"You don't come home and cry on me," you say, frowning. 

"You sure about that one?" He asks, shoving a mouthful of salad into his mouth. 

"Pretty sure that I would remember such an occasion." 

Jake just hums. One of those sounds that makes you feel like he doesn't actually agree. A few bites of his food later, he sets his bowl down. His green gaze is trialed on you, but then he glances at his watch, huffing in annoyance. 

There is a slight caving feeling inside you. You feel bad. How much of Jake's lunch have you taken up? You had never actually seen him come home for lunch before, so he must not get a long time. 

"I do all the time. Maybe just a bit less of the wet physical crying." Jake tells you, putting a container lid on his bowl.

"You could," you utter to him, a little embarrassed. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, wouldn't bother me if you ever needed to. You know. I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Darlin," Jake says. Then glances at his watch again. "I got ten minutes before I have to go. What would you like to do?"

"I'm fine," you tell him. "You should use that time to eat." 

"I'll munch while I'm doing some paperwork later."

That was a lie. You knew that Jake would never eat around paperwork. However, it was the kind of lie that settles warmly. It was one of those lies born with good intentions and made to be soothing. You could never be upset that he is even trying to comfort you at his own expense. 

"I don't want to talk about it, Jake." You reiterate again.  

"I know, and you don't have to. I won't ask again. However, if you ever decide that you do. I'm here for you too. Always." 

"Thank you, Jake. You're a really good roommate."

"I hope you can consider me a friend too?" 

"Of course, we are friends too," you reassure him. Jake's lips quirk upwards, his dimples flashing upon hearing that. 

"Now, I can't go back to work without seeing at least one smile." 

"That's a pretty tall order." 

"Well, they don't call me the best for nothing."

"Do they really call you the best or is that something you just tell people?" You ask him, mostly joking. Jake pretends to take offense, pressing his hand dramatically to his chest. 

"Ma'am, you wound me," Jake says, pouting. 

"I don't know. I think it is a pretty legitimate question." 

"I am the best." 

"And how do they determine that exactly? Who the best is." 

"Well, there are a lot of ways. Many different factors to consider." 

"Oh really?" 

"Yup. Also sorts of stuff, but they get us all together once a year, and we have a competition." 

"What kind of competition?"

"Only the elite members of the Navy participate. We all take turns sliding." 

"Sliding?" 

"Yup," Jake confirms, sounding one hundred percent serious. "We set up a huge slip and slide on the carrier runway. You only get three tries, and then we add them for scoring. I may have ripped off all the skin on my chest last year, but it was worth it to win." 

You can't help but let out a laugh. You picture Hangman competitively sliding down a yellow tarp that doesn't have enough water on it. It's such a silly concept you aren't sure where he came up with it. 

"Ahh there she is," Jake says with a broad smile. 

"I never would have thought that was a skill the Navy values." 

"Yes, Ma'am. It's actually the second part of the Naval academy mission," Jake tells you, still maintaining a serious tone despite his smile. Then Jake stands up straight to his full height in parade rest. 

"To develop Midshipmen morally, mentally and physically and to imbue them with the highest ideals of duty, honor and loyalty in order to graduate leaders who are dedicated to a career of naval service and have potential for future development in mind and character to assume the highest responsibilities of command, citizenship and government." Jake repeats dutifully and then adds. "In addition to putting these ideals to the test by hosting the world's most competitive slip and slide competition. Weirdly, people don't talk about that second part much." 

You only laugh harder, shaking your head at him. "Yeah, an absolute mystery. I can't believe that isn't common knowledge." 

Jake chuckles along with you. Then you two are interrupted by a timer going off from Jake's phone. He sighs and silents it. 

"I'm sorry. I've got to go, sugar. Are you going to be okay?" 

"Yeah. I promise I'm okay. Thank you, Jake." 

He bites his lip and nods at you going to put in his shoes and lace them back up. "Are you going to be home later?" 

"Yeah, I'll be home." 

"We could do something if you're feeling up for it. Or I can pick up takeout." 

"That's sweet, Jake, but you really don't have to." 

"I want to," he says with a shrug. Then checks his reflection in the mirror, making sure he is presentable to go back to work. After that, he turns back to you. 

"I'll think about it." You tell him before playfully shoving him out the door so he isn't late. You try not to melt when Jake gives you another hug. You catch his hand just before he is too out of reach.  

"Thank you, Jake. For making me smile."

"It's the prettiest thing I've seen all day," Jake says, squeezing your hand with his own. His words muddle your brain a little bit. You don't get to say anything else before he heads off to his truck, waving at you one more time and driving off. 

You also pretend you aren't screaming on the inside when Jake comes home from work that night with your favorite food and ice cream. The night feels easy and warm, sitting and eating with Jake. The events of that morning can't cross your mind while Jake tells you all about some of the weird contraband he found in the junior sailors' barracks that day. He is no less than spellbinding. 

🏡🧩🏡

Jake is sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work. He is surrounded by neatly organized papers spread all along the table in various piles. Jake is wearing a button-down, tie, and slacks that make you do a triple-take on him.

"Welcome home," he says, glancing up from his laptop that is open in front of him. That's when you see he also has a pair of glasses on. 

"Thank you," you say, slowly making your way to the kitchen but still looking at him. 

"What are you working on there?" You ask. 

"Oh, I'm doing my taxes," Jake says while giving you one of his winning smiles. 

"Taxes?"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"I guess that makes sense," you say while looking around the kitchen for a snack. 

After a few minutes of silence, you decide to ask another question. "Do you have a date later?" 

You knew Jake dated. A man who looks like that has to date. However, you had yet to see him ever bring someone home, which felt odd considering everything about Jake, and the persona he liked to put on as Hangman.  

"No. What makes you ask that?" Jake asks you. 

"Oh. I don't know. You're dressed like you are going on a date."

"No, I'm not," he says, looking down at himself. 

You laugh at him and shrug. "If you say so."

"I would never wear this on a date," Jake mutters, clearly offended. 

"Well, then, why are you wearing it?"

"I'm doing taxes," he says again. 

"Yeah, we have covered that. What does that have to do with your clothes?"

"I'm dressed like an accountant," Jake tells you. You can't hold back your giggles at his phrasing and bring a hand up to your mouth to try and stifle them before giving up entirely. 

"What? What's so funny?" 

"Two things," you say, holding up two fingers, finally biting back your giggles. 

"One, the fact that you got dressed up to do your taxes. The second is that being an accountant is a euphemism for being a sex worker." Jake chuckles at your explanation but shrugs. 

"Well, Mrs. Celeste said I should always dress for the day. It helps you present your best self. If you dress the part, it helps you act that part." Jake says that like a well memorized and treasured quote. A saying he clearly remembered with much fondness.  

"And today is my tax day, so I am dressing like a tax professional. I will have you know. Since I started doing them myself, I have never had one problem with my taxes."

You couldn't help but chuckle more at his explanation and give him a fond smile. Sometimes the way Jake was so perfectly built and attuned for the military was endearing. Of course, a career Naval man would think a uniform was essential for each different activity. 

"So, are the glasses part of your tax uniform too?"  

He made a show of pushing the said glasses further up his nose. "Yes, Ma'am. They also are blue light blocking, which helps prevent migraines."

You nod along to his explanation. You finish putting together your snack and lean against the kitchen counter while munching on it. "Who is Mrs. Celeste? A teacher?"

Jake's lips flatten slightly before the expression relaxes just as quickly. "No, Mrs. Celeste is my Babula." 

"Your Grandmother?" You guess. 

"Yeah, sorry. My grandma, but she was strictly Mrs. Celeste growing up, only Babula occasionally." 

"I don't think I've met someone who calls their grandparent by their first name."

"Well, not really her first name. You have to be respectful and throw the Miss in there with it. She is a very particular lady."

"Is it a southern thing?"

"Yeah, maybe," he says with a small laugh. The edges of his lips quirk up, and you have to look away from Jake to distract yourself. It is easy to fall into the trap of how beautiful he is, with the sparkle he can get in his eyes. Or how even the smallest of his smiles makes you want to grin back. 

"So, how are the taxes?" 

"Oh, it's good. I'm almost finished up."

"Awesome, congrats Jake."

"Have you done yours?" He asks you. 

You shake your head and roll your eyes at the idea. "No, I definitely haven't."

"But you got your W2s in the mail last week."

"Jake, are you snooping through my mail?"

He raises both his hands up in defense. "No, I'm not! W2s just have a very particular look." 

"I'm just kidding. I know you wouldn't snoop through my mail. Yeah, I got them, but I've been busy. I guess I should make a Tax Masters appointment or something."

That crease in between Jake's eyebrows appears, the one that haunts you, that you pretend you don't obsess over. Followed by a small frown.

"Tax Master?" He asks, clearly appalled. You shrug back at him, not entirely seeing the issue. 

"I could do them for you," Jake says, then quickly adds on. "I mean, I can help you do them. If you have the time. I'm already dressed for it, and I won't charge you or anything."

"Oh no, Jake, that is so sweet, but I can't ask you to do that."

"No, really, I wouldn't mind. I think it would be fun. Plus, then you will have it done, and you won't have to worry about it." 

"Really, thank you so much, but it's fine." 

Jake's frown deepens at your answer, and he seems almost genuinely upset at your denial of his help. The warm feeling in your chest likes to flip over and grow a little bit more each time he is too sweet in moments like these. 

"You know Javy warned me that you were an asshole when I was going to move in. However, you have not once lived up to that. You could stand to be less nice to me, Jake." You tell him. You mean it to come off as almost flirty and a bit of a joke. However, it doesn't seem to land with him that way. 

The change that comes over Jake isn't something entirely tangible. It is almost like a shift in the air around him rather than anything physical. The way Jake looks at you just feels heavier and more charged. The confidence he always exudes seems to double with how he sits up just the smallest bit straighter but then leans back against his chair casually. 

"Go get your W2s." He tells you in a perfectly level tone, but it has a demanding edge. 

"Jake," you start to say and roll your eyes at him. 

"Nope," Jake says, popping the p. His voice takes on a lower candace, leaving no room for arguments. "I'm not giving you a choice. We are going to do your taxes." 

"No, we aren't doing my taxes." 

"Yes, I am. I can't be caught not living up to my reputation. So, I'm not going to be nice and accept that you don't want to. This is one of the few situations I won't take no for an answer." 

"It was just a joke." 

"No, it wasn't," Jake says, giving you a small shrug. You can't tell if he is actually hurt by how he is acting, but you suspect some part of him was twinged at his best friend's description. 

"It really was, Jake. Javy adores and trusts you. I'm sure he never would have suggested me moving in with you if he actually thought you were an asshole." 

"I know I'm an asshole. It's fine, sugar, don't worry. I'm not going to tattle on you telling me that to Coyote."

"You aren't an ass, though. That was my whole point."

Jake just shook his head at your answer. "I am one, and I don't want that to be a surprise when you inevitably witness it." 

You aren't sure how to respond to that, so you are relieved when Jake changes the topic. "Now, get your tax stuff, so it doesn't take us all night."

"Okay," you sigh, giving in to defeat. Jake gives you a mega-watt smile, and looks back at his computer screen. 

As you are walking up the stairs, you hear him yell across the house. "Dress like your best accountant self!"

"I won't be doing that," you yell back. 

"Please! It's important." Jake yells back.

When you are in your room getting all your stuff and paperwork pilled together. You find yourself opening your closet and pulling out an outfit that you could imagine wearing if you were an accountant.

You also spend several minutes too long wondering what would happen if you went back downstairs in the most provocative lingerie you own. After all, Jake didn't specify which type of accountant to dress up as. You wondered if it would be tempting to Jake. Could you provoke him into falling into lust with you? Tempt him enough that he took you on the dining room table on top of all the Tax paperwork? Jake has expressed attraction to women before, so there must be at least some part of him that is at least a little attracted to you. 

You smash down your thirsty thoughts and try to screw your head back on straight before it can drift too much off on track. When you get back downstairs, Jake is still at the table. You dump all your stuff on an empty spot there. 

Jake looks up from his computer and smiles at you, quirking an eyebrow. Then, Jake speaks to you teasingly, "And here I thought you might dress up as the other type of accountant you were telling me about." 

Your brain has no choice but to start short-circuiting, and you open and close your mouth twice. Jake starts shuffling through your paperwork, looking at what you have brought him. 

"I ordered us some pizza too," he says before you get out a proper response or say anything teasing back to him. 

"Yum. I'm excited," you tell him sliding into a seat and opening up your own laptop. 

He stops his shuffling and examination of the papers to level you with a serious look. "Thank you for indulging me, by the way." 

"Anything for you, Jake," you tell him and mean it. Unfortunately, the way you feel about your roommate is rapidly spiraling out of the tight control you tried to keep it in. 

"I like when we do fun things like this together," Jake says to you, grinning. 

"Me too," you tell him. Then add, "Only you would find taxes fun, though, Hangman."

"I am about to show you just how fun taxes can be and how you can get a great return," Jake says, taking your words in stride. 

Jake does your taxes almost entirely by himself, only asking occasional questions. He also then organizes all of your paperwork in an extra accordion binder he has. The taxes aren't fun, but spending time with Jake is.  

"Thank you," you say to Jake daring to press a soft, affectionate kiss to his cheek. You linger for a moment, the prickle of his end-of-day stubble ticking your lips, but you don't mind it.  When you pull back to gauge his reaction, Jake looks almost pained and upset. You worry for a moment that even just a cheek kiss could make him react this way. You briefly thank god you didn't actually try to seduce him earlier. 

"Always, anytime." He finally says. However, Jake is now glaring down at his keyboard and not looking at you. 

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble," you venture, confused by this mood shift. 

"Sugar?"

"Yes, Jake?" 

"I don't think you should pay so much rent." 

"What?"

"Listen," he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it all out of sorts. "I just don't think it's fair for you to pay so much."

"Of course, it's fair. I live here," you explain. 

"Yeah, but no. I get BAH, and I don't have any student loans from school. Plus, the Navy pays me plenty as an officer. I was paying for this place all alone before you moved in anyways."

"I'm not going to pay less rent because you saw my financials and feel bad." You tell Jake quietly, trying not to actively become upset. 

"Please don't be so stubborn," he pleads with you. 

You cross your arms over your chest, "Take your own advice."

"I'm the one being stubborn?" 

"Yes! You are. You are the most stubborn man I have ever met."

Jake's frown deepens, and that sad look in his eyes at your words starts to break through to you. Then he responds, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll try and work on that." 

Jake starts meticulously putting things away into different folders. He moves through each of his piles on the table and doesn't spare you a second glance. It leaves a crushing feeling in your chest. 

"I'm sorry for snapping at you." 

"There is no need to apologize. I'm the one who is sorry." Jake says, shrugging off your apology. 

"No, you don't need to apologize. I understand why you said what you did. I know you were trying to be sweet." You start to say but are cut off. 

"I wasn't trying to be sweet."

"Oh my god. Okay, fine, trying to be nice, then," you say, rolling your eyes. 

Jake sets down the folder he is currently holding, and it thumps a little bit on the table. The force and loud sound make you flinch. 

"I'm not sweet, nice, good, or kind. Okay? I'm not any of those things. I call things how I see them. I look at facts, figures, and numbers. Then I run calculations and act accordingly."

"And how is it mathematically possible that me paying less rent possibly works out for you, Jake? You will be losing money." As he shakes his head, he huffs at your words a little bit like they are funny. 

"You could do a lot and make a lot of gains if you paid less rent, and I don't mind picking up the extra amount. You might be one of the few people I haven't hated living with. I don't want you figuring out you need to live somewhere cheaper and moving out on me. So, I'm not being nice. I'm being a selfish asshole." Jake clenches his fists hard, and you see his knuckles start to turn paler. With a deep breath, he relaxes and shrugs. Loosening the tight coil of his muscles, Jake gives you a curt tight lipped smile with a nod. "I'm just a selfish asshole, okay?"

"Please stop. Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true," he says, rolling those beautiful eyes at you. 

"It's not true. Also, I would prefer if you don't use the word selfish around me, please." You say in a surprisingly steady voice. You don't really want to get triggered right now, and you could only hope that you wouldn't have to explain triggers to Jake. It takes him one moment to think and another to process before he says anything. 

"Oh fuck. I'm so sorry. I won't use it again." Jake promises, no questions asked. His words blow up a balloon in your diaphragm, making it feel like your breath is about to catch. Then he adds on, "If there are any other words…" He looks around and grabs a loose pen and one of his notebooks. Jake slides them across the table to you. "Write them down. Maybe? If you can." 

The warmth Jake inspires in your chest is unparalleled and drowns out anything you can think of aside from how endearing he can be and how fond you are of him. Jake doesn't take the lack of response from you well.  

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again. You spring from where you had been sitting, walking slowly and deliberately toward him. You make sure to give him plenty of time to protest and say something. 

Jake looks steadily back at you. However, he looks like he is preparing himself to be slapped or punished, holding perfectly still. Instead, though, you wrap Jake in a tight hug. He is stiff as a board beneath you. After a long moment, as you consider pulling away, Jake relaxes and wraps his arms around you. They are wrapped loosely at first but then tighten in small intervals until Jake is practically clinging to you. 

"You are so good," you whisper to him, a little dazed. You are almost stunned by how desperately Jake tries to pretend otherwise. 

"Don't say that," Jake whispers in a broken voice, hugging you a bit tighter. 

"Too good." You left the words for me unsaid, but you felt them. 

"I'm really not."

"It's okay if you don't see it. I see it for you. I'll make sure everyone else sees, too," you tell Jake curling your hands into a fist in his shirt. 

He doesn't say anything but keeps holding you tightly. You don't know how long the two of you stay embraced like that until Jake finally eases his grip on you, and you reluctantly pull away from him as well. 

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Please stop paying so much in rent," he requests again. 

"That will not be happening, Hangman."

"So stubborn." He sighs. Jake kisses your forehead again. He leaves his lips lingering, and you start to count the breaths memorizing how warm his lips are. Three breaths later, he is pulling away. Jake grabs his laptop and a stack of folders heading upstairs without another word to you. 

You stare after him for a while, trying to parse out the mystery Jake presents, and coming up a bit short, just like you always did. He is one of the most outwardly confident men you have ever met. Yet, other times, Jake is the first person to make a self-deprecating comment about himself. You swallow down how much you desire more from him, wishing for more, knowing you can't and shouldn't have it.  

🏡🧩🏡

You and Jake were lounging on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone, avoiding going to the gym, half-heartedly trying to convince you to go with him. You were also scrolling your phone while deflecting Jake’s offers. 

That was when your doorbell rang, followed by heavy knocking. You and Jake both look up at each other. He raises his eyebrows, and you just shrug, having no idea who could be at the door. Jake looks back to his phone, clearly ready to ignore it, when the doorbell rings twice more, and the pounding on the door gets louder. Jake sighs and gets up, walking across the house towards the noise. 

“Hold your horses out there!” Jake yells towards the door before opening it. 

You wait for a moment, trying to hear who it is, curious about who would be so rude and what they needed. However, you don’t hear anything from where you are on the couch. So you stand and follow Jake into the entry hallway. 

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” You hear Jake say. He is standing at his full height in the door frame. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You hear from on the other side of the door. 

Nervousness shoots through your whole body hearing that voice. Anxiety immediately pops up, and your stomach drops. You know that voice. You have heard it a thousand times before. Why was he here? How was he here? 

“I asked you to leave, Sir.”

“Just tell that little bitch that —”

Jake steps further forward onto the front porch. “Now, we don’t speak about ladies like that where I am from. And I’m going to ask that you act accordingly while at my home, Sir.” Jake cuts him off with that well mannered southern military niceness. 

“I don’t give a fuck where you are from.”

You flinch at his tone of voice, feeling bile rise up in your throat. You lean against the wall slapping your hand over your mouth, trying to prevent yourself from throwing up. 

“I asked you politely to leave. I won’t ask again. I can call you a taxi or an uber. But don’t you dare take one more step on my front porch.” Jake says in a deep tone. You are hit with the sudden, horrifying realization that he is going to hurt Jake, and that is something you just won’t let happen. 

You are trying to go through possibilities in your head. Anyway, this could shake out; it would be bad for Jake. Jake would either get hurt and get in trouble, or he would kick ass and gets in worse trouble. This would end badly; either way, Jake is going to get in trouble, and it would be your fault. You would be responsible because you caused this situation. Jake was going to pay the consequences all because he was trying to protect you. You were roommates, so Jake must think he has some obligation to protect you. 

You feel swamped in stress knowing how easily Jake can escalate a situation and provoke someone; sometimes, all it takes for him is one well-placed smile. That stress is finally what unfreezes you, and you stumble towards the front door. 

Jake’s large, broad form still mostly hides your view of the other side, but you cautiously approach and set your hand gently on the back of his shoulder. You feel how tense Jake’s muscles are under your hand and can see it in the line of the back of his neck. 

“Sugar, I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Jake says in a deep voice. He doesn’t budge an inch or look back toward you. “But I would like to suggest that you go back inside. I have this handled.” 

You want to cry. You want to cry for so many reasons: cry because you are in this situation, that you have to deal with this again, that you feel so small. However, you mostly want to cry because Jake “Hangman” Seresin is such a good man. It’s startling sometimes, not because it’s really unexpected, but rather that it is so completely and bluntly genuine. 

Having Jake here defending you, trying to protect you from the person who has probably scared you most in your life, it feels so silly to pretend like you don’t have feelings for him, to pretend that you aren’t more in love with him than you ought to be.

The realization doesn’t really feel shocking; it is closer to acceptance. A given truth that is part of your life now. An empowering truth that swells in your bones like a swift tide, filling up the spaces that have been empty for so long. 

You love Jake more than you are scared. The warmth of affection towards him is so hot it burns out the freezing ice in your veins and the numbness in your fingers. You love him, and you will be damned if you let Jake be hurt, touched, tainted, or affected by this man who has hurt you. It seems cliché that loving someone like this is enough for you to finally break through the barrier of fear you have lived your whole life in. However, now it just feels so simple. 

Your heart is beating hard. The adrenaline is pumping through you so strongly that you can hear it echoing in your ears. Your hand slides up Jake’s back to his bicep, and you give him a gentle push. Jake shifts with the movement. He slides to the right so you can finally fully see the front porch. However, he doesn’t move enough that you are fully exposed. Jake’s body is still partially concealing you from view. 

Then you hear your name, and your attention snaps away from its hyper-focus on Jake. You turn it forward and brace yourself. You drift your eyes to the ground, landing on the feet of your visitor, staying there for a minute before meeting his burning eyes. 

“Hello, Dad.” 

“Ah, so she is here,” your father says, throwing his hands up and glaring at Jake. You can smell the booze on him from the doorway. It makes your stomach turn. You resist the urge to wretch, squeezing your hand, which is still on Jake’s bicep. He flexes, and his bicep digs into his shirt as your nails also dig in. You don’t like those angry, hateful eyes on your Jake. Jake doesn’t budge an inch or react to your nails on his skin.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” You ask him. Your hold on Jake acting like an anchor point for you. 

“You don’t bother to answer my texts or anyone else’s calls and texts. Just because you moved out doesn’t mean you get to be a selfish bitch” your dad spits out. 

“I’ve been pretty busy,” you defend yourself in a small voice.  

“Oh, I bet you have been so busy. What are you doing these days?” He growls at you. “You know it doesn’t really count as moving out if you are spreading your legs to pay for it.” 

You flinch, your hand falling from Jake’s arm and balling into a tight fist at your side. You hate how easily he can make you feel small, even when you are angry. 

“Watch your mouth,” Jake hisses, rejoining the conversation. You glance at him, and Hangman is shaking with contained rage. You know this is not a good situation; anytime, someone could blow up. 

“You should go inside, Hangman,” you tell him gently. 

“Absolutely not,” Jake responds instantly. 

“So you are playing the part of a pathetic little whore wife for this pretty boy.” Your dad says, cutting in. 

You grit your teeth as he continues on. “Come on. I thought you gave up pussies after our talk when you were in high school.” 

With the reminder of just what he is referring to, You are overcome with anger, and you finally can’t take it anymore. You recognize his words for what they are, a direct bait at Jake and undercutting you. It makes you so angry you start shaking. Tears burst from your eyes, trying to let off some steam bubbling inside you. It boils up, so you can’t take it anymore, and you whisper, “Shut up.” 

“What?” Your dad asks, clearly shocked. You take a step forward fueled by your anger. 

“Shut the fuck up.” You pronounce each word slowly. Then continue on, “I’m tired of this. You don’t get to be mean to me and still expect a relationship with me. You don’t get to hit me, yell at me, and abuse me just to show up at my house on your bullshit. And you sure as fuck don’t get to say anything about Jake.” You suck in a rapid breath, the words fueling the fire in you. Your angerburning brighter with every word. 

“You made me think that kind, decent men didn’t exist, Dad, but Jake is good. He isn’t a pretty boy. He is smart, sweet, strong, and kind. I will not hear you say one more thing about him. Ever.” You punctuate the sentence with a jab of your index finger at him. He looks like he might be cowed, and before you can even finish a prayer that he will be done, the fire in his eyes lits again. 

“You could have at least found someone who stands up for you. A real man.” Your dad isn’t even looking at you when he says it. Instead, he is staring at Jake. 

“That’s a rather rude thing to say about an active duty Naval Officer,” you hiss. Your dad takes a step back, his eyebrows raising, reexamining Jake. He shifts his weight between his feet nervously. 

“You aren’t welcome at our home. So leave and crawl back into the bottle you drank before coming here. Don’t come back, Dad. I don’t want to see you.” 

You try to force your body to relax, but the adrenaline is still pumping hard in your veins. So, you start to walk backward back into the house. Jake still hasn’t taken his eyes off your dad, and he makes no move to come with you back into the house. 

“Jake?” You ask. 

“Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I need to have a talk with your old man here and make sure that he makes it home.”

“I don’t want him near you.” 

Your dad still looks blown away by this turn of events. Like he is scrambling to put words together. He keeps looking back and forth between you and Jake. 

Jake breathes out heavily through his nose. He turns his head enough to glance at you. Whatever he sees on your face must break his resolve. Jake clenches his jaw, and you watch the muscle flex once, then twice. After that, he rolls his shoulders, and it’s like Hangman is physically able to just shrug the tension of the situation off. 

“Get home safe, Sir. I suggest doing so soon. MAs are known to drive down our street.” Jake says it in a light, easygoing tone, border lining on cheery. Then, plastering that practiced, perfect smile on his face, Jake nods his head toward your dad and comes back into the house. 

Jake closes the door but doesn’t move, staring out the frosted window on the front door. His body is tense again, standing rigidly at his full height. You are still shaking from anger. You slump against Jake’s back, letting your body weight shift into his. One of his arms bends backward a bit awkwardly, sitting on your waist. His large palm is burning hot. You can feel it through the fabric of your clothes. Then Jake’s fingers flex to give you a small squeeze of reassurance. 

When Jake finally does move, it is just to turn away from the door and wrap you tightly in his arms. You enjoy the warmth of his strong embrace, feeling exhausted as the adrenaline starts to fade. Jake is still shaking, though. 

“He’s gone,” Jake says into the crown of your head. You let a little sigh escape you, feeling a bit more of the tension release. 

“Good,” you manage to tell him. 

“I wanted to defend you. I wanted to slam his face so hard into the porch that he wouldn’t ever be able to open his mouth again. Wanted to tell him how you are—”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you cut Jake off before he can continue. You don’t want to know what he thinks about you right now. You can’t handle whatever words could spill out of his mouth next. 

“I’ll make sure he never comes back here,” Jake says, his voice dropping, and you feel the rage contained in him, the subtle shake and heat coming from how tense he is. 

“I don’t want him near you. If something happened to you because of him….” you trail off. Your hands wander the expanse of Jake’s back in an almost soothing motion. However, you don’t know who it is soothing more, you or him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He takes a deep breath and then releases it in a heavy sigh. “What if you just give me his full name and social security number? You wouldn’t have to know about anything else.”

“Jake,” you whisper in a tone that is almost reminiscent of amusement. 

Jake sighs again. He draws back from your hug and cups your face. He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away the tears that have been lingering. 

“You are the kindest, most compassionate person I have ever met,” Jake whispers. Considering how he is looking at you with a glimmer in his eyes, it’s clear the emotions of the situation are still running rampant. That look, paired with how he is holding you, makes you think Jake might be about to kiss you.  

“No, No. Stop.” You don’t know if you are trying to ask him not to kiss you or to stop talking. Either way, you feel like you might explode if this interaction isn’t over soon. 

“Yes,” Jake says. “Let me, please.” 

His thumb is still tracing along your cheek, and you can’t help yourself from leaning a tiny bit into his palm. An action that momentarily freezes his thumb before it picks up steadily again. Not hearing an explicit no from you again, Jake continues on. 

“That man has no say over you. Who you are is so stunning. You never deserved to be treated the way you were. I am so sorry you ever had to go through that. I am so sorry he showed up here. You don’t owe him a single second of your time or attention. You are valuable. You are amazing. He is trying to make you small because he sees how good you are.” 

A shudder racks through your body, hearing Jake’s words, and fresh tears start to fall unprompted from your eyes. As soon as they do, though, Jake pushes them away. “I am so proud of you for getting away from him. You are so strong and brave. It makes me awed. I’m so glad that you moved in here. You are…” Jake doesn’t finish the sentence, he seems to lose his train of thought. His mouth parts a little bit, and his eyes flash down to glance at your lips. 

Jake is going to kiss you, and it might possibly be the worst thing that could happen. If he kisses you right now because of your dad, you know you might break into a million different pieces. You don’t want Jake to kiss you for any reason but pure desire and affection. You don’t want him to kiss you in comfort, or pity, or convenience, or as an outlet. You don’t want him to kiss you just because emotions are running high from the incident that just happened. Most of all, you don’t want Jake to kiss you and not mean it. You don’t want him to kiss you without the intention of kissing you again. 

So, even though you are desperate to feel his lips, and memorize their shape, how they feel against yours. Desperate to discover what he tastes like, curl your fingers in his hair and take comfort in the form of his body. You know you can’t, it has the power to break you, and you already feel so broken and exhausted. 

You cover the hand Jake has on your face with your own and pull it away. However, you don’t immediately let go holding his large palm. Hangman takes your hint and steps backward, giving you a little space so that he is pressed against the door again. You decide to thread your fingers with his. Jake’s skin is still almost hot to the touch in your hand.

“Thank you, Jake,” You finally say, meeting his piercing green eyes again. You squeeze the hand you are holding. He gives you a tight nod and then tips his head upwards, so he is looking at the ceiling. Jake rests his head against the door as well and closes his eyes. 

You observe him for a moment, then you go to release the hand you are holding. Jake stops you, though, his hand tightening as yours loosens, and you try to pull away. You give a little tug, and he tightens his fingers even more. Jake’s head is still tipped, and you hear him sucking in a deep breath before blowing it out.

 “Please don’t let go,” he begs you. Jake’s eyes flash open again, and he is looking down his nose at you. “I just, I need you.”

You inhale sharply at his phrasing, and he sighs heavily. “I might do something terrible if you let go of me. If you don’t need me here, there won’t be anything to stop me.” 

“You’re not going to do anything terrible,” You say, retangling your fingers with his. Jake’s hand flexes in yours, and he takes another big breath. 

“I’ll make sure he loses our address and forgets it too. Make sure he doesn’t remember anything at all anymore. I’ll—”

“You’ll stay right here, Jake.”

He lifts his head so it isn’t tilted against the door anymore and stares down at you. He looks like he is holding on to every word you are saying to keep his sanity. His skin is flushed from anger, and his palm shakes slightly in yours. You were in awe he was able to hold back this reaction so long, remaining calm and collected throughout the entire encounter. 

“You will stay here with me, Jake. I need you.” 

“Yeah?” He asks shakily. 

“Yeah. Need your help, Jake.”

There is a low rumble in his chest, almost resembling the hum it was probably supposed to be. You step closer to Jake, once again closing the gap between you.

“Tell me what you need.” It comes out as a demand, and he seems to realize that when he adds on a small quick “Please.”

You look at him then, trying to read his face and those eyes that haunt your dreams. You examine the creases and lines his face makes with the severe angry look he has plastered on. You take the time to observe how his hair is hazardously falling out of place for how many times he has run his hand through it. You don’t really find any of the answers you are looking for. You just find Jake. And Jake is an oh-so-wondrous thing to find. 

You step closer to him and tug the hold he has on your hand again. His nose scrunches for a moment, and his frown tightens. His eyes lift upwards towards the ceiling again as his jaw clenches; he lets go of your hand. Jake’s hand falls heavily back until it hits the door making a smacking sound. You flinch at the sound but take another step forward, crowding Jake against the door. You lift your hand up to trace over his neck and then settle on his face, encouraging him to adjust his gaze back to you. He follows direction and leans into your hold, just like you leaned into his earlier. 

“Need you to stay with me,” you start slowly, encouraged as Jake nods his head in a small jerk. 

“I need you to leave the front door.” 

He considers your words for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry, sugar. I need to protect you.” 

“There is no one in the world I feel safer with than you, Jake.” He squeezes his eyes tightly closed at those words and pulls in a ragged breath. “So, you can’t leave me alone here.”

He nods again but still has his eyes closed. “Ain’t leaving. You need me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I hold you?” Jake asks, then once again remembers his manners throwing out another small, please. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper. Jake doesn’t waste a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snuggly against him. The change of angle causes your hand to slip from his face, so you wrap it around his neck instead, your fingers drifting against the short hairs there. You go to wrap your other arm around his waist but instead awkwardly hit the front door. You hiss out a small breath at the momentary pain. 

Jake responds to the sound. He starts walking forward, making you walk backward. Walking while he is wrapped around you proves to be difficult, and you stumble a little. That seems to be all Jake needs; he wraps his arms under your ass and lifts you. 

You are terrified at the concept that Jake is going to try to carry you, and you open your mouth to protest. However, with only one small grunt that honestly sounded more like pure sex with how low and husky it is, Jake is carrying you down the hallway. You wrap your arm around his neck more securely, adding a second one for more leverage. 

Jake doesn’t stop to set you on the couch like you had expected. Instead, he continues up the stairs and right into his room. He sets you on his bed gently, and you unwrap your arms from his neck, letting him pull away. Jake goes back to the door of his room, closes it, and clicks the lock into place. You raise an eyebrow at his action.

"That’s rather presumptuous, Hangman.” 

“What?” He looks at you confused before he looks back at his door. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t, I’m not.”

You shush him motioning towards yourself to try and get him to come closer again. “I know.” 

Jake comes back to your side. Now that you have been given the temporary clearance to freely touch him, you cannot stop yourself. Jake sits next to you on the bed, and you are scooting closer so that your thighs are flush side by side. Jake throws an arm across your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. 

“Do you need to talk about it?” He asks you softly. You let a hollow dry laugh at his question, your laughter starts to devolve until it’s nearly hysteric giggling. Jake takes it in stride, holding you close and his thumb drawing small soothing back-and-forth shapes. After you are almost breathless and heaving, you finally start to recover. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, but I definitely need to. Not with you, though, Jake.”

“Why not me?”

“Because it’s the kind of fucked you talk to a therapist about.”

“I’m a great listener.”

“I know you are, but this isn’t your baggage to pack around and deal with, Jake.”

“Baggage? Sugar, that’s why we have the attic. If that isn’t enough space, or you fill it up. I’ll build a shed in the backyard.”

“What if that’s not enough room?”

“Then we have the garage. We’ll just park in the driveway.”

“You would give up your shop?” You ask, thinking of Jake’s favorite place in the house. 

“Yup,” Jake says without hesitating. “And after that, well, I’ve never been too fond of the extra guest room anyway.” 

“If that’s all not enough?”

“Then we’ll move. Or we go through it until we find some we can let go of.” Jake says, his free hand crossing his body to settle warmly on your knee. 

“It’s not physical baggage.”

“I know it’s not.” 

The feeling of affection you feel for him grows even more. Every time you think that there is no way possible you can fall further in love with him, Jake turns around and proves you wrong. He does some kind, funny, sweet, unexpected thing that makes you fall a little harder. 

You lift your head and look at him. Jake’s eyes meet your own, the severe stormy look in them a little less present. He is a bit more at ease, no longer shaking with anger. You let your eyes fall to his lips. You briefly think you love him so much it might be worth the risk to shift forward and kiss him. That maybe it wouldn’t lead to disaster like you’ve convinced yourself it would.

“What’s your favorite comfort movie?” Jake asks, breaking you from your trance. You shift a bit further away from him but not far before giving him an answer. 

The two of you watch your favorite comfort movie. You are cuddled into Jake’s side the whole time. The two of you had shifted back into the bed, cuddled close while watching the wall-mounted TV in Jake’s room. Exhaustion hits you like a wall as the adrenaline leaves your system, accompanied by the heat radiating off of Jake, the way everything smells like him, and his Tempurpedic bed; you relax more than you have in a long time. 

As you start to drift asleep against Jake’s chest, his heartbeat has a steady, soothing rhythm under your ear. You think out of all the times you have dreamed of falling asleep with Jake in his bed, none of those fantasies come even close to how good it actually feels. None of your dreams prepared you for how safe you would feel.

Your dreams also didn’t prepare you for sneaking back to your room at three in the morning when you woke up. Or pretending the next day that nothing had happened. After all, nothing had happened except some tense moments and Jake getting a glimpse of your past. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t, either. You catch him watching you closer than he would typically for the next few days. 

More time starts to pass, and you are thankful that nothing was risked or changed between you and Jake or has affected you as roommates. There are only the slightest moments when both of you are much more casual about physical affection. Hugging Jake was now a commonplace part of your day, and you occasionally catch yourself daydreaming about what it felt like to fall asleep in his bed. 

🏡🧩🏡

You had started to pick up what the signs were when Jake wasn't okay, and something was bothering him pretty early into moving in. He had some pretty obvious tells. However, something had been really really bothering him for a while now. He didn't say anything to you, but he didn't have to; Jake's mannerisms gave him away. Jake wasn't following his routine and had started obsessively cleaning.

The other night, he knocked on your door, bursting open seconds after you told Jake he could come in. Then Hangman had all but begged you to let him deep clean your room. When you told Jake no, he gave you a look like you just insulted his Babula and stalked out of the room. Half an hour later, he was back in your doorway, asking the same question phrased slightly differently. You had finally given in after his second time double-checking. However, you insisted that you helped and supervised his cleaning. Once you agreed, Jake had done his happy dance. It was so cute it managed to cover the embarrassment that was crawling in you at letting someone else, let alone the man you loved your roommate, clean your room. 

The next day Hangman decided to reorganize all the bookshelves. First by color, then by genre, and even one time by the number of pages. His last reorganization was to put them all back to by author's last name. This was only after Jake talked to you for over an hour about the pros and cons of the Dewey decimal system in modern library science. 

After the books, you come home, and there is a puzzle on the table. A 2500-piece puzzle of the painting Meeting On The Turret Stairs. Jake works on it constantly. Only stopping to go to work and the gym. For three days, he doesn't read and doesn't do his sudoku. Jake doesn't sit with you in the living room at night. Instead, he just works on his puzzle, blowing past his typical bedtime every night. Then he stops going to the gym, and a day after that, he cancels his weekly call with his niece. That's when you know without a shadow of a doubt that whatever is bothering Jake must be significant. 

Finally, you can't bite your tongue or try to keep your nose out of his business anymore. The concern you feel is too much to handle. You had gotten up at 3 am for some water, and Jake was still puzzling at the table. 

"How's it going, Sport?"

"No, I'm Hangman," Jake answers in a quiet voice. 

"What?" you ask him, confused. 

"Not my callsign," Jake mumbles to you. You squint and try to piece together what he means in your still half-asleep brain. 

"You know someone named Sport?"

Jake just shrugs his shoulders, engrossed in his task. "There are worse callsigns to have." 

"Like Hangman?" You tease him. Jake finally looks up at you when you say that. Jake's eyes are bloodshot, and he has a hurt look. The small frown, paired with his glassy tired eyes, makes you feel like you just kicked a puppy. 

"Hangman is cool," Jake protests. 

"Hangman is very cool," you tell him placatingly, holding up your hands in surrender. 

 "You don't actually think it's cool," Jake whispers, his tired eyes falling back to his puzzle. Jake sounds so sad about it that your feet are moving before your brain, and you are sliding next to him on the bench for the long side of the table.

"Hangman is cool," You say and then nudge him affectionately with your shoulder. "You are cool." 

His lips quirk upwards from his frown before falling again. “Well, I am the Hangman.” 

"How is the puzzle going?"

"Fine, good. I like puzzling."

"You have done other puzzles?" You ask. 

"Yeah, I have a whole box full."

You hum at his words, tiredly wiping your eyes. "You should have been Puzzleman." 

Jake's eyes flash over to yours, slightly worried. "Do not ever say that around Coyote." 

"Hangman, It's three AM." He looks surprised to hear the time, and you watch him turn his wrist to confirm the time on his watch.

"Go to bed," You add softly. 

"I like when you call me Jake." 

"Then why do you listen better when I call you Hangman?" 

"Hmm, maybe because that's the name I hear most often. Maybe because it's easy to be Hangman."

"Is it hard to be Jake?" You ask him gently. 

Jake is quiet for a long moment after your question. Before answering, he sets the piece he had been holding back in its color pile. All he gives you is a whispered, "Sometimes."

You aren't sure what to say, so instead, you put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. "It's time for bed, Jake. It'll be here in the morning." 

Jake nods his head, listening to you. You get the water you initially came downstairs for and wait until Jake starts up the stairs. Following behind him, you make sure he goes into his room. You aren't really eased about the situation when he shuts the door. However, you are glad he will at least get some sleep. 

Before you go back to bed, you shoot your group chat with Marlee and Javy a text. 

Have you ever seen Jake do a puzzle?

You wake up to texts from Javy and Marlee, both asking all kinds of questions like: what you meant? What kind of puzzle? With how many pieces? And, how long has Jake been working on it?  

From the questions alone, you gather that your worries are correct and Jake puzzling is not a good thing. Getting out of bed, you make yourself presentable enough to venture out of your room and downstairs. 

In the mid-morning light, you are once again greeted with the sight of Jake hunched over his puzzle. A steaming cup of tea sitting next to him, and Chris LeDoux playing from the record player. 

"Good morning," you say. 

"Morning, sugar," Jake says back. You are glad to get a response, but the worry is still gnawing at you. You start putting together your own morning drink, and your eyes keep drifting back to him. 

"Jake, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He says, not looking away from the puzzle piece he is currently studying. 

You stop leaning against the counter, taking your drink with you and walk over to his side. Jake is completing this puzzle concerningly fast; you notice examining his progress this morning alone. He keeps staring at the piece in his hand, unblinking even as you approach. You watch him for a few more moments before deciding it's time for you to intervene. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" You pose cautiously. His eyebrows crease, and he still doesn't look away from the puzzle. 

"About the puzzle?" he asks you in a hopeful tone. 

"No, Jake. About what's bothering you." 

He finally does spare you a glance, and you don't like how dull his green sea glass eyes are. The normally vibrant, mischievous glint isn't present, and they are slightly bloodshot and red, even after you forced him to get some sleep. 

"It's fine. I'm fine. Just work stuff. I've got to finish this puzzle." He tells you, then looks away. 

You frown at Jake's answer. Puzzles are supposed to be fun, and you don't think this is actually a healthy, cathartic activity for Jake anymore. You almost preferred his book reorganization or when he went to every door and oiled the hinges, the top and bottom hinges twice but the middle ones only once. When you asked why not the middle one twice? Jake had told you something about middle children that had made you laugh. 

While Jake normally released stress through organization, order, and control. The frenzy and energy he has with this puzzle is different. This wasn't like the month after you moved in, and he decided to rearrange his shop in the garage. Jake had reorganized his tools, labeling where they all went. After that, he made you a booklet of where everything in the garage was located, just in case you wanted to use something. Jake was very genuine about it, too. As if he really believed you were about to start borrowing his screwdrivers, saws, wrenches, lathe, and various other tools. 

Your frown deepens, and you pull out your phone, shooting a text to your group chat with Marlee and Javy. Answering some of their questions from the morning and shooting back a request of your own. 

After texting with them for a few minutes, you set your phone down on the table, taking the spot next to Jake. He gives you another short look but doesn't say anything. You take a moment to look at the piece he has been staring at for over five minutes at this point. 

Taking it gently from his grasp, you examine it yourself. A moment later, you place the puzzle piece into the correct spot. Jake ghosts over the piece you just placed and taps it twice as your hand retreats. 

"You got to tap it into place," he tells you softly. Then Jake is back digging through his piles, looking for the next piece. 

You help Jake with his puzzle for a little bit, pleasantly surprised at the textured surface of the pieces, enjoying how tactile they are. You know this must be a very expensive and nice puzzle. Any time you place a piece, you make sure to tap it twice for Jake. Each time you do, Jake gives a small nod of approval. The one time you forget, his fingers quickly find the piece again and tap it twice with a small annoyed huff. You don't try and coax Jake into a conversation again, simply enjoying just being with him. 

Y'all's work is broken a while later by the doorbell ringing. The sound startles Jake, and he jumps in his seat and his head snapping towards the door. You place a hand on his shoulder again to try and ease the sudden tension.

 "It's okay," you tell him quietly, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. "I'll go get it."

"No, I can get it," Jake says, starting to stand up. You know he doesn't like you to answer the front door anymore. He hasn't ever since your dad showed up unannounced. Jake has never explicitly told you he doesn't want you to answer the door. However, you have picked up on it because he has not let you answer the door once since the incident. One time Jake had even sprinted across the house to beat you to the door. 

"Don't worry. I know who it is," you say. Jake gives you a concerned look but then nods a little bit. His eyes trail after you as you make your way to the entry hall. 

You open the door to Javy's tall form and are immediately wrapped in a tight warm hug. You lean into his embrace, enjoying the comfort for a moment. 

"Is it really bad?" Javy asks you in a low voice when you pull away from his hug. 

You shrug but then follow it up with a nod. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know. Maybe not? But it's the worst I have ever seen." 

Javy gives you another reassuring squeeze before he saunters into the house towards the living area. Jake's eyes are trained on the hallway, clearly waiting for you to come back. However, when he sees Javy, he blanches, dropping his eyes back to the puzzle. Jake's shoulders hunching tight almost up to his ears. 

"Hey, Hangman," Javy hums. 

"Machado," Jake says gruffly, fiddling with a piece. 

Javy shocks you by not immediately going over to Jake. Instead, he meanders over to your TV. He shocks you even more by opening a drawer in the entertainment center and pulling out an Xbox. Javy starts hooking up the console, and you shift your eyes to Jake again. 

He is still sitting there digging through his puzzle pieces. You aren't sure what to do. If you should leave the two of them alone, join Javy in the living room, or go back to the table with Jake. So instead, you end up in a weird middle ground lingering in the hallway. Finally, when Javy has everything set up, and the Xbox booted on, he goes over to Jake. Coyote sets his hands down so hard on Jake's shoulders that it jostles the blond a bit. 

"Wow, buddy, this is a nice puzzle," Javy says casually. 

Jake just hums in response, placing a puzzle piece and tapping it twice. Only answering once he picks up another piece. "It's a watercolor by Frederic William Burton. He painted it in — "

"It's time for a break, Hangman," Coyote says, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

"Naw, you see this section," Jake gestures generally towards the entire surface area of the puzzle. "It's almost done."

"Nope, it's break time," Javy repeats more firmly. 

Jake's shoulders hang, and it looks like it takes him physical effort to stand up from the table. Jake's joints and back audibly pop from the action, and he raises his hands above his head to fully stretch. 

You try to root yourself in concern, not thinking of the flash of skin you saw where Jake's shirt rode up a bit. Jake blinks a few times, and when he finishes stretching, he turns to fully look at Javy. 

"How long are you staying?" Jake asks, daring to glance back down at the puzzle. Javy snaps his fingers in front of Jake's face twice and then points aggressively toward the couch. 

"As long as I want to," Javy responds with an upbeat tone and a wide grin. He gives a light shove, and Jake shuffles over to the couch. Jake looks at you as he walks, and you can tell that he feels betrayed. 

"I'll leave you to it," you say, ready to retreat into your room. 

Jake looks away from you then, and you don't like the flash of embarrassment on his face as he does. It's been odd seeing Jake so completely out of his element and uncomfortable in his skin the last few days. Embarrassed wasn't a look that fits well on Jake. It made you want to rush in and remedy the situation. 

"You don't gotta go," Jake calls to you.

"Javy came over to hang out with you, Jake." You say plainly. You want to give them space to talk and hang out. 

"Yeah, bro, feeling the love," Javy says jokingly. It earns him a sharp jab to his side from Jake. The action just makes Javy laugh, though. "Don't worry so much, Hang. Marlee is coming by later with dinner, and then all four of us will kick back, but right now, it's me, you, and the Master Chief." 

"You'll hang out with us later, though? Or are you doing something tonight?" Jake asks, ignoring Javy.  

"There is nothing I would rather do tonight than hang out with you," you tell him. Jake's eyes snap up from where they had drifted to the left, lowered just enough not to meet yours. The burning bright color in them is startling after the dull, distant look he has supported the last few days. You can't stop the words you say next, needing to try and back peddle. It takes a long beat before you say, "and Marls and Javy. I don't know if you've ever had Marlee's green chile enchiladas, but they are to die for." 

"They are so good," Jake agrees enthusiastically and looks down at the controller he is holding for the first time. Javy then shoots you a smile with a thumbs up, and you are reassured enough that you head upstairs and into your room. 

You hear Javy's voice behind you, "You know Marlee only cooks for two reasons." 

You close your door before hearing Jake's answer and resist the urge to eavesdrop. A few hours later, you hear loud yelling and laughter from the living room. Then get a text from Marlee to send the boys to help her get the food out of her car. 

The rest of the night is mostly light, and Jake almost passes for his normal self. He jokes with Coyote, eats two helpings of Marlee's enchiladas, and with you... well, with you, he is hot and cold. One moment Jake will be flirting with you in a heavy bravado, then the next, he falls into a quiet, contemplative silence. Javy has to herd Jake away from his puzzle three separate times. It gets easier to draw Jake back in every time; the last time only took a question directed toward Jake to draw him back to you guys. 

It is a good night, and everyone seems happy at the end. Jake hugs Javy and Marlee goodbye and leaves you to walk your friends out. You let out a small sigh of relief, seeing Jake walk up the stairs and not back to the dining room table. 

You talk with the couple for a few more minutes on the front porch, then hug them goodbye. You are thankful for them, to have such good friends who are willing to be a support system, for you, for Jake, and for their other friends too. It warms your heart, and it feels a lot like family. 

Jake's puzzling is less frenzied after that night, and he starts to reign back in. He has full conversations with you again and goes to the gym after work as well. He follows Javy's rules that had been texted to you both and doesn't puzzle by alone again.

 For the next week or so, Javy and Marlee end up in your living room in the evenings. Keeping Jake from becoming too obsessed, you also notice that he won't let Javy or Marlee touch his puzzle pieces. But when Jake does work on the puzzle, and you are home, he always invites you to join him. 

Jake makes an effort to converse with you while working too. The conversations you two get into range from academic to childhood memories, favorites — books, movies, foods, bands, animals— funny stories, and anything else that would pop in your heads. Of course, each puzzle piece must still be double tapped into place, and you are meticulous about following that rule. 

Puzzling in the evenings with Jake surprisingly becomes one of your favorite times of the day. Sometimes you would even just sit there at the table with Jake, scrolling on your phone while he works on the puzzle. 

Hangman's presence is a comforting steady grounding force, so much so that you can only hope you provide half of that for him. You knew you were roommates, and Jake may not carry the same romantic feelings you do. However, you couldn't deny the plain platonic affection that poured from him, so much you sometimes think M aybe . Maybe he does feel more. 

When you enter the kitchen, you see the puzzle is finished. You go to examine it and realize two pieces are missing. You feel a bit of worry creeping up in you, not sure how Jake will react to having lost pieces and being unable to complete the puzzle. 

You start to look around, checking every chair and bench to make sure a piece hasn't fallen. You shine a light under the couch in case they slipped under there. Then you are flipping up the edge of the rug in the living room and trying to think of any other feasible place the pieces could have disappeared. 

"What are you doing?" you hear, and you snap your head to see Jake standing on the other side of the couch, looking at you bemused. 

"Sorry, I was just looking for your missing pieces," you say, straightening up and fixing the rug. 

Jake quirks an eyebrow then he follows your gaze to the table where his puzzle is. Jake's mouth drops open, lips barely parted, and a soft "Oh." falls out like he didn't even make the sound intentionally. 

"No luck so far, though. I'm sorry. I'm sure they will turn up. Only so many places they could have gone," You say, making sure to project an upbeat, positive tone and attitude. 

Jake looks between you and the puzzle twice before suddenly you are graced with the rarest of Jake Seresin's smiles. It is one you have only seen a handful of times. It's different than his smirk and his confident panty dropping smile. It's not the smile that he gets when he laughs, and his eyes crinkle around the edges or the mouth wide open smile. It's not his practiced perfect smile he uses for pictures. 

No, this smile is closed-mouthed, those pearly whites hidden from view. It's a quirk of his lips like Jake is trying to hold it back from showing it on his face but he isn't entirely successful. His bottom lip is tucked a little bit between his teeth as if he is physically trying to bite back the expression, none of which prevents Jake's dimples from popping up. 

It's a smile that always leaves you a little stunned, and this is no exception. Not that there are many things about Jake that don't leave you feeling that way. This smile, paired with the soft look in his eyes, makes you want to melt into the floor. 

"I have the pieces," Jake tells you then. It takes you a few moments to process his words. 

"Oh, you do?"

"Yeah, I do," he says and pulls out a ziplock baggie from his pocket with the two pieces in it. 

"That's great!"

"They weren't lost. I was saving them, actually."

"Saving them for what?"

"For you. Well, for us."

You don't think you are able to hide your surprise at his words. "For us?"

"Yeah. You know, so we can finish this puzzle together. We worked on it together. So, we should finish it together. Few things match the feeling of putting the final piece of a puzzle into place."

God, you want to kiss him. You want to grab his face and smash your lips against his. You want to taste him and thread your fingers in his short dirty blonde hair. The little fantasy starting to form in your brain is cut off by Jake walking over to the table. 

You follow him there, and Jake sets the last two pieces on the table, letting you pick which one you want. Once you make your selection, Jake grabs the other one. 

"Okay, on three," he tells you with a grin. At his countdown, you both place the pieces of the puzzle. Automatically you double tap your piece into place. Jake was right; it is an extremely satisfying feeling finishing the puzzle and seeing it whole for the first time. 

Your gaze drifts over the puzzle, and you look up to see Jake staring at you instead of the finished piece. After a moment, you realize what is wrong. Your hand reaches across and gently nudges Jake's to the side. Then you tap Jake's piece twice, realizing that for the very first time, he seemed to have missed that compulsion of his. However, you knew it would bother Jake when he realized he had forgotten, so you make sure to complete the ritual. 

Jake's gaze snaps down to the piece you had tapped for him. Then his knuckles purposely brush against the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

"Thank you," spills from both of your mouths at the same time, which makes you laugh.  

"Jinx," Jakes says in a rushed voice, making you laugh harder. That odd tension in the air between you two disappears. 

You walk into the kitchen and grab a white claw from the fridge, bringing it back for Jake, handing it to him. Jake is a strict enforcer of the jinx soda pop rule. The two of you look at the puzzle for a few more minutes. Taking in the stunning painting, the yearning and sadness of it never fails to impact you. 

While the two of you had been working on the puzzle, Jake had told you many different facts about The Meeting On The Turret Stairs. How it was a watercolor painting by Frederic William Burton, the poem it was based on, the era it was painted in, and its place in Irish art. 

When you asked Jake more, he surprised you by knowing hyper-specific details and answers off the top of his head. Intrigued, you learned how he had double majored at Annapolis in Aerospace Engineering and History. However, because Jake was golden boy Midshipman Seresin, he had gotten away with his final history thesis being art focused. Hangman more than understood how to be charming when he needed to be. 

"What now?" You ask him. 

"What do you mean?" Jake asks, confused. 

"What do we do with the puzzle?" you ask. It sounds much better than what you wanted to say. What now between the two of you? What were you going to do to keep spending time together? 

"We take it apart." Jake shrugs. 

"No," you gasp, horrified thinking of all the time you had put into the puzzle just to undo it and throw it back in the box.

"What else would we do?" Jake asks you. You think for a moment before smiling at your own idea. 

"Let's Mod Podge it, and then we can hang it up. We have some pretty bare walls in the house, and it is a stunning piece of art," you suggest. 

Jake doesn't even take a moment to think it over before saying, "I love that idea." 

So, you two are driving to the craft store to get cardboard and Mod Podge. A week later, the puzzle has been cemented and hung on the wall in between your and Jake's rooms upstairs. After the puzzle is finished, Jake is back into his sudoku and his various other reading books. He still lingers near you in the evenings, waiting longer than he used to before retreating to his room for bed. 

One night almost a month after you two had finished the puzzle, Jake brings the subject up again. You two are lounging on the couch, he had just gotten home from watching the Army-Navy game at a bar with some of his friends, and he is definitely a little bit tipsy. 

"I am going to build us a puzzle table," is the first thing he had loudly declared, walking in the door. 

You were instantly worried about why Jake might want to start a new puzzle. "Is everything okay?"

Jake doesn't seem to hear you, though, as he continues on. "A really nice one that opens and closes with velvet or something so we don't have to worry about losing pieces, and maybe I can even make it an adjustable height?" He is talking to himself more than to you. 

You watch as he grabs a notepad and pencil out of a drawer. Then he slumps on the couch. Before you know what's happening or can stop it, Jake has his head on your lap and is sketching design ideas, potential measurements, and materials. 

"How are you doing?" you ask him again, staring down at his face, unable to contain your enamored smile. Jake just nods his head and keeps sketching while mumbling. 

You run a hand through his soft hair tentatively. It is a bit longer than usual right now, almost out of regulation. He will need to get a haircut this week, but the strands are so soft, and you can't help but enjoy that there is a bit more there to run your fingers through. His eyes instantly close, and he hums contently at your touch. 

"Hangman?" you ask him almost teasingly, halting your movements.

"Yes, sugar?" 

"Are you okay?" 

He blinks his eyes open and looks at you. Their gleaming sea glass green color is a little glazed over and so very soft. His mirth is open and obvious to you. "I'm so great. Navy won." 

"That's great. Go Navy." A wide grin splits his face wide, and Jake's eyes actually crinkle closed, hiding their unique color from you again. 

"That's right, Honey. Ooh ahh!" Jake responds automatically, making you both laugh, and maybe you had been drinking a little bit of wine before he came home; perhaps you were warm from that, or maybe Jake was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Your eyes lock with his, and your hands pull out of his hair. You let one drift trace his face helping him relax the furrow in his eyebrows. 

"Why do you want to start a new puzzle?" You ask. 

"No new puzzle. A new table." He corrects you. Jake taps his pencil on the notepad pointedly. 

"For a new puzzle?"

"You liked doing a puzzle with me, right? Well, after the first bit, you liked it?"

"I loved it." The words slip out of your mouth before you can amend the sentiment to come off less forward.

"Me too,"Jake says and trails off for a moment. Then he continues asking, "So you would be open to doing another one with me? Just for fun this time, not my mental health." Jake doesn't say the last sentence with any bit of shame or embarrassment, which you admire. However, the vulnerability is obvious and glaring. 

"Yeah," you confirm, once again having to run your fingers over his brow to relax his face. 

"Perfect. I'm building the table, then. You can pick the puzzle this time." 

You can't help but let your hands slip back into Jake's hair, and he returns to sketching on his notepad. It was a moment of quiet peace you knew you didn't ever want to let go of. 

"Javy said that you don't like to do puzzles with other people, and that's what helps you pull out of the pit." 

Jake's eyes don't leave his notepad, and he turns the page. You watch Jake start to scrawl the pros of a dovetail joint versus a dowel joint before he starts to draw it out as well. You almost don't think he will say anything back by the time he finally does. 

"You aren't other people," Jake tells you, as he starts drawing in shading, which is completely unnecessary for anything beyond aesthetic. He bends the lines from a basic blueprint to a detailed drawing of a realistic table joint. It was distracting watching the engineer in him flow into the unexpected artist. 

The idea that you ever had thought his talent for art and engineering were such radically different things was a bit funny. Now that you see him dance between the lines back and forth so elegantly that you understand it wasn't two competing sides of Jake. It was just him. It was how he worked and operated. 

It was how he was Hangman and also Jake. It was how he could fill out sudoku then go to bed at 9 pm and how he could shoot pool until closing with the squad. It was how he was a cowboy and a pilot. It was how you wanted to cry a little bit, knowing he enjoyed you there, knowing you weren't like other people. 

And you are struck with the thought that you don't ever want Jake to do a puzzle with anyone but you. You never want to see him sitting alone at three am with bloodshot eyes putting pieces into place again. And you don't even want to consider him explaining animatedly why he believes a piece goes in one color pile and not the one it was originally sorted to anyone but you. 

You want to be selfish with Jake. You want to have him, and you want to keep him close, never letting go. Surely you could convince Jake to be yours. It was a selfish act that could be forgiven if you promised to cherish him. After all, there were worse things in the world than loving someone, so entirely the fact they might not love you to the same degree didn't hurt so much.  

Jake flips to the next page in the notepad and starts to sketch out the living room. As he works, the living room table starts to look significantly different than your current one. 

"Oh. It's for the living room?" You ask him.

At first, he just hums in response, but when he finishes rounding out a line, Jake lifts his pencil from the paper. It pauses there, poised and frozen, as he asks, "Do you want the dining table instead?" 

"No." As you continue, the pencil falls back to the page, "It just wasn't what I was originally thinking."

"I could do a dining room table too. They could even be made of the same wood." Jake says. His green eyes broke from the page to glance up at your face for the first time in a while. He searches your face trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion. 

"Two puzzle tables?"

"Think of all the possibilities. We could do two puzzles at once." Jake gasps. You kind of hate the excited timbre that Jake's voice picks up at the idea, but you actually mostly love it. 

"Just one puzzle at a time, please." You say, giving his hair a teasing gentle tug, ignoring the sharp inhale of his breath that immediately follows. You refuse to give away the unexpected thrill sent straight through your body that settles at your core. You have to consciously make sure your words do not fall out rushed, "I think it would be nice to have out here, comfier." 

"I thought the exact same thing."

"Oh really?" You ask, amused. 

"Yes, Ma'am. I've got two words for you, puzzle naps." 

You huff a small laugh at him and bite your lower lip. He flips back to his first page of notes, where he had a small list of wood. He adds cherry to his list after oak. 

"Juniper is really pretty," you suggest. He immediately starts to write down your suggestion with a little heart next to it. When Jake starts to shade in the heart, you feel like the one in your chest might actually burst out. Something very similar to butterflies was fluttering around in you, but it is much less nervous and rather born of pure fondness. 

"Sounds beautiful. I'm sure it's perfect," Jake tells you. 

"Let's pick one together, though. It should be our choice."  

"No," Jake says, drawing an elegant oval around juniper. Then he goes back and strikes a straight line through the other options. "No one else has ever remembered to double tap."

Jake spends a few more minutes detailing the design before his eyes start to get sleepy, and his pencil marks become light and halting. It doesn't take much from you to encourage him to go to bed, just a whispered suggestion. 

He stumbles up from the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. Jake puts his notebook on the counter in the kitchen. After that, Jake circles back to press a second lingering kiss to your forehead. You watch him go all the way around the house to double check the locks, the front door, the garage, and the back door. Finally, after sending you two finger guns, Jake drags himself up the stairs, humming Anchors Aweigh. 

"Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home!" You loudly hear him sing. You listen to Jake as he hums his fight song while randomly peppering in other lyrics. When you finally hear him close his door, your mind makes a decision on the war it's been having. 

You are going to do whatever it takes for Jake Seresin to agree to be yours. Potential consequences be damned; Jake is worth the risk.

[abigails-gf]

abby anderson x f!reader.

a/n: hi! (i couldn't find the original ask in my inbox so here's a screenshot!^^) it's been so long since i last wrote something. so i apologize if this isn't as good as my other work! <33 (also hope it's ok i made it an f!reader !!) since anon didn't specify what reader might be insecure about, i went with things i've been insecure of lately: my body and all of my friends making progress (having jobs, going back to school) etc. while i struggle to get a job, haha. so, ehm... sorry if this isn't so good. i hope you like it though !! please don't be shy, send me requests! i seriously need to get back into writing !! and any feedback is welcomed!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻 mwaah ! 💌

how you can help palestine, israeli themes in tlou, more ressources !

"baby, hurry. we're gonna be late." abby said, coming out of the bathroom. you were standing in front of your shared closet, staring at it.

abby looked at you and sighed. "what's wrong?"

you two had been invited to dine out with a few friends, to celebrate one of your closest friends' getting the job they wanted.

you shook your head. "i have nothing to wear." you answered. she chuckled. "kiddin' me? half of our closet is yours." she walked towards you while buttoning her shirt. "c'mon, what's wrong?" she asked once more.

you looked down at the clothes scattered on the floor. "nothing fits me the way i want it to fit. nothing. i look awful in all my clothes! i don't even fit in some of them!" you finally let out, frustrated, on the brink of tears.

abby hugged you. you hugged her back tightly. "i'm ugly, my clothes don't fit me anymore. i don't fucking know what to wear!" you cried. abby hugged you and rubbed your back. "shh, s'alright. don't be so mean to my girl." she whispered.

you both stayed in silence for a moment before you pulled away, looking down at your body. "what am i supposed to do? go out naked?" you sat down on the bed. "what now? i'm supposed to go and celebrate my friend getting a new job while i've been struggling to find one for years? supposed to pretend i'm doing okay, feeling good?" you scoffed, tears falling down your cheeks.

abby sat down next to you.

"hey, hey. look at me." abby spoke softly. you looked into her eyes and took a deep breath. "we don't have to go if all of this overwhelms you, okay? i can just call them and say one of us is sick." you shook your head.

"we all go at our own pace. s'not your fault it's harder for you to find a job. it's not your fault people don't answer your applications or reject you. okay? you're doin' your best, sweetheart. i've seen you overwork yourself, trying to perfect your CV, rehearsing for interviews. you're doing the best you can. i promise." she smiled softly, taking your hand in hers. "as for your clothes not fitting you..." she looked at the floor filled with clothes. "it's not your fault either." she looked back into your eyes. "clothes are meant to fit you, not the other way around. okay?" you calmed down a little. "if these clothes don't make you feel pretty, we can go and get you some new ones. new ones that will fit you, and make you feel as pretty are you are." you nodded.

"you're the most beautiful woman i know, sweetheart. prettiest girl." she said to you. "and you work so hard. it's not your fault if people can't see that, it's not your fault if people can't see your potential. you're doing your best and that's what matters most. alright?" you smiled a little, her words cheering you up a little.

"now, we're gonna pick out some clothes from your closet. some you feel comfortable in, and then we'll go out and have some fun. and tomorrow we can sort out the clothes that don't fit you anymore. how's that sound?"

abby always knew how to calm you down, to reassure you. she always knew what to say.

"sounds good." you said. you kissed abby's cheek. "thank you for always putting up with me." she chuckled and kissed your forehead. "no, thank you for trusting me, baby."

she helped you pick an outfit, helped you do your hair. she made sure you felt comfortable in how you looked, made sure you felt somewhat pretty. she held your hand at dinner, encouraged you to tell your friends about the interviews you did and how they went.

they told you the same thing she had told you earlier "it's their loss if they can't see the potential you have."

you all spent a nice evening, around a nice dinner, talking about your lives. abby was glad to see her girlfriend feeling better, talking proudly about her progress.

abby knew how hard it was for you, to speak positively about yourself. she was proud that you managed to do so tonight.

[danieyells]

hi! any chance you'd be able to post some of kaito's voicelines? I would love to see them <33

Our wanna-be knight and pathetic little best friend! He's just such a good boy lol. . .once again, another one who just wants to go back to a normal life, poor thing. Kaito's very much your vanilla, sweet boyfriend character with no frills attached, aside from his cowardice and his gambling habit of course. And his terrible aim. . . .

Copying all of them over isn't hard now that I've done it twice. Let's do it again for Kaito!

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"{PC}! Over here! Hiya!"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Hey, new message. Better check it out, yeah? Or are you the type who's got like a ton of of unread inbox messages?"

. . .shut up /absolutely that type (and a sincere apology to literally everyone i know for that my adhd doesn't let me read and respond to their messages--)

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"God, please don't make me go on any more missions... It's not like me being there is any help to anyone anyway..."

"Oh yeah, have you been on WickHive yet? Someone leaked next month's cafeteria menu! Oh wait... I-I already told you that, didn't I?!"

"Damn it... I could've taken {PC} to lunch with that money! God, why am I such a moron?!"

"Ask me anything you want to know! I'm pretty savvy when it comes to Darkwick!"

honestly the fact that he's a second year who doesn't wanna be here and doesn't wanna be doing all of this but he still knows like everything about the school is also kinda sus to me. . .surely he'd divest himself from as much of darkwick as possible if he didn't care

"Urgh... Limited time only, you are not my friend... Huh? Oh, I'm on TikTok. I really want this, but I'm pretty broke this month..."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ahem... Testing, testing... Morning! Heh, nailed it... Ack! How long've you been there, {PC}?!"

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Phew, should be safe here... EEEEEEEEEEK! Oh thank god, it's just a cat... I thought he found me..."

romeo oh romeo didn't you get into enough shit for this romeo? just make sure it's not Romeo cat. Because I'm sure it'll tell him somehow--

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Shit, it's Luca… Judging by the outfit he must be going to train. I better bail before he tries to rope me in too…"

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Eeeek?! Oh, it's just you... Geez, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

i know romeo is constantly on his ass, and I relate to the feeling of being scared the people you owe money will appear out of nowhere and get you, but. . .he's so jumpy lol

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ugh, Romeo's texting me... Not gonna open that..."

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"So your father runs a company, huh? Who the hell leads with that?! This is why I hate talking to Frostheimers..."

so the wording here is wonky because he's quoting a Frostheimer, but there's no visual indication that he's quoting them. But lore drop! Kaito's father runs a company! But I thought he wasn't well off. . .? Maybe his parents are separated or his father doesn't spend any of their money on him. . .or the company isn't doing well. . .or gambling addiction runs in his family lol. . . .

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Argh, I want junk food! And I want to try all the new snack flavors!!"

my boy is so relateable--

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"All right, time to man up and bite the bullet... Nope, absolutely not, can't do it!"

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"How is Jin's skin so perfect? Fucking rich kids and their stupidly expensive fancy-ass toner!!!"

kaito really looking at jin like OH NO HE'S HOT

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"(yawn) Guess I'll go brush my teeth..."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Hey {PC}, you seem different somehow today. Did you change something? Or am I just imagining things?!"

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Noooo why does Tohma want to see me...? No way it's about something good! Could you come with me, {PC}?!"

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Crap, I fell asleep in class so I don't know what our homework is... Help me, {PC}!"

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) Man, my bed's like a freaking marshmallow. I can never get any good sleep on that thing..."

lol the Frostheim beds are too comfortable lolol I NEED A FIRMER BED TOO KAITO I GET IT.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Huh? Oh, my pendant! You're always wearing it? Does that mean you've actually been paying attention to me?!"

once again the wording here is wonk because it makes it sound like the pc is always wearing Kaito's pendant. I'm pretty sure he's quoting the pc, who's commented that "you're always wearing it". It would read better as something like "You noticed I'm always wearing it?"

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey {PC}, how 'bout we grab a bite?! I've got tons to splurge in winn... er, earnings, so it's all on me! Get whatever you want!"

your gambling addiction is really and truly going to get you in trouble. disregard that i play a gacha game.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"...Huh?! Man, nearly fell sleep without putting my phone on the charger... 5%, that would've sucked tomorrow..."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ha ha ha! Have you seen this yet?! It's all over TikTok. Ah man, it's killing me..."

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Whoa, when did it get so late?! Sorry {PC}, I didn't mean to keep you up... What? You're still good?"

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Morning! Hey, guess what? Luca's busy after class, so how about we hit up the diner? It's been ages!"

do you. . .do you really wanna go there. . .i mean the drinks seem to be fine but according to sho they can't make good food at all. . . .

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Sorry, I gotta stay after class today... (sniffle) This sucks, I really wanted to walk home with you..."

aw buddy. . .they could wait for you or come pick you up after your remedial lesson. . .!

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey I'm really sorry but do you mind if we stop by the campus store after class? I'm almost out of granulated sugar."

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Hey, do you like stars? Oh, um, I was just wondering 'cause there's this place where you can see them really well, so I thought maybe you'd want to go some time..."

he's overcoming his fears and being honest with himself and how he speaks and just. . .asking honestly, no bravado, no act. do it scared, kaito. do it scared, do it awkward, do it sure you're going to fail. as long as you do it. proud of you!

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Sure is dark. Reminds me of the closet where we first met. Remember?"

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I know I'm weak, and a coward. But I really do want to become your knight in shining armor, {PC}."

I love how comfortable and honest he starts to get as his affinity goes up. Still shy here and there, still scared, but he's not as jumpy and he starts treating you like a real friend. laughs with you about stuff, talks a little about hobbies and struggles. doesn't try and look cool for you. and then the honesty--i'm a weak coward, but i wanna be better for you. i wanna spend time with you. just!!! he grows!!! he realizes you like him for who he is and how he is, even if that's a weak coward--and that that's exactly what he wants! and it's okay for him to be that way because you won't be put off by it, even if it's something he'd like to grow from so he can be better for you--but he wants to be better for you as himself and--idk. i have feelings about characterization lol.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) Man, I wanna sleep, but I can't fail, so I gotta show up for class... Oh! I have Professor Nicolas next! Naptime."

does that mean you're good in anomalous medicine class or. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Grr! All those girls in the hall were looking at Luca! I'm so pissed off now I'm not even sleepy anymore!"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It's finally warm out again, so I really want to go do something fun... Wish I could get an R&R permit..."

well maybe if you stopped sleeping in class and did good in class or went on a mission or something. . . . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Mheheh... {PC}... You've got a petal in your hair... Zzz..."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Ugh, it's too hot to go outside... But I can sense a coming-of-age event on the horizon... All right, here I come!"

obligatory beach event? 👀

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Can't believe Professor Hyde still wears that blindfold in summer. Pfft, I bet it's really sweaty under— Eeeek! S-Sir?!"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey {PC}, are you free after this? I was thinking of inviting Luca to let off some fireworks! I want to show him how we do summer here in Japan."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I can't believe I get to spend the whole summer hanging out with you {PC}... (sniffle) Homework? Uh y-yeah, I finished it already..."

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Is it just me, or is it really cold today?! Guess I better get my coat out soon..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Have you had the chestnut rice from the cafeteria yet? They made it way too fancy. It's supposed to be comfort food..."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Tohma's always reading something. Maybe I should too... All right, let's go with this! 10 Ways To Become Popular Overnight!"

well. . .it's something to read. . .never a bad idea to read.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Apparently the moon is the most beautiful in fall since the air gets clearer. Want to go take a look?"

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"It's freezing out there! It's freezing in here! Frostheim sucks!!"

this makes me wonder what the warmest dorm is on average. . .probably jabberwock as long as towa's in a good mood? (or maybe warm jabberwock winters mean towa's in a bad mood. . .?)

(between 11am and 4pm)

"The cold can go to hell, but I guess there's outfits you can only wear this time of year..."

you can wear whatever you want whenever you want if you're brave enough. but this is kaito and he's not very brave. and it's also not very smart to wear winterwear in the summer.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I really want to go to Starbucks for the new winter drink! But I really really don't want to go on any missions!! Guess I'll never get to try it."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Gram... No... No more mandarins... ...Huh?! Oh, it was just a dream... I haven't had a mandarin for ages..."

'gram' in this case is 'grandma' in case you couldn't figure it out haha and the mandarin(mikan)'s used to represent health and longevity and a long prosperous bloodline or something like that for new years. So i assume his grandmother would feed him a lot of mandarins every winter lolol

His birthday: (December 11th)

"Why did Jin, Tohma, and Luca give me all this high-end stuff?! It's freaking me out!! Thank you!?!?"

EVEN JIN AND TOHMA GAVE HIM GIFTS. . .FROSTHEIM FAM IS REAL. . . .

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday, {PC}! We'll make this the best one— Hey, give those back! Those are the cue cards I made yesterday!!"

ksjfkhesbfjh he made himself cue cards to give you a birthday speech with as little stuttering as possible. . . .

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year! Let's make it a good one! S-So hey, if, er, if you'd like, c-could we, um... could we make our first shrine visit together?"

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"C'mon Kaito, deep breaths. Girls aren't into guys with no chill. So stay cool... Stay— Are those chocolates for me?! I'll take them to my grave!"

everyone loves an enthusiastic boy lol

White Day: (March 13th)

"Do you like the cookies I made? Come on, no way they're that good, heh heh... Heh heh heh... Here, take them all!!"

god i bet he makes really good sweets too. like i bet he puts so much love and good spirit into them lolol

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"I'd never lie to a girl. Ah! That's not a lie, I swear! {PC}? Are you listening?!"

BAD THING TO SAY ON APRIL FOOL'S ABORT MISSION

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat! See those carved pumpkins? I was actually the one who made them. What do you think?"

given his DIY skills i bet he's actually really good at carving too. i bet they look really good!

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Hey, uh, {PC}, do you, uh... Do you have any plans for Christmas? I'm actually totally free!"

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Huh? {PC}? Am I being annoying?! I'm sorry! You're probably busy, right?!"

(13 affinity and above)

"{PC} seems kind of busy... I know! I'll find a video that'll help take her mind off things!"

this one replace the first one after you hit a certain affinity, so it's cute to see that he eventually decides 'i'm not being annoying, they're just busy. i wanna help them' after he gets closer to you. . . .

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Ah...! Oh my god, you're back!! I'm so happy to see you!!!!  (sob) Please don't leave me again..."

he's so clingy. . .poor guy really missed you, considering you're one of the kindest and most normal people in Darkwick that he associates with. . . . also man 'please don't leave me again' with the whole loop theory stuff. . . .

I THINK I'VE SAID MOST OF MY THOUGHTS THROUGHOUT THIS BUT. He really is a sweetie. He really could have ended up a very plain and 'safe' character, but he's managed to be very charming and entertaining with his struggles and exaggerated behavior, while still being a simple and safe type. Really looking forward to seeing how he plays into the rest of the story, since it seems like his pendant may be kind of important. . . .