#dont ask who's holding their face in the second one. i don't know

[jellyfish-grave]

Gabbro my friend gabbro (melting into the ground)

[quimichi]

⌗﹒THEIR VOICE LINES ABOUT YOU ౨ৎ˚₊‧ GN!

Aether

❝Since the beginning of Mondstadt they've been with me. They actually turned out to be my second guide! Which makes Paimon even more of an emergency food❞

❝Whaa-Paimon will pretend Paimon didn't hear that!❞

❝No really, I'm glad I found them...or rather they found me. It really wasn't much of a surprise when I-oh-I'm already talking too much again.❞

❝Traveler can go shy when he talks about his lover, hehe. STOP PULLING ME AWAY-H-HEY-!❞

Albedo

❝Oh? I see, you already heard about Y/n. Well, its not a big of a surprise, they're well known here in Mondstadt. Don't worry, if you ever encounter them, dont be shy to talk to them. They have actually been a great help for my researches and experiments. ❞

Al-Haitham

❝ Y/N? Yes, what about them? Yes, we're in a relationship, and? No, I'm not mad, why? I'm asking to much questions? Could ask you that, you seem awfully interested in my partner. Passive aggressive? Pff, now you're just pretending things. ❞

Ayato

❝ You'd like to know more about Y/n? What makes you think I have answers? Oh? I see, Ayaka has told you about it, well...Me and Y/n have been in a relationship for quite a while now. They're a very good support, doesn't matter what path i take or decisions I make, they always have my back. Without them I wouldn't be half the man I am right now. Satisfied with this answer? ❞

Baizhu

❝ The person that always helps out here is not some assistant. Don't worry, I'm sure they're not insulted. Who else are they then? Oh, my lover. Whats with that surprised look on your face? Didn't think I'd be taken? To be frank...I'm quite surprised too that I got this lucky.❞

Bennett

❝ Y/n? My lucky charm? They're awesome! A loyal member in Benny's adventure team...the only one though...They go on every adventure with me! Saved my life multiple times! Bring me good furtune! And are my partner! Wow, I really lucked out for real this time.❞

Capitano

❝ I'd like to keep my private life as private as possible...but for you I make an exception, just this once. Yes, Y/n is my life partner, my lover if you'd like to put it that way. I hold them very dear and would protect them with my life if i have to. So, if I ever sense any bad intentions coming from you, I will crush you with everything I've got.❞

Childe

❝ They spend last winter with me and my family. So, to show them around and make them feel more comfortable in Snezhnaya we had a little snowball fight. Y/n got hit a dozen times in the face by Teucer. They lost, obviously. But the best part was, when we went home, the slipped right before the door and fell ass first to the ground...but instead of being upset or annoyed...they laughed. I knew they we're the one right then and there.❞

Chongyun

❝ Oh you know Y/n? Well, I do too. You knew? Xingqiu huh?...Can't seem to keep quite sometimes...Yes, I am dating them. Saying this feels foreign...I still can't believe they chose me of all people. But I'm not too insecure about it, after all, they chose me of all people.❞

Cyno

❝ Y/n is one of the few people who actually laugh at my jokes. I don’t know if its out of pity or if i truly make them laugh, but either way i don't care. As long as i see a smile on their face I'm at ease. Huh? What do you mean i sound lovesick?❞

Dainsleif

❝ There are things that I'd rather keep private and save, including my relationship with Y/n. So I have to apo-...no, i trust you but-...You're right. Y/n and I have been in a relationship for quite a long time now. They mean a lot to me, thats why I want to keep any information about them as private as I can.❞

Diluc

❝ Yes, I am in a relationship with Y/n. I guess the topic makes his rounds, huh? We announced our relationship just yesterday, but have been serious for a long time now. I am...not a public as you know. And i didn't wanted any unwanted or negative attention on both of us but i know i can trust you. Right?❞

Dottore

❝ Did i ever had a lover? What an inappropriate question of you~ Of course i had lovers, but none could compare to my favorite. Have you heard of Y/n? Oh yes, they are quite popular aren't they~? Well, they're mine, all mine. So it would be better for you if you keep your hands off them. ❞

Freminet

❝ Are they my friend? Uhm...no...they're a bit more than that. Uhm, yeah they're my partner. We've been together for a while now...Am i happy? Of course i am...I'm just a bit embarrassed thats all. No one has really asked me about our relationship yet except for Lyney, Lynette and father.❞

Gorou

❝ You want to know about Y/n? Sure, what do you wanna know? Yes, they're my partner, in fact, we live together! They're a really caring, they make breakfast every morning, tend any injuries i have and sometimes even run me a bath...that was too intimate.❞

Heizou

❝ Y/n? What do you know about them? Nothing yet but you wanna know more? Why? Interested? Why am I asking all these questions? I'm a detective, and you're interested in my lover-oops-now i ran my mouth.❞

Itto

❝ You mean the oni one for me?! The true love of my life!? THEY'RE AWESOME. I'm so incredibly lucky to have them. AND they're so incredibly lucky to have the awesome one and oni Arataki Itto as their boyfriend!❞

Kazuha

❝ They are currently waiting for my arrival...i cannot wait to have them in my arms again. I miss them every day...What's that book? Oh, it's just for all the poems i write for them while being away. One poem for each day. Once I'm back, i read them to them.❞

Kaeya

❝ Oh you mean my little snowflake? Yes, i know them quite well, i can assure you that one. Wasn't always like that though, took is a while to actually get closer. But i won't complain either way, I'm happy that we finally found each other...damn, look at all the sappy things I'm saying, they've done this to me.❞

Kaveh

❝ I'm still planning our house, i just cannot make it perfect! Ugh, it's really getting on my nerves. I NEED this perfect for them, I need to make this the house of their dreams. But it's taking way to long. Since when am i planning? About 3 years. And since when are we dating? Also about 3 years...oh...❞

Kinich

❝ When they first traveled to Natlan they didn't met me immediately. I've only got to know them through Mualani and Kachina. They once expressed their hatred towards saurian hunters, went off yapping for a good hour too. You should've seen the look on their face once i told them i was one of them. They're still embarrassed to this day, even more after i explained what i really do. One of the many memories that truly make me happy.❞

Lyney

❝ They're aware that true magic doesn't exist. That all my shows are just an act. That somewhere is a trick hidden, so simple its ridiculous. And yet, they're still amazed, still getting big eyed when I'm on stage preforming. Even after countless shows that are the same, they're clapping along like it was the first....I couldn't not have asked for a better support and love in my life then them.❞

Mika

❝ I still don't know how i managed to confess, maybe it's because i can't really remember it anyway. It's a memory I'd like to forget entirely, mostly because i was so embarrassed afterwards. But I never want to forget what they said afterwards. Everytime i hear those 4 words from them I get butterflies.❞

Neuvillette

❝ Y/n and I are in a serious relationship since 5 years and 4 months. We have been living together since 3 years and 1 month. I do consider our relationship deep and intimate. I trust them deeply and never once did I think about it otherwise. I truly believe that our relationship will hold on for eternity. Is this enough information or should I tell you more?❞

Pantalone

❝ Ah, my spoiled little brat? Joking, joking...well, only half. I do spoil them quite a lot, but i wouldn't consider them a brat...most of the time. Just last week I bought them this new coat, winter in Snezhnaya are the hardest in all Teyvat. Oh, and new gloves, a scarf an-no, why would i brag with my money, it's not like i have enough to buy at least million of coats.❞

Pierro

❝ The only thing you need to know is that they are with me and well taken care off. Should you not remember the fact that any hate or violence towards them is strictly forbidden, i will gladly remind you. ❞

Razor

❝ Y/n helped Razor a lot. Razor appreciates it, the help. Razor also loves Y/n. That's what Y/n always tells Razor every day. So Razor tells Y/n every day too.❞

Scaramouche

❝ Who? My lover? Them? No, I would never. No, I'm not keeping anything private?! Neither am I ashamed of anything...quite the opposite, huh? No, said nothing. Screw off now, i need to be somewhere. Where? None of your damn business...So what if its a date?!❞

Thoma

❝ Mhm, you're quite right, Y/n and I arw together. Lucked out, huh? I'm currently teaching them how to cook some dishes, been going well...for the most part. No, they have a hand for it but both of us always seem to lose any focus once we're 30 minutes into it.❞

Tighnari

❝ You should've heard their begging, "Oh Tighnari please, i can keep my own garden!" Yeah, keeping it, but not take care of it. Because who takes care of it? Correct, me. It's easy work, so it's not too troublesome. But what is troublesome is how they don't take care of it. *sigh* maybe i am a bit to harsh on them, they are a bit stressed lately anyway. They deserve to take a rest and calm down from everything. So i gladly take care of the garden, for as long as they need me to.❞

Venti

❝ Our first meeting was quite the embarrassing one, almost feel quite shy telling it....Ok! Ok! I'll tell you!....I fell into their lap...No, i wasn't drunk! Someone else was, pushed me by accident and i stumbled backwards right onto their lap in angels share. And to top it off i took their plate and drink with me. Lucky for me, they weren't mad at all. Still...it's so embarrassing!❞

Wriothesley

❝ Took them quite a while to adjust to Meropide. Understandable though, it's a change from the surface. But once they grew comfortable, it's almost like they don't want to leave. They quickly befriended almost everyone, especially Sigewinne. They grew quite popular here in the matter of just a few weeks. Good for me i got them first before anyone else could.❞

Xiao

❝ Hm? Oh, them? Yes, we're close. Why do you ask? Just curious? Ugh, don't look at me like that. What do you wanna hear? How much i love them? You can wait till the day Teyvat will shatter entirely, I won't say it to you, only to them.❞

Xingqiu

❝ Our love story is picture perfect. A written love story by the finest ink. Full of clichés. We reached for the same book, and our hands touched. Then and there, i was mesmerized...until they snatched the book first.❞

Zhongli

❝ Our love story has been holding on since 3717 years, and it will hold on for many years more. What makes me so sure it will? We love each other like it was the very first day. Never once did we lie to one another, were apart from each other or lost our trust. I do have a contract anyway if anything should happen.❞

[bitedownforblood]

abby anderson x fem reader

↣ took a little scroll through the abby tag and noticed almost no fluff so i'm filling that void with girlfriend!abby headcanons hehe

warnings / kissing, established relationship, very self indulgent oops, ow*n

𝄞 need your love so bad - fleetwood mac

author's note: this is my first tlou fic pls dont kill me if it sucks

+ you were definitely the first girl abby ever dated. the only other experience with dating she had was ow*n... so you obviously had to swoop in and show her what she was missing out on.

+ i know deep in my heart and soul that abby would hold your face when she kisses you. not your waist, or your neck, or your back. no. she would genty cradle your face, studying your features before leaning in and pressing her soft lips against yours.

+ she gives the BEST bear hugs ever, especially after a long patrol. she'll sneak into your room and just collapse against you, one arm wrapped tightly around your middle while the other cradled your head.

+ it's literally canon that abby smells of pine and every time i remember that all i can think of is cuddling with her after she showers while you both ramble to each other about anything and everything.

+ you read to each other!!! as a huge bookworm, i love the idea of just cozying up with abby in the library as she reads to you and vice versa. sometimes you'll both end up falling asleep halfway through a chapter only for manny to find you both way later.

+ adding onto that, you'd find literally any excuse to listen to her voice. whether that would be asking her questions about patrol, books, working out, etc. she's too oblivious to realise you aren't even paying attention half the time.

+ she would remember even the littlest of things about you. it can range from your favourite book to the colour of your socks on monday. she has an insanely good memory but only when it comes to you.

+ unpopular opinion but i don't think abby would work out with you. hear me out on this; i think she would prefer to have some alone time and what other place to do that than the gym! it's nothing against you, it's just that she likes to focus on working out.

+ if you offered to braid her hair when you just started dating, i think she would say no but at least let you brush it. however, once you two were together for a good while, it felt like second nature to come up to you, hairbrush in hand, with a knowing smile on her face.

+ you would play with her hair any chance you could. sometimes she would fall asleep with her head in your lap and you'd slowly untangle the braid she had in, raking your fingers through her hair as a way to soothe yourself.

+ the way abby looks at you makes you swoon every. damn. time. it could be during patrol, when you read to her, or even when you're eating. she looks at you with so much love. every time you catch her eyes you feel butterflies in your stomach.

+ i think abby would be very comfortable saying 'i love you'. she would prefer to say how she feels rather than show you. it's important you hear the words so they can be engraved in your mind.

+ abby is scary. she has huge muscles, she's one of the best soldiers, and people who go on patrol with her know what she is capable of. it's only natural that people started treating you with more respect when you two got together.

+ if she heard anyone talking badly about you or gossipping she would shut it down immediately. there's literally a part of the game where she goes around humbling the fuck out of people for talking about ow*n. so yes, best believe she's doing that for you too.

bonus:

+ i LUV the wlf!nurse x abby anderson fics so here's something about that; she would spot the smallest cut on her arm after patrol and her first instinct would be to see you. you'd laugh at how silly it was while you cleaned the wound, not realising abby was only here to see you.

[chuulyssa]

🇨​​ 🇴 ​​🇳 ​​🇫​​ 🇪 ​​🇸​​ 🇸 ​​🇮 ​​🇴 ​​🇳​ ！

BSD MEN REACTING TO A CONFESSION.

↷ A/N ─ yes new divider again because im indecisive as heck

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , atsushi , fyodor

!! TAGS ─ mentions of suicide, insecurities, overall fluff

"i love you."

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

promptly replies with, "i love you too."

he'll lean into you with an amused smile because he lowkey thinks you're joking

when he realizes you're serious about it he'll immediately stop the stupid grin

and look at you with this sincere look you've never seen on his face before

he'll hold your hand and everything while repeating "i love you too," for a second time, only this time he's serious about it too

definitely asks for double suicide later

"You know it's my motto to unalive myself with a beautiful woman. How lucky of you to have been bestowed upon this honour."

"Mhm."

"I'll say yes if you join me in a double suicide," he asks with puppy eyes.

"Dazai, you already said yes."

"I'll say it again!"

​ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

he stops abruptly and half chokes on his expensive ass wine

poor boy is really confused ���� because "where did that come from??"

he tries to play it cool but he's literally SCREAMING inside

we all know he's been betrayed a lot of times in the past so he feels hesitant about it

will decide to give it a shot tho

100% calls dazai to brag about it

"You may be taller or whatever (as if that matters in the first place) but were you the one able to steal her heart? Eh? I think not!"

You chuckle hearing him update his rival of his new relationship status.

"And anyway," he raises a glass of wine for toast. "I'd like to thank my good looks, good looks and did I mention my good looks (?) for making tonight the happiest night ever."

ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

"i know."

he has always observed every single thing about you - how you behave around others vs how you behave around him, the little times you look at him like you want his attention etc etc

he's known about this since like soooo long

he defo also knew when where and how you were gonna confess

went to yosano for tips to react to it and bought you chocolates and stuff. he thinks it'll make you happy :D

eats all of that himself even tho he originally bought it for you but you let it slide because he's a cutie patootie

"You could at least have been a bit subtle about it," he says, munching on his chips. "I mean, anyone who saw you would've been able to guess. I didn't even need my ability for this!"

He lifts his chin up thoughtfully, fingers ripping open another packet of snacks. "You should be grateful I'm not a snitch. Eh, well," he shrugs, "You're now dating the greatest detective in the world! Congratulations!"

ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

"eh???"

like chuuya, he's pretty confused too

"are you sure?"

tries to keep a straight face and hide his fluster

he'll narrow his eyes at you as if he's trying to read your emotions. he doesn't wanna get hurt if he gets too attached to you and you two end up breaking up

also how tf is he supposed to believe that someone like YOU like someone like HIM?

reassure him that he's perfect please :( poor baby deserves the world

"I am a lot of work. I don't think you can keep up with all of that," he says shortly.

"I'll try my best."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to!"

He stares at you for a few moments, looking like he's about to cry.

"Oh, alright then," he waves a hand around. "But don't you ever leave me."

ᴀᴛꜱᴜꜱʜɪ.

screams

"SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE!"

jumps around everywhere in happiness

you dont even get a verbal answer the man's just dancing around

either that or he just faints

he's, like akutagawa, insecure about himself. but he's much more open to showing his emotions to you.

you end up cuddling the whole night or he calls off work to be with you for the rest of the day <3

"I..." he repeats the same word for the fifth time in a row.

"Yes?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that I get to date you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no!" he panics, wringing both hands all over himself hastily. "I love you! Really!"

ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ.

no reaction. im sorry

spares a small glance at you but otherwise doesn't get distracted from his work

you think he's gone deaf from the way he just ignored you cuz what????

will spend like 15 minutes that way before extending an arm to you and you lowkey DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO??? HELP??

he'll stare at you for a few seconds before pulling you onto his lap and continuing with his work

and that's his way of saying yes

He shuts the computers around him down and taps your outer thigh twice. You immediately stand up and help him up. He stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating something.

"You know, I never thought I'd enable others to call me a lovesick fool."

"Does that mean you are a lovesick fool?"

"A little, maybe," he turns around and walks out of the door while you follow him with a soft smile on your face.

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[custardtartsfan]

Jason Todd uses a flip phone. No he will not upgrade.

a little bit proofread! youd think the child of an ESL teacher would know whats up but youd be wrong! anywho this is vv off the dome and i didnt exactly know how to end it so please tell me if you feel like it flows right i appreciate any and all feedback very dearly ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

“Jay!” his partner calls from the other side of his apartment, making their way from the kitchen to where he was cleaning his guns in the living room. A very ritualistic process for him. They're all uniformly laid out on his coffee table (which he did not own before getting into a relationship, shout out the wife) , unassembled and being very carefully cleaned with a level of precision you seldom see outside of scientific glass blowers. Hes locked in

“What?” Jason looks up from his gun cleaning ritual 

“Can i borrow your phone? I wanna order food” they smiled, leaning over the back of his couch

“Whats wrong with yours?” he asks, “dead” y/n replied simply, and Jason reaches into his pocket with minimal grumbling

Jason was not a fan of technology, as a rule. He thinks its evil. He doesn't have any social media, does not watch any tv that isn't the news, and doesn't particularly like having his photo taken on anything digital. But still, none of that knowledge about their boyfriend couldve prepared y/n for being presented with a tomato red  Motorola RAZR V3 Flip Cellphone after it was dug out of Jasons cargo pants

“...what the fuck is this” they gawked at him. They hadnt been together all that long, but long enough that y/n feels that they should have noticed this piece of ancient history in his possession

“What?” Jason replied casually, unclear why they were looking at his phone like that “you have my phone no? Order your food” he said while getting back to the gun cleaining 

“Im- what is this?? Jason, be serious” y/n said, still absolutely rubbernecking at the phone. They went around the couch to look him in the eyes

Jason made a face “im being serious, order your food” he rolled his eyes at his partners ridiculousness. 

“Jason.” y/n gawped “look me in the eyes and tell me this is your actual primary cellphone.” they said, leaning down to look their boyfriend in his soul. Jason furrowed his brows

“Thats my phone. Why is this a big deal? I dont like apples and samsongs. Or whatever” Jason responds, puting down the half put together glock hes cleaning to cross his arms and lean back against the couch 

“My phone number is in this. You answer my texts from this thing??” they asked, still holding out hope this was a really stupid elaborate prank. From their boyfriend. Who had the driest sense of humor on the- okay yea he wasnt joking

“Yes??” he said incredulously, looking at his partener like they were being unreasonable. Actually- they were being unreasonable. It was a razr phone, not some far future star wars trans communicator. y/n needs a second to think about this

They plop themselves onto the couch next to their boyfriend, staring at the ceiling

“You really are a drug dealer” they murmured. Jason snorted

Jason snorted. “Below the belt” he retorts, snickering as he went back to his gun cleaning. Locked in. clear eyes, full hearts, cant lose.

“You need an actual phone” y/n states, like its the word of god. No protests will be tolerated, this studio apartment is not a democracy. Jason makes a face.

“I dont trust that shit” he murmured, continuing his surgical precision glock cleaning. y/n tilted their head

“Whys that?” they questioned. Jason scoffed, like its obvious

“ ‘don't want the government knowing my business” Jason loured

“Don't want-” y/n looked at him, in his soul “Jason. Whats a drivers license?”

Jason scoffed, smiling since hes won the argument now,in his own mind at least “i dont have one” he said triumphantly. y/ns eyes widened to the size of frisbees. They'd been in a car he was driving. Many times. Yesterday actually

“What the fuck d’you mean you dont have a drivers license??” “i never got one” he answered simply, like that was chill 

“Im- yes i get that. But you drive!” they argued, turning their body to fully face their insane boyfriend

“Well yea,obviously” jason rolled his eyes. y/n guffawed at him

“You're- a prolific criminal” they murmured, deciding not to question it anymore. He dresses up like red riding hood grew up and transitioned and got REALLY into body building. He used to kill people. Hes literally cleaning his multiple unregistered firearms in front of them. 

“Does the pope shit in the woods?” Jason retorts. y/n and jason stared at each other for a second 

“not what that means” “yea not what that means”

.𖥔 ܁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ fun with formatting! i like the coloured text but i wish the shades weren't so jarring. i also find the images incredibly annoying to format properly but maybe im just being dense i dunno. the drivers license bit was inspired by my co worker because she too doesn't have a drivers license and yet owns a car and drives it and isnt in jail yet. you go icon

also the term wife is used GENDER NUTREALY !!1! i wanted an actual gender neutral term for nuptial partner but nothing hits like wife does imo. anyways tysm for reading! i love you sleep well ₍ᐢ._.ᐢ₎♡ ༘

[hoshifighting]

haiii,, this is my first time requesting anything from a fic writer but ive been binging your fics like all week and i loveeee your writing style!! I know you've previously written seventeen impact play but i was wondering if you had any thoughts about impact play with sub!svt...

(personal opinion and also kinda biased but I think slapping chan or mingyu across the face would be- EXPLODSION NOISES)

((also if this ask makes you uncomfy plz feel free to ignore it ,, ty for the fics <333 !!))

impact play with sub!seventeen

WARNINGS: smut, impact play

seungcheol: sub!seungcheol is a sight to behold imo. the man who’s always in charge loves handing over to you st some point of your relationship. but don't think that he'll be all cute, this man will be little shit, challenging you at first “harder,” he grits through his teeth, his knuckles pale as he grips the headboard. but the second you leave a red mark across his thighs, he’s melting, moaning louder than usual. he’s the type to thank you after every smack after you 'put him in his place'.

jeonghan: will tease you until you actually follow through. “oh, what are you gonna do?/are you going to do it?” when your palm meets his skin, he’s arching into your touch with a soft drawn-out moan. “okay, okay!” he whimpers, trying to save face even as he's almost cumming there.

joshua: he's so obedient it’s almost unfair. he’ll kneel at your feet, hands behind his back, looking up at you with wide pleading eyes. “is this okay?” you ask before the first strike lands, but the soft gasp he lets out tells you he’s more than okay. he’ll squirm, biting his lip to hold back his moans, but by the third or fourth hit, he’s gone, whining, “please… just one more, i can take it.”

junhui: a such a slut for it, let’s be real. he’ll lie across your lap, wiggling his hips and grinning back at you. “don’t go easy on me, okay?” he says, and you almost fold as you look at his eyes that are full of trust. every smack pulls a delicious little moan from his lips,

hoshi: he’ll flop down dramatically, draping himself across the bed like he’s starring in his own m/v. “dont feel sorry for me,” he giggles, when your hand meets his ass—is not even a harsh slap, his laughter turns into the sweetest whimpers. he’ll bury his face in the pillow.

woozi: he's not the loudest sub, but his reactions are everything. he’ll bite his lip, muffling the soft groans that slip out as you leave red streaks across his soft ass. his hands clench at the sheets, his thighs squeezed together as he feels his cock get harder and harder with each slap.

wonwoo: he's the type that will try to hide how horny he is, but by the third strike, his head falls back, moaning as he fists his hands on the sheets. he would def buy a paddle, especially for him (or buy even matching ones, with a heart shape <3)

minghao: he’ll stretch out for you, offering himself with an sleek smirk. “make it count.” he says. his body archs beautifully, he didn't pretend to try it again, he thought it would be a one-time thing, but he liked, it more than he will ever say to you.

mingyu: the loudest little whimpering mess you’ve ever seen. every smack has him shaking, “oh my god, i—i want to cum… please, baby, don’t stop.” his cheeks are flushed, his eyes full of tears, and he’s absolutely soaking up every ounce of attention you’re giving him.

seokmin: a softie, even as a sub. he’ll flinch with the first strike, letting out a surprised little gasp, but then he softens under your touch, his body going pliant. “does it look bad?” he asks nervously, glancing over his shoulder, but when you reassure him, he’s blushing and smiling through the next smack. “oh, that’s—okay, yeah, that’s good. i like that.”

seungkwan: brattiest sub in the world, hands down. he’ll whine and complain, when your hand actually lands on him, he’s gasping and burying his face in the pillow to not give you the taste of his contorted-in-pleasure-face. “okay, okay, i’m sorry,” he whimpers, his voice muffled as you pull his head by the hair. by the next smack, he’s moaning, “just one more? i promise i’ll be good this time.”

vernon: he’ll clench his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut, he will be really whiny at the end—and will probably ask for an aftercare after. his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his thighs tense, trying to not look so affected, but when you used the combo impact play + dirty talk, he will almost liquefy in your hands.

chan: the sweetest, eager to please even as you take control. “should I arch more?” he asks nervously, glancing up at you before the first smack lands. but the second it does, his eyes go wide, and a shaky little moan escapes him. “oh—oh my god, s'good!” he stammers, his cheeks flushing deep red. toward the end, he’s clinging to you.

[littlemissmaples]

🎂PICK A CAKE!🎂 II Who is your fs? + General Messages ( this second part wasn't intentional, kinda just happened lol)

Pile 1: 💚

• Your fs is very, very, very "segsy" I hear, haha (I was asked to spell it that way) they're giving me this very calming energy about them. They say "that's my mind baby" they're very flirtatious and could either be black, mixed or middle eastern, perhaps Arabic. This is more of my ethnic pile. I do sense there's the chance one of them has a beard–

Ooooh wait, one of them? Is there 2? Here I'm getting more of a masculine energy here so could it be you're not sure who your fs is and you're just debating what it is that you want? That's alright. I don't think that you're battling between 2 people, I think you're battling between 2 versions of yourself and 2 different ideals. What it is that you want and you think that you need. Or perhaps you might have a misunderstanding of what the kind of guy you want is. I'm getting some of you are in a relationship right now and you feel like things just don't connect. "You're a princess" for some of you, your father treats you well, listen to them because it's true when they say that you deserve better. Or perhaps you're involved in an arranged marriage, I feel that you still have the chance to step away from this it doesn't matter how far along you've been in this game, speak up now or forever hold your peace...

Anyways, I feel that your type is "the bad guy" maybe you like older guys or you currently like an older guy. If not I'm getting some of you, the person that you like is your fs but you're too stuck in your mind, waiting to be saved to realize it, that they're more than happy to develop something with you but while you dont have to take the lead, it's important to take the initiative and let yourself be known, let yourself say that you're interested, it's okay to let yourself be "saved" and pulled away from all of this but only if you tell them, otherwise they're going to keep on sitting back on their motorbike, completely unaware of your feelings. For a lot of you, you already know this person but they havent realized their feelings yet. Spark that initial light and set it all ablaze, they'll follow along and take care of the rest. But you have to communicate, they assume their silence is "self-respect" and they dont see you as a damsel in distress, reflect for sometime and see how you would like to go about all of this.

But in short terms who is your fs??

A guy that you already know that is somehow always on your mind even if you dont think about him much or hold heavy romantic feelings for him at the moment.

But just know this If you need it, he wants me to tell you: "I think about you too." For some of you "I think about THAT" too" perhaps a moment happened between the both of you. Be attentive and careful yes, but ultimately, at the end of this game we call life we all die. So follow your heart, choose your own path and cause a little chaos if you have to. But most of all, make sure you have fun 💛

I'm sorry if I didnt answer your question, but this is what's coming in.

Pile 2: 🧡

• Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Wow! Jeez, your first impression of this guy is going to be bizarre is not jaw dropping. They almost feel like they're a celebrity! If they're not a celebrity I feel like they're like a celebrity-look-a-like, they have a very similar face, tone of voice, even a matter of walking as someone that you like. This might be a singer/song-writter, actor for some or even a YouTube. I'm getting they might be in college and they could be white, I keep seeing Timothee Chalamet in my head but I'm getting he's more of a Tom Holland kind of guy, while your fs looks exactly how you want, he is a little bit more of the masculine kind. And for those of you who are a masc energy reading this I get the sense that, much like my fem readers I get the feeling maybe some of you actually want that "spiderman" type of love or a Tom Holland and Zendaya kind of scene about the two of you. I feel like you might, but I'm also getting that you need to not let yourself fall in a daydream too much, not because you wont have this but because you shouldn't reduce your partners and future romantic relationships into just this. I get the feeling that for some of you, your fs isn't who or how you think they are but they have traits of how believe they could be and what it is that you envision them like. But you should be flexible with this, just a little bit, I promise you'll have your dream come true but for many of you, he may sound a bit "manlier" perhaps you wanted him to have softer, more delicate features and he does but those traits dont encapsulate him entirely and for my fems, perhaps she may not be as tall as you like and maybe she might not hold traits like Zendaya but she's definitely gonna be your type. This energy Is just now coming in but some of you may be lgbt, have many types or simply are poly. That's great! But the same messages apply to you, you'll have your dream! You can have your cake and eat it too! But you have to step back for a minute and reflect for something, who are you? What kind of life do you want? Who do you want to be with? Why? Why not? I'm not saying tear yourself into parts but I'm really getting some of you ( I'm hearing "us" some of you dont separate yourselves from a group and see yourselves as individual persons in society and instead as a "unit" while is great, you are more than that) succumb yourselves to a lot of subcultures or reality just societal ideals of what you believe your life should look like. Take inspiration and make your own life worth living and stop looking at everybody else's as the "perfect guide book" to follow. There is no perfect anything and it's incredibly harmful to yourself and others to believe that there is, you dont know why people are the way they are or what happens behind closed doors. Follow your own path and make something beautiful out of you, even if it resembles somebody else's or looks completely different. Some of you need to come out the closet, haha, (once you feel safe and comfortable to do so of course). I'm been pulling in many directions in this pile so I'm going to cut it here. Know that you are okay and that the path you seek will find you but you need to let yourself realize that you're a unique individual with a mind of their own, let yourself have fun on the path that you walk on and choose if you want this one or not. You can get on an off of it as many times as you want and even choose a new one as many times as you like.

In short words, who is your fs? For some of you, you dont want a future spouse, you just want a life partner and a friend a you will find that, you will find the people who match you and fall into the right place. – For others of you, know that your future spouse is currently looking for you and they are exactly as you envision, if not better. The only thing about them is that you might have a couple traits off such as their nose or skin tone and perhaps ethnicity. They might have some "imperfections" as well that you might not think of, maybe they have braces and for some of you I'm hearing "knee surgery" so it's likely one of them has had an injury and either has a scar they're worried about or they have a slight subtle awkwardness to their walk. Dont worry so much about this, some of you overthink about these imperfections and for many of you I'm getting they're not even there and you're just anxious, I promise you'll be okay, haha. The universe knows your heart and it is good and full of love and that love will go into the right hands. You'll be alright, now go rest your pretty head, some of yall have been up all night 💤💤

Pile 3: 💜

• Wow. I cant even tap into your energy, I just tapped immediately into theirs. This personal is serious, this person means BUSINESS maybe even HAVE a business. They're not playing, they seriously want a commitment. I'm getting that they're a "hot mess" but they may just be very passionate. Much like pile 1 this personal may be black, if male brown skin, tall, tall, tall~ and very endearing gentle eyes. If she's a woman then by LORD she's gorgeous, likely darkskin, clear skin, lip gloss and possibly Christian, she takes her faith very seriously but as serious as she may be or come off she's actually so silly and goofy and just the sweetest soul to have around. She wont play about you. This won't apply to all of you but for some of you this person might be mixed and freckled or a red head, possibly a July Leo (or this might just be you) though this is for a few of you so take only what resonates. Your fs is very well read and well spoken, they're very educated although I'm getting for some of them they never went to college, for a few of you though they already have their masters or are on their way of getting it. They might have a similar background to you and or have the same political beliefs. Honestly what I'm getting from this is almost like a "background check" kind of vibe haha, they're like handing me a clip board and having me be your middle man and "vet" for them, I feel like you might be "hard to approach" or you dont just let ANYBODY in your energy like that, you dont just give anyone YOUR time of day and they're aware of that so they're not playing ANY games and getting straight to it and letting you know straight away why they are a great candidate for being your one and only partner. Although I am getting that they are kind of "flawed", not flawed as in bad but flawed as in, they come off as perfect but I believe you may somehow see through it, that while they are very confident and self sufficient and honestly, very, very, very remarkable, reliable and most of all loyal and dependable, they genuinely are a great catch..while you know all this you also know how they seem to be missing a piece of themselves, theres a loneliness in this and it's very gentle, very tender and childlike. They're very mature but ultimately, they just want love. They want love at it's rawest, purest form, they want to be infatuated with you, by you, lost in you, they want to crave you and admire you and receive at least fraction of that same love as well if possible. They're are a hopeless romantic and altho they may not show it at first I feel like you'll get that first wall to crumble without much effort, the rest of it will simply just dissolve the moment you're finally with them. This person wants something serious and if it applies for some of you even marriage and children or both. But even if you dont want this, it doesn't matter because they only see you and not a check list of things to cross out. They want to share something true with you and see how it blossoms into something beautiful.

This one has heavyyyyy 18+ messages in them, it was hard to hold back from typing them but for a lot of you before you go off doing the do with this person know that they are INTOXICATINGGGGG and soooooooo irresistible and they treat you sooooo so good so WRAP IT UP!!! BECAUSE THE TWO OF YOU HAVE VERY MATCHING ENERGIES AND ARE VERY VERY FERTILE SO IF YOURE NOT USING SOME KIND OF CONTRACEPTION (birth control, condom etc) YOU  W I L L  HAVE BABIES!!! 🍼👶🍼👶😭😭

Safe sex = Great sex, take care now✌

(I'm being so serious, wrap it up, some of yall dont listen, I get the heat of the moment might be fun or take you in but babies are a serious 18 year long commitment and if you're not ready for that please don't be hard headed and keep you and your partner safe. Thanks!! That's all bye! 💛💛💛)

[beabatoru]

10 things I hate about you pt. 2 ｡𖦹°‧ hockey player! gojo x reader

pt. 2/2

pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖ college au - hockey player! gojo x reader

summary : after the events of the hockey game where you found out you were the centerpiece of a bet between the boy you grew to like and his hockey teammates, you now also have to struggle with family problems miles away with your father on the verge of passing. piles of hospital bills are stacking up and you have no idea how to pay them off and on top of that, gojo is still begging for your forgiveness.

warning / tags ⟢ fluff, angst, smut, college au, this fic is based on the film '10 things I hate about you', partial angst with readers father regarding sickness, reader is low income. gojo is very pathetic.

w.c : 1.8k

a / n . hello everyone ! I hope you all enjoyed the first part of this fic. sorry it took me a while to put the second part out I just wanted to make sure it lived up to your guy's expectations. I wanted to take this time to announce that I have opened an ao3. im still learning how to use it so if anyone has any tips please reach out !

his hugs were warm.

thats the first thing you noticed when he embraced you, watching as your tears stained his shirt but he didn't care. he was quiet allowing your sobs to fill the room. something told him that he didn't even have the right to comfort you like this, but he did it regardless.

"I never found a time to bring it up to you.." you said between broken sobs. he didn't ask why, just letting his cheek rest on top of your head inhaling the sweet scent from your shampoo. "i'm here now. i'm not going anywhere." part of you wanted to believe him. part of you did believe him. but the other part was reminding you of what he did.

you pulled back to look at him, seeing how he too was on the verge of tears and the way his long white lashes were damp. "...you lied to me." you whispered reminding yourself. "you dont get to say that you're here for me. not after you played around with my feelings." your voice broke out of its previous soft whisper making gojo's eyes widen a bit, still holding onto you. "you said I wasn't something to play around with but it turns out this was just a bet. that I was just a bet."

"it started off as that." he interrupted. "but god, it stopped the second I talked to you." you shook your head, not wanting to believe anything that came out of his mouth anymore. "you told me-" it was impossible to say anything else with the way your voice was trembling. "you told me I wasn't something to play with.." you repeated. "baby listen to me.." he begged but you refused.

"I don't think me ignoring your texts and calls were enough so I'll say it now, I don't want you around satoru. I don't want you in my life anymore."

"can you just let me explain everything?" he sighed, moving his hands to hold your shoulders lightly enough that if you wanted to leave, you could. he would never force something on you. he couldn't bring himself to ever hurt you again.

satoru’s breath caught in his throat. “i meant every word, even when i shouldn’t have,” he said. “the bet was real. i won’t lie to you about that, but what happened after? that was real, too. i swear it.”

"do you even know what a promise is anymore?" you reached to wipe your cheeks but he beat you to it. his thumbs softly wiped them away the second they left the eyes he fell deeply in love with.

"im not the girl who will forgive you just because you suddenly realize you care." you continued.

"ive always cared." he looked down at the letters in your hands, reaching out to grab one bringing it up to his face to read it. it was the one from the hospital. "you're not.. sick are you love?" he asked, afraid that you were the one dealing with a bunch of health problems. you shook your head. "its my dad.. he has cancer and... and his bills are expensive and he's in the hospital and I dont know what to do."

the bills were expensive.

there was multiple zeros right after that two. ".. you dont have the money." you shook your head, placing it back on his chest feeling how his hand rubbed your back.

the mail room meetup was yesterday. you've been stuck in your dorm looking through american airlines, seeing which flight was the cheapest to fly back home to possibly see your father for the last time. no, you shouldn't be thinking like this.

he was going to be okay. you'll go back, pay what you can, hell you'll drop out of university just to pick up as many jobs as you can. and then you'll make your father and brothers the blueberry pancakes they love so much and join in on the hockey games they play on the tv.

satoru has been quiet. he hasn't reached out and you figured he gave up in wanting to explain himself to you. maybe he gave up because he really didn't care as he said he did.

your laptop screen blurred for a moment as your eyes welled with tears again, but you blinked them away immediately, determined not to fall apart at least not until you booked the flight.

$387. one way. non-refundable. leaves tomorrow. at 11 am.

you couldn’t afford this flight. but you couldn’t afford to stay either.

you watched the cursor hover over the 'pay now' button before it pressed down on it. 'thank you for your purchase ! a confirmation email has been sent to you along with your ticket. thank you for choosing american airlines and have a safe flight.'

"you're leaving tomorrow?" miwa's small voice spoke out behind you. she's been the only thing keeping you from having a full breakdown with her soft words and how understanding she was. you felt guilty for leaving her.

"..yeah just for a bit. until things get sorted out. I'll hopefully be back before next week."

she nodded. "I'll help you pack then."

"no its fine-"

"im packing." she repeated.

you gave her a small smile before turning to look back at your computer staring at the same message before a new one popped up.

"thank you for your payment of $25,000 at kaiser permanente hospital." your eyes widened. 'no way, did they take out money from my account? I dont even have $25k?!' you thought before reaching for your phone, opening up the Bank of America app to look at your account. nothing. just the amount you spent for the plane ticket. $387.

it showed nothing about a hospital or 25 thousand.

was it a scam? no, that was the hospital your father was staying in. and it was dressed to your name and the sender address was real. you looked through papers and letters trying to find the bill you grabbed out of your mailbox yesterday. it wasn't here.

"is everything okay?" miwa asked walking over to the desk.

"the hospital bill.. its not here. the one I got yesterday of the amount I owe for my fathers stay at the icu.." it definitely wasn't with you. thats when it hit you. satoru grabbed it from your hands and he never returned it.

your fingers were already moving, looking through your contacts before finding "my sugar daddy"

it rang.

once.

and he picked up.

"hey.." his voice was soft. your lips parted aware that you were crying again. "toru.."

"mhm?"

"what did you do?"

there was a pause. you could practically hear him turning away from wherever he was, like he needed to find a quiet place just to breathe. "paid for you. forgot to ask you to send over the rest of the bills to pay them off."

"no.. no you already paid so much.. why, why would you do that satoru.."

"cuz I love you? because I want you back in my life and I want to meet your father and personally thank him for making such a beautiful daughter like you."

"...we've known each other for how long? a month yeah? a month is all I need to know that you're it for me. is it wrong for me to say that im thankful I took on that bet?" he chuckled. "to me you weren't a bet baby. everything about you felt raw. you kept rejecting me and god, that made me want you even more."

you didn't speak, allowing him to finish letting out his emotions. "and I hated myself for liking you, for falling for you like a fucking idiot. because it meant it wasn't a bet anymore, it was love. and I hated how I took that bet. I hated your stupid hair, and the way you made me have butterflies. I hated the music you listened to, your dorky smile. I hate the way your voice softens when you talk about the shit you like. I hate that I dont know every detail about you down to you favorite childhood movie. but.. I hate how I don't hate you at all. and I hate how I dont regret doing the bet at all, because otherwise, I wouldn't have met you."

you smiled at his confession. "you can't just fix this by paying for my fathers medical bills.."

"I know." he whispered.

"..and you lied to me." you continued, but at this point you were just playing with him.

"I did. but im not lying now. I stopped lying weeks ago."

"why?"

"because I fell in love with this really awesome girl. a girl I want by my side at all times. and a girl I really want to see right now. please, come over?..."

"yeah.. yeah ill be over."

"okay.. thank you."

you let out a shaky breath, a tentative hope flickering inside you. maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.

miwa grinned as she saw you putting on your shoes to head out to his dorm.

"have fun!" she called out.

you reached the airport just in time with your luggage on one hand and satoru's warm hand on the other. "y'know this is my first time flying in like three years?" he whispered over to you.

"seriously? are you scared?" you teased.

he immediately shook his head. "not at all." but the way he was gripping your hand said otherwise. "glad you let me come with you.."

"well I think my family would like to meet the boy ive talked about and the one who took care of my fathers hospital bills."

"youve talked about me?"

"yeah when you lied to me."

"they're going to hate me."

you let out a breathy laugh, the sound reached his ears and it made him smile like a dork that has fallen for you all over again. you didn't let go of his hand once, not even when you were seated on the plane.

you didn't let go now, and maybe not for a while.

bonus

"so, you're the guy that broke my sisters heart." yuji stared down gojo at the dinner table. the white haired boy looked up with a mouthful of your blueberry pancakes. "I fixed it." he gulped down the food. "this is delicious love." he groaned reaching to grab the last pancake from the plate set in the middle of the table before it got snatched by yuji who stuffed it in his mouth while maintaining eye contact with gojo.

"you're right they hate me.." he whispered to you.

you shot yuji a look in which he only stuck his tongue out at you. "they'll grow to love you."

matt climbed over your lap to hand gojo half of his eaten pancake. "I think they already do" you whispered to him. he smiled, accepting the pancake from the little boys hand before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

ending a / n . i completely raw dogged this in one sitting after seeing that 'part 2 of 10 things I hate about you' was winning. anyways i hope you all are satisfied with the ending ! I will continue to write little drabbles for 10tihay! gojo and reader, so if you have any ideas for that lmk ! ty for reading !

🏷️ @bakugouswaif @charlotterosea13 @levermilion @blackhawkfanatic @admmsatoru @einawnimie @k0z3me @cosmic-101

[keijisdolll]

#K. AKAASHI |

NSFW ( ＾◡＾)っ✂╰⋃╯

blurred lines . . . ❤︎

(i wrote this rly late at night so it kinda switches between second and third person + its my first time... dont mind pls ⛄︎)

to say you and keiji were just friends was a little... vague to say the least.

not even a little, absolute bullshit.

you two go way back; always at one another's homes every saturday or friday night, playing games with kotaro or just binging movies together- all that cute stuff. obviously, you two love each other, dare i say are in love with each other, but it's just never been a point of discussion. despite all the stolen glances, his obsession with kissing the top of your head or holding your hips, you guys have just … never talked about it.

it's not that you didn't want to talk about it, you wanted more than anything to do unspeakable things to that man for years now...who wouldn't?

but of course, all you could do every passing day was pray that something could magically change and you'd have his affection and sweet words to yourself every day. he probably has his reasons too for not just folding and confessing already. hopefully if he even reciprocates.

but when he asked you to be his roommate and share a dorm with him two years ago at the beginning of university, how could you tell someone so pretty no?

that pretty much never helped the increasing tension between you both - sexually, or romantically.... but hey, the no confessions game was still going strong.

even now, when keiji just returned back to your shared dorm from one of his later classes, he found you laid out on the plushness of the couch, your cutely decorated laptop resting on your bare thighs as you were wearing a cute pair of pajama shorts. a few short sentences on the illuminated screen of your laptop which screams to him that you were probably just assigned a research paper.

"new paper assigned n/n?" he hummed softly as he rested his bag on the floor near the door and taking off his shoes.

"mm yeah... only thing is that it's due in 2 days.." she huffed softly with a little pout, a face he knew meant she was stressed.

"yeah? how much words is it?" he hummed softly, sitting next to her laid body on the couch.

y/n turned her laptop to an angle keiji can see it, an email from her professor which explained her prompt and the word count.

damn.

"only two days? that has to be a mistake." he raised his brows, adjusting his glasses.

"its not..." she sighed softly. "i asked him about it in class. he was dead serious keiji...my grade is so done. i don't even know what to write about. all i got done was the context." y/n turned to him, a pout on her lips.

he sighed, "calm down, okay? stressing out this much isn't gonna help you n/n." his hand went to her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the apple of her cheek. damn him and his charm.

"come here, i'll help you." he murmured, his arms gently taking her arms to help her sit up and come up onto his lap.

and around 3 hours later, despite the evident exhaustion in both of you from this damn essay, you were a little more than half way through the word count.

"god...you're the best keiji..." she sighed softly, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

he chuckled, a familiar one that never really failed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach. "can't have my favorite girl stressing now can i?" he ruffled her hair gently.

holy fuck.

why he made her sit in his lap was beyond her. all she knew was that his little name that he just called her made her clench around absolutely nothing, and she was so sick of this back and forth of trying to act like he didn't have an effect on her.

so she purposely squirmed on his lap while pretending to read an article, her ass moving teasingly but in a subtle way. she knew her subtle grinding didn't by any means go unnoticed by him, not how his slender fingers dug a little harder into her hips, and definitely not how his breathing grew more ragged.

"hey... n/n... you're squirming a little...please... it's distracting me..." he spoke with a strained voice, trying not to breathe noticeably.

"hm..?" she looked back at him, who knew how worked up subtle grinding can get him, his cheeks were insanely flushed, his fingers uncontrollably going on her bare thighs.

"come... get off n/n-" he panicked a little, his arms pulling up her torso to pick her up and trying to place her back onto the couch, but she went right back down, on his fucking bulge.

"oh fuck.." he choked out quietly his head going back against the arm rest.

"you're that hard from me barely even grinding?" she started. no turning back now for her. and to her surprise, all those years of chasing and wondering if he wanted her back... she felt so relieved from his next words.

"i can't fucking help it with you.." he swore helplessly. his needy hands guiding her hips to rub herself against his obvious bulge. "all this time and you don't think that i've been wanting to kiss you senseless since highschool..?"

and from that, her lips were on his, sharing wet and sloppy kisses that were making him leak pre cum into his sweatpants. grinding on his lap so nicely that she had him cursing into their sloppy kiss.

they eventually pulled away, a thin string of saliva between their mouths as her arms came up around his neck to steady herself as she ground on his bulge. gosh, his fucking print was so visible to her too from his sweatpants.

"fuck...i love you keiji.."

and within less than two minutes, your cute pajama shorts laid on the floor of your bedroom along with his sweatpants.

his hand held a handful of your hair while his other rested on the plush curve of your ass. his hips were thrusting so good into your drenched cunt, the room practically filled with the sound of your plush ass slapping against his hips and your muffled moans as he just sweet talked you.

damm him.

"god... you dont know how long i wanted to fuck you.." he panted into your ear, his skin slick with sweat

"keiji..." she cried helplessly beneath him.

"mhm baby... i got you...taking my cock so well." he murmured, his large hand squeezing her ass softly.

"you're so fucking pretty n/n, you know that?" he mumbled, placing sweet kisses and sucking hickeys onto her neck, his thrusts getting harder.

she couldn't even form a coherent sentence anymore. it's not like he was being crazy rough, but his cock was fucking long. and at a moderate, more fast pace like what he was doing, she felt as if she was seeing stars.

"ah...mmph..." she moaned sweetly into the pillow, knowing he was about to cum from how sloppy his thrusts were getting.

"mmh... there you go... oh fuck baby.." he panted, pulling out. his hand that was holding your hair let go, pumping slowly as thick and hot cum landed on your plush ass.

she panted softly into the pillows, her hips lowering from where he held them up as she rolled onto her back, his cum on her skin getting onto the sheets.

he panted soflty, pulling her into his arms and pressing a gentle loving kiss on her shoulder, while mumbling a soft, "i've always loved you baby."

its my first time writing so pls leave tips jjfnjjngjngjngjtn

[iloveboysinred]

Hii, I love your Keith content 😔🙏🏻

Can you do Keith and Reader almost getting caught by one of the other Paladinsss I would actually burst

thank you anon bub <3 i'll always write for keith just for heartys like you (pls don't explode??)

but let's get into this ask real quick! you all already know that in my mind, Keith is a quickie feen. An impatient one, if we're being exact.

it wasn't rare to be bent over or folded up in the most open of places.

Which is why you don't really think twice about being bent over right on the kitchen counter, plates and cups scattered around after what was supposed to be a 'quick midnight snack'.

You're gripping onto the counter for dear life, biting your lip raw as Keith slides in and out of you. Your bodies are loud, the wet sound of dewy, sweat-slicked skin slapping together as his hips drive into you over and over and over again, stuffing you full until your legs wobbled from the strain of trying to hold yourself in place.

Keith's trying to keep quiet, holding his shirt between his teeth and swallowing his own moans. He knew this was risky, he knew the both of you would never live it down if you got caught--but when your plush walls squeeze around his aching dick tighter, sucking him into your warmth with little to no resistence, he finds that he almost doesn't give a fuck who sees you.

almost

Footsteps and low murmur's way down the hall drag you out of your pleasure induced haze, your eyes widening in alarm as you turn back to look at Keith, panicked when he didn't relent, instead gripping your hips tighter and pulling you down to grind into you, his tip pressing into your nerves so deliciously you almost swallow your own tongue to conceal your sounds.

"Keith" you panted placing your hand on his abdomin, as far as you could reach to still his movements. "Someone's coming. stop."

a fun fact about the castle is that everything echoes. You can never really gauge how far someone is from you until they're right around the corner becaue the footsteps echo so loudly. A plus on those rare occasions where someone sneaks into the castle, but a negative when you're in a predicament such as this.

Keith leaned over you, so close his chest pressed up against your back. He nipped at your ear, his warm breath fanning over the side of your face in low pants. "do you really want me to?" he didn't move, but you could feel him inside. He was filling you so well, his body hot and pressed against yours..

you knew you should've said no. especially when the footsteps sounded a whole lot closer than they were a minute ago. But the less rational part of your brain (the horny part) was louder than your better judgement. You rolled your hips back into him, feeling like he's been standing still for too long. way too long.

"No" you whined, bouncing and gridning against his lap the best you could manage with his weight still on you. "Fuck it, just be quick."

famous last words.

Keith nipped the side of your neck in appreciation. his hips started up again, this time quicker in tempo almost as if he was making up for the precious seconds you both wasted trying to make up your minds. He reaches between your legs, stimulating you until you saw white, your legs shaking from the exlilerating shocks of pleasure shooting through your body, your stomach clenching with the effort of swallowing the wanton moans you so desperately want to release. You dont even get to bask in the afterglow before you see Hunk's silhouette just a step away from entering the kitchen.

Before the light flickered on, Keith quickly pulled your sleep shorts up, tucking himself hastily away in his pants. When the lights turned on, you looked a mess, Your hair dishevled and Keith's clothes crumpled and hanging off his body. Hunk regarded you with a brief look of confusion.

"why were you guys just sitting in the dark?" he mumbled, eyes barley open in a sleepy daze. "oh! we um..forgot to turn the lights back on?" "yeah..we just came in here just to get some water. " a lame excuse, but how else could you explain yourselves? "oh. okay.." Hunk didn't question you further, simply grabbing a glass from the counter and turning the lights off on his way out, quietly commenting about the mess and bidding you both goodnight. You let out a sigh of relief, turning towards Keith who wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. "let's go back to my room" he muttered against the crown of your head. "i'm not done yet."

horndog Keith for the win fuck all that shy shit

[jakescapes]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚜.

pairing: jake x reader (f)

synopsis: You were just a kid when the war took him from you. Your best friend, your first love, the boy who promised he’d never leave. He wrote you letters from boot camp, from the trenches, from a world falling apart. But then, the letters stopped. You didn’t know if he was lost, or if you were. And when the war finally ended, you stood at the docks, heart racing, searching every face… hoping he still remembered how to find you.

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: mentions of death, trauma, fighting in war, reader and jake don't see each other for a long time, mentions of masturbation, explicit smut, mdni!! (lmk if there's more)

author's note: just note that jake's and reader's pov changes pretty frequently later on in the story so don't get confused, kinda proofread, also i dont know anything abt military/army stuff i just tried to wing it, and the ending is kinda rushed but i hope it's not too bad, hope you enjoy!

wc: 18k+

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People say the world changed the moment the war began, but for you, the world only changed the day he got drafted.

The year was 1942, and the air smelled like warm bread, motor oil, and the bloom of spring. The world felt large, but not too large, not when you lived in a small town tucked between golden fields and slow rivers, where everything you needed fit into the corner diner, the library, and a boy named Jake.

Jake was the kind of boy who would hold your books even if you didn’t ask, who’d get flustered when your hands brushed, and who always insisted on walking you home even when you lived two blocks away. You’d grown up together, sandlot summers and homecoming dances, and somewhere between old treehouses and secret glances during homeroom, he’d become yours.

No one could separate you two.

Until the draft letter came.

He found out on a rainy Tuesday, a cruelly normal day. You’d just kissed goodbye after school, your cheeks flushed from the wind and love, when he saw the letter in the mailbox, his name on the front in unforgiving type. Jake didn’t speak for a long time, just held it like it was made of fire.

“They can’t take me away from you,” he finally whispered, clutching your hand like it was the last real thing he’d ever feel.

But they did.

You could feel the edge of something. Maybe it was in the way the air tasted too still, or the way he looked at you like he was memorizing your face. You wanted to believe you had more time.

“I leave in two weeks,” he said, barely audible.

The world tilted.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours.

It wasn’t enough.

You’d spent your whole life together, school dances, ice cream after exams, sneaking into drive in movies. He’d never been away for more than a weekend. You used to joke he was clingier than your little sister’s cat, and he’d grin and say, “Can you blame me?”

But now he was being ripped away.

You grabbed his hands, soaked and trembling, and pulled him to your chest. He buried his face into your shoulder like he was scared he’d fall apart if he let go. You didn’t cry, not yet. Not until that night, when you read the letter over and over until the words blurred.

He was yours. But now, the war wanted him too.

-

It was the kind of morning that would haunt you for the rest of your life, the kind that would burn itself into your memory so deep, it felt like you were still living it, even years later. The air was cold, but you didn’t even feel it. Your whole body was numb, frozen in the moment.

You stood at the edge of the dock, the sound of the waves crashing beneath you, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. The ship loomed before you, getting bigger with every second. The ticking of time felt like a countdown, and with every minute that passed, you could feel the distance growing between you.

Jake’s hand trembled in yours, and when he looked at you, his eyes were red, his face wet with the tears he’d been trying to hide. But you could see them now. You both could. You had no more strength to keep the tears inside, and neither did he.

“I’ll write,” he whispered, his voice cracking, but his words didn’t bring you any comfort. You could barely catch your breath as the tears welled up in your eyes. You wanted to believe him. You needed to.

“I know,” you choked out, but it was like the words came from someone else, someone who didn’t know what it was like to love him, someone who couldn’t imagine how empty your life would be without him.

He pulled you closer, his arms tight around you, and you buried your face in his chest, desperate to breathe him in, to feel him close, just one more time. “I’ll come back,” he said, but his voice cracked, and you could feel the doubt in the words. He wasn’t sure. Neither of you was sure.

Your hands gripped him harder, as though you could make him stay, as though you could stop this moment from slipping away. You looked up at him, your eyes swollen, your heart breaking in ways you couldn’t put into words.

But he pulled away slowly, his hand lingering in yours for a second longer, as though you both knew this was the last time you’d ever feel him so close. The first bell rang, sharp and final.

“No...” you gasped, shaking your head, not ready to let go. You couldn’t.

Jake swallowed hard, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I have to go,” he whispered. His voice was so broken, it felt like it was shattering with the words. “I don’t want to, but I have to.”

You tried to speak, but your voice caught in your throat, and before you knew it, you were crying harder than you ever had in your life. You clung to him, as though you could keep him here, just for a little longer. He kissed your forehead, soft and final, his lips trembling against your skin, and it felt like the last time you’d ever be able to hold him.

“I love you,” he said, his voice barely audible through his sobs.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your words swallowed by the weight of your grief.

But it didn’t matter. The ship’s horn blared, and Jake pulled away, his hands shaking as he wiped at his face. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his shoulders shook with every step he took toward the ship. You watched him go, wanting to scream, wanting to run after him and pull him back, but your legs felt like stone, and all you could do was watch him disappear into the crowd.

The distance between you grew with every step he took, until there was nothing left but the sound of the waves crashing against the dock, and the quiet, aching emptiness in your chest.

And you realized, then, that nothing would ever be the same.

-

Jake stood on the deck of the ship, gripping the cold steel railing with white knuckles, as the distance between him and you grew. He hadn’t been able to look back, not once. His feet felt like they were cemented in place, and the weight of the promise he’d made to you, the promise to return, was almost too much to bear. But he had no choice. He had to go. The draft letter had come. His name had been called, and like the others, he had no say in the matter. The war needed him, and there was nothing left to do but obey.

But as the ship pulled away, Jake’s chest tightened with a suffocating pressure. His mind was still caught in that moment on the dock, the look in your eyes, the way you held him, as if letting go would be the end of everything. He could still feel your trembling hands in his, the heat of your tears on his skin, the way you clung to him like he was your lifeline. And, damn it, he had to leave you. He had no choice.

He turned away from the edge of the ship, trying to focus on the men around him, trying to hear their jokes and talk. They were trying to distract themselves from what lay ahead. But all Jake could think of was your face, the way you had whispered your love as if it was a promise you weren’t sure you could keep. You hadn’t believed him when he said he would come back. And he couldn’t blame you.

Jake rubbed his face with both hands, trying to steady the tremor in his fingers. The first few hours on the ship were a blur of cold air, loud voices, and the constant rocking of the boat. But as night fell, the noise dimmed, and Jake found himself alone with his thoughts.

His mind kept returning to you, the way you’d kissed him goodbye, the way you’d held onto him like he was your whole world. You had always been his world, too. You guys spent your lives together, grew up side by side, and somewhere along the way, you’d fallen in love.

As he lay on his cot that night, staring up at the low, creaking ceiling, the weight of the empty space beside him felt unbearable. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was your face, eyes swollen from crying, lips trembling as you whispered your last “I love you.” And it tore him apart. He hadn’t wanted to leave you. Not like this. But what choice did he have?

He turned onto his side and buried his face in his pillow, as if that would drown out the noise in his head, the ache in his chest. His hands, which had been steady for so long, now shook uncontrollably as he thought of you. He wanted so badly to write you a letter, to tell you that he was going to try to come back, that he’d fight with everything he had to return to you. But how could he say that when part of him was unsure? How could he promise you something he wasn’t sure he could deliver?

-

The ship groaned as it met the dock, its hull grinding against the worn wooden beams like it, too, was exhausted from the journey. A sharp whistle cut through the early morning mist, jolting Jake upright. His boots hit the metal floor before his brain caught up.

“All right, boys! Off the boat!” someone barked from above deck.

Jake grabbed his duffel, heart pounding. The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible. Around him, men scrambled up the stairs, heavy footsteps echoing off steel walls. Some joked nervously, others were stone faced, eyes blank as if bracing for whatever came next. Jake pushed forward, chest tight, until sunlight hit his face, and then came everything else.

The dock swarmed with activity. Soldiers in pressed uniforms shouted orders over the roar of trucks and chattering voices. The scent of diesel, salt, and sweat mingled into something acrid and sharp. Jake scanned the crowd instinctively, as if he’d spot someone familiar, someone from home, but there were only strangers here. Uniforms and faces blurred together in a blur of khaki and fear.

A tall guy beside him exhaled deeply. “Well, this ain’t a vacation resort,” he muttered. He stuck out a hand. “Will. From Chicago.”

“Jake,” he replied, gripping his hand tightly.

Their small moment was interrupted by a voice blaring from a mounted speaker. “All new arrivals, fall in line to the left! Orientation in ten minutes!”

Jake followed the tide of soldiers through the bustle, past crates and barking sergeants, past others being loaded onto transport trucks. Dust coated his boots, his lips, his lungs. There was a crackling anxiety in the air, something too heavy to name.

The orientation tent was hotter than outside, crammed with sweaty bodies and nervous energy. A man with deep lines in his face and a chest full of medals stood in front of them, arms crossed. When he spoke, his voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Let me make one thing clear,” the officer said. “This is not camp. This is not school. This is war. Some of you think you’re invincible. That you’ll make it out untouched. I’m here to tell you—”

He paused, eyes hard. “You won’t.”

The room was dead silent.

“You will see things you won’t forget. You will lose people you care about. And the only way you’ll make it through is if you remember why you’re here. So dig deep. Find that reason. And hold onto it.”

Jake’s fists clenched at his sides. The weight of it all, where he was, what he’d signed up for, settled like a stone in his stomach.

The officer dismissed them with a gruff, "You’ve got ten minutes to find your cot and report back for uniform and weapons issue. Move."

Jake stepped out of the tent, blinking under the harsh sun. He felt sweat start to collect beneath the collar of his shirt. Around him, other men muttered to themselves or stared blankly ahead. He caught up with Will, the tall guy from Chicago.

"You ever shoot anything before?" Will asked, slinging his bag over one shoulder.

Jake shook his head. "A deer once. With my uncle. Didn’t feel good."

Will nodded slowly. "Yeah. That’s how you know you’re still human."

They found the row of cots assigned to their group, simple, metal framed things with rough sheets and a canvas bag of standard-issue gear at the foot. Jake sat on his thin mattress creaking beneath him, and glanced around the tent. The men beside him were all doing the same thing, taking in the space, the weight of what was ahead, and the deafening quiet of realizing there was no turning back.

That night, Jake lay flat on his back, staring up at the canvas roof of the tent. The stars outside were blotted out by clouds, but he knew they were there. Somewhere. Just like you.

-

Jake had expected the camp to be loud, but not like this. The clamor of boots pounding the dirt, men shouting orders, and the smell of sweat and metal assaulted his senses as soon as they disembarked. His stomach churned with nerves and dread, and he wondered if he’d ever feel like himself again.

This was it. The place where they’d strip away everything he was, everything he had ever known, and build something new. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for it, but it didn’t matter. The army had made it clear: he didn’t have a choice.

The first thing that hit him was the heat. It wasn’t just the dry, suffocating air that stuck to his skin; it was the intense weight of the place, the way it pressed down on him, making him feel smaller, weaker, like he was part of a machine rather than a person.

They were thrown into it immediately. No time for niceties or introductions. Just barked orders and forced routines. Push ups. Running. The air tasted like dust, and the sound of heavy feet slamming the ground echoed everywhere.

Jake didn’t have a problem with the physical stuff. He’d been athletic all his life, used to running through the heat, throwing footballs, climbing trees with you during his childhood, or running through fields with his friends. This wasn’t the same, though. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t for the simple joy of it. This was punishment, and there was no one to help him through it.

He didn’t know anyone at first. There were the usual faces, boys from other towns, some tough, some quiet, some who didn’t care about being there. They all wore the same uniform, but Jake could already see the differences. Some had an edge to them, like they’d been through things he couldn’t even imagine, while others were scared, out of their depth, with no idea how to adjust.

Jake had never felt like an outsider, but here, at camp, everything was different. There was a group of boys from a big city who had a way of talking, laughing, and carrying themselves that made Jake feel like a country kid with no clue. They’d been to bars. They’d been in fights. They’d done things Jake could never even imagine. But there were other boys too, quiet, like him, who were just trying to get through it.

At first, they didn’t say much to each other. No one had the energy for conversation. The brutal drills, the relentless push of the officers, and the constant exhaustion left no room for anything else. But slowly, Jake began to make connections. He wasn’t sure if it was just because they were all in the same miserable situation or if something deeper was happening, but he found himself gravitating toward a couple of the quieter boys. One of them was Will, the same boy from the boat ride in. Over time, he became one of Jake’s closest friends, the kind of person who didn’t speak often but always noticed when Jake needed grounding. He didn’t ask questions. He just understood the look in his eyes. They didn’t need to talk about home, about the life they had to leave behind, about the people they missed, because they both felt it. The absence. The distance. And it weighed on them all in different ways.

But it wasn’t just the quiet ones who stood out. There were a couple of boys who acted like they had nothing to lose. They were loud, reckless, and constantly boasting. They cracked jokes during drills, refused to take things seriously, and seemed to get off on making the other boys uncomfortable. They’d find any excuse to pick a fight, to throw a punch, to remind everyone that they were tough. It was like they were trying to prove they were better than everyone else. Jake had never understood that kind of attitude. He wasn’t here to make a name for himself. He was here because it was what he had to do. And he was going to get through it, even if it was hard as hell.

Jake missed you more than he cared to admit. The loneliness was unbearable, and it only got worse as the days stretched on. The first few weeks were a haze of physical exhaustion and mental torment. Every day, Jake fought to keep his emotions buried, but they kept coming back. Memories of you, of the life he left behind, of the love that felt so far away. The other boys might’ve been able to pretend they were tough, but Jake wasn’t that kind of guy. He wasn’t pretending. Every day, he fought just to hold onto the part of him that was still his, even though it was slipping away.

-

The mornings always hit like a punch to the gut. The bugle’s blare pierced through the air just before dawn.

“Up! Let’s move, boys! You want to sleep, go home!” one of the sergeants bellowed.

Jake groaned, dragging himself upright. His legs were sore. Hell, everything was sore.

“You alive over there?” Will muttered from the next cot, already pulling on his boots.

“Barely,” Jake grunted. “I think my spine left sometime around yesterday’s third mile.”

Will let out a low laugh. “Guess that means we’re getting stronger, huh?”

“Or broken,” Jake said under his breath.

Outside, the cold hit his skin like slaps. Lines were already forming, boots crunching over the frozen dirt. Another day, another round of drills meant to kill the softness in them.

“Let’s go, recruits! Obstacle course in ten!” came the shout.

Jake jogged beside Will across the field, his pack bouncing painfully against his back. Mud splashed up his legs as he dropped into the first crawl under barbed wire. Machine gun fire cracked overhead, blanks, but loud enough to remind them what they were training for.

“Keep your head down, pretty boy!” someone yelled behind them.

Jake grit his teeth, pushing forward.

Later, during a break, Jake sat on a rock, sweat cooling on his back.

“You doing okay?” Will asked quietly, passing him a canteen.

Jake took it, nodding. “Just tired.”

Will looked at him sideways. “That’s not all.”

They grew quieter as training pressed on. The days became a blur, early wakeups, forced marches, weapons drills, crawling through mud, eating whatever food they were thrown, collapsing into their bunks bone tired.

At night, Jake would lie still, eyes wide open, whispering your name like a prayer.

-

Camp was always full of noise. Shouting, training, the sounds of heavy boots scraping across the dirt. But today, it was something different. The loud guys, the ones who always seemed to make everything a joke, had gathered near the barracks, their voices cutting through the air like knives.

Jake had his back turned, pretending to be busy with something else, but he couldn't ignore the crude laughter that rang out. He heard one of the guys, Tony, he thought his name was, talking about some girl back home, his voice too loud, too arrogant.

"Man, when I get back home, I’m gonna take her out, mess around a little," Tony’s voice rang out. "She’ll be begging me to come back for more after I’m done with her."

A few others laughed, chiming in with their own stories. Jake’s jaw clenched. His fists tightened involuntarily at his sides. He knew what kind of talk they were capable of, but hearing it now, after everything, after leaving you behind... it hit differently.

He kept his head down, trying to ignore them, to pretend it didn’t hurt. But the words cut deep. He could still hear your voice in his head, your soft whispers, your love. And this... this was the complete opposite.

His face flushed with anger, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Will, who’d been sitting nearby and keeping half an eye on the exchange, leaned over to Jake. His voice was low and urgent.

“Hey, just ignore him, alright? He’s just running his mouth. Don’t give him what he wants.”

Jake didn’t answer, but his jaw twitched. Will could see it. The way Jake’s hands shook slightly, the way he kept clenching and unclenching his fists like he was trying to hold something back. “Jake,” Will said again, more firmly. “Come on, man. Not worth it.”

But then the tension shifted. He could sense someone was looking at him, and when he glanced up, it was one of the other guys, Rick, the one who liked to stir things up. Rick had caught him staring, and his lips curled into a smirk, like a predator who’d just found its prey.

"What’s your problem, pretty boy?" Rick taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "What, you don’t like hearing about how your girl’s probably waiting for you back home, huh? You think she’s gonna stay loyal while you’re off here playing soldier?"

Jake's fingers twitched. His heart pounded harder in his chest. He didn’t answer, but Rick kept going, egging him on.

Will straightened, already stepping forward, hand outstretched. “Alright, Rick. Back off. Don’t be a dick.”

But Rick ignored him. “What’s the matter? What you looking at me like that for?”

Jake's anger burned hotter, but he stayed silent, knowing if he said anything, it would only give him more fuel. But then he did something that crossed the line.

Jake kept a photo of you in his chest pocket, always. Folded once, then twice, tucked between his dog tags and his skin. Rick’s gaze dropped, just long enough to see the corner of it peeking out. Before Jake could react, Rick darted forward and snatched it.

“Rick, stop!” Will snapped, already reaching for the photo, but Rick had it in his hands now, holding it up like it was some prize.

"Ohhhh," Rick drawled, as his eyes locked on the photo. "Looks like we got ourselves a sweetheart over here." He waved it in front of Jake’s face, teasing him like it was some kind of joke.

Jake's heart stopped for a moment. He tried to snatch the photo out of Rick's hand, but Rick was faster, pulling it away and laughing as he waved it around like a trophy.

"You’re real sentimental, huh? You really think she’s still thinking about you? I bet she’s out there with another guy right now, probably giving him the same shit you were getting." Rick’s voice lowered, full of venom. "She’s probably fucking him right now while you’re stuck out here, pretending to be a man."

That was it. The words hit Jake like a punch to the gut. The image of you, of your kindness, of everything you meant to him... and now this piece of trash was talking about you like you were just some other girl?

Jake didn’t think. His fist shot out before he could stop it. 

Will shouted, “Jake, wait!” But it was too late.

Jake felt the satisfying thud of his knuckles connecting with Rick’s jaw, the sickening crack that followed, and then the satisfying silence that followed as Rick staggered back.

But it didn’t last long. Rick stumbled but recovered quickly, wiping his mouth and glaring at Jake like he was a threat.

"You fucking coward," Rick spat, his voice twisted in pain and rage. "You wanna fight, huh? Fine."

Before Jake could even brace himself, Rick lunged, swinging hard and catching Jake across the cheek with a blow that made his head snap sideways.

“Stop it!” Will shoved himself between them, trying to keep them apart. 

But it was like throwing yourself into a fire. The two of them were already in it, fists flying, shoulders slamming, boots scraping violently against the dirt. Jake’s anger carried him, fists moving on instinct, every punch fueled by the pain of being away from you, of hearing someone disrespect what he’d held onto for dear life.

“Jake, don’t—!” Will was trying to pull him back, even taking a few hits himself in the mess of flailing arms. “You’ll get thrown in for this!”

The rest of the boys egged them on, yelling and laughing, forming a loose, chaotic circle. Some were shouting for Rick, others for Jake, but none of them were actually trying to stop it.

Then: “Enough!”

A soldier’s voice, sharp and thunderous, cut through the noise.

Two officers stormed in. One grabbed Jake by the collar and yanked him back with force. Another shoved Rick down against a wall. The fight was over, just like that, left hanging in the air like smoke.

Rick was clutching his face, blood dripping from his busted lip. “That asshole started it,” he growled, voice full of spite as he pointed at Jake.

Will stepped forward, eyes burning. “Bullshit. He crossed the line. Jake didn’t start anything.”

But the officers weren’t listening. One of them turned on Jake with a cold glare. “I don’t care what he did. You threw the first punch. That’s on you.”

Jake didn’t say a word. He didn’t care. Not about the punishment. Not about the bruise already forming on his jaw. All he cared about was you, and protecting the one good thing he had left.

“Send him to the hole,” one of the soldiers snapped. “Solitary confinement. Let him cool off.”

Jake barely registered the walk there. Will tried to say something to him as they dragged him off, but Jake just gave him a faint shake of the head.

Jake was hauled off to a small, empty room, the door slamming shut behind him with a deafening finality. The darkness of the room felt like it pressed down on him, but he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t going to regret it.

His hand throbbed from the punch, his cheek swollen and bruised. But he didn’t care. No one was going to talk about you like that, no one.

And when the pain finally settled, the coldness of solitary confinement became his only companion. 

The hole was exactly what it sounded like, cold, dark, and hollow. No light came in except for the thin crack under the door, just enough to remind Jake he wasn’t blind, only buried. The air smelled like damp earth and metal, and the walls were so close it felt like they might close in and crush him if he breathed too hard.

He sat on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, one arm cradling his throbbing hand. His knuckles were split and raw, but the sting didn’t bother him. Not really. It was the silence that got to him, the kind that let his thoughts grow too loud.

He kept seeing your face.

Not the picture, the real thing. The way your brows would furrow when you were thinking too hard, the way your mouth tilted when you were trying not to smile. He remembered how you looked the last time he held you, forehead pressed to his chest, hands clutching at his uniform like they could stop time. God, he missed you.

Jake clenched his jaw, leaning his head back against the wall. He didn’t regret hitting Rick. He’d do it again—hell, harder—if it meant shutting him up. No one was allowed to talk about you like that. No one got to twist something so sacred into something ugly. You weren’t some girl. You were his girl. The only thing that still felt pure in a world that was turning to ash around him.

He pulled the now crumpled photo from his pocket. He’d managed to grab it off the ground just before they dragged him off. It was smudged, bent at the corners, but your smile was still there. Soft, honest. Like a light.

Jake swallowed hard. He ran his thumb gently over the edge of the paper, like he was afraid of hurting it any more than it already was.

This doesn’t break me, he thought to himself. 

Because you were the reason he was still trying. Through the yelling, the exhaustion, the fear. You were the thread pulling him forward. Not duty. Not pride. You.

He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes.

He could still feel your hands in his, your lips against his cheek, the sound of your voice when you whispered I love you like it was something fragile. And here, in the silence, in the cold, surrounded by shadows and concrete, Jake clung to that memory like it was the last real thing he had.

Because maybe it was.

- 

Training was getting more brutal.

Jake had expected it to be tough. He expected the early mornings and the yelling, the endless drills that left his muscles burning and his stomach aching. But what he hadn’t expected was how fast everything would start to feel mechanical. Wake up, march, run, shoot, repeat. No time to think. No room to feel. Just orders and obedience and the constant hum of tension in the air.

He learned quickly, though. Too quickly, maybe. His body adjusted before his mind did. His hands got steadier with a rifle, his shoulders stronger with the weight of a pack. He stopped flinching at the sound of gunfire. And when the sergeant barked commands, Jake moved without hesitation. Focused. Determined. Like every bullet he fired was another step closer to coming home.

Still, there were moments. Brief, quiet ones, where the monotony would break. Like during marksmanship training, when they’d all lie flat in the dirt, eyes locked on the targets downrange. Jake’s breathing would slow, his heartbeat syncing with the steady rise and fall of his chest. And for a second, it was just him, the trigger, and a single thought whispering through his mind:

Get back to her.

But not everyone took it that seriously.

There were guys who cracked jokes every chance they got, who didn’t take anything seriously unless it came with a threat of extra laps. And then there were the ones who watched the officers, especially the female ones, with a hunger in their eyes that made Jake sick.

That was how it started.

Jake sat on an overturned crate in the shade, a tin of lukewarm beans in his lap, half listening to the guys around him swap stories back home and bets on who’d drop out of training first. The midday sun beat down hard, and his uniform clung to him with sweat. He was exhausted, sore, but grateful for the momentary break. 

He didn’t notice her until he felt her hands.

Cool fingers slid over his shoulders, smoothing over the muscle like she was inspecting him. Her touch was slow, deliberate, too deliberate, and Jake stiffened instantly. The voices around him fell into a hush.

“Well, look at you,” came her voice, soft and close, brushing the shell of his ear. “Didn’t take you for the quiet type, Jake.”

His name, spoken like silk, made his jaw clench. He didn’t turn around, just stayed perfectly still as her hands ghosted down his arms.

“Lieutenant Calloway,” one of the guys greeted her with a grin, nudging another with his elbow. “You’re interrupting our best shot. You know he ranked top three in marksmanship this week?”

Calloway was one of the few women stationed near the front of training, a combat specialist with a reputation for being both ruthless and flirtatious, depending on who you asked. She carried herself like she owned every room she walked into, with a smirk that could cut and boots that clicked with authority. Rumor was, she’d taken down three grown men in hand to hand combat during a drill once. Still, her eyes often lingered where they shouldn’t, and lately, those eyes had been on Jake.

“Oh, I know,” she purred, still behind Jake, bending slightly so her breath touched the back of his neck. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him.”

The guys laughed. One of them whistled. “Damn, Jake’s pulling!” someone snorted.

Lieutenant Calloway finally moved into view, circling in front of him, her sharp uniform pressed tight against her frame, her lip gloss catching the sun. She leaned down just enough to be eye level with Jake, her gaze smoldering with something that made his stomach twist, not with desire, but discomfort.

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately,” she said, her voice lower now, more intimate. “Anything... distracting you?”

Jake’s eyes flicked away, a subtle, defensive move that only made the other guys lean in more.

“He’s got a girl,” someone said with a laugh, jabbing a thumb at the barely there corner of your photo sticking out of his pocket. “Real pretty one too. Right, Jake?”

The lieutenant’s head tilted, and her expression darkened with curiosity. “Oh?” she said, dragging out the word. Her gaze dropped to the pocket. “Is that true?”

Jake didn’t answer right away, just reached down and tucked the photo back in gently, protectively.

“Yeah,” he muttered, finally. “It’s true.”

For a second, something unreadable passed over her face. Surprise. Annoyance. Maybe even something more. But then she smiled again, lazy and confident, and crouched slightly, her fingers brushing Jake’s knee.

“Well,” she said smoothly, “she’s not here, is she?”

The boys hooted and hollered, eating up the scene like it was their evening show.

Jake’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. Cold. Unmoving. He didn’t yell. Didn’t curse. Just gave her a quiet look that said more than words could.

She stood up slowly, lips curling with amusement. “You let me know if you change your mind,” she said, then turned on her heel and walked away, hips swaying as she left.

The second she was gone, the guys erupted.

“Bro, what are you doing?”

“You have to be the dumbest man alive.”

“She basically threw herself at you!”

Jake didn’t say anything. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the tin of beans aside. His shoulders were tense, his chest heavy. But his hand found its way to your photo again, pressing it flat like it grounded him.

They didn’t get it. They wouldn’t.

You were real.

And no matter how many people looked at him like he was crazy for saying no, he didn’t care.

After mess, he slipped away, brushing off the guys with a half hearted excuse, and wandered alone to the edge of camp. His boots crunched against the dry dirt path, the sun pressing hot against the back of his neck. That woman, Lieutenant Calloway, still lingered in his mind, not because of her touch or the way her breath had tickled his skin, but because it reminded him of how far from home he truly was. Nothing about her, or any of this, compared to you.

Then he saw the mail truck pulling in through the front gates, slower than usual, kicking up a tired cloud of dust behind it. The guys back near the tents hollered and sprinted over, hopeful as always. Jake didn’t move at first. Mail call had become more of a letdown than anything. Letters took ages to arrive. They had to pass through military censors, often rerouted or delayed by transport issues, especially if they were coming from overseas. A note sent in good faith could take three, sometimes even four weeks to arrive.

Still, something nudged him forward.

And then someone called his name.

He turned just as a corporal tossed a thin, slightly wrinkled envelope toward him. Jake caught it mid air. One look at the handwriting and his heart stopped.

Your name sat in the top left corner, familiar and soft, the ink slightly smudged but still entirely you. The curl in your letters was the same as always, just a little flourish that made his throat tighten. His hands trembled as he tore it open, careful not to rip the precious paper inside.

The letter was three pages long, folded neatly but creased like you’d smoothed it over a few times before slipping it into the envelope. The paper smelled faintly like lavender, or maybe that was just his memory playing tricks on him.

There was a faint lipstick mark near the bottom of the last page. Your shade, he’d recognize it anywhere. You’d kissed the letter before sealing it, and Jake’s breath caught when he noticed it. His thumb brushed over the mark like it was made of gold. 

The noise of the camp faded as he read.

Jake,

I don’t even know where to begin. Everything feels a little quieter without you. The diner’s been too still, and I swear even the stars look lonelier these days. I still walk past your house out of habit, half expecting to see you sitting on the porch with that dumb smile, waiting for me like you always did.

I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts in places I didn’t know could ache.

Jake swallowed hard, his fingers curling tighter around the page. He could almost hear your voice reading the words aloud, soft and sincere.

Things here are the same and not the same. The seasons are changing. I picked flowers yesterday and thought about how you used to tuck daisies into my hair. I still wear that little bracelet you gave me, you know the one that barely fits. I never take it off. It makes me feel close to you, even when you’re on the other side of the world.

Everyone says I should be strong, and I am. I really am. But I have days where I just want you to walk through the door and say this was all a mistake. I know you can’t. I know why you had to go. But that doesn’t make it easier.

Write me when you can. I’ll wait for however long it takes. Just knowing you’re out there, thinking of me too, is enough to get me through.

Be safe. Be smart. Come back to me.

I love you.

—Y/n.

Jake stared at the final line for what felt like forever.

“I love you.”

He read it over and over, the words blurring until his eyes stung. Something inside him cracked open. Not the loud kind of break, just quiet and slow, like melting ice. His chest ached, but not in the empty, lonely way it had before. This was different.

This was hope.

He pressed the letter to his lips, then folded it back into its envelope like it was something holy.

For the first time since he arrived, Jake felt something close to whole.

Each word wrapped around him like a blanket, a tether pulling him back to who he was before the war, before the draft letter, before the distance. It was you. Your voice, your rhythm, your little comments and worries and stubborn hope. He read it once, then again, slower the second time, and again after that.

And for the first time in days, he let himself exhale.

-

The days felt longer now.

Not just in the way time drags when you’re waiting for something, but in the way silence settles into the spaces someone used to fill. The town looked the same. Same dusty roads, same buzz of the diner’s neon sign, same breeze rustling through the wheat fields, but it all felt off. Like the world was continuing on without noticing the hole he left behind.

You still walked the path to school, passed the bench you two always sat on, and caught yourself turning your head at every tall figure in the distance. You knew it wasn’t Jake. It never was. But the hope didn’t care.

Sometimes, when the wind was just right, you swore you could hear his laugh echo across the street.

You kept in touch with his family. His mom had you over for tea on Sundays. She’d set out two cups every time, like muscle memory, then hesitate before putting one back. Neither of you talked about it.

His dad would give you these half smiles, like he wanted to say something comforting but couldn’t find the words. So you’d sit in the living room, watching old reruns on a grainy TV, and pretend for a little while that things were normal.

You still wrote to Jake every week.

You filled pages with silly stories from school, updates on your little sister, thoughts you didn’t say out loud. You told him you were okay, because you were trying to be, but you also told him the truth. That you missed him. That his absence wasn’t just a space, it was a weight.

And every day, you checked the mailbox. Every day, you opened it with shaking hands. And every day, for weeks, there was nothing.

Until there was.

It came on a Thursday. The sky was cloudy, and you were already halfway back to the house when you decided to check one more time. The envelope was smudged, creased from its journey, and your name was written in Jake’s handwriting, sharp, messy, unmistakably his.

You stood frozen on the porch, staring down at it like it might vanish if you blinked. Then your hands moved, tearing the seal open with more care than you thought you were capable of.

Inside was his letter. His words.

Hey you,

I got your letter. I must’ve read it ten times before I could even breathe. I can’t explain what it meant to me, having a piece of home, of you, in my hands. Everything here’s rough. The days blur. The nights are worse. But reading your words felt like someone lit a fire in a frozen room. It reminded me why I’m still standing.

Training is brutal. It’s early mornings and yelling and dirt that never really leaves your skin. My body’s sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. They drill us until we can barely think straight. Running laps, crawling through mud, learning how to shoot like machines. I’m getting better though. I ranked third in marksmanship last week. The other guys were joking I’ve got a sniper’s eye. It’s kinda funny. I kept thinking about how you always teased me for being good at carnival games. Guess that skill’s coming in handy.

Some of the guys here are decent. Some remind me of the boys back home. Quiet, serious, scared under the tough talk. But others, they’re different. Loud. Crude. Like they’ve buried whatever soft parts they had a long time ago.

Then there’s Will. He’s one of the good ones. We’ve become close over the past few weeks. He doesn’t talk much about home, but when he does, I can tell he’s carrying something heavy. I guess we all are.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I’m not alone out here. There’s still good in this place, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re eating well. I hope the stars still look the same at night, and that sometimes you think of me when you see them.

I think of you constantly. I miss you more than words can stretch.

I love you.

Always,

Jake

You pressed your hand to your mouth, breath catching in your throat. Tears welled in your eyes, but you let them fall.

Because this… this was everything.

He was alive. He missed you. And he was still yours.

That night, you laid in bed. It was late.

The kind of late where the world outside your window felt hushed, paused somewhere between midnight and morning. The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting pale light across your room in silver streaks. The sheets tangled around your legs like vines as you lay on your side, wide awake, staring at the place on the pillow Jake used to rest his head when he would visit your room.

You reached out, almost instinctively, your fingers brushing the empty space.

God, you missed him.

It was more than just the way he looked or sounded, it was the way he made you feel. Safe. Warm. Like the chaos of the world quieted when he wrapped his arms around you and whispered nonsense into your hair. The scent of him still lingered faintly on the old sweatshirt you wore, though it had faded weeks ago.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall the exact feeling of his fingertips tracing your spine. The warmth of his breath on your neck. The way his voice dipped low when he said your name like it was something sacred.

Your body responded before you could stop it, heat blooming slowly beneath your skin, low in your belly, in that place where only he knew how to touch you right. You exhaled shakily, the ache of distance crawling into your chest.

It wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just want, it was need. A hunger for closeness. For his voice in your ear, murmuring soft promises. For his hands on your waist, grounding you. For the press of his lips against yours, slow and reverent like he had nowhere else to be.

Your thighs shifted under the covers, the ache growing deeper now. A dull, desperate kind of longing that pulsed through you like a secret.

You bit your bottom lip.

It was moments like this, alone, in the dark, with only memories and echoes, that made the distance feel like a thousand miles too far.

You clutched the pillow tighter, whispering his name like a prayer, like maybe the stars would carry it to him somehow. Maybe he was lying in his cot halfway across the world, thinking of you too. Maybe his hands ached to hold you just as badly.

You squeezed your thighs close together.

“I miss you,” you whispered, voice catching in your throat.

And in the silence, your heart thudded softly beneath your ribs, slow, steady, full of him.

- 

The sky was thick with smoke.

Jake ducked low behind a crumbled stone wall, his helmet knocked sideways, his chest heaving like it couldn’t figure out whether to breathe or break. Dirt and blood streaked down his arms. His rifle trembled in his grip, his knuckles pale around the metal.

Gunfire cracked like thunder, sharp, relentless, too close.

“Move up! MOVE!” someone screamed, but the voice was distant, like it came through a tunnel.

Jake didn’t move.

His boots were stuck in mud and fear, his ears ringing from the explosion that had just gone off less than a few yards away. When he turned his head, he saw the body of Mark lying still, his eyes open, but vacant. Just a second ago, he was laughing at a dumb joke someone made. Now… now he wasn’t laughing.

Jake blinked.

He wasn’t supposed to freeze. He wasn’t supposed to feel this paralyzed. He was trained for this. They’d drilled it into him for months, how to fire, how to move, how to think like a soldier. But nothing, nothing, prepared him for the way it felt to watch someone die with your name still on their lips.

He scrambled forward, heart pounding against his ribs like it wanted out. Dust and ash flew into his mouth as he threw himself behind a truck riddled with bullet holes. Across the clearing, he caught sight of Will, his face covered in blood, one arm hanging useless, but alive. Barely.

“JAKE!” Will bellowed. “GO! GO!”

He ran.

Bullets zipped past him like angry bees, ripping through bark and canvas and bone. He slipped once, fell into a ditch, his hands digging into gravel and soaked earth as he scrambled back to his feet. His lungs burned. His vision blurred.

Focus. Keep moving. Don’t think. Don’t feel.

But he did. He felt everything.

Every scream, every blast, every inch of fear that slithered down his spine like cold water. His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat as he caught glimpses of fallen bodies, people he knew. People he didn’t. Blood pooled like rainwater.

He wanted to scream. To cry. To run. But he didn’t.

He fired when he had to. He dragged a boy to cover, barely fifteen, sobbing and clutching his leg. He shouted for help. He crawled through dust and heat and deafening noise, because there was no other choice.

Jake slammed his back against a wall, breathing ragged. He didn’t know how much longer this fight would last. Minutes? Hours? Days?

But if he made it out—when he made it out, it would be for you.

...

The roar of battle had dulled into something distant, muted like an old radio, static and fading. Jake’s ears still rang. His fingers twitched occasionally, even though the fighting had stopped.

He sat on a cot in the field medic station, shirt torn at the shoulder and caked with dried blood, his own, mostly. A long graze cut across his ribs, stitched quickly and sloppily by a medic whose hands had seen too much today. His knee was bandaged too, sprained from diving into cover. Nothing fatal. Nothing serious. Not like the others.

The cot across from him was empty now.

Will had been taken away an hour ago, still breathing, thank God, but barely conscious. Some of the others hadn’t been so lucky. Names Jake had memorized in the span of weeks were now reduced to still forms wrapped in canvas and zipped up.

He pressed a hand over your new letter that came in this morning, soft and worn from rereading. He didn’t need to open it again. Every word was already burned into his memory:

Jake,

The leaves are starting to fall. Not in bursts, just a few here and there, orange and gold drifting past the window like they forgot where they were going. I think you'd like it today. The air's got that crisp edge you used to say made everything feel cleaner.

I went by the lake yesterday. Sat on the old dock with my feet dangling above the water like we used to. It was quiet. Still. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine your hand in mine. I remembered the way you used to rub circles into my palm with your thumb, like you were tracing something only you could see.

I talk to your mom sometimes. She makes me tea and tells me stories about you when you were little, like how you used to sleep with your shoes on in case someone called you to play. I laughed until I cried. Mostly cried, if I’m being honest.

The nights are the hardest. The world gets too quiet and my thoughts get too loud. I fall asleep with your letters next to my pillow. Sometimes I dream about you, sometimes I don’t. The nights I don’t feel the loneliest.

I miss the way you used to look at me like I was the whole sky. When there was no war, no distance, just you and me and everything we hadn't done yet.

I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re warm. I hope you’re still you. 

You promised me you’d come back. Don’t make me wait too long.

I love you.

—Y/n

Jake closed his eyes and swallowed hard. That lump had returned to his throat again, stubborn and heavy. He reached for the pencil beside his cot, pulling a new sheet of paper from the medic’s table nearby. The tent buzzed with low voices, moans of pain, the shuffle of boots. But all Jake heard was you.

And so, he wrote.

Y/n,

I made it through another one. Barely. We lost a lot of good men today. Faces I used to eat beside, laugh with, sleep next to. But I’m still breathing, and I think that counts for something. A bullet skimmed my ribs and twisted my knee up, but I’ll heal. I’m one of the lucky ones.

They’re transferring me tomorrow. Another station. New faces, new dirt, new nightmares. But I’ll go. Because I have to.

You’d laugh if you saw the food they tried to give us here. It’s worse than anything I ever made you try back home. I miss your cooking. I’d kill for your burnt toast. I miss you, Y/n. More than I know how to say without sounding broken.

You keep me whole. Every word you write, every memory I’ve tucked into the folds of my mind, it keeps me fighting. Don’t stop writing. Please. And don’t stop waiting. 

Love you more.

—Jake

He folded the letter, pressed it gently against his lips before sealing it.

Then, leaning back on the cot, with the noise of the wounded swirling around him and the weight of war pressing down on his chest, Jake let himself close his eyes.

For a moment, he let himself dream of home. Of you

-

The rain came down hard that night, pounding on the tin rooftops of the barracks like it had a bone to pick. Jake sat on his cot, half wrapped in his blanket, boots still on, staring at the wall. Seven weeks. Seven full weeks and no letter.

He rubbed the back of his neck, jaw tight. Maybe the post just hadn’t come. Maybe the storm held things up. Maybe you were just busy, but he didn’t want to believe that. He couldn’t. He had written you three times since the last reply. Poured his heart into every word. Told you about the move, the injury that barely missed his ribs, the kid he helped drag out of a crater. And still… nothing back.

He didn’t know that somewhere, hundreds of miles away, your letter had arrived. That it had sat, neatly sealed, your name scrawled in the corner in a worn canvas mailbag.

He didn’t know that Corporal Henry, the quiet post officer with a crooked smile and a lisp, had volunteered to take the night route through the woods when the roads were blocked. He always made sure the mail got through, rain or shine, even if it meant sleeping in the jeep or sneaking past checkpoints. He took pride in it. Called himself "Cupid in combat boots."

Jake didn’t know that the truck never made it. That the convoy got hit on a narrow bend three miles from the base. That Henry was gone. Just gone. And with him, every envelope meant to tether a soldier back to the world that still held warmth and softness.

And Jake didn’t know that your letter, your four pages, your lipstick kiss, your hopeful heart, was buried in mud and soot somewhere in a shattered mail sack, never to reach him.

He sat there, jaw clenched, turning a pencil between his fingers.

"Still nothing?" John asked from the bunk across, a new recruit like Jake, still adjusting to the rhythm of camp life.

“Haven’t heard back in weeks,” Jake said softly. “Feels like I’m writing to a ghost.”

John was quiet for a moment. Then: “I know the feeling.”

Jake glanced at him.

“Lost touch with my sister,” he added. “Mail’s been messed up since we got here. Whole platoon’s grumbling.”

Jake’s fingers tightened around the paper. “She’s all I think about. I don’t even recognize myself anymore without her.”

“You’re not alone, Jake,” he said, voice low. “None of us are.”

It helped. A little.

But he still couldn’t help but wonder if you’d given up on him.

The knot in his chest hadn’t untied in weeks. He kept a stack of letters by his bed, corners curled from being opened and reread until the words blurred. Not one of them were new.

Another month passed.

Another month of checking the mail line every morning, his breath catching when the officer called names that weren’t his. Another month of carrying a letter opener in his pocket like a good luck charm, like maybe it’d finally be needed.

But it never was.

Jake had written to you endlessly. At first, he told you everything, what the food was like, the training drills, the way the other boys bickered over card games and who had the best aim. He wrote about John, how they’d become fast friends, how they’d both miss home. He even told you about the way the sunsets looked on the horizon here, hazy and red, bleeding into the sky like fire and smoke.

But now?

Now the letters were different. Shorter. Uneven. Scratched out and rewritten, sometimes crumpled and rewritten again.

They stopped talking about the world around him and started focusing on only one thing.

"Why haven’t I heard from you?"

"Please, Y/n, please write back."

"Did something happen? Did I say something wrong?"

"I’m losing my mind without you."

"I can’t do this if I don’t know you’re still there."

He stared at his latest letter, fingers trembling slightly as he folded it with aching care, the way you used to fold your notes back in school. He kissed the edge of the envelope, just in case. Just in case it reached you. Just in case you still remembered him.

The panic gnawed at his insides now, eating away what little calm he’d scraped together in the past few months. His bunk didn’t feel like a place to sleep anymore. It felt like a cage. Nights bled into mornings without rest. The air felt thinner.

He checked every face that came through camp, just in case they carried news. He began to feel like a ghost among the living, drifting, waiting, hoping. Hoping for ink. Hoping for your handwriting. Hoping for anything that meant you hadn’t vanished from his world without a word.

Jake still kept your photo in his pocket. Still kissed the lipstick print you’d left on your last letter. But the memory of your voice had started to fade. He hated himself for that.

And still, he wrote. And begged. And waited.

And waited.

-

It’s been three months, maybe four, and not a single letter. You still check the mailbox every day, hoping to see his handwriting, that familiar scrawl that would make your heart race. But every time, it’s the same: bills, junk mail, nothing from Jake.

And with every empty envelope, the silence grows heavier.

You can still hear his voice in the back of your mind, though it’s fading. The sound of his laugh, the way he’d say your name like it was something special. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled at you. All those little things are slipping away, no matter how hard you try to hold onto them.

You tried calling his parents, hoping they’d know something. But there was no answer. You left a message, but no one called back. It’s as if he’s just vanished, leaving you with nothing but uncertainty.

Everything feels off now. The world looks the same, but it’s different. The colors are duller, and the quiet seems louder. The diner still smells the same, coffee and greasy fryers, but it doesn’t taste right anymore. You can’t even remember the last time you laughed, the last time it felt real. It’s like the joy you used to find in the small things has been drained, and you’re left grasping at something that’s no longer there.

You still wear his jacket sometimes. It’s too big for you now, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, the collar too high, but it still smells like him. When you pull it on, it’s the closest thing you can get to a hug from him. A reminder of what was. A piece of him you can still hold onto, even if it’s just fabric.

Every day, you keep writing. Hoping that somehow, someway, your letters are getting to him. You write about your days, about the small things you miss. You write about how everything feels so empty without him. But as the days go on, your letters change. They go from hopeful, to desperate.

"Please, Jake. Where are you?"

"I miss you. I miss your laugh, your voice, the way you always knew what to say."

"Just write me back. Please. Tell me you’re okay. I need to know you’re okay."

"I can’t do this without you. Don’t leave me hanging."

You don’t know where he is, don’t know what’s happening to him. And with every unanswered letter, that fear in your chest grows. You just couldn’t shake the fear that maybe… maybe something had happened. Maybe the war had taken him, too.

You look at the last letter you sent. You set it down carefully, as if it might somehow feel your pain if you handle it too roughly. Your fingers shake, and you can’t stop them. You press your palm against the paper, as if holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll read it and write back.

But it’s been weeks. It’s been months. And you wonder: will you ever hear from him again?

You stand by the window, staring out at the stars. They’re the same as they’ve always been, yet tonight, they feel farther away, as if they, too, are lost in the emptiness that fills your life without him.

-

One year.

It had been an entire year since you last heard from Jake. One year of silence. One year of waiting, hoping, begging the world to give him back. And now, everyone in town had started to look at you with that same tired sympathy, soft eyes, tilted heads, gentle voices like you were some fragile thing they were all waiting to see crack.

They didn’t say it outright. Not all of them. But it was in their voices, in their words, in the way they talked about him like he was a ghost.

“He was a good boy,” they’d say, past tense like a dagger.

“He loved you so much.”

“You were lucky to have him.”

And the worst one: “You’re so strong.”

Strong. As if pretending you weren’t still breaking every single day was strength. As if smiling when someone brought up his name wasn’t a full body effort. As if going through the motions, pretending to exist without him, counted as bravery.

They didn’t get it. None of them did.

Because Jake wasn’t dead.                                                                                                            He wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

You would know. You’d feel it. There’d be a shift in the universe, a hollow space inside you that would open up and never close again. But it wasn’t like that. Not yet. There was still something inside you that swore he was out there, somewhere, still breathing. Maybe writing you a letter right now. Maybe just lost. But not gone. Not really.

School was harder now. You sat in math class, staring blankly at the board, your pencil still. Jake used to help you with this stuff. He was great at it. You remembered your messy notebooks and him making stupid jokes about x being too dramatic for always needing to be found.

And then there were the art projects. He hated them. “I can’t draw a straight line, Y/n,” he’d groan, handing you his supplies with those puppy eyes. “Please, you’re the artistic genius here. Help me, and I’ll owe you my soul.”

You always caved.

You missed those days. The simplicity. The noise of his laugh in the hallway. The way he used to tap his pencil when he was thinking. The way he’d scribble your name in the margins of his notebook when he thought you weren’t looking.

You walked home slower now. You talked less. You smiled like it was a chore.

But every night, you still wrote letters. You didn’t care how foolish it made you seem. You wrote as if he’d answer. You folded them and tucked them into the little wooden box by your window. If he came back, they’d be waiting.

He promised he’d come back. You were still waiting.

-

Jake hadn’t gotten a letter in nearly a year.

At first, he made excuses. Maybe the mail was slow. Maybe the war effort was rerouting things. Maybe… maybe you were just busy. Life didn’t stop back home. He knew that. But as the weeks turned to months, the silence grew louder than the gunfire.

He stopped checking the post with that same flicker of hope. Now he barely looked. John still asked sometimes—“Maybe today?”—but Jake only shook his head, teeth clenched like that would keep the ache down. He didn’t have it in him to keep pretending anymore.

You were probably gone. Moved on. Found someone else. Someone safe. Someone who didn’t write from battlefields soaked in blood and slept on dirt floors next to dying boys.

He didn’t blame you. He couldn’t. You deserved warmth. You deserved flowers and steady hands, not shaking ones that still smelled like gunpowder.

But even now, despite the silence, the ache, the anger, Jake still thought about you. Constantly. He’d stare at the sky during night shifts, eyes tracking stars like they might carry your name. He’d trace the folded crease of your photo until the paper started to wear thin. And when he was crouched low in a trench, bullets screaming overhead and friends crying out beside him, the only thing that ever kept his heart from crumbling was you.

You. Always you.

You were his only calm. The only part of him not swallowed by this nightmare.

And at night, when the cold was too deep and his body trembled from something more than weather, his mind slipped. He’d dream of you, soft skin, warm breath, the way you’d press your nose against his cheek when you hugged him tight.

He’d bite his lip, trying to contain his whimpers as he stroked himself sloppily, wondering if that’s how you would probably do it. He’d whine quietly as he would speed up, dreaming of your body, and what laid in between your legs, wanting so badly to get just one look at it.

Sometimes he’d wake up breathless, heart racing, his body burning with want. It wasn’t just lust. It was desperation. The need to feel human again. To feel close to you, even if it was only in his head.

But when it happened, when he would finally finish and come back to himself, skin damp, breath shaky, he’d bury his face in his hands and curse. Not out loud. Just quiet, ashamed. Because he felt guilty for wanting that kind of closeness with someone who might not even be his anymore.

Still, the memory of your touch haunted him. And in the middle of war, that haunting was the only thing keeping him alive.

Even if you never wrote back, even if he never saw your face again... You were his world.

-

Jake had never really considered the fact that, after he got drafted, the war might actually end. Back then, it felt like being pulled into a storm you didn’t come back from. He didn’t think that far ahead, none of them did. There was no point in imagining a future when every day could be your last. You lived in minutes, in footsteps, in the space between orders.

But now, after more than two years of blood, dirt, and death… it was finally coming to an end.

The winds, though still sharp with the bite of lingering winter, carried with them a sense of possibility. Hope. The faint scent of spring began to trickle through the icy silence, whispering that the end was within reach. But with that hope came an overwhelming sense of dread. Because the cost of victory, the price of it, was something none of them were ready to face.

Jake stood at the edge of the makeshift trench, his eyes scanning the foggy horizon. His heart hammered in his chest, and the familiar weight of his rifle felt like both a lifeline and a burden. He was scared, more scared than he'd ever been, but not of dying. No. What scared him was the thought of not getting to say goodbye. Of not getting to feel your touch again, to hear your voice, to know that he'd fought this battle and come home for you.

"You okay, man?" John’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. He’d become a brother to Jake over the past months, and his calm presence always seemed to ground him.

Jake didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just nodded, offering him a tight smile. "Yeah. Just thinking."

John didn’t push him. Instead, he leaned against the sandbag, rifle in hand, eyes narrowing as he peered out into the distance. "This is it, huh?" he said softly. "The last push."

Jake’s throat tightened, but he didn’t trust his voice to say anything. So, he simply nodded again. The battle, the war, it all came down to this moment. If they won, if they made it through today, they could finally go home. But there were no guarantees. No promises. Only the brutal, unforgiving reality of war.

The sounds of the camp had shifted. Men were preparing, tightening gear, checking weapons, exchanging quiet words of encouragement. The silence that hung between the chaos was thick with anticipation. Every soldier knew this could be the end. But there were also the soldiers who knew, deep down, that this might not be the last battle they fought.

"We go out there, we give it everything," John said, clapping Jake on the shoulder. "We make sure we win. For everyone back home."

Jake swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling deep within him. For everyone back home. For you. He wasn’t going to die here. He couldn’t.

The sound of a whistle broke the tense silence. It was time.

The soldiers rushed into position, the rhythmic thud of boots on the frozen earth shaking the ground beneath them. The officers shouted commands, their voices lost in the chaos of the battlefield. Jake’s heart pounded in his ears as he joined the line, rifle raised and ready.

And then it was upon them. The deafening roar of gunfire, the cries of soldiers, the flash of explosions lighting up the sky. Jake felt the ground tremble as the battle unfolded before him, but he didn’t flinch. His eyes were fixed on the mission. On the goal. The only thing that mattered now was victory.

He pushed through the smoke and chaos, John by his side. They didn’t need to speak. They didn’t need to look at each other. Their movements were instinctive, trained to perfection. Enemy soldiers fell, and each shot, each pull of the trigger, brought them one step closer to home. To you.

But the battle wasn’t over yet. It raged on, wave after wave of relentless fire. The world around him was a blur of gunfire and screams. He kept his head down, focused, but every so often his mind would flash back to you, the way your laugh echoed in his ears, the warmth of your touch. Those thoughts, those memories, were the fuel he needed. The reason he kept going.

"Jake!" John’s voice cut through the noise, and Jake turned just in time to see his friend take a bullet to the shoulder, falling back with a grunt of pain. "John!" Jake shouted, diving to his side to help him up.

"I'm good," he grunted, waving him off, though his face was pale. "Keep going! We’re almost there!"

But Jake hesitated. He wanted to stay with him, to make sure he was okay. But the moment was fleeting, and he knew John wouldn’t want him to stop.

"Stay alive!" Jake shouted over the noise, his voice thick with urgency.

John just flashed him a tight, pained smile before pushing Jake away, urging him forward.

And Jake did just that. He pushed forward through the haze of gunfire, through the cries of the fallen. His rifle was steady in his hands, each shot bringing them closer to victory.

The final push came in a surge of adrenaline. The enemy forces were faltering, their resistance crumbling under the weight of the assault. And then, with one last explosion that seemed to shake the very earth beneath their feet, the battle was over.

Silence fell over the battlefield. Not the peaceful silence of peace, but the heavy silence of finality. The victory. The end. It was done.

Jake collapsed to his knees, chest heaving, his hands slick with sweat and dirt. His whole body trembled, not from fear, not anymore, but from the release of everything he’d held inside for so long. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind only exhaustion and disbelief.

Was it real? Was it really over?

He looked around the field, what was left of it, and for a long, suspended moment, it didn’t feel possible. He half expected another wave, another bomb, another gunshot to crack through the air. But it didn’t come.

It was over.

The war, the blood, the terror, the nights spent writing to you under dim flashlight with shaking hands, it was all finally behind him. He could barely comprehend it. The idea that he might never have to kill again. That he might actually get on a boat, or a plane, or just something that didn’t smell like death and sweat, and head back across the ocean… back to you.

Home.

The word hit him harder than any bullet ever could.

He could go home.

Not tomorrow, maybe not next week—but someday soon. That promise, once just a desperate fantasy scribbled on the back of your letters, was now something real. Tangible.

All he could think about was seeing you again. Holding you. Hearing your voice. Burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting it all go.

But then— The realization hit.

Hard.

Would you even want to see him?

It had been years. Years since he last touched your hand, years since he looked into your eyes without a uniform between you. The letters stopped coming a long time ago, and even though he kept writing, every chance he got, every spare moment he never knew if you read them.  

What if you had someone else now? Someone who made you laugh, who wasn’t broken and angry and hardened by war?        Someone who wasn’t him?

Jake swallowed hard, the raw edge of doubt carving into the hope he’d just let himself feel.

Maybe you changed. Or worse, maybe you hadn’t. Maybe you were still the same beautiful, kind, soft hearted girl who loved him once, and he was the one who had changed beyond recognition.

What if you didn’t like the way he changed? What if you looked at him and saw only a stranger with too much weight in his eyes and too many ghosts in his chest?

What if everything he’d held onto through the war… had already let go of him?

The thought choked him.

For a long time, Jake just stood there, staring at the blood-soaked ground, his fists clenched, not from anger, but from fear.

Because after surviving hell, he wasn’t sure he could survive your silence.

"Jake!"

John’s voice pulled him out of the storm in his head, and Jake turned, barely registering the pain in his legs as he forced himself upright. John was limping toward him, bloodied but alive.

"We did it, man."

Jake could only nod. His throat was too tight to speak, his chest too full of everything. Of relief. Of ache. Of hope.

John stepped closer, his voice softer now. “We won.” He swallowed hard, glancing up at the hazy sky like he couldn’t believe it either. “We’re going home.”

Jake let the words sink in. Let them echo through the emptiness inside him that war had carved out.

We’re going home.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Jake let himself believe it.

-

The air felt different now.

It wasn’t just the weather, though spring had finally started to bleed its way into the cold, frostbitten mornings. It was something deeper. Something no one wanted to say too loud in case it jinxed it.

The war was ending.

Not tomorrow. Not next week. But soon.

There were whispers everywhere, officers in tents with folded maps, mess hall rumors passed between bites of canned beans, and wide eyed new recruits who looked like they might not have to die here after all. Even the veterans who'd long since given up on hope were starting to carry themselves a little lighter. Like they could finally feel the end crawling over the horizon.

Jake felt it, too.

And for the first time in a long while, he let himself imagine the other side of this, what it would be like to come home. What it would be like to walk streets that didn’t smell like gunpowder and ash. What it would be like to sleep in a bed that didn’t creak every time you flinched awake from a dream.

Jake sat against a sandbag wall, helmet in his lap, dirt caked beneath his fingernails and across the scar that still ran along his ribs. His uniform hung loose on him now, too many pounds lost in the months of fighting, but he was still here. Breathing. Standing. Somehow.

The sky was pale, washed out in the way early mornings always were. And for once, it wasn’t filled with smoke. 

John sat beside him, resting his chin on his knee. He looked tired, bone deep tired, but he was smiling for the first time in a long time.

“They say we’ll be heading out by the end of next month,” he said, nudging Jake lightly with his boot. “Home. Can you believe it?”

Home.

Jake tried to picture it. His street. His porch. The schoolyard. You.

The thought almost knocked the air out of him.

“Yeah,” Jake muttered, voice low, guarded. “Feels... unreal.”

“Hell, I don’t even know what I’m gonna do first,” John said. “Sleep in a real bed. See my mom. Eat bread that doesn’t taste like cardboard.” He glanced at Jake, eyes flickering with something more knowing. “You?”

Jake swallowed hard. His eyes drifted to the folded photo tucked deep into his breast pocket. “I don’t know,” Jake lied. “I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

But he knew. He always knew.

He wanted to see you.

Even if you didn’t want to see him. Even if someone else had taken his place. Even if you'd moved on.

He still had to find you. Just to know. Just to see you one last time.

He didn’t know if you’d still be there when he returned. He didn’t know if you’d moved on, if you’d given up on him, if he even had a place in your world anymore. But that didn’t stop the dream.

Every time he saw a boat in the harbor, he pictured you on the other side of the ocean.

Every time he stared up at the stars, he wondered if you were under them too, thinking of him.

Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined what it would feel like to see your face again.

The guys joked around him, laughing louder now, talking about the suits they’d wear, the trains they’d ride. 

But Jake sat quiet, staring at the horizon. Because the war might’ve been ending, but something inside him still wasn’t sure what was waiting on the other side.

And yet, even through the doubt, there was a flicker of something fragile in his chest.

Hope.

-

The whole town buzzed like a shaken soda bottle, tight with anticipation, about to fizz over.

“Did you hear? They’re bringing the boys back this Friday, down by the docks.”

“They say the war’s really over now. Can you believe it? After all this time?”

Two years. Two entire years since Jake was drafted. Since you kissed him goodbye under a sky too blue for what it was carrying. Since he tucked your photo into his chest pocket and promised—promised—he’d come back to you.

The bunting had started going up, red, white, and blue strung across shop windows and porch railings like hope could be hung and measured. Women were dusting off their nicest dresses, young girls rehearsing their smiles, pretending they weren’t afraid of what they might see, or not see, on that dock.

People were planning barbecues, gathering in groups to make banners. The post office put up a sign that said Welcome Home, Heroes! in sloppy, heartfelt paint. The bakery was giving away free pies to returning soldiers.

And through it all, people kept asking you.

“Are you going to the boats, sweetheart?”

“Bet you’re counting the hours.”

“How are you holding up, honey?”

The questions scraped against your ribs. Because what were you supposed to say? That you hadn’t heard from him in years? That letters stopped coming with no explanation, like he just vanished into the fog of war? That even his family had no answers, and the military said nothing except vague words like “transfer” and “radio silence”?

No. You didn’t say any of that.

And now the war was ending. The boys were coming home. But no one could tell you if Jake would be among them.

So you stood on your porch the night before the boats arrived, wind pressing against your dress, and wondered…

Will you be on that dock, Jake? Will I see your face in the crowd, or just another empty space where you should’ve been?

You wanted to believe.

God, you needed to believe.

Because the thought of seeing him again, of running into his arms, of hearing his voice, of brushing your fingers over his jaw to make sure he was real, was the only thing keeping your heart beating steady.

And if he wasn’t there?

You didn’t have an answer for that.

...

You didn’t sleep the night before the boats came.

Not a second.

You laid in bed with the moonlight spilling through your curtains, the covers bunched at your feet and Jake’s letters spread around you like pages of a sacred book. You read them one by one, some so worn the ink had begun to fade, others smudged from tears both old and new. His handwriting, the loops of his y’s, the smudge of a fingerprint near one of the margins, felt like pieces of him you could still touch.

Every word felt like a heartbeat.

Every “I miss you” like an ache in your ribs.

When the first rays of dawn lit the sky, you were already dressed, hair pinned back, Jake’s jacket pulled over your shoulders like armor. His mom met you at the door, eyes rimmed red, hands shaking. She didn’t have to say anything. Neither of you did. 

Your parents were waiting just outside, your father pacing, your mother clutching a thermos of coffee she hadn’t taken a single sip of. The moment they saw you, your mother reached out and squeezed your hand, her eyes mirroring your own blend of hope and fear. You all walked together, a quiet, aching unit.

The walk to the docks was the longest one of your life.

When you got there, it was chaos, but the good kind. Families pressed together behind the roped off edges of the harbor, voices trembling with anticipation. Mothers clutching photographs to their chests. Little kids sitting on their fathers’ shoulders with tiny flags in their hands. The scent of saltwater and smoke and something sweet from the nearby bakery wrapped around the crowd.

And then the horns blew.

The ship appeared, slow and massive, metal groaning against the dock as it settled. The ramp lowered.

And the soldiers began to disembark.

You couldn’t breathe.

All around you, people were screaming names, sobbing with joy. Girls in bright dresses threw themselves into the arms of boys in uniform. Families collapsed together, laughter and tears indistinguishable. You watched a woman faint when her husband kissed her on the forehead, another boy swept his mother off her feet like a kid again.

But you stood frozen.

Scanning. Searching.

Your fingers gripped Jake’s mom’s arm so tightly she winced, but she didn’t tell you to stop. Her eyes were darting too. Desperate. Silent.

You searched for a sign, for the shape of his shoulders, the swing of his walk. He had to be here. He had to be.

Minutes passed like lifetimes.

And then...

Your eyes landed on him.

Across the dock, just past the others. Shoulders hunched, dirt still in the seams of his collar. A duffle bag hung loosely from his hand. His hair was longer, his jaw darker, his frame even leaner. But it was him. You knew him like you knew your own breath.

He looked up.

And everything else disappeared.

The bag slipped from his fingers with a soft thud. His eyes widened, mouth parting like he wasn’t sure if you were real, if this moment was real. And then he said your name. Barely above a whisper. Like it hurt to say it out loud.

“Y/n…?”

But he didn’t get the rest out.

Because your feet were already moving.

You ran. So fast you barely registered the wind catching your dress, the people you pushed past, the gasps of strangers as you flew through the crowd. You ran like you had something to prove to time itself.

By the time you reached him, tears were streaming down your face. You didn’t slow down. You didn’t say anything.

You just kissed him.

Hard. Desperately. Like he was air after drowning, like he was a fire in the middle of winter. His hands found your waist, your back, your hair, like he couldn’t touch enough of you fast enough. He kissed you back with everything he had left, lips trembling, breath catching, heart beating so wildly you could feel it against your chest.

You clung to him like you’d never let go, fingers twisting in the collar of his uniform, knuckles white. The world around you could’ve collapsed, and you wouldn’t have noticed. All that existed was the warmth of his mouth, the way he whispered your name between kisses like a prayer, like a vow. His nose brushed yours, cheeks damp with tears, and he pulled you even closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck for just a second, just to breathe you in.

“God,” he rasped, voice breaking. “You’re real. You’re actually here.”

You nodded, kissing the edge of his jaw, his temple, anywhere you could reach. “I thought I lost you,” you whispered, forehead pressed to his. “I thought you were—”

“I’m here,” he breathed. “I’m here. I’m here.”

And just like that, the world tilted back into place.

His parents came rushing in not long after, tears spilling freely as they engulfed him in hugs and kisses. His mother clutched his face, kissed his cheeks a dozen times, smoothed down his hair like she was trying to memorize him all over again. His father gripped his shoulder, strong and silent at first, until he wasn’t. Until the hug broke and the tears came.

You stood just behind them, still breathless, still stunned, your heart thudding in your chest like it hadn’t quite accepted reality yet. He was here. He was real.

But as you looked at him, really looked, you noticed the differences. He was still Jake, of course, but there was something in his eyes now that hadn't been there before. He was older, naturally. More built, solid from training and hardship. His posture was straighter, more controlled. His skin looked rougher, kissed by sun and wind and soot. There was stubble on his jaw, and a sharpness in his gaze. He didn’t wear that wide, innocent Jake smile you remembered so clearly. The boy you knew had grown into a man.

A man who had been through hell, and survived.

And something about that made your stomach twist. In awe. In sorrow. In love. You didn’t even realize you were staring until his mom leaned in close and whispered, “You deserve tonight with him. For never losing hope.” His father gave a soft nod to your parents, the unspoken blessing passing between them.

...

That night, you laid curled up in his bed, the same bed you used to sneak into just to talk or kiss under the covers when no one was looking. The sheets smelled like home. The soft ticking of the clock on his dresser, the faded poster on his wall, the books still stacked in the corner, everything was the same, and yet it wasn’t. You weren’t teenagers anymore. This wasn’t just another sleepover after a dance.

Your thoughts tumbled, unruly and loud. You thought about the way he’d kissed you like his life depended on it. The way his hands trembled. The silence in his eyes. You thought about the years you’d spent not knowing, the ache of unanswered letters, the fear. And now, he was just down the hall, finally safe.

You heard the bathroom door creak open.

He walked into the room, towel slung over his shoulders, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. He wore only sweatpants, no shirt, and your breath caught.

“So nice to have some hot water,” he said casually, like this was any normal night.

Jake slipped under the covers beside you, his body warm from the shower, his scent clean but still familiar, still him. You shifted closer without thinking, your hands instinctively finding his chest, your head resting against his shoulder.

Jake shifted under you, his hands trembling as he ran them over your back, his fingertips digging into the soft fabric of your clothes, pulling you closer, closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of your presence. His lips didn’t leave yours for even a second, and every kiss was another piece of the world falling back into place. His mouth tasted like salt and the remnants of the battle, but it was still home. 

You pulled back slightly, breathless, your hands now running over the planes of his chest. Your fingers ghosted over the hard muscles beneath his skin, and you noticed the scars. They were there, small, faded marks from the battles he’d faced, the battles he’d fought for this moment. For you.

“You’re here,” you whispered, voice shaky, as if it was a dream you were scared of waking from. Your eyes trailed down his body, noticing how much had changed. His body was different, broader, stronger, his abs more defined, his skin rougher. The carefree, innocent boy you once knew was no more. He was a man now, hardened by experiences neither of you could have predicted. And even though that realization left a bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t deny the way it made your heart race.

“Jake…” You murmured his name like a prayer, as you pressed your lips to the small scar near his ribs. Your hands roamed back up his body, to the firm muscles of his shoulders, to the spots you knew by heart.

His hands gripped you tighter, his breath unsteady. “What are you doing?” he asked, voice low and thick with emotion.

“Just remembering you,” you said softly, your lips trailing over his skin, kissing the hard edges of the man he had become. “Just remembering what I’ve been waiting for.”

You heard his breath hitch, and the next thing you knew, Jake had flipped you gently onto your back, his weight pressing down on you but not suffocating. He kissed you again, this time slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to make up for the months lost to silence. His hands slid under your shirt, dragging it over your head, his touch sending electric sparks across your skin.

But then, in the midst of the heat between you, he paused. His lips hovered over yours, his forehead pressing against yours, the rawness of his vulnerability hanging between you.

In the stillness, he asked, “So… why didn’t you ever write me back?” The weight of his question lingered in the air, a quiet plea that somehow felt more fragile than any explosion or battle wound.

You blinked. Slowly sat up. “What?”

Jake swallowed hard, his grip on your shoulders tightening. His voice cracked when he spoke next, raw and thick with emotion. “I wrote. I wrote so many letters. Every week. Every damn week. I sent them all to you, and nothing came back.” His eyes filled with tears, but this time, he didn’t try to hide them. “I thought you gave up on me. That you had moved on.”

Your heart shattered all over again, the pieces splintering, but this time, you had him in your arms. You had him back. And that was all that mattered. You cupped his face in your hands, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Jake... no. You were the one I never gave up on. I wrote you. I never stopped. I thought I was the one who was forgotten.”

The confusion hit both of you at the same time, like a silent shockwave.

Jake’s expression slowly shifted, realization dawning behind his eyes. “No,” he whispered. “No, it wasn’t you.” He sat up, breath picking up. “I remember, some of the guys were saying the same thing. How their letters stopped coming. How they thought their families gave up. But they didn’t. Something must’ve happened. Something went wrong.”

Jake’s chest heaved as he struggled to breathe, and then, finally, he let the tears fall. He let himself break down, his body shaking as he held onto you, as if you were his anchor in the storm that had raged inside him for so long. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought you... I thought you hated me.”

You shook your head, pressing your forehead to his. “No. I could never hate you. I would’ve waited for you. A thousand years if I had to.” You paused, the weight of your words sinking in. “I love you, Jake. I never stopped.”

He kissed you then, a desperate kiss that spoke of everything that had been lost, everything that had been fought for. His lips were gentle at first, exploring, tasting, but then, it deepened. His body pressed into yours, his hands wandering over you like he couldn’t remember the last time he touched you, as if you were the lifeline he’d been grasping for in the dark. His tongue traced the edge of your lips, coaxing you into a deeper kiss.

You couldn’t help but moan softly, your hands tangling in his damp hair. The feel of him was overwhelming, grounding you, reminding you that the battle had been worth it, that he was worth it.

But then he pulled back just enough to catch his breath. His voice was hoarse, laden with emotion as he asked, “So, what now?”

You smiled softly, hands running over his broad shoulders, across his chest, feeling the weight of all that he had endured. “I may have an idea.” 

His breath caught as your hands slowly descended from his broad shoulders, grazing down the taut lines of his body until they hovered just above the waistband of his pants. Jake's gaze followed your every movement, his chest rising with a quick, sharp inhale. 

You let your hands hover just above his crotch area, your fingers barely brushing against his pants before you gripped him firmly, a low groan escaping Jake's lips. You flipped him over, straddling him, positioning yourself firmly on top. He watched you in awe as you slowly descended, moving lower and lower down his body. His teeth gripped his bottom lip as you slowly tugged at the hem of his pants. 

Jake's voice was hesitant, his brows furrowed. "Y/n, you don't have to," he said softly.

But you shook your head, kissing his v line. "No, I want to," you whispered, your eyes full of reassurance. "Let me do this for you."

You eased his pants down just enough for the slit in his underwear to be exposed. Fuck, he was hard now. You could see it and your mouth watered at the sight in front of you. You glanced up for a moment to meet Jake’s eyes. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his lips slightly parted, and his gaze was intense, full of desire.

Then you slid it out.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you took in the sight of him, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his desire palpable and intoxicating. You leaned in, your breath hot on his skin, and you could hear his breath hitch in response. You ran your tongue along the length of him, tasting the saltiness of his skin, feeling him twitch at the contact. You looked up at him again, your eyes meeting his, and you saw the raw, primal need reflected back at you. It sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your own desire burn hotter. You took him into your mouth, just the tip at first, feeling him fill you, tasting the sweetness of his pre cum. 

You could feel him, hard and throbbing, as you began to move, taking him deeper, feeling him hit the back of your throat. You could hear his ragged breaths, feel his hands fisting in your hair, and it spurred you on, making you want to take more of him, to give him more pleasure. You could feel your own desire building, your body aching for him, but you wanted to make this last, to draw out this moment of pure, intense pleasure for as long as possible.

The room filled with the sound of wet, sucking noises as you worked Jake's cock with your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. You could feel him throbbing, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hands fisting in your hair, guiding you, urging you on. You could feel the tension building in him, his body taut, his breath coming in short gasps. 

You knew he was close, and it made you want to push him over the edge, to feel him come undone in your mouth. But you also wanted to tease him, to draw out this moment of pure, intense pleasure. You slowed your pace, pulling back, running your tongue along the length of him, feeling him twitch and shudder at the contact. You could hear him groan, a sound of frustration and desire, and it made you smile, made you want to continue this dance of give and take, of pushing and pulling, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You took him deep again, feeling him hit the back of your throat, and you hummed, a sound of pleasure that vibrated through him, making him groan louder. You could feel him getting harder, his breath coming in short gasps. You pulled back again, running your tongue along the sensitive underside of him, feeling him shudder.

Jake's grip on your hair tightened, his body tensing as he tried to hold back. You looked up at him, your eyes locked onto his, and you saw the struggle in his gaze. 'Y/n,' he groaned, a warning in his voice, but you just smiled, a wicked glint in your eye. You wanted to taste him, to feel him let go completely. You took him deep again, your fingers digging into his thighs for support. You could feel him pulsing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was close, so close. You hummed around him, the vibrations pushing him over the edge. 'Fuck!' he cried out, his body convulsing as he came in your mouth. You swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him, a sense of satisfaction washing over you as you watched him come undone. You licked your lips, a smirk playing on your mouth as you looked up at him.

You stood up, your eyes never leaving Jake's, and slowly began to undress. Jake watched, his eyes darkening with desire, his breath hitching as you unzipped your skirt, letting it pool at your feet, stepping out of it, leaving you in nothing but your lacy underwear. Jake's eyes raked over your body, a low growl escaping his lips. He reached out, his fingers tracing the lace, making you shiver. He hooked his fingers into the sides of your underwear, slowly pulling them down, his knuckles brushing against your skin, sending jolts of electricity through you. You stepped out of them, completely bare before him. 

He reached down, positioning himself at your entrance, looking down at you with a mix of love and lust. “I've missed you so much,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He pushed into you, slowly, gently, filling you completely. You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying out, his parents' room just down the hall a stark reminder of your need for silence. 

Jake moved slowly, his thrusts measured, controlled, his body tensing with the effort to stay quiet. You could feel every inch of him, your body stretching to accommodate him, the pleasure building with each slow thrust. You looked up at him, your eyes locked onto his, and you saw the same struggle reflected back at you. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with your shared desire, the soft sounds of your bodies coming together, the only noise in the room. 

Jake's pace quickened, his hips snapping forward as he struggled to keep quiet, his breath coming out in short, ragged whines. He was losing control, his grip on his restraint slipping, and it was the most exhilarating thing you'd ever seen. 

He leaned down, his mouth finding your breast, his teeth grazing your nipple, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. He was muffling his sounds, his moans vibrating against your skin, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His thrusts became more urgent, more insistent, his body slamming into yours, the bed creaking softly under the force. You could feel the tension building in him, the way his body was coiling, ready to snap. 

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in deeper, encouraging him, wanting to feel him lose control completely. He growled, a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew he was close once again. He moved faster, his hips a blur, his body slapping against yours, the sound of your wetness filling the room. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he whimpered.

He was fucking you so hard, his body consumed by the need to come, and it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. You could feel your own orgasm building, the pleasure coiling in your belly, ready to explode. You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but a soft moan escaped you as he hit that spot inside you, sending you spiraling over the edge. “Jake!” you cried out, your body convulsing, your nails digging into his back as you came undone. 

He followed soon after, his body tensing, his mouth finding yours, swallowing your cries as he came inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

He collapsed on top of you, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a testament to the intensity of your shared passion. The room was filled with the sound of ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of lovemaking, a silent testament to your reunion.

Jake, still trembling from the intensity of his orgasm, slowly pulled out of you, a soft groan escaping his lips. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before rolling off of you, leaving you feeling empty and cold without his warmth. He stood up, his body still glistening with sweat, and you watched as he padded silently to the bathroom, his muscles flexing with each step. The sound of running water filled the room, and you could picture him wetting a few towels, his hands moving efficiently, his mind already planning his next move. 

He returned a few moments later, his eyes soft as he looked down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. He sat down on the bed, his body turned towards you, and he began to clean you gently, his touch soft and reverent. 

He ran the towel over your skin, his fingers following the path of the cloth, tracing the lines of your body, making you shiver. He cleaned himself next, his touch more brusque, more hurried, as if he couldn't wait to be done and back in your arms. Once he was finished, he tossed the towels onto the floor, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, a promise of more to come. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He stood up, pulling the covers over you, tucking you in like a precious treasure. He turned off the lights, casting the room into darkness, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner. He climbed into bed next to you, his body spooning yours, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck, his body warm and solid against yours. You closed your eyes, a sense of contentment washing over you, as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of Jake's arms, ready to face whatever tomorrow might bring.

-

Life after Jake came back was quieter, but in a way that felt fragile, like the world was holding its breath around him.

You remember the first time you saw him step off that ship, you almost didn’t recognize him. His face was leaner, his eyes older. There was something in the way he carried himself, stiff, guarded, like he wasn’t sure how to be in a place where no one was trying to kill him. But when his gaze found yours across the platform, there was a flicker of the boy you used to know. Just a flicker. Enough.

Some nights were harder than others. He never talked much about what happened, not at first. But when you stayed over, curled up beside him in his bed, he didn’t always sleep. Sometimes he’d jolt awake, his chest heaving, sweat beading along his hairline. You didn’t ask what he saw in those dreams. You didn’t need to.

You just held him.

It was in those moments you realized that no matter how much time passed, Jake would never be the same boy you grew up with. The war had taken pieces of him. From the fight. From the blood. From the friends he lost. There were ghosts in his eyes now, things you could never chase away. But you didn’t try to.

Because slowly, piece by piece, he started to come back.

It was in the way he’d crack a crooked grin when you teased him about the way he still hated tomatoes. In the way his laugh started to sound less forced, more like the one you remembered echoing down the old dirt roads when you were kids. He began to tease you again, poking fun at your terrible card skills, stealing the last piece of pie when you weren’t looking.

And when he smiled—really smiled—you saw it.

The old Jake. The one who once chased you through fields in the summer heat. The one who carried your books home from school. The one who left part of his heart in the letters you kept folded in a box under your bed.

You didn’t love him in spite of what the war had done. You loved him because of it. Because he was still standing. Because beneath the scars and shadows, he was still Jake. Yours.

And it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t easy, but it was enough.

Because sometimes, surviving was the bravest thing of all.

[runningupthatvecna]

okay so that recent cast wars interview/press game thingy still has me on the floor (positively) and i wanted to share my personal highlights (in no particular order and because i do enjoy a good chaotic press game, especially from a cast that has been hilariously entertaining so far)

– d'pharao giggling the entire time at every little thing that's being said like he only attended the whole thing to have a laugh

– "hellraisin" –will poulter (2025)

– michael gandolfini as shrek and joseph's reaction: "that's absolutely horrible"

– "cash wars" –cosmo jarvis already being done with this shit before the introduction

– kit and will being the only two taking the whole thing seriously by actually trying to gain their teams any points

– joseph and charles giggling and acting like 10 year olds in the back of the classroom while cosmo's just sitting there in his little corner looking like an annoyed father having to chaperone his six rowdy children to sunday brunch, not even moving once the entire time and just going "i don't know" and "i don't care" at everything lol he's my new spirit animal

– will being so done with the meme question, "luckily the internet has been cruel to me multiple times"

– "flame face quinn"

– this entire exchange of words and emotions: kit: "there's no way they're gonna get it" joe (to kit and charles, very quietly): "hard-on" michael (off): "panic attack?" kit (to charles and joe): "yeah hard-on" charles: :O kit: "eReCtiOn !!" which isn't even the correct answer to the question being asked charles and d'pharao: hihihi will: "he's great in heartstopper but i don't remember this moment" charles: "cause you never saw it" will: "i've watched it, I'VE WATCHED IT bruv!!!" joe: "what's your favourite fucking episode?" will, in the most british accent of british accents: "I dOnT kNoW tHE ePiSodES !!!!"

– will and d'pharao just cracking up at joe's question of what to all the boys i loved before is

– joseph's drawing of will as a cat lol

– joe: "IN WHOSE POCKET?!" kit: "in which pocket?!" will: "sorry?! puts his hand where?!" d'pharao: *loses it* joe, again: "in whose pocket?" kit: "that's fucking assault" charles: *shoving his hand into d'pharao's pocket* "i'm flirting!" will: *holds his rear side into the camera* "put your hand in my pocket!" kit (while being stuck alongside charles' hand on will's ass): "oh shit, calvin kleins!"

– "cosmo fuckface jarvis" and joseph visibly reveling in cosmo's non-reactions

– kit: "cosmo's his middle name" cosmo: "i don't care" someone let this man leave and go home to his bed lmao

– joseph and kit being total siblings kit: "i actually think i know [eddie munson's band name]" joe: "it's your demographic" charles: *loses it* kit: "??? my fucking demographic what the fuck, what are you talking about!!!!" while everyone joins charles in losing it and joe finding himself to be the most hilarious person to have ever existed which in all honesty– relatable

– kit, after charles did his gollum and stitch impression: "the veins in your neck!" joe: "it's called COMMITMENT, KIT" sassy bitch

– everyone losing their shit at "tom fuckface hardy" while joseph thinks about starting a career in comedy so hard he has to get out of his chair and resemble a tomato

– "i can tell you someone who isn't" *raises hand* –will poulter, not cast in avengers doomsday (2026)

– kit: "is it the death of the fuckface unicorn?" joe, lecturing his younger brother: "you can't use fuckface like, ALL the time" also joe, two minutes later: *starts playing with kit's ear, causing kit to wriggle out of his chair and tell him off* someone come and pick the children up from buzzfeed daycare please

– "we get wot, we get three seconds they get ONE YEAR?!" –joseph quinn (2025)

– #justiceforwarlock

– this entire group of grown men starting to act incredibly unhinged the second they are in each others presence lol

[returnofeternity]

housewife jackie with a butch reader thoughts?

loves dressing up for you... ive said this in probably every housewife jackie thought but it's true!! even if it's just her grabbing your shirt to put on for a lazy afternoon, she loves watching your eyes light up in recognition and when you compliment how good she looks ^^ likes the simple act of dressing up for a date. likes how you guys end up matching sometimes even when it wasn't planned. loves helping you get dressed, she's always got a gummy smile on her face as she buttons your shirt or ties your tie or smooths out your jacket that she steals at the end of the night.

jackie who loves when you get in touch with your feminine side in your own way :( you help her get in touch with her masculine side and it's just a great bonding experience 😊

she's a.....i dont even know what texter. not a double texter, not a triple texter, but a hundred texter. literally sends you so many texts throughout the day of random things like what she's doing or how much she misses you or selfies of her hand with new rings on it cause she's shopping 😁 you love it. it can get annoying when ur at work and keep getting out ur phone every 5 seconds because she's such a fast responder (only for you), but she makes you smile so much.

running your hands through jackie's hair as you give her a hot bath, taking care of her after she took care of you. gently scrubbing her body and massaging her legs because she was on her feet all day (so were you, but this is your girl! she deserves it more.

shy!butch!reader who appreciates when jackie talks for them in public :) always walking into shops first so you're not the center of attention, always being the one to ask questions to the clerk, always holding your hand and gently telling you to lead the way, or even leading it for you. butch with anxiety who always needs to talk with jackie before a phone call, going over what to say, and jackie who reassures you that it's gonna be fine, and even offers to write down prompts or something in case you forget what to say :(

possessive!jackie and butch who's awkward with affection :) she's always tugging you closer in public. she's the femme who hugs you from behind and places kisses on your ear in checkout lanes... she loves how you tense up and flush when she grabs your hand, loves how you can barely make eye contact with her when she's close to your face and kisses you, loves how you're so awkward when trying to show her how much you love her but you can't get the words out because she's so pretty and you just don't know what to say. it's worse in public because she thinks everyone wants you... she needs your eyes on HERS, and will use her finger to move your chin so you're facing her instead of left (ur just nervous 😭). she's always playin' footsie under tables and reaching across said table to rub your arm as you guys eat together. i think her favorite thing is when she verbally gets possessive and says some shit that makes you snort or choke on your food/drink.

[reallyromealone]

Seconde chapter of little god?

It just came out so you dont have to

Title: little god 2

Fandom: Jujutsu kaisen

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Megumi, itadori, nobara

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: -

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, child reader fluff, god reader

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Every morning was the same routine, Gojo woke up his tiny son who ran around in circles in the yard before coming in for some breakfast that consisted of a variety of foods for the little gods health, (name) pleased as he ate fish and other dishes "thank you papa!" He said as his tail swished, dressed in a more casual yukata compared to his godlier look "no prob, kiddo" Gojo said as he drank his coffee and ate his own meal, smiling at the difference in their tableware.

(Name) Had a cute kid set with zoo animals and plastic cutlery and Gojo with nice china "so today, we get to meet friends of papa"

"Su?"

"No no, not Suguru but he will be there later" Gojo chuckled as the boy looked confused "they're papas students, remember how I told you that I was a teacher?"

" we go?"

"After breakfast we are going" Gojo said happily and (name) bounced excitedly and continued eating his food.

(Name) Sat on his dad's arm as he was carried into the school grounds and Gojo watched as his kid sniffed around curiously "you sniffing, bud?" Gojo teased his son who looked focused "monster" (name) said as coldly as a toddler could as he locked onto Yuji who was waiting with the others at the steps "you can smell sukuna?" Gojo asked and (name) hissed at the mention of the king of curses "you know him?"

"Smelly man"

Gojo cackled at his son who wiggled to be put down, holding his dad's hand as they walked to the student's who looked at the child curious "uh, should a child be here?" Nobara asked as the little one dead stared Yuji "(name), these are papas students" Gojo pushed the boy forward "this is (name), he's my son~ isn't that right?" He crouched to the toddler who pulled some coins and held them out to the teens "it's you!" A mouth opened from Yuji's cheek "smelly!" (Name) Yelled angrily as his horns appeared "whoa, dont go fighting" Gojo held his son back who was ready to throw down.

"Pathetic little cretin, I could rip you--""aaand that's enough!" Gojo lifted his hellion son who tried kicking his dad's student with a growl "we will train at 1130, head to class you three!" he said cheerfully and took his little one away, Yuji tripping up the stairs as if he had two left feet "did you give him misfortune?" Gojo asked the tot who looked angry and frustrated "I know you don't like sukuna, none of us do but you can't hurt my student" he scolded the boy who pouted.

(Name) Was eating salmon and broccoli with cheese while his dad trained the students, abandoning the chop sticks in favor for his dragon form, tail swishing happily as he dived in. "Alright, we will be splitting into twos, let's work with people you aren't used to being teamed with" Gojo paired them up, seeing as his son watched curiously now in human form, face messy as his chubby hands held a piece of salmon "let's do some sparing, I will be right back" Gojo walked to his son and lifted him up "let's clean you up"

"I heard you had a son, didn't believe it" a Zenin clan higher up stated while staring at the toddler, the Gojo duo walking to the rest room "I do have a son, is that a problem?" Gojo stated coldly while adjusting the boy who looked between them, seeing papas glare and decided to match it.

Is it true he's... A god?" They tried to step closer but Gojos infinity halted him from doing so "if you don't mind, we have some business to attend to" the two walked off and (name) stuck his tongue at the Zenin member who glared back.

(Name) Let his dad wash him up, babbling nonsense happily "after school, uncle Suguru is meeting us to take you shopping" Gojo spoke softly, he loved telling his son everything that was happening and their plan. He wanted his son to be included and able to make choices- something he didn't get as a child.

"Susu?" (Name) Asked curiously and Gojo chuckled "yeah, susu"

[little-miss-apple]

Hii I loved your one shots! Would you be willing to do one where Caleb is sick and hiding from MC again so she decides to get him to comply by doting on him and wearing a sexy nurse costume.

((gonna be really honest, i took some creative liberties with this request on accident... im not 100% happy with it but i feel like if i dont post it now, i'll never do it... also keep telling myself to writer shorter stories, but i like to suffer... hope u like it a bit regardless))

Whatever was the opposite of ‘the man flu’ is, Caleb had it. No matter how many times you had pushed him back into his bedroom, he kept sneaking out, claiming he couldn't leave all the chores to you.

You just wanted to take care of him, let him rest and sit back while you took care of the house and him for once. But Caleb is like a working cow, the life energy leaving him whenever he's not on the field... or whatever the saying is.

You were dancing and sining around the kitchen, absorbed in the music while grabbing more ingredients for the stew you were cooking. Sure, you were never as great of a chef as Caleb, but you could make him some healthy stew at least. Easy to digest and packed with vitamins.

"Needs some more curry powder, pips..." His unusually weak voice says from behind you.

You let out a yelp, having been to engrossed in the music to notice him sneaking out of his room again.

"Holy shit, Caleb!"

He fake gasps.

"Language, pipsqueak!" He says with a teasing glint in his tired eyes.

"I told you to stay in bed," you scold, hands on his chest as you try to push him away from the stove and back to his room. "You think just because you're a colonel now you can ignore my orders?"

He lets out a weak chuckle as his hands come up to hold your face.

"I wouldn't dare... who knows what you'd write about me in that little grudge ledger of yours..."

Of course he has to bring that up again...

"But seriously, pipsqueak, I'm feeling a lot bet--" He starts to cough mid sentence. 

"Liar." You mutter as you turn to grab him a glass of water, handing it to him while patting his back gently. When his coughing fit dissapates, you lead him back to his room, ignoring any protests.

"Caleb, why is it so impossible for you to just let me take care of you for once?" You ask when his tired frame is back in bed, posted up against the headboard.

A blush, unrelated to his fever, creeps up on his cheeks.

"...I want to be the one taking care of you. I want- No, I have to protect you... That's my role, pips..."

For a moment you are unsure what to tell him...

"Just... get some rest, okay? I'll bring you some stew when it's ready..."

You feel his eyes on you as you leave the room, he wants to say more. This discussion isn't a new one, but both of you know that right now he doesn't have the energy for this.

You're mindlessly stirring the pot of stew, his words about his role replaying in your head. If that is his role, what is yours? And what role do you have to take on to be able to take care of him? Then it hits you and within seconds you have an order placed.

Bless Skyhaven and it's drone speed delivery service, because within half an hour your new uniform has arrived. It was quite a bit shorter than you had imagined, but maybe you should have expected that. It was a halloween costume after all and not a real nurse's uniform.

The uniform is a light pink dress with red lining, a little nurse cap and matching stockings. A little red heart with white cross emblem is found on the cap and one the chest of the dress. It even comes with a hot pink plastic stethoscope and syringe. You don't even want to imagine Zayne and Yvonne's faces if they ever caught you like this...

Uniform on, tray with stew and the syringe in hand and with the stethoscope around your neck, you walk into the lion's den.

"Good evening, Mr Caleb. Your stew is ready!" you say as cheerful as possible.

His eyes grow incredibly wide the moment he lays eyes on you.

"Pips-"

"Nuh-uh, that's nurse Pipsqueak to you mister!" You say as you sit down on the edge of the bed, grabbing the bowl and spoon, blowing on it before guiding it towards his mouth.

He looks at you, a bit unsure for a second before finally daring to take a bite. 

"W-what's with the uniform...?"

"Well, since you said it's your role to take care of me, I thought i should adjust my role so i can be the one to take care of you now... Say 'ah'." You explain while feeding him another bite.

His eyes never leave you. Not when you feed him, not when you put his clean laundry in his drawers, even when you leave his room he asks you to keep the door open so he can continue taking secret glances when you bend over while cleaning, giving him a perfect view of your panties. In return he does everything you say, no protests, staying in his room and even taking the medicine he claimed he didn't need earlier today.

It doesn't take long for a healthier glow to return to his face and, according to the thermometer you are currently holding to his head; "Your fever has gone down significantly.. If you keep this up you'll be all good again tomorrow!" Your smile is bright but he can't help but frown a bit.

"You should sleep early! Getting enough shut eye is crucial to a speedy recovery!" you say as you get up, ready to leave his room and shed off the costume, but he holds you back. His fingers wrap around your wrist and he looks up at you with those puppy like eyes, an uncharacteristic darkness to them as he pulls you back down.

"Nurse... I have another problem..." 

He gently guides your hand under the covers, his eyes never leaving your confused face. Before long your hand is put on something thick and hard. Your eyes shoot wide open in bewilderment, but his gaze doesn't falter. Just the light touch of your hand where he needs you most has his chest rising and falling in a quickened tempo already.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, unsure of what to say.

"You know Ms Nurse, I've heard sweating out a fever is quite effective..." his hand slides from your wrist, instead entrapping your hand in his so he can apply some pressure, making you cup his rock hard cock a bit tighter "Won't you help your patient, hm? Make him feel better?"

The feeling of him in your hand, the way he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and the seductive tone in his voice make you involuntarily rub your thighs together, craving friction to your already wetting core. It doesn't go unnoticed by Caleb, he knows he has you exactly where he wants you now.

Within seconds the covers are slung to the side and he is sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread apart, inviting you between them. Your hesitation is quickly thrown to the side when you see his shape through his grey sweatpants. You kneel in between his legs, noticing the semblance of a smirk forming on his face as you quickly start tugging at the waistband of his sweats.

You're taken by surprise a bit when his rock hard cock basically jumps out, smacking against his stomach. No matter how many times you see it, the intimidation from the size of it never leaves. Your fingers gently trail over the veins as you nervously swallow the saliva that had been pooling in your mouth. 

Carefully you begin to stroke his length, receiving instant affirmation that you're doing well as soft curses leave his lips. You let your thumb glide over the tip, spreading around some of his pre cum to help lubricate. You notice the muscles that are peeking from under his shirt contract with your every move.

"Come on, pips... Put your mouth on it..."

Wanting so desperately to please him, you waste no time, spitting on it before your lips quickly envelope around his velvety tip. 

"Fuck, you feel so good..."

Eagerly you take more and more of him in your mouth, not stopping until he hits the back of your throat. Whatever doesn't fit is massaged by your hand. You cant help but let your other hand wander between your own legs, playing with yourself through the fabric of your panties. It's sticky and messy, but feels oh so good. The vibrations of your moans as you bop up and down his length make him feel euphoric.

The sight of you like this, tits almost spilling out of your dress, your focussed face as you desperately try to please him and rubbing your clit, it almost makes him cum on the spot. His hand tangles into your hair, applying a light pressure when you go down on his cock. God, you feel heavenly. 

But he wants more.

The second he notices you getting sloppy, so close to rubbing yourself to release, he pulls your head back. The sight of your confused and fucked out face makes his cock twitch.

"Not yet..." he growls, at your frustrated pout. His shirt is pulled over his head and casted aside.

His lips surge towards yours, capturing them in an all devouring kiss. It's messy and chaotic. Tongues clashing, drool spilling and lip bruising. He pulls away a bit, admiring your hazy eyes and plump lips, before pulling down your lower lip with his thumb. He spits in your mouth, a proud smirk adorning his lips.

In one quick motion you are thrown onto your all fours on the bed and your costume is hiked up to your waist, giving Caleb a perfect view of your ass in those cute panties of yours. To be fair, all your panties were cute to Caleb, as long as they are yours. But right now, they're in his way. 

He pulls them to the side, taking note of the string of wetness attached to it. He throws his head back for a moment, eyes closed and breaths steady as he tries to compose himself down.

Wondering what is taking him so long, you turn your head around, only for him to suddenly align himself with your entrance and begin pushing himself fully into your sopping pussy. A strangled moan leaves your throat as your arms quickly give out, causing your head to fall into the sheets. Caleb's hands snake to rest on your waist, pulling you further onto his cock with every stroke. His tempo increases, balls slapping against your clit and making you dizzy with pleasure. 

Caleb loves the way you clench around him, the way he is moulding your pussy with his cock. Your combined juices are dripping down his thighs, fuelling him more and more, but he is also aware that he isn't full himself yet. His usual vigour isn't fully recovered yet, making his strokes rather messy and inconsistent. Frustrated he pulls out, making you snap back, confused why he has suddenly stopped pounding into that good spot.

"You need to ride me." 

He leaves no room for questions, already hoisted up against the headboard, pulling you into his lap. He aligns you with his still rock hard cock, pushing you down on his length. You whimper at the new position, feeling him in a different way all of a sudden. The cute sounds make him smile and he presses a gentle kiss against your forehead.

"Ready baby?"

You nod, eager to try a position you're not that familiar with. You're about to lift yourself up, but a familiar feeling takes over instead. Caleb's evol makes you feel weightless, unbound from the laws of gravity. His hands are still on your waist, his pointer finger going up and down in the same pattern as your body. 

The feeling of weightlessness continuously exchanged by the feeling of gravity pulling you down adds a whole new sensation, similar to riding a rollercoaster with steep highs and lows. The speed of his finger increases and so do you. He fucks you onto his dick with little effort, enjoying the way your face contours in pleasure and your tits bounce up and down right in front of his face. 

It doesn't take long for you to feel a familiar heat flow from your cores to the tips of your limbs. He can feel it too, the way your moans become more frequent and less controlled and the way you clench onto him more tightly. He is about to burst too, ready to coat your walls in his milky cum. His grip on your waist tightens as he can't help but use some more of his own strength.

"You close, baby? You wanna come on my dick?" 

"Yes, yes, yes.. please..." you beg him breathlessly, so close to the edge that it makes your tear up.

He bucks up his hips, slamming into you whenever you go down, hitting a spot so deep inside that it makes you gasp. With the limited energy he has he keep repeating the motion until you let out a string of curses, clenching onto his cock and milking him to his own orgasm. 

You can feel all the strength leave your body when you are hit with the hard, warm waves of your orgasm, limbs growing weak within the blink of an eye. You feel Caleb's cum fill you up, making you feel full and satiated. When he has completely emptied his balls inside you, the hold his evol had on you relents and you fall into his chest. And like always, he catches you. Holding you close as he whispers words of affirmation in your ear.

"You did so well... made me feel so good.. 'nd you looked so beautiful on my cock... such a pretty girl..." The words keep spilling from his lips as he pulls out and scoots down with you on his chest. Both of you are too tired to make another move, both unable to fight the tiredness taking over.

Sunlight hits your face, waking you up from the peaceful slumber you spent nestled in his muscular side. Caleb, who seems as healthy as ever, is already awake and seated against the headboard as he checks reports he missed from work. His hand is on your head, gently brushing his fingers through the strands.

"You're awake, pips?"

You groan a bit in response and stretch, only now noticing you are no longer in the nurse costume and instead in the shirt Caleb discarded yesterday. 

"Where's my dress?" you ask curiously.

"Threw it in the laundry.. I cleaned you off too but we should probably take a shower, we can save some water and take one together..."

"tsk... sounds like you're all better." you scoff trying to hide your grin.

"Had a great nurse..." he smiles teasingly.

"Maybe I should change career paths... I'll ask Zayne if he's in need of an extra nurse.."

"Nope," Caleb swiftly lifts you into his lap "Only I get the privilege of being cared for by you... Especially in that outfit."

His hands find their way to your cheeks before he plants a kiss on your lips.

"Now, let's get you all cleaned up, pipsqueak!"

[sdmnpact]

If you're willing to write for George Clarke again, I'd love a story where George is your ex and you come to him, because you're desperate to solve a problem, sayin' I didn't know who else to turn to.

Problem Solver.

George Clarke x Reader ff

Masterlist

~~~

What should I do? I don't know. Maybe I should do it?

I have just gotten such an amazing career opportunity. It's my dream job and I would love to take it but it's in another country. It would be easy to leave my life and just move away if I didn't have so many ties in the uk.

I've lived here my entire life, my whole family is here, I have such amazing friends. The job I have now it second best to the one I was offered. I am living the life here, but it could potentially be better. Maybe I'll have different and great experiences there, maybe I'll fall in love again.

I just don't know what to do. Can I uproot my entire life into a suitcase and move to a whole different country? I need help. I don't want to tell anyone because I don't want them to be upset or be biased about the decision. Maybe I need to ask someone who isn't biased anymore. Someone who was never afraid to tell me what his choice was without hesitation. He was always quick to make decisions when we were together. That's partially why we split.

I couldn't handle him deciding things on a moments notice. So, who to better to ask than my ex, George Clarke.

~~~

I arrived at the familiar flat. He was roommates with Chris MD and Arthur Hill, two people I adore and still try to hang out with regularly. Its only been four months and its not like we had a bad breakup. Its not like we hated eachother. Some people say we still had feelings for eachother but I dont know about that.

I stood on his doorstep, my hand ready hit the buzzer when the door opened. "Oh! Hey Y/n! What brings you here?" Arthur asked holding a bag of rubbish. He always made sure to maintain the flat clean and we bonded over it alot.

"Just here to see George." I said with an awkward smile. His eyebrows furrowed like a puppy confused by something. "Oh are you guys getting back together!?" He said, his expression showing how happy the thought made him.

"No... I just needed his help with something." I said awkwardly again. For some reason this topic made me uncomfortable. I was never weird with Arthur but coming here like this made me feel strange. "Oh... okay, well George is in the kitchen, come in." He smiled faintly as he held the door open, letting me in while shutting it behind him.

I slowly walked towards the kitchen hearing the sound of music playing quieting. George always loved to listen to music while he cooked. I always loved that quirk about him.

"Arthur? Back already? Okay well, can you pass me an onion?" He said his attention not leaving the vegetables he was cutting. I walked over towards the pantry and pulled one out of the basket, handing it to him.

"Thanks- Y/n?" He began, shocked by my presence as he turned to face me. "Don't take this the wrong way but what are you doing here?" He asked moving towards me and reaching over to turn down the stove. The sudden motion making his cologne hit me. His scent flooding my mind with memories of us together.

"I need your help with something. I would have called but I think I needed to be here to ask you something like. I didnt know who else to turn to." I began. His expression changed to confusion. I grabbed his hand and led him to the couch.

"What are your thoughts on me getting a new job?" I said as we sat down.

"Oh- well yeah, I say go for it. But- but there's more isn't there. You wouldn't just come to me to ask for my opinion on a job change. What's the actual problem?" He asked getting comfortable.

"The job is in Canada. I would have to move there right away and leave everything behind. Leave my family, my friends, my life here in the uk. I would have to basically start over, alone." I ended releasing a big sigh.

"Woah, okay now that's a lot." He breathed out. He sat up and put himself in a thinking position. I was waiting for an answer within a couple seconds but he seemed to be thinking about this quite hard.

"Well?"

He turned to me and grabbed my hands making my curiosity rise. "I don't think you should leave." He said, his piercing eyes staring into mine. He seemed quite serious about this decision. It was strange seeing him like this. "Why?" I went into further details about the job offer. He already knew what I did but this job would be bigger pay and have better opportunities for my future. I mean, I myself still don't know my choice but to not even deeply consider this would be foolish.

"Well, you can't just leave everything behind!" He said with emotion sounding upset. "I know, but this would open so many doors-"

"This is just a job. You can find another job, a job that is here! You're just going to drop your friends and family over some extra money? How are you going to live in another country by yourself? What if something happened to you? No one would be there for you. Here, you have everything!" Those words leaving his lips, full of frustration and slight annoyance as he stood up, pacing back and forth.

"It's not just for extra cash though. It's a dream job but I see where you're coming from. How can I just abandon everyone." He sat down, sitting closer to me than before, grabbing my hand again.

"I know you're passionate about this but there are so many things that are here for you and so many people who can't live without you. People like your parents, your siblings, your friends... me." My head shot towards him, my eyes going wide.

"George, you don't need me. We aren't together anymore."

"I know. But listen- I've been thinking about you so much. I really never stopped. I realized that you completed me. You were the one that got away, as cliché as that sounds. I've been thinking about what I could say to bring you back to me. I don't want to stop you from pursuing your dream but I still love you so much."

Tears released from my eyes as he spoke. I didn't come here to get back together but deep down, I think I was hoping for it. Maybe it was a bad decision coming back to my ex for advice. Maybe that was the reason why I came to him. I wanted him to be the thing that keeps me here. I couldn't face the fact that I was still deeply in love with him. I tried getting him out of my head. I had laid in bed, agonizing over him the entire first month of being broken up.

I couldn't just go back to him like this. I had this decision still looming over my head and although he made some good points, I still had to do what was best for me. A boy couldn't be the main reason I stay. Could it?

I also had to consider the reasons we broke up in the first place. His narrow mind for decisions and choices had been just the stepping stones towards a breakup. It felt like he was falling out of love with me. After dating for a year and a half, I thought our relationship was going strong but then he became noticeably distant. The more his career took off, the less time I got. Could I subject myself to that again or has he changed?

"George, I don't know. If I stay and we rekindled this relationship, is it going to be how it use to?" I said the tears welling up in my eyes again.

"No. Absolutely not! I promise, I can be different. I will dedicate myself to you. The only thing I want is to make you happy." He said, his eyes turning soft as he looked at me, eagerly waiting for a response.

"Well, you made plenty of good points for me to stay and I have to admit, I haven't stopped thinking of you either." I took a breath as I paused. "I am going to stay but- we need to talk about our relationship more. I think the time we spent apart, did us some good. We've been able to focus on ourselves for a bit. Now, hopefully we can give each other the things we both deserve." I explained smiling at him. His expression turned bright as he grabbed me, hugging me tightly.

"Of course! I'm so happy, I missed you so much."

"I missed you too."

~~~

A/n

I hope you enjoyed!! Please lmk if you wanna join my taglist, so you're updated when I posted a george, harry, or arthur tv (upcoming) fic! please lmk who you wanna be tagged for and if you would like to be tagged for smut or not. Also feel free to send requests!! Love you!!