#overall i think it’s the Gap that i enjoy :3

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I came across how you liked silly childhood friend x protective childhood friend and the sun (whose actually the moon) x the moon (whose the sun) AND I HAVE TO SAY THAT ACTIVATED SOMETHING IN MY BRAIN!!!

I was wondering if you had more to add on that cuz that rlly resonated with mee and I wanted to know moreee abt what you thought 🥹🥹🥹 I need to psychoanalysis what it is exactly that makes these two tropes (especially when combined) so good!! Aaaaahdhs I rlly don't knoww- anyways thanks for reading and no pressure to reply whatsoever loll

ANONNNNNN I’M SO GLAD YOU SEE THE VISION YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!!!!!!!! they’re very very dear to me…… i actually hadn’t thought of combining them until now but . that’s so bigbrained.

it’s a perfect combo too i think!!!! it’s so easy to imagine the silly childhood friend as The Moon (who seems like The Sun), and the protective childhood friend as The Sun (who seems like The Moon)….. that’s such a tasty concept. a person who seems very lighthearted and bright, but goes quiet when they feel like they can let their guard down…. maybe someone who’s a little bit detached. who only feels like they’re being themselves when they’re with their childhood friend. they’re a lot more sensitive and troubled than they let on, but when they’re with their other half they’re met with nothing but understanding….. there’s no pressure to perform, they can just quietly exist. they’re safe.

and then ofc the protective childhood friend….. who seems a little cold at first glance, maybe apathetic or a little mean. but they’re just so, so caring. so worried about their loved ones. doting and strong and just so, so warm!!! :((( once you break past their shell they’ll love you forever….. they might reprimand their silly childhood friend sometimes but they love them so fervently. they’d die for them no questions asked. someone who’s just very devoted, who draws prople in so naturally because they’re so charismatic even if they don’t realize it themselves….. they just feel so genuine!!!

AUGHHH I’M SO . it’s just so tasty. i think this kind of dynamic fits really well with satosugu (though i’ll die on the hill that they’re both Suns)….. satoru who seems carefree and bright and outgoing but he’s just reflecting borrowed light. and only around suguru can he let his guard down…. allow himself to be vulnerable…… the moon to his sun. i think satoru would much rather shine with suguru than shine all alone. he’d be the moon if he could.

[daisynik7]

Cure for a Hangover

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbor Kishibe, age gap (I’m thinking at least fifteen years, Kishibe pushing mid-forties, reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), alcohol consumption, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, pet names (sweetheart, angel, kiddo)

Summary: Kishibe is your mysterious, brooding, and significantly older next-door neighbor. You’ve lived beside him for a while now, only exchanging basic pleasantries out of politeness, never anything more. One night, he comes home drunk, or so he thinks. It’s not his door he’s slumped again; it’s yours.

Author’s Notes: It’s been a minute since I wrote for Kishibe and I really do miss it. This old man continues to do wonders to me, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @demonwoman (bc Kishibe using kiddo as a pet name is living in my head rent free thanks to you)

part 3 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

It’s not often that you’re met with a man slumped against your door, but here you are, staring down at your next-door neighbor, Kishibe, doing just that. 

It’s past two in the morning now, and you’ve just come back from your own night out with your friends. You’re not nearly as drunk as you were three hours ago, after pounding glasses of Chardonnay while watching cheesy romance movies at your best friend’s apartment. And you’re certainly not as inebriated as the man before you, who absolutely reeks of liquor, even from a small distance away. 

You inspect the scene thoroughly, unsure what to do in this scenario. Kishibe is basically a stranger to you. Sure, you’ve exchanged basic pleasantries here and there over that past year since you moved in. That’s as far as it goes. You have no idea what his profession is, though you have a solid guess as to what it could be, given his work attire and overall physique. While you’ve never run into one yourself, devils run rampart in Tokyo, hell-bent on causing chaos wherever they spawn. Kishibe looks like a Devil Hunter, whose job is to eliminate these monsters. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure, but you’ve never mustered the courage to ask him about it, leaving him to maintain his mysterious demeanor. 

However, right now, you don’t see a Devil Hunter in front of you. Instead, it’s a simple man who is very drunk and very much in your way.

Deciding to help him, because that’s the only choice you have if you want to get into your apartment, you kneel down to search his overcoat, patting the breast pocket for keys. When you find nothing, you move to his pants, retrieving only his phone. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring, blissfully unaware of your predicament in his drunken stupor. You take this time to study his face. He’s looks much older up close; not only that, he’s even more handsome than you originally thought. There’s a prominent scar running from his mouth to his jaw, surely an interesting story behind it. You’re tempted to trace it delicately with your finger, but you ultimately resist the urge, snapping out of it to investigate his phone for any clues. 

There are several missed calls and texts from a person named Kenji. You use the Face ID feature to unlock his phone, thanking the universe that even with his eyes shuts, it works. Not wanting to pry more than necessary, you check the most recent texts for the answer to your question: Where the hell are his keys?

Kenji: you left your keys at the bar, come back now. I’m closing up soon

Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass

Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow

You read over the messages once more, groaning quietly to yourself at your dumb luck. Desperate now, you resort to the next logical step.

“Hey,” you say, tapping him lightly on the cheek, rousing him awake. “Kishibe.”

Slowly, but surely, he opens his eyes, half-lidded, struggling to focus on you. “Huh?” His breath is heavy with liquor, most likely whiskey. His voice is deep and gravelly, and you hate admitting that’s it’s almost sexy. Well, not almost. It is sexy. 

Letting the inappropriate thought fade, you say, “You’re at the wrong apartment. This is mine.”

He blinks three times, opening his eyes properly to stare at you, expression confused. “Am I dead?”

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “No, you’re not.”

“Am I in heaven?”

You shake your head, repeating, “No, you’re not.”

“Then why is there any angel here with me?” He sounds sincere, and you can’t help but break out into a genuine smile. 

“I’m not an angel,” you reply, giggling. 

His lips curve into a cocky grin. “You sure? You look like one to me.” Cheeky bastard, hitting on you while he’s plastered. And look at you, finding it endearing when he does. 

Slightly more relaxed, you slide the phone into his breast pocket, standing up to unlock your door. You can’t just leave him out here all night, so you decide to let him stay with you until he’s sober enough to call a locksmith. You jiggle the keys, turning the knob to open the door, and suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and then a delayed, “Ow.” He’s laid flat in the middle of your doorway, hitting his head on the hardwood. You feel guilty, not having the foresight to see this coming. His body is much sturdier than you anticipated. 

You kneel down, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He winces, rubbing the back of his skull, then gives you a goofy smile. “I’ll be fine. Think I can get a kiss to make it feel better?”

You roll your eyes at him, once again unable to contain your laughter. “I’ll get you some ice. Let’s get you to the couch first, okay?”

Somehow, some way, whether it’s spurred by adrenaline or desperation to finally get some sleep in your own bed, you manage to haul him up by the armpits and drag him the short distance to your couch. You fluff a pillow and place it under his head, making it as comfortable as possible for him. “I’ll get the ice now.”

Before you can stand up, he grabs your wrist, gripping you tightly. “What about my kiss?”

“Nope. Not happening. I bet you don’t even know my name,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t respond, loosening his hold so you can get up. You fill a plastic bag with ice, returning to surround the back of his head with it. Eventually, he utters your name, eyes closed while he relaxes to your touch. He peeks at you with one eye open, waiting for you to confirm. 

You nod, grinning. “So, you do know my name.”

“Can I get my kiss now?” he teases, gazing at you.

You shake your head. “Definitely not. I will not take advantage of a drunk person, that’s fucked up.”

He sighs, exhaling deeply, broad chest rising and falling. “Yeah, you’re right. I knew you were a good girl.”

You try not to hang on to those words, especially the last two, already fluttering below your belly over it. Grabbing his hand to replace yours, you instruct him to keep it there while you return to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of water. Within the short amount of time you’re gone, he falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto to the ice pack. 

You smile to yourself, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table to continue attending to his minor injury. After a while, when you notice that there isn’t any bump or swelling developing, you stop icing him. He snores peacefully in a deep sleep, no sign of waking up anytime soon. As gingerly as you can, you remove his overcoat, draping it over the back of the couch. You set his phone next to the glass of water, for easy access. His tie looks tight around his collar, so you loosen it. Finally, you remove his shoes from his feet, laying them by the front door near your own pair. You’re certain he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling like shit, so you place a bottle of painkillers by his phone in case he needs them. 

It's past three now by the time you’re dressed down in your pajamas and snuggled in bed. You keep the door ajar, listening to Kishibe’s steady breathing in the living room, treating it like white noise to help you fall fast asleep. 

~~~

Kishibe wakes up with his head throbbing. He stares up at the ceiling, not recognizing it as his own. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this isn’t his apartment. 

He turns, seeing his phone, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers on the coffee table arm’s reach of him. Slowly, he sits up, grimacing from the pain, downing all the water in three large gulps. He checks his phone, thankfully still on its last leg of battery. It’s almost eleven on a Saturday morning and he’s sure Kenji, his bartender friend, is already awake, preparing for the day. 

“Kenji,” he mutters, throat hoarse from last night’s festivities. 

His friend first berates him for forgetting his keys, then laughs when Kishibe explains that somehow, some way, he managed to fall asleep on someone else’s couch. He could have woken up in worst conditions, that’s for sure. 

Kenji agrees to stop by after running his errands, in about two hours or so. Beggars can’t be choosers, so Kishibe has no choice but to wait. When they’re phone conversation is over, he sinks back into the cushions, trying to piece everything together from just a few hours ago. He recalls snippets of it, and he grows increasingly embarrassed as the memories play vividly in his brain. He’s certain he called his neighbor an angel, and even more sure that he was begging her for a kiss. How shit-faced was he to compel him to do that? Obviously, very. How could he let his intrusive thoughts blurt out of his mouth like that?

Call it cliché or whatever, but yes, Kishibe is attracted his young, pretty neighbor next door. However, he’s held off on making a move because he doesn’t want to make things between them awkward. Once he crosses that line, their relationship gets more complicated. And the devil knows that Kishibe doesn’t do complicated. So, he’s content with gazing from afar, exchanging basic small talk with one another whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s as far as it’s gone with her, and that’s as far as it will go. 

Of course, that’s all fucked up now thanks to his drunken antics from last night. 

Before he can make his move, he hears a bedroom door creak open from behind him. She comes out, looking fresh out of the shower, dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms that are short enough to expose that tantalizing curve right below her ass. Surely, she’s doing this on purpose, right? She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now, there’s no way she doesn’t. 

He clears his throat, preparing to explain himself right off the bat to avoid an awkward confrontation. But he’s rendered momentarily speechless when she flashes a bright smile at him. “Morning, Kishibe.”

He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”

She steps towards him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch by his feet. Her shorts ride up and he’s sure he can see the lacey outline of her panties. Or maybe it’s just his perverse imagination, who knows at this point. “How are you feeling?” she asks, genuinely concerned.

He grunts. “Like shit,” he answers. “But it could be worse.”

“That’s the spirit,” she teases, patting his knee. 

His head pounds from his hangover, though it’s his heartbeat that thumps loudly against his eardrums, aroused by her touch. He has got to control himself. Doing his best to distract her from the raging boner growing beneath his slacks, he asks, “What happened last night?”

She explains her account of the evening in detail, her voice soft and soothing, cautious of his current headache. She leaves out the parts where he embarrasses himself, which he’s grateful for, not wanting to relive the humiliation. When she’s done, she offers, “If you want, you can take a shower while you wait for your friend to arrive. I can get you some towels. I even have a toothbrush you can use.”

He raises a brow at her. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?”

“Do you need someone to tell you that you stink? I thought it was pretty obvious given the state you’re in,” she quips, matching his expression.

He laughs, genuinely amused by her response. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

She leads him into her bathroom, showing him how to work the knob for hot water, pointing out the shampoo, conditioner, and soap kept neatly on a corner shelf of her bathtub. She lingers for a bit while he starts the shower, then hands him a clean towel and new toothbrush. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

Surprisingly, he makes it through his shower without succumbing to the temptation to touch himself. As degenerate as he can be, he still has some sense of respect and pride in him, enough to resist masturbating in his neighbor’s shower. He does, however, give her shampoo and conditioner bottles an extra-long sniff.

He dries off, scrubbing his hair with the towel, cleaning behind his ears with cotton swabs, checking his piercings. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth, making sure to go the full two minutes, scrubbing his tongue after. He hasn’t made the best impression so far, so he figures he should try to change that now, if there’s still a chance. Feeling fresh and clean, he stares down at his clothes in a pile on the floor. Even from where he stands, he can smell them, almost like they’ve been diluted in liquor and musk. Without thinking, he steps out of the bathroom, calling out her name. “Got any clothes I could borrow?”

She’s in the kitchen when he comes out, leaning over the stove as she cooks something that smells wonderful. She turns to face him, staring wide-eyed as he stands almost naked in the middle of her living room. Her gaze drifts down his bare body, lingering on his sculpted abs, then at the towel wrapped precariously around his waist. She snaps out of it in time, saying, “I don’t. Sorry.”

“My clothes fucking stink and I don’t want to wear them right now. Mind if I just walk around like this?” 

“Sure. I mean, I don’t mind.” She focuses her attention back to the pan, continuing to cook what looks like scrambled eggs. 

He knows this is a bizarre request, though this day couldn’t get any more bizarre than it already is, can it?

~~~

You’re not exactly sure how to refuse Kishibe’s request to walk around half naked in your apartment, so instead, you agree to it, claiming that you don’t mind. In actuality, you mind very much, simply because you can’t help but fantasize about the delicious sight beneath the towel. One wrong move like a bump to the hip is all it takes to see that pesky cover fall down. Geez, when did you become such a pervert? And for an old man?!

Desperate for a distraction, you maintain focus on the eggs in front of you. While he was in the shower, you decided to start breakfast, something hearty to combat that hangover of his. Scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, comforting foods to soak up the remaining alcohol left in his body. He makes his way towards you, scooting a chair out from the table to take a seat. He strategically maneuvers himself to not accidentally expose you, though you really don’t mind if he does. Again, perverted thoughts, shame on you!

Finished cooking, you scoop the eggs out onto his plate and the other meant for you. He thanks you, taking a whiff of his breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Smells good.”

You pass him another glass of liquid, this one filled with an electrolyte drink meant for hydration after a night of drinking. “Drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”

He eyes it suspiciously, then takes a gulp without questioning it further. 

The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, ignoring the obvious tension hanging in the air. From your peripheral, you notice the glint of steel hooked to his ear lobe. Piercings, which you never noticed before. Sexy.

He ends up finishing his entire meal, popping a few painkillers to chase it all down. He even chugs the electrolyte drink, claiming it isn’t so bad. While you take the last few bites of your toast, he excuses himself to brush his teeth again. You’re surprised at how hygienic he is, considering how he appeared before you just mere hours ago, hunched against your front door covered in his own liquor-soaked sweat. You take the plates, stacking them in the sink to wash for later. How much longer is his friend going to take to arrive here? You’re getting nervous, thinking of other ways to fill this gap of time without making your attraction to him so obvious. 

You sit on the couch, turning the TV on to a random sitcom with the volume low, listening to the rush of water from the faucet inside the bathroom. When it stops, you try to find a comfortable position to sit in. It’s only now that you realize how short your pajama bottoms are; they ride all the way up your thighs and you can practically see your underwear through them. It’s too late to change when Kishibe returns, still clad in just a towel, taking a seat on the other side of the couch a safe distance beside you. It’s silent for a brief moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this odd situation. You shift nervously, tugging at the hem of your shorts. 

“Thank you,” he starts, avoiding your gaze, staring ahead at the television. “For taking care of me. Must have been annoying to deal with a drunken old man.”

You smile, relaxing. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there like that. Someone could have taken advantage of you.”

“Like you almost did?” he smirks, facing you now.

Laughing, you meet his gaze. “You remember that?”

“I do.” He spreads his legs apart just barely, towel draped dangerously over his knee, almost ready to slip.

You swallow hard, avoiding a glance in that direction, heat surrounding your cheeks. “Well, I was a good girl, remember? I didn’t do anything.”

He hums, nodding slowly, eyes drilling into yours. “You were a very good girl.”

Your breath hitches and you find yourself gravitating towards him, scooting closer. He grins, the scar on his cheek curving with it, voice low and seductive. “You gonna be bad for me now?”

“Only if you want me to,” you purr, sliding your hand beneath the towel, up his thigh, arousal pooling between your legs. Fuck it. He wants it, you want it. There’s no denying it anymore. 

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pulling you in for a kiss. His mouth is cool and minty against yours, the remnants of toothpaste lingering in his spit. You slurp it up, hungry for any taste of him. He removes the towel from his waist, shrugging it to the floor, leaving him completely naked. You glance at his lap and bite back a moan, amazed at how fucking big he is, way too eager to have him inside you, desperate to be filled to the brim.

“Not bad for an old man, huh?” he chuckles, wrapping his fist around the shaft, stroking it.

“Not bad at all,” you smile, stripping out of your clothes hastily, kneeling between his legs with your mouth open.

He feeds you his cock, humming when you surround him in your wet heat, swallowing him to the hilt. One hand grips the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down his shaft. “You’re filthy, taking your neighbor’s cock like this. Who knew you’d be such a slut?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with his other hand. “Touch yourself while I fuck this filthy mouth. Get that pretty pussy wet for me.”

You obey, spurred on by his vulgarity, reaching for your arousal, rubbing your throbbing clit with fast fingers. His cock hits the back of your throat and you guzzle him down to resist gagging, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips slightly, enraptured by you. With his thumb, he brushes away a tear welling at the corner of your eye, pulling out halfway. “Don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. It’s okay if I’m too much for you.”

You release him completely, moving down to his balls, nuzzling your nose to them. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

He clicks his teeth, beckoning you on the couch, almost like you’re being scolded for something you weren’t supposed to do. You roll your eyes, sitting beside him begrudgingly. He leans close to you, hot on your ear, one hand sliding between your legs while the other continues to stroke his dick. “I want to touch you too. That okay?”

You whine in response, tugging him in for a passionate kiss. He massages deep circles around your clit, fingers squelching from your slick gathering along your entrance. “I want a taste,” he growls, splitting apart your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt. 

You nod, sinking into the couch, relinquishing all control to him. You let your pleasured moans speak for you as he dives into your pussy, eating you out sloppily. His facial hair grazes against you with each careful stroke of his tongue and you ache to see his chin shiny with your cum. Eventually, he slips inside you, pumping two digits in and out, mouth still working your bud. Soon, it becomes too much and you’re gushing for him, whimpering his name with ragged breaths, soaking his face in your essence. 

He chuckles, the vibrations resonating to your clit, causing you to twitch with overstimulation. “That’s my girl, making such a mess for me.”

“Fuck me, Kishibe,” you breathe out, craving to be stuffed full of him. You’re reeling from your high, and if he’s not inside you soon, you’re sure you’ll go insane.

He hoists you up onto his lap, precum oozing from the tip of his dick. “How about you fuck me? Show me how much of a slut you are.”

Too fucked out to argue, you lift up on your knees, position him to your wet hole, sinking down slowly. He slides in easily, pussy sleek from your previous orgasm. It’s better than you imagined, every inch of him stimulating every inch of you. You savor it, rocking against him slowly. He kisses along on your neck, trailing to your nipples to suckle on them. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans, thrusting up into you to match your rhythm. “Take this cock however you like. It’s all yours.”

You bounce on him faster, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss him. He palms your ass cheeks, squeezing them in his firm grip, delivering a few loud smacks that echo off the walls of your living room, stinging your skin. “Fuck, I knew you were a good girl. Knew it the moment I met you,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. “Always wanted you like this.”

You kiss him harder at his confession, your chest swelling, pussy fluttering. You’re approaching another climax, teetering on the edge. As if he senses it, he tightens his hold on you, fucking into you faster, deeper. “Come for me, angel. Come on this cock.”

And you do, clenching him with your orgasm, making him mutter, “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming with you.” He shoots his load inside you, filling you up, just like you wanted. 

It takes a moment for the two of you to catch your breaths, relaxing into each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses without speaking. You study his face again, similar to how you did just several hours before, when he was slumped against your door, drunk. You thought he was handsome then, even more so now. “How’s your hangover?” you ask, breaking the silence. 

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Much better.”

[incidentallysunny]

I Was Never There.

Death Island Leon x Reader

Real!Dad Leon

Dead dove warning.

13k word count. Proof read 3 times until I got to around 11k then I stopped worrying and just skimmed. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I’d like to appear in the tagz pls so here’s a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing f*cked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don’t be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, daddy-issues, age-gap, overall disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, mentions of oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, any probably some other irrelevant shit I’m forgetting my b.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it’s a long one.

The drive from your college town to where your home had been all your life was as expected. Nostalgia and homesickness being mixed in your gut like a can of paint in one of those weird machines at the hardware store that your dad would take you to. Speaking of dad, you hardly remember him. He was present for a short while, your mom always excusing his absence with work this and work that. He really did get busy, though. Almost dying several times. You still remember your moms panicked phone calls, her countless prescription drugs for the same problems you now suffer from, and her late-night bathroom breakdowns. Apparently he couldn’t get out of this job though. Some real fucked up government shit he was tied to, your mom explained. All you know about him is that he saved the president’s daughter. Whatever.

So yeah- a perfect life with a perfect set of parents. One being mentally driven through the dirt and the other that you haven’t seen in 8 years or maybe more. You can’t seem to remember if the last few times you saw your dad were daisied dreams or reality. Bastard has never FaceTimed or video called you, either. Dunno if he even had a phone capable of that. Either way, it must be for the better, because your grades had been sufficient without stressors on your mind. And we all know a low-effort dad would definitely be one. But perhaps he’d rather just be there in person. Older people are like that.

You grunted, trying to drag your over-packed suitcase up the steep suburban driveway before sighing and standing in place. Sure, you didn’t need to bring so much shit home, but would you really want to risk some bitch at college stealing anything from your quad-dorm?

Before you could think and figure out how you’d even get the plastic luggage up the pristine, hand-painted porch steps and inside (without scratching them up and having your parents on your ass about their perfect house having a flaw) a voice called out to you. Unrecognized and not ringing any of the bells in your head. (If there were any left)

“Hey there, sweetheart. It’s been a while, huh?”

You turned to see a middle-aged man, similar to the last memory of your dad that had been printing-pressed into your mind for safe keeping. He was just emerging from the front door, broad chest accentuated by a well-fitted T-shirt. You immediately felt angry that his tits were bigger than yours. Would probably look better with a bra, too.

You didn’t answer.

Fuck- nerves were getting the better of you. Your palms were slick with sweat and you didn’t know if it was from the building summer humidity or anxiety. Was this normal? No the fuck it wasn’t.

“Uhh.. dad?” You queried- almost certain the gorgeous man at the door was just a hotter, older version of your dad and not actually him. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re getting this worked up over your father? Did college drinking really rewire your brain to be this fucked or is it all of the anxiety meds? Maybe both. Maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because you rarely saw him and have zero attachment.

“Yeah, it’s me. Your old man. Missed you, kiddo.” There’s a pause for a moment- because you’re not sure why he’s talking so casually as if you see each other every weekend- like it hasn’t been years and years since you’ve seen him.

“Don’t remember me,huh?” He laughs satirically- like you’re supposed to be so sure. It makes you slightly furious and the feeling of anger bubbles up again- replacing any strange thoughts you were having moments ago.

No, my apologies dearest dad. I totally recognize you despite having met you enough times to count on almost two hands.

But the better part of you that managed to exist underneath the scores of problems you had just replied in jest- like someone without said scores of problems. It was best to keep the peace for now.

“You look a little different… sorry.” Is that all you can manage? It’s pitiful the state that your sullied mind is in.

He chuckles, though, like he knows your’re right. The sound is more pleasant and striking when it’s genuine. Makes you feel damp in other areas than just your armpits (thank you, heatwave).

“I suppose there’s truth to that. But It’s alright, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long time. People change, right?” His eyes scan you in an undecided way.

“But you, shit. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. College treating you well?” His words sound a little huffed then, he’s clearly beating around the bigger issue with a stick. But him calling you beautiful and being all fucking sappy makes your face feel hot and sticky like it’ll melt off. Got you wanting to rip the hair from your scalp to hear him say it again.

“Please?” You called out gently- gesturing to the suitcase and ignoring any other question. You were very much overstimulated- having overexerted muscles in your arms by being a weak bitch about a crammed carry-on. Just get your ass out here and help your daughter, thanks.

He shook his head- again laughing hotly while looking down as he stepped off the porch- his brown bangs were peppered with greys and they brushed his face on one side, his hair somehow pornographic on its own. Christ. He looked like one of those men you saw on Viagra commercials that obviously didn’t actually need it. Even the sight of your perfectly trimmed lawn and faux-looking home completed the scene. Where was the camera?

He walked over to you- there was a slight stiff in his stride; like he had a bad back or something. Maybe he did. Almost dying was the likely cause for that. Serves him right for leaving you with issues on top of issues. Maybe you should stop being mean, you’re the one getting hot over your own father. Again- because of him. Circle back to square one.

Leon towered over your frame as he hinged at the hips, picking up the suitcase with ease- the muscles in his arm flexed with each small movement. His face was a tinge of smug with a mix of something else…satisfaction? Maybe he was just pleased he was able to lift it without rupturing a hernia. Jesus Christ, his veins. You wonder if he has them anywhere else. No- maybe you should be wondering about taking your ass to an inpatient facility immediately. A few screws are loose and you don’t exactly have the tools to tighten them.

“I guess college did treat you well. You’re here in one piece.” He says- cutting you thickly from your thoughts and answering his own question from earlier. His blue eyes are sweet and gently lined with signs of aging. Which only makes him hotter- just like the fiery pits of hell that await you.

You scoff.

“Well, it’s not like I went to war or something.”

“Still. It’s nice to see you, sweetheart.” The word rolls off his tongue again. Your insides are trapezing around in their own miniature, fleshy circus- you’re wishing you could stab yourself in the stomach to stop the swarm of butterflies that don’t even feel metaphorical anymore. You’re sure they’re real now.

He continues, though.

“I know I haven’t been around much in your life- this fucking job and-“ You stare up at him- glossy doe-eyes and stupid look on your face. An apology- or even an explanation from your daddy might be part of what your scrambled brain needs.

“Work kept me away, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. Shit… What I mean to say, is- things will be different. I’ve retired. Your mother wanted me to tell you over dinner later but I figured you’d be happy to know. I’m not the best at keeping secrets.” He jokes at the end, but how is that true in the slightest? He’s kept his job a secret for your entire life, so he clearly can’t be that horrible at it.

“Oh.” Leaves your lips quietly, ghosting over Leon and leaving him wondering if he said something wrong. But then he realizes it’s probably just overwhelming for you. The worst part of him thinks you hate him. A feeling overcomes you though, and you rush in to wrap your arms around his waist- hugging him tightly. You now wonder why he didn’t hug you to begin with. Maybe he wasn’t an affectionate guy.

He says nothing at first- he’s even more awkward than you are if it’s possible. But he’s trying. He sets down your suitcase before returning your hold. One arm comes around the back of you and the other is overlapped on top- a hand nestling on the back of your head. Seems he’s getting a bit emotional, too. The attention from him is nice, though.

When you make a small grunt as to wanting to end the hug, his hands linger on your shoulders and he smiles at you. You actually return to, not feeling anything horrid become of your thoughts right now. Whether it be anger or incestual lust.

—

Your dad pushes the front door open with one of his large hands encased on the knob. Hands you immediately find attractive, wondering if they’d feel nice scissoring your cunt open. You now begin to understand why your mom was getting suicidal over him possibly not returning home. You’d kill yourself over him too. But that’s too morbid- especially after the moment you just shared.

That’s already lost to you.

He shut the door firmly, sighing, then gestures to the stairs.

You went up first, self conscious about your backside being right in front of his view but he was your dad. Wouldn’t be looking at you that way. You’re just brain-rotted and have an ill opinion of men.

Your old bedroom still looked the same, basically. Just emptier and more hollow without your things. But the walls were still painted a babydoll-pink and lined with the few girlish decorations you left on the wall. No way you would have been caught dead with those in your dorm. Not unless you wanted to endure torment and bullying that’d lead you to jumping off the dormitory roof.

He sets your luggage down and takes a seat on your bed. A groan escapes him as he puts a hand on his lower back for a moment.

“I see this room hasn’t changed much, has it?” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mom and I had a blast putting it together for you when she was pregnant.”

Yikes. You almost feel guilt for both the incestuous thoughts and the fact you may have ruined your parents' marriage. Maybe that’s not true. It was his work- not you. After all, he’s insinuating how happy they were to have you brought into this world. Plus- they were fine. Never argued or anything.

“I’m sorry. I dont- I don’t know what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, throwing your hands slightly up by your side.

His face doesn’t drop, though. It seems he understands perfectly fine.

“It’s okay. We can start from scratch. Not talk about… your room or childhood stuff. I know it’s a sore spot for you, sweetheart.”

Wrong. It’s more like a festering wound with the rusted knife still wedged in it. The knife being Leon and the wound your daddy issues, by the way. And having no attachment to him as a father figure makes the attraction worse. Notably when he calls you any term of endearment. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

What the fuck. Was he sculpted by Satan himself as some kind of hell-on-earth punishment? Is this purgatory? Everything he did now was driving you up the wall like a roach- every movement and small flex showing a vein or bulge of muscle. And his arm hair didn’t help. Fucking Christ- shave it off or something. You don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it.

“Okay…. How does that work?” You cocked your head to the side a little, shifting your weight onto one leg. A nervous habit.

“Well- what do most parents do with their kids? We could go out for dinner, catch a movie, just… hang out. I’d like to spend time with my daughter, you know.”

Okay, so maybe he did care. That’s a start.

“Uh… all three?” You questioned, an eyebrow lifting along with the infliction of your voice towards the end of your sentence. You’re indecisive like your mom.

He smiled, lines and the corners of his mouth pressed. Happy. Something you heard wasn’t common for him, anyways.

“Of course. We can go out tomorrow, honey. Your mom just wants us to all have dinner together when she gets home. She missed you- not as much as I did, I bet.” He does that stupid fucking wink again. It makes you switch emotions and want to throw something at his head. Maybe your lamp. You feel bad, It’s not his fault you’re acting like a mental freak about him. You don’t even bother to fixate on the fact you’ll have to have dinner with your cunt of a mom. Okay, maybe that’s harsh.

“Okay.” You breathe out, looking around your room. Leon takes that as a cue to stand up from your old bed- the thing creaking from his weight and leaving an indent on your comforter.

“It’s a date, then. I’m going to start dinner. As much as I love your mother, she can be…scary.” He says, still rocking that pressed-in-cheek smile and cracking your door closed behind him. By the way, what he really meant was probably ‘bitchy’- not scary. But dad seems too kind to say that. He loves your mom.

You can breathe again without his presence. It was smothering, like you had to overperform. You find yourself rushing to your dresser mirror to check how you looked. Hair looks great, face too- though a little tired from college over-studying and then driving 4 hours home with no break.

You might as well write ‘whore’ on your mirror with lipstick. Or a marker- since that’s a more permanent reminder with the way you’re acting. But part of you wanted to know what he thought of you- how he perceived you. For now though, it doesn’t matter. Had barely been 15 minutes since you arrived. You turn your attention to your suitcase and push it over flat, unzipping it before the teeth give out and some of your things spill from inside.

You had less than a sufficient amount of energy to care about it being broken now- so you just put your things away quickly before plopping onto the bed and indulging your senses with the smell of the floral detergent your mom always used on your sheets.

—

It’s some time later when you’re abruptly awoken by your moms manicured hand shaking you awake by the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be spending time with your father. He was excited for you to be home.”

‘Way to wake me up.’ You thought. She was always having a stick up her ass about this kind of thing. Or anything, really..

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, we’re going out tomorrow to do a bunch of stuff.” You argue sleepily, sitting up as your back aches with your vision still adjusting. She cuts on the lamp, sizzling your retinas.

Her face perks up but is pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, okay..” silence.

“I’m sorry, honey. It was just a long day at work and I’m just over-the-moon for you two to finally have some daddy-daughter time.”

You wrinkle your face in disgust, but not fully disgust since you were just fawning over your hot dad earlier. Maybe daddy doesn’t sound so bad.

“Ew- mom. He’s just my dad. I’m not five.” She laughs, waving her hand off at you.

“Well anyhow- come down for dinner, will you? He put in a lot of effort to cook something for us.”

You cursed under your breath and straighten out your shirt- hoping she wouldn’t bitch about it being slightly wrinkled from you sleeping in it. You seat yourself at the table- adjacent from your mother sitting at the end. She’s already changed out of her office clothes and sure enough, here comes your daddy dad from the kitchen with utensils.

“Sorry ladies- almost forgot these.” He laughs, placing down everyone’s set before seating himself next to you. Fuck.

“You know- your father has only been home a few months and he’s already shown the extent of his memory loss.” She jokes, giving him a loving yet teasing look that makes you want to vomit. And yet jealousy curls up like a cat in your lap, wanting to be lavished with attention from you. The metaphorical jealousy pounces off your lap as you’re met with your dad’s hand on your denim-clad thigh. It’s an innocent gesture but you want to his hand to go further than just sitting politely.

“She’s right, but I can be useful otherwise.” He’s bantering back with her- and you realize he’s making an innuendo when you look over at his face. But it’s weird that he’s saying it while his digits cradle your thigh so gently.

“Gross.” You take a bite of your food- momentarily shocked that a dad of any sort could make such a pleasant meal, especially when he’s spent such little time doing domestic duties.

“Oh honey- you’re grown. We’re just teasing each other.” Your mom nods to Leon, taking a bite off of her fork. His hand slides off of your thigh and he grabs his whiskey glass to take a proper sip.

Jeez, he drinks that shit like its water. No grimacing. No face was made when he swallowed it. Just a guy thing you suppose.

Dinner drags on- the both of them forcing you to talk about your less-than-thrilling college experience. No mom, no boyfriend. No dad, I’m not failing. No you two, I’m not having unprotected sex- fuck off.

After that eventful meal and conversation where your parents basically eye-fucked each other over dinner, you’re left to clean up the mess while your mom gets ready for bed. She has to leave for work early in the morning- as usual. Guess she’s going to take your dad’s spot for the absent parent now that you’re grown and traumatized full and proper.

-

Sleep came and went- leaving you to trudge out of bed and do your morning routine. It felt out of place trying to do it back at home- but it was also a sentimental feeling to be doing just that.

Leon is already in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking. Seems impractical, but holy fuck. You’d gorilla glue your eyelids open just to not miss a single second of what you’re seeing. Maybe that wasn’t needed- because you've been staring long enough that your eyes prick with tears. You remind yourself to blink and you seat yourself at the high-top, the stool swiveling slightly when your bottom meets the material.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His traps are distracting you. You want to chew your fingernails past the nail bed- bite a finger off too. You can’t stand it. For a moment- the way he talks to you- you’re pretending you’re not his daughter. And then a moment later, you’re not being delusional anymore.

“Mhm.” You mumble sleepily- wishing you’d have stayed in bed longer. But piercing morning light, lack of blackout curtains, and the chirping of birds outside made that idea inconceivable. Leon chuckled to himself- turned away from you.

You decide to scroll through your phone for a moment’s time before he slides a plate to you from across the island.

“Breakfast a la Leon.” He says- clearly being silly. Corny as fuck, anyways.

“You’re old.” You snort, setting aside your phone and grabbing a fork to pick at your food until he turns away again. You didn’t enjoy the idea of having a hot, shirtless man watching you eat.

He shakes his head, sitting down next to you at the island.

Christ. Fucking go away. It’s actually enraging now.

You want to scream at him- it’s irrational and crazy- but you do. Screaming at him and being sent away to a ward sounds more appealing than the anxiety crawling up your spine like a horde of fire ants. Potentially- just like the butterflies- they’re real too.

He seems undisturbed as he settles- taking a bite. You do the same- trying to ignore the fact he's so close you can nearly feel his arm hair touching you every second or so. He breaks the silence after a moment.

“So- after this, I’ve got a whole day planned out. Mall, movies, and dinner. Sound good?” You nod, a soft ‘mhm’ reverberating on the roof of your mouth.

He finishes before you and makes his way upstairs- the occasional pain in his back unmistakeable every few steps. And yet he wants to take you to the mall to walk around? You didn’t even know how to feel about a day with your dad. What’s a dad? What’s daddy-daughter bonding? That’s lost to you- well- more like it was never even discovered. Not even Columbus could have ventured out and conquered it.

Since he’s no longer in the room, you hastily eat the rest of your breakfast before you discard the plate and fork into the way-too-elaborate dishwasher your mom had installed (you totally didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to turn it on).

Back in your room, you settle on a simple, totally not underlyingly slutty outfit. Shorts and a crop top. Can never go wrong with that. It’s just soft/core prom enough for an outing with your dad. When you leave your room- Leon is just headed down the stairs. He turns to look at you, his smile is as jovial as it has been since you’ve seen him. For a moment though, you think you catch his eyes landing on your exposed legs- but you know you’re just crazy. You’re the one lusting after him, not the other way around. Your dad isn’t abnormal like you. His head is on correctly- even if it’s been battered and spun on his shoulders throughout the years.

“Ready?” He asks, stopping in place to wait for you. You nod stupidly, breaking from your trance to follow him in a descent down the stairs.

He’s dressed similar to how he was yesterday- jeans and a t-shirt that should be considered indecent. If you were your mom, you’d beg him to wear something that doesn’t highlight every curve and dip of his chest. Hell, if you were your mom, you’d never let him go outside. Too risky. But you’re not your mom. You’re just unusual.

As a perfect man does, he opens the door for you. Then opens the SUV door, allowing you in before shutting it behind. You’re sure you've never met a guy that does that in real life, but maybe it was a ‘you’ problem and not the guy. Who knows.

When he gets in, he cranks the vehicle only for rock music to start playing from the radio- making the corners of his mouth dimple with a pleased look. Really are the simple things for him. As for you, you’re suffocated in a Hellish torment by both his presence and the expensive scent of cologne and leather seats combo.

The ride isn’t long, nor bad. Albeit you two only talk here and there so he can focus on the road- and so you can focus on not dying (he’s not a perfect driver, but not terrible either). Just enough to keep your nerves teetering between a light anxiety attack and full blown panic.

You’re relieved to get there alive. Maybe not. Your thoughts have you thinking suicide may be your only option for now disgusting they are. And it only gets worse when he helps you down from the step up of the SUV- a hand on your exposed waist and the other on your shoulder. It’s harmless. Just a dad being gentlemanly. He was shaped and carved out in that perfect, chivalrous image with only a mallet and hammer. No reason to make it weird.

Inside the mall is a tad busy- the perfect amount to be comforting. You feel a bit more at ease in a public setting since you can now focus on anything but your dad’s chest. As long as he doesn’t require eye contact or talk to you, that is.

He looks around, arms crossed. It’s almost whorish. He has to know his arms look good. Or that his everything looks good. The fuck.

“So…” He cranes his head to the side, bangs brushing over his nose for a moment. The way he looks around makes his Adam’s apple and neck muscles a little more prominent. A perfect, stubbled spot to attack with your lips.

“What do you feel like doing first, kiddo?”

You. Is what you want to say.

He looks back to you, smiling down amused. He seems genuinely happy to be able to take you out. But really- his face is making you nauseous. Obviously not because it’s bad. But because it’s good-bad. Too good it’s bad.

“Uhh… “ you look away from him, scanning the entrance area and looking at any signs. Almost like an escape.

“How about new clothes maybe? Seems like something got ahold to the other half of your pants anyways.” He nudges you with an elbow, gesturing to your shorts with his head.

So he probably did look at your legs earlier. Maybe not in the way you think, though.

You glare at him.

“Seriously?”

Leon puts his hands up in defense. He’s always on the defense in life anyways.

“Joking, joking. You’re…grown.” His forehead lines crease when he raises his brows. You did get rather annoyed at his comment, however.

“I could always buy some even shorter.” You spit sarcastically.

“Yes- because every father wants to walk around with their daughter who has her ass out.” He’s quick to remark, this time he seems grumpier when he talks. Sorta like he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. Or that he’s mad.

“Sorry my legs make you so uncomfortable. I guess I should’ve left them at home.” The back and forth here could go on forever between you two but he catches you off guard.

“Shit- no. It’s not that- ‘s just you’ve got nice legs. Can’t have these…shitheads eying down my little girl. I may be old, but I can fight when I need to.”

You know he meant his words innocently enough, but the fact that he said nice legs has you giddy inside. Same feeling when your crush calls you pretty. Yeah- that sorta feeling. And his little girl. It has a ring to it. Could even legally change your name to it so that he can call you by it more often. Maybe he’ll even let you jump on his dick right away.

Your face is pure rose-shaded. A perfect, neutral shade to make your embarrassment pop on your skin. You’re sure it’s visible to him, too. Your mom always teased you about how blotchy it would get when you were humiliated. Particularly when she would tell awkward stories about you at family dinners. Bitch.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be pissed at me, sweetheart. I was just teasin-“

“It’s not that.” You interrupt- heart thumping into your rib cage. If it doesn’t stop, or you don’t stop your word-vomit, it might crack a rib or four. Probably more. Better have hospital bill and therapy money ready, dad.

“Then what’s the matter? I just want us to have a good time together. I’m not trying to upset y-“

“You said I have nice legs.” You’re quick to cut him off again.

“And…?” He trails off, cocking his head to the side like he’s confused. Because he is confused. You stare off to the side- eyes glued to the fountain. Maybe you could go drown yourself in the penny-flavored water that you guarantee hasn’t been changed out since you were still the unlucky sperm in your dad’s ball-sack.

“I like that. You saying that.” You speak a little lower now- afraid someone will hear. Or because the tinnitus is so loud in your ears. What you’re getting at is almost clear now. Or at least clear enough.

Leon’s expression is taken aback but still confused to an extent because he’s not even certain what you’re saying. Though, he has an idea.

“Oh- uh. Okay. Sweethea-“

“Holy fuck- stop calling me that. You’re not making this easy. Wanting to fuck you. I know- I sound mental.” You spill it out, guts on the floor and the sword still in hand. Holy shit. Just told your dad you want to fuck him. You could have backtracked- fucking dumbass. You won’t be shocked if he packs his bags and leaves off again tomorrow.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Okay- clearly I wasn’t around enough. I get that. But I mean- fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around. Probably thinking the same thing about the fountain that you did. Still- he looked hot while having a crisis and contemplating immediate suicide. He paces while your nerves are being electrocuted in your body. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Just- sweetheart, no. None of that’s.. I can’t.” He starts, turning back to you. It seems he can look you in the eyes now. So maybe he’s not entirely disgusted by you. His face isn’t contorted with disgust, so there’s a chance. Yeah, you’re off your rocker now. You know.

“Look- let’s not talk about this. C’mon. Let’s go catch a movie like I promised.” He starts walking- leaving you standing in a puddle of shame and embarrassment for a moment before stopping to let you catch up.

Luckily- the theater is joined to the mall. It’ll be a short walk.

—

Leon is lax on the couch until he hears the crunchy sound of tires on concrete. You’re home. Despite his shitty back, he's huffing as he gets up fast and is already opening the door. The air is hot as it greets his skin and he watches you struggle with your suitcase through the heat-haze that spans over the distance.

He calls out to you- making your head snap in his direction. Your face is that of awe and confusion. You don’t seem to immediately recognize him- okay. He gets it. It’s been a while. Nevertheless, you’re beautiful. He’d seen pictures of you from your mother, but he’s in awe just as you are. Though, he doesn’t think that highly of himself so he often wonders if you’re even his kid. Couldn’t have made something that perfect, in his mind. He helps you with your bag and follows you to your room. But your demeanor around him is noticeably mousey. At first, it doesn't seem like much. You’re just getting used to him.

Plus, Leon knows he can come off intimidating. Sometimes. But for him, he’s got a good eye and his job has led him to being able to read even the tiniest bits of body language. Doesn’t take him long to see how you’re worming around shyly- subconsciously smoothing your hair down and biting at your lip. Same way your mom acted around him before they started dating. But again- maybe it’s just in his head. Leon’s been wrong a time or two.

A better man would have left it alone. Leon gets that. But an innocent thigh squeeze at dinner can help him test his theory. A thigh squeeze that’s under the guise of friendly, fatherly touch. You tense- he can hear your small, sucked in breaths as long as his hand is there, along with heat radiating off your body like a wildfire. If wildfires could be horny college-aged daughters with daddy issues, that is.

The idea disgusts him. Because he should feel disgusted and just kill himself. Where did these thoughts come from? He even has the urge to let his hand wander other places. Bets that you have a cute pussy. No matter what it does or doesn’t look like, it’s yours and he knows it's cute. He’d give you two thick digits in your hole (three if you allow him) and have his tongue kitten-lick your clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” Is what he envisions saying before diving back in for a mouth full of you. Girls like you love being praised. Especially by their estranged father-figure or a middle aged man. It’s all the same. He’d pry the daddy issues right out of you with his dick. It’s long and fat enough, and solves all of his matters properly. Your mom is in a bad mood? His dick will fix that. He can’t sleep? His dick will fix that. His daughter is a horny freak and begging for it? His dick will fix that, too- obviously.

It’s only when your mom makes some stupid fucking joke about his memory loss that he snaps back into reality and he loses the momentum he had going for an erection. Which is good. Maybe thinking about fucking your mom will make him normal again. So he drops a quip right back- something about… being useful. Yeah. Again, his cock is useful. Your mom bites at his words, but you’re annoyed and disgusted with his comment- especially with his hand on you while he says it.

Trust me, baby. Much rather be splitting you open than having performative, mandatory spousal sex. It’s like a switch flipped. He’s not interested in your mom. Should’ve had that realization years ago, even. Technically he did. He’s just now saying it in his head finally. Mostly he was exhausted because she had nothing to do with Leon even when he was home (unless it was for dick). Too bad he was a golden retriever following after her every step like a good doggy. Marriage did that to a guy. He just did what he was supposed to. Kept the lights on, blew out her back occasionally, listened to her complain, and took care of the lawn when he could. Easy enough. That’s what men do, right? He doesn’t really know what being a man is, honestly. Thanks, Major Krauser. Anyhow- he chokes down his food with a smile. The need to upchuck after everything he just thought up is a given.

He takes the liberty to fuck your mom later that night as promised per (faux) flirting over dinner. He has her face down-ass up, though. For… imagination’s sake. At least fucking a pussy and imagining you is better than his hand and imagining you. Or so he tells himself. Call it killing two birds with one stone, satisfying your mom and quelling his own desires. And it’s not hard to imagine any of it, because you look so much like your mother. He lies awake for a short while after- contemplating his existence and fucked up thoughts. He’s still holding back vomit and the urge to grab his gun from the nightstand and off himself all over the wallpaper, while in the process, traumatizing your mom. After an hour of this- he figures it’s fine, men think of perverted or weird shit sometimes. Jerk off to weird shit too. He hasn’t technically done anything morally wrong… sort of. It’s denial. At least he’s good at playing the part of a genuine, loving father. Because he is! He loves his family. Always has!

Spending time with you would make you happy, him happy, your mom happy. He loves you dearly. All is great. He’s swearing that his brain won’t be smoothied in his skull by tomorrow. It’ll be normal and function rationally.

But Leon wakes up with the thoughts being real as ever while he stretches an arm out to feel around for your mother- bed empty since she leaves at the ass crack of dawn. Leon had just missed her leave, he’s still getting used to sleeping in ever since he retired.

He gets up and heads downstairs- immediately starting breakfast to take his mind off his…mind. Breakfast is his favorite meal of the day, it makes him feel better to indulge in it right now. Though, he doesn’t bother putting a shirt on at any point- just rocking those generic, green and blue tartan patterned pajama pants. Cooking shirtless is weird- but he’s hungry and part of him wonders if he’ll get to see your priceless face when you walk into the kitchen. He shakes his head- telling himself that he just had this talk with himself last night. None of that shit.

He was right about one thing. God, he could make a killing in betting. He sees your reflection behind him in the small window above the counter but you didn’t know that. Just stood, gawking. It’s okay. He’s observative, you’re not. You’re his dumb little girl. Dumb in the way you shift in your stool next to him when he sits down, dumb how you hold your breath when he’s near, dumb how you can’t even eat next to him, and dumb how your thighs seem to wriggle when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushes yours. Oh, he’s definitely not wrong.

Still- he knows when to back off. He hounds down his food, before you even make a dent in your plate, and heads upstairs to shower. He’s analyzing every detail of himself, contemplating how he can get under your skin the most- his knuckles gripping the sink with distaste for himself. Because it’s wrong. He’s acting like a teenager. This is a date with his daughter, not his highschool girlfriend.

Leon skips over shaving his face. Likes to keep it a little grown out but not too much so. Just in case he gets the chance to eat (your) pussy or kiss (your) a neck. Then comes the Dior ‘Sauvage’ body wash he never failed to keep with him. He takes pride in smelling good if anything. And this particularly expensive wash, plus the cologne, was his lifeline for that. When he traveled for work- the D.S.O. better have god damned had some sent to his room as courtesy. Ever since Raccoon City- he’s adamant about not smelling less than great. He swears he can still smell the sewer on himself sometimes, even if it’s not really there.

His hair routine was even more extensive and involved a weekly hair mask. Hey- it wasn’t wrong for a guy to have nice hair. It paid off.

Heat protectant, blow dry, hot-comb to get any cow licks or fly-aways he might have- though it’s unlikely- and a little spritz of biotin spray to keep it healthy and shiny. All of that in reasonable time, too. And no- it's not weird for him to spend longer on his hair than your mom does.

Besides, you seem to appreciate the way he looks when you come out of your bedroom- watching him descend the stairs. Leon looks back at you- eyes on your legs momentarily then coming back up. He knows it was a quick look- quick enough to make you question it. You do. Very much. Still, taking you out in public wearing those shorts is less than ideal for him, but he’s the one who needs to be watched closely. Aforementioned, Leon’s great at pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending to not have ulterior motives. Pretending to not want your legs on his shoulders as he-

“All ready?” He interrupts himself here. Can’t let his thoughts keep going too far. Even if he does want to rest a hand on your leg while he drives. Or veer off the road and into a tree so that he can’t continue to be disgusting. He’d die with the image of being a good, wholesome dad in everyone’s mind. And if you did or didn’t die too, at least you would have died not having been fucked silly by your old man. He manages to not kill you both, though. He wasn’t planning to- his driving is just ass. He knows whiskey with his breakfast isn’t ideal but when you’re a recovering alcoholic plus post traumatic stressed failure of a father, it helps.

Can’t complain though since he gets to put his hands on you while helping you out of the vehicle.

Now you’re both in the mall- Leon questioning what exactly he’s supposed to do now. He hasn’t been to one since… he doesn’t have enough fingers for that. But you’re seemingly calm. Until he makes a stupid joke about your shorts. Sure. As much as he’s thinking about ripping a hole in the crotch to fuck you cause he’s impatient and stupid- he said it out of genuine concern.

He still has fatherly instinct. Some sick bastard could get a glimpse of your exposed legs and go jerk off to it or take a photo. Ironic coming from him right now. The call is coming from inside the house but the dad is too busy fiending after his own daughter to answer.

You’re royally pissed. He knows it. Women don’t like having it insinuated that they’re dressed like a whore. Big whoop, though. Someone has to say it. Then you blindside him. Big, needy eyes and saying you like it when he tells you your legs are nice. Then something about how you want to fuck him. Christ. What the fuck. He’s not sure if this is some kind of screwy set-up or you’re actually just so slutty that the only dick you’ll accept is your dad’s. He’s rocking a semi now. Would be a full hard-on if he weren’t in public but his head spins cause all the blood went to his loins too fast.

Leon doesn’t accept the advances yet. Not now, anyways. He’s mortified. He really thought he had himself going in delusion about how you were behaving- but he was actually right. And now being confronted with it… he’s fucking scared - that’s for sure. Hmm. Be a morally acceptable human or fuck your needy, whore daughter silly? He shakes his head and lets out an exhale.

That question needs some thought. No, it doesn’t. He knows better than to do any of that shit, right? He takes a moment to start walking while you follow along shamefully- the two of you headed to the theater. A movie is perfect. Don’t have to talk or anything. No interacting, really. But how the fuck is he just going to forget what you said? Sure, he’s been having questionable thoughts but they’re just thoughts. Your words, however, spoke it into existence. Like a fucked up, frankenstein’s monster of father-daughter reality.

Don’t mind us, everyone. Daughter’s got it real bad for me but I’m just going to take her to the movies and pretend it’s normal. Reality was distorted for him ever since the existence of zombies and BOWs anyway.

He lets you pick the movie- telling the attendant that he needs two tickets. It’s a horror movie. Of course. Something to trigger his PTSD, maybe. Then he could say anything he did after that was just accidental. A mental slip. He goes to fork over the $60 for tickets and popcorn- god, when did shit get so expensive? As he’s pulling out the cash, he sees you give him a look like you want to say something. His mind is racing looking at you- it makes him nervous.

“Uh.. what about candy?” You ask, looking away from him and at the display.

“What? Sour worms?” He questions you, laughing. Not in a mean way- but because it’s your favorite. So insignificant but he remembers. You were still a kid when he and your mom took you to see some milked out children’s movie that was a part of an entirely too long series. He bought you two boxes of sour worms then. You were a weird kid, though. The worms were split into two colors, and you’d always bite them down the middle and make him eat the side you didn’t like. But he’d do it. Gladly.

You nod, a little befuddled that he’d remember something like that. Cute. Too bad your weird ass just told him you wanted to fuck him about 15 minutes ago. So not entirely a cute moment.

“Oh- and two boxes of Sour Worms, please.” He adds, now pulling out a little more cash.

You both respectively grab your own drinks- Leon with popcorn in tow and you, your worms and cherry soda. His hands are full but he manages to flash the movie ticket between his index and middle finger to the usher, who then ripped it in half and pointed to the left end of the hallway.

You both don’t say anything, but you immediately race to the very top row like a child once inside the screening. Leon swears under his breath as he follows you like a geriatric snail. If a snail could have lumbar issues. He’s able to make it up the stairs to you quite some time after and takes the seat next to you that’s closest to the aisle. Safety and all that jazz.

Previews are already playing so it gives him peace of mind to not address the awkwardness between the two of you. Your soda is in the cup holder that’s separating you both, but you lean over to take a sip, cheeks hollowed out while you drink. Of course Leon looks over, fuck.

Pretty little lips wrapped around the straw until you pull off of it with a satisfied sigh. Cause you were thirsty from anxiety- like someone shoved gauze and cotton into your mouth.

He shifts in his seat and looks back at the screen. He doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not, however. He’s just a perverted dickhead.

Time passes and not a single soul has come into this screening. It’s Monday at 11am, after all. Who the hell would come watch a horror movie at this time? No one except two fucking weirdos. It’s making Leon’s nails dig into the armrest with the other set scratching at his jeans.

The movie doesn’t start off bad, to Leon’s shock. He’s actually enjoying it and you seem just as entranced, pulling open the box of Sour Worms without looking down. You do wind up looking down, however, to bite one in half because it just so happened to be a blue and orange combo, and you hated the orange side.

“Here.” Leon turns to look at you- your eyes coming up to meet his blue ones that are oddly blue enough to the point that any light from the screen makes them pop. Pretty.

“The orange half. I know you don’t like them.” His voice is husky and low since the speakers are blaring some generic string-quartet horror piece. He nods down to the half chewed candy in your palm.

You pinch it between your fingers, bringing it to his mouth as your cunt throbs. He was expecting you to hand it to him, but the way you confidentially yet instinctively brought it to his lips isn’t entirely unwelcome. The emptiness of the theater makes it that way. Allows room for incest of whatever. He opens his mouth for you, and you go to place the sour treat on his tongue. His lips gently close around it, before he grabs your wrist to hold your arm in place. A hold gentle enough to tell you that if you want to snatch your hand away- feel free to do so. But you don’t. And you won’t. He knows.

Candy in cheek, he brings your fingers to his lips and nurses your knuckles with a kiss before puppeteering your hand with his larger one, working each digit so that he can equally suck each one clean. You’re amazed, aroused, and alarmed all at the same time. Amazed because he looks so gorgeous sucking on your fingers. Aroused for the obvious reason. Alarmed because duh, he’s your father and things can only go further from here.

Leon places your hand back onto the arm rest between you, chewing the halved sour worm now. As if he didn’t just give you the most visually appealing form of sexual affection in the history of womankind. The dryness of your mouth returns and you take another sip of your Cherry soda. Maybe you can drown yourself in it. No, stupid. That’s what the public bathroom toilets are for.

Right before you set the plastic cup into the cupholder again, Leon speaks.

“Ah, ah. Put it over there.” You don’t even hesitate to listen. Record timing for you doing anything. You don’t even know why you followed his instructions so quick.

“Good girl.” His words send lightning of excitement down your nerves and straight to your clit as he pushes the armrest between you upwards and out of the way. Because that’s a thing, for some reason. It’s like theaters want people to fuck, give head, and spread their diseases everywhere. And why does he know they move? You don’t even want to question it. Maybe he’s just a knowledgeable guy.

“Come here, honey. Let daddy kiss that pretty mouth.” Fucking Christ. This can’t be real. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause again, there’s zero hesitation on your part. Leon likes that. A woman that can follow orders. He’s so used to taking them, not giving them. And your mom isn’t one to listen to other people. Either way, if this goes south, Leon can always just off himself. He wasn’t around much so what difference would it make if he was permanently gone? The reassurance of being able to log out forever gives him courage here. It’s rational.

You scoot over since you’re free from any barriers or restrictions, and he puts an arm over you. You swear you almost hear your skin sizzle from the contact. You’re not a witch- and as far as you know, he’s not water. Even if he gets you wet. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and swipe a thumb over your bottom lip- teasing you.

“D-dad.” You stutter a protest- cringing that you sounded the way you did just now. Maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed ‘cause he’s your dad- but you are embarrassed ‘cause he’s hot. You can’t even figure out why you wanna back out suddenly. Probably because the idea was better than betraying your mom and knowing yourself as someone who fucks their dad. Anywho- didn’t he say something about kissing you? Cause he’s not even doing as promised.

Your dad leans in, his free hand is now on your neck and angling it just to show you how easy he can manhandle your body. He plants a kiss on your earlobe before saying anything.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t go giving daddy blue-balls now. It’s not polite to start things you don’t wanna finish.”

Leon’s words simultaneously gross you out and turn you on in a self-deprecating, disgusting kind of way. Not to mention he’s literally contradicting himself since he would gladly eat the half of the sour worms you didn’t want to finish- therefore entirely enabling you to start things you couldn’t finish. Hm. That must explain a large portion of your life, then. And besides all do that, doesn’t the know blue-balls is some kinda stupid myth or whatever?

His thumb falls down your lip and traces your jawline with intentional slowness while his eyes look over your face appreciatively- but it also seems as if he’s looking for or at something specific.

You get the courage to speak, air sucked fully into your lungs.

“Sorry, daddy.” The fuck is wrong with you? You could have said anything but that. It’ll only spur him on. But you want that, obviously.

He smirks, lips pressed together as the corners of his mouth do that same, pitted thing they do that you like so much. Must go hand in hand with how his chin is also dimpled. It’s sexy. But little do you know, it’s one of the reasons he keeps his stubble. Doesn’t feel like having his butt chin on display to the world- even if every woman that’s ever laid eye on him sees it and wants it buried in their cunt.

“That’s my girl. Didn’t even have to be around much to teach you that, did I?” Leon queries, grabbing your chin to crane your head just so that he can plant his lips onto your neck. His other hand is on your knee, unmoving. You want it to move, though. God- you’re sure whatever higher power is in the great sky is throwing up right now, moments away from pressing the reset button. The same higher power will make a new rule on humanity.

No free will and absolutely no incest. Yeah. Probably should have written that into the books ages ago, one fears.

You fidget as he kisses your neck, stubble scratching your epidermis yet tickling all the same.

“Not gonna answer me, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your throat, the neck kiss he gives it uses a bit of tongue- making your body jolt. “I know your mother taught you manners.”’

You mumble something pathetically apologetic, hands gripping the fabric over his shoulders. Hopefully your mom won’t notice his shirt being stretched out there- cause she notices everything.

“N-no, daddy. I knew it on my own.” You huff, that hand you wanted him to move is slowly doing so- fingers dragging along your inner thigh as if everything he’s doing to you is purposefully meant to be some kind of forewarning. But for what, exactly?

“Such a smart girl. Get that from daddy, you know it?” Ok, cocky…

Leon kisses his way back up your neck, jawbone, and then your cheek. It’s sweet- if being lavished with saccharine, sexual and inappropriate attention from your dad could be sweet.

You nod, feeling his grip loosen from your chin and now sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair, threading it. He’s slow and deliberate- part of you wishes he’d not give you time to think about your actions. Not that you can really think anyways. Your heartbeat is muddled in your ears and the movie is still rumbling through the speakers while someone gets murdered on screen. Lucky them.

The hand on your thigh presses firmer into the skin just below the edge of your shorts, a silent telling for you to keep your attention on him.

“Sorry baby, daddy got distracted. Just so pretty.” He must be able to tell you’re impatient because he kisses your cheek (with an oddly dark undertone to it) before slimming the distance between your lips. He pauses right when they touch and you’re breathing in the taste-turned-scent of the sour worm you fed him earlier. Sugar and that weird orange flavor that is only specific to orange candy. You’re obviously not a fan, but it suits him.

You don’t get any time left to process before it’s a full on kiss- well, make out, actually. It’s slow. You can’t recall being kissed like this, ever. Normally it’s straight to tongue with guys, and not in, like, the good way. The ‘having an eel invading your oral cavity’ kind of way. Eugh.

But your dad’s tongue does brush yours, tastefully. You can actually feel the texture and it’s easy to tell there’s an erection fueling his actions- but not so much so that it takes over the whole kiss.

He uses your hair to pull you closer, teeth clashing momentarily. Not exactly the best feeling but everything else envelops your senses to the point that it’s only a flash of a moment. Your thigh is neglected by his touch, hand moving up and around onto your backside. He gives a squeeze to the fat of your ass and groans against your mouth before pulling you into his lap- legs folded on either side of his thighs.

You break the kiss, looking over your shoulder and to where the entrance is- the exit sign casting a nearby glow that gives you anxiety..

“Can’t- we’ll get caught.” You pant, that weird feeling that’s the grotesque love child of nervousness and excitement is swimming in your gut like a parasite before settling. The severity and realness of the situation sinks in.

Leon laughs low and mean, retracting his hand from your hair and moving to run it through the top of your scalp to push it back. He juts his hips upwards to prod his denimed erection into the cunt of your shorts. You mewl quietly, or maybe it was loud. The movie is just too deafening to distinguish which.

“Suppose you’re right, baby.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, leaning in to give you a light peck on the lips. “Told you you’re a smart girl, didn’t I? Can’t let me go around thinking with my dick, huh?”

His hand pats your thigh as if to tell you to get off.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Up.” He commands you with a huffed voice- not because he’s annoyed but because he’s a middle-aged man. Moving is hard. You ignominiously climb off of his lap, putting your bottom back onto the seat next to him. He’s looking at you, meandering a hand back onto your thigh just to rest in place.

You stare at the screen- but you can’t even register it because you’re too disassociated from what just happened. You almost want to beg him to fuck you right here- plead for forgiveness that you suggested stopping in the first place. And you can still taste that damned orange sour worm in your mouth.

Leon behaves, though. He’s good about that. Respectful. In the way of consent- not in the way of not tongue fucking his daughter in a public space. When the movie ends, he gestures for you to stand and you walk past him, carrying your empty cup and boxes of sour worms while the uncomfortable feeling of your slick clinging the gusset of your panties to your cunt. You look back at your father, the sight of him in the palely lit theater is a bit intimidating. He’s adjusting his pants for obvious reasons. You look away quickly and keep walking- a giddy feeling of satisfaction overcoming you. Shortly enough, you’re both back in the main area of the mall. You brush your shirt out and fix your hair- the thought occurs to you that maybe you look a little mussed and should have straightened up sooner.

But the daylight beaming through the sky roof brings you back to your senses.

“Hmm. What does my sweet girl want to get up to now?” Leon asks, intersecting his arms as he looks over you.

You think, mind fizzling as it short circuits. You almost smell smoke emanating from your head, too. How can you look him in the face right now?

“Uhh..” You really don’t know what to say. What can you focus on doing after everything that’s happened today?

“How about this? We can go home a little early and I’ll cook something up for lunch. The drive will give us time to work up an appetite.” He says, nonchalant. Right back to his same fatherly tone from earlier today instead of the ‘I want to split you open with my dick’ tone he had moments ago. Maybe he’s just being sweet and you’re overthinking.

You’re befuddled that he’s not saying anything else about… that. How can he so easily go from publicly groping you to acting cheery and normal? It’s frustrating. Disturbing even. Leon can see the disappointment on your face- but you don’t know that. You assume it’s well hidden, just like the fact you kissed your own father. He thinks it’s cute though. You’re just cock dumb for him. On the other hand, this whole situation is something he has to deal with.

“Got it.” You manage to say, walking a little faster than he does. This is the second time you’ve walked off from your dad, and it does irritate him because he can’t keep up like he used to. Displaced disc in his spine or whatever. Plus, he thinks you’re pissed. Which is worrying. Should have known better than to mess around with his own daughter, he supposes.

The drive back is silent and less terrifying than the previous, part of you thankful. Maybe he was only a bad driver in the morning. Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe it was the fact that he drank whiskey with his breakfast. Hm. ‘Responsible’ in hindsight.

It’s still early in the afternoon when you arrive back home. The concrete is sizzling from the heat and the sun beats down way too uncomfortably for even a walk from the driveway to the front door.

Leon side-steps you to unlock the house before he urges you in. He may be morally reprehensible but he still didn’t want to let any cool air out- AC’s expensive. You plop down on the couch and he locks the door, walking past you and straight to the kitchen.

The tension is thick for you- but for Leon- not at all. You watch him disappear through the doorway as he goes to prep food. Why is it so hard to read his emotions? He’s like a fucking light switch. You’re annoyed- leaning back on the couch, until he calls for you. You’re quick to get up, scrambling into the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart. Mind giving me a hand?”

“Yeah. What is it?” You faintly cock your head to the side.

Leon looks to the side- directly at you. You’re cute when you’re confused. He can tell that all you’re thinking about is continuing where you two left off earlier. Shit, you’re no better than your mother. ‘S just that you’re not crabby and sour all the time like she is.

“Can you grab the saucepan from the bottom cabinet. Your old dad can’t exactly bend over too well.” He laughs- shaking his head. Yes, dad. I get it. I know you have a bad back.

You walk over to the cabinet where he’s leaned onto one hand which is rested on the marbled countertop. You feel a bit apprehensive to be close to him again. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not jump his bones, but Leon’s already ahead of you. As soon as you bend over, he pulls you back by the hips so that your ass is flush with his groin.

You’re taken aback but definitely not surprised. He’s a dirty old man, as you’ve learned.

“Gonna let daddy fuck this pussy now, or are you getting flaky on me?” He coos against your ear while he runs his hands up your sides and down again- creeping his hands to your front and over the buttons of your shorts- unhooking them through the slits.

“Yes.. want it.” You breathe in quick- the word coming out on its own. If god could hear you right now, he’d set your house ablaze with lightning.

“Need you to loosen up if I’m going to. You’re way too stiff.” Your shorts are the opposite of you, loose and unfastened fully so they fall to your ankles, and Leon nudges your feet apart with his boot. You realize he’s got a point as you feel his calloused hand glide down your hip and yank you in place. The other hand is spreading your pussy lips apart before finding that fleshy bud between them. A moan rumbles in your throat as your legs almost give out below you. He mutters a curse under his breath, and you realize his cock is now out while he rubs up against your ass- getting off on not only playing with your pussy but from dry humping you.

“Fucking christ. Got the prettiest ass, baby. Think daddy needs to see it bouncing on his cock.” You can practically feel that stupid, smug look as he grabs his dick- slapping it on your ass. It makes you cringe a little, but maybe you should be cringing at the fact your dad is the one doing it. You figure it’s just something he saw in porn, so it doesn’t leave your expectations high at the moment. Great. Leon adjusted himself back into his pants, for now.

His finger continues circling that bundle of nerves, your legs shaky as you’re being pressed into the counter, a hand is on your lower back to keep you down so he can do what he wants. You sound stupid- tears welling in your eyes as you babble nonsensically about wanting to cum. He moves his hand off of your back and sinks to his knees to be face level with you (even if it makes his back hurt a little), sliding his fingers up your inner thigh until there’s a digit prodding your hole, slowly pushing in.

He watches your cunt swallow his finger, barely able to fit it inside.

“Fucking shit, baby. Gonna have to stretch this pussy out if I want my cock in you, huh? Think you can let daddy do that?” He asks, breathy and sounding like he’s trying not to bust all over himself.

You eagerly shake your head.

“Yes, daddy. Need you to get me loose.” The words spill like a hot cup of tea from your lips, scalding Leon with desire.

“God damned. Such a polite fucking girl I’ve got. Might have to eat your mother out later to thank her for making you so respectful.”

You scrunch your face in disgust.

“That’s fucking gross.” You moan, Leon slipping a second finger into you, which should technically feel like four with how worn and big his hands are.

He tuts, planting a kiss to your asscheek.

“Now, didn’t daddy just compliment you? Could be a bit more grateful since he’s trying to make you cum” He grits, sounding a bit (terrifyingly) stern.

You apologize again.

“Sorry, daddy. Just don’t wanna hear about you and mom. Makes me jealous.” You admit, briefly thinking about their dinner conversation last night. Then about how fucking weird you are. You’re really hoping you get the courage to bash your head on the marble countertop and get amnesia.

Leon laughs, but in a way that makes you think he’s amused more than actually laughing.

“God. Want me to stop fucking my own wife just ‘cause you’ve got a needy pussy?” A third finger slips in, making an almost unbearable stretch as you feel a slight ache, but the previous two fingers already did enough work that it’s not completely unbearable.

“Maybe you’re not that grateful. Giving you three fingers here and she’s still too tight.” He twists his hand, letting the inside of you feel every inch of his knuckles and calluses. Your knuckles, however, are ghost-white as you grip at nothing.

“Maybe your fingers are just too small.” You say- mostly from built up tension and annoyance that you didn’t get to let out yet. But you regret the words.

He’s silent- which scares you. He pulls his fingers out of you- the stark contrast in emptiness is clear and the cool air stings you.

Leon groans as he stands up, kicking off his boots before yanking you by the arms to stand straight. He leans into your ear.

“C’mon. You’re gonna come sit on daddy’s dick, since you’re too fucking picky.” Goosebumps form all over you as he leads you to the couch. Leon leaves you standing there so he can get comfortable and discard his clothing, lying back with his hands behind his head. You make a mental note of how his biceps look with his arms bent in this position, even if you kinda feel like it’s lazy. But holy fuck, his toned stomach is perfect- sprinkled with a happy trail that will definitely lead you somewhere that will make you happy. Speaking of, his dick is nice. Fat. Not sure how big it is since you have not much to compare to, but you’d imagine taking it would be a bit of a proper challenge.

You step a little closer- crawling awkwardly over his lap- ass faced towards him so that you settle on his waist. It’s hard not to feel self conscious about your backside in this position, even considering the fact that he was just fingering you from the back moments ago. You’re mostly just upset you can’t gawk at his tits or stomach.

You grab him by the base, shifting yourself to hover directly over him, letting the tip graze your wet hole before slowly sinking down- a drawn out moan escaping you.

“Fuckkk. That’s it. Sit down on it. Take all of daddy.” You glance over your shoulder as you bottom him out; his eyes are half-lidded. Well, at least he’s got a pretty face while you’re fucking him. You almost failed to realize his hands moved from behind his head to your ass- gliding up your back and down again.

You take a moment to adjust, breathing shakily ‘cause his dick is so fat you think you might die. Or maybe you’re having a heart attack at your ripe age.

“Didn’t tell you to take any breaks, did I baby?” You’re annoyed at his pushiness, but you did have a bit of a sour attitude earlier. So you can only blame yourself.

You’re not sure how to entirely do this, but you move yourself up and down. Not at a fast pace, yet. Just that savoring your dad’s dick seems like a reasonable ordeal.

He doesn’t shut up, though. You’re learning just how much he likes to talk- as if he just wants to hear himself. Is he even getting off on you or the sound of his own voice? It makes you roll your eyes even if you do like hearing him say dirty shit.

"That’s my girl. So fucking good. Ride it nice and slow... Work that sweet pussy on daddy's cock.” You just might fall over dead hearing him say any of it- it’s disgusting but sweet Jesus are you eating it up. He must know it too because of how you clench around him involuntarily when he talks like that.

“You like when daddy praises you? Yeah, you love me telling you how good you are.” His words are husky and yet pleased with the previous tidbit of information.

“See how nice I am? Letting you sit on my cock after you made me wait earlier. Wasn’t very nice of you, now was it, baby?” His words have an underlyingly mocking tone, but you’d do anything to make him change it.

“No, daddy. Was really mean of me.” You whine pitifully, bouncing yourself on his dick like it’s your major in college and you’re trying to pass with flying colors.

“I know, baby. But daddy forgives you.” He murmurs, sitting up with you still on top of him. He’s flush against your back now- reaching in front of you to make those same tight circles on your clit. You both exchange your pitchy moans and his grunting and groaning- working up to a good point in both of your impending orgasms.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, got it? Daddy doesn’t like to pull out.”

You scramble a bit, squirming on his lap.

“Fuck, dad! You can’t do that!” You whine as his other arm holds you onto him- wrapped around your stomach. Your nails dig into his forearms, hopefully not leaving noticeable scratches.

“I think I can, baby. You’re squeezing me at the idea- I’m not fucking stupid.” He’s quick to be mean again, but you’d be a liar to say you’d don’t want him to cum in you. And you’re not a liar, that’s just deplorable- coming from someone who is literally fucking their dad with enough energy to power a small village for a month. And yet, you don’t stop riding him.

And your silence tells it all.

“Yeah- my baby wants a nice creampie.” He sounds more strained now, letting go of his hold on your stomach and using his hand to now guide you to roll your hips on him.

Sweat beads down Leon’s forehead, bangs sticking to his face as he watches your ass grinding against his lap.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna cream this tight fucking pussy. Want that, don’t you? ‘Cause daddy’s gonna give it to you whether you want it or not.”

You should be a little more upset or concerned in any regard right now, but the last two days have made you into a proper whore to the point that you don’t even give a shit. Self respect crawled itself into a space shuttle and launched off of the planet, probably to never be seen again. Stuck in orbit, if you will.

You’re sucked out of the motions when Leon speaks again.

“Stop, stop.” He pats your bottom.

“Turn around, baby. I wanna see your face. Wanna kiss those lips while you’re on my dick.” Your stomach flutters with nervousness and a sickly sweet feeling. You lifted yourself from him with a trail of arousal to follow and maneuvered to turn around- this time he was holding his cock ready for you. Moments went by of you staring, getting a proper look of him since everything had been a quick blur so far.

“Come on, baby. Need you to mount daddy’s cock again. Told you I wanted to kiss you, didn’t I?” He exhaled, sounding a bit pent up. Jeez- seconds without pussy and he’s getting upset. Maybe he needs a therapist and anger management, not his college-aged daughter spearing herself on him.

You replied, yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you wait, daddy.

You dropped yourself down onto him once more- only this time it was easier since you were able to get accustomed to his dick.

“Start moving sweetheart, make daddy cum.” He instructed, leaning in to take you in a kiss. It was more dirty than the last kiss, somehow. His tongue slipped between your lips- Leon lifted you with his hands on your waist before jutting his hips up to slam his cock snugly into your heat, groaning against your mouth delightfully.

His teeth nipped your lower lip- giving you a little further taste of just what kind of lover he is. Or maybe this is just the version you get. Either way, you can’t complain in any area. You feel lucky to receive even a sliver of it.

The familiar roughness of his thumb returns to your already throbbing bud- circling at the same pace he’s now moving at. Despite his age, he seems awfully enthusiastic to do strenuous work involving his hips. Bad back, my ass. Or maybe he’s able to put that on the back burner to please you. Probably worried if he doesn’t give you good dick then you’ll go tattle on him.

Leon didn’t break the kiss whatsoever while he pounded into you ruthlessly, he swallowed up every moan and noise you made like it was alcohol. ‘Cause that was his favorite, obviously.

When he pulled his mouth off of yours, a trail of saliva lingered- stretching out while you giggled on top of him. Something about you laughing almost made him nut immediately, but he held out just to prolong this and let it engrain into his mind for certain.

“Got the prettiest baby- look so good on my cock like this. Want daddy to bust in that pretty pussy?” He asked, looking for your approval.

“Uh-huh. Need daddy to knock me up.” The words came from god knows where, making even your eyes look bewildered for a second.

Leon laughed darkly at you.

“God, baby. Daddy’s so fucking close.” He muttered stupidly, almost like he was drunk. At least this could be an ego boost for you- but the fact it was your dad canceled that out. Dick only counts if it’s from someone that’s not related to you. His eyes did that half-lidded thing from earlier that you found so hot, and he pulled you down onto his cock one last time, spilling thick ropes into your blood-related hole. His dick pulsed as he let out a muted grunt, head lolling back and his adam's apple on full, stubbly display. You could bite it, just like a real apple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned. Jeez. He was a whore, honestly. The way he made noises and didn’t shut the fuck up was honestly… a case that should be studied. Maybe he had been turned out a time or two himself.

His cock didn’t soften though, nor did he not forget about you cumming. He lifted his head back up, looking down at where his thumb was. It was almost like he read your thoughts, not saying a word as he concentrated on making you cum. ‘Cause earlier he had been too eager to get in you and you were too eager to get on him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders (hopefully your mom wouldn’t notice any marks on him when she gets home from work later) and he gently fucked into you while you received proper attention on your aching clit. The combination of his dick keeping you full and the sensation of his digit sent you throbbing through your orgasm around him- low curses and other disgusting things coming out of both your mouths.

‘Cause you’re both disgusting.

[noradegrantz]

Boarding School

Teacher! Anakin x fem! reader

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

warnings: sexual content, implied smut, age gap, fingering, sex, teacher-student relationship

The reader is 18+ in the fic!!

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

this fanfic is inspired by Lana Del Rey’s unreleased song “Boarding School”

please excuse any typos you might see :,)

I really hope that y’all will enjoy this <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You recently found out that you were going to a new boarding school.

Your parents sent you off to a new one since in your previous school, you had problems with some girls. You didn’t really wanna to go to a new school since you have kind of settled in in your old one, but you didn’t have a choice.

It was your first day in the new boarding school. An only-girls school. The moment you stepped in some teachers showed you your new room and you had to share it with another girl. It was pink and baby blue. Your bed had some bows around it and overall it was a really pretty room. After settling in you decided to go check out the rest of the school. Since it was the first day and there were no lessons today.

You were wearing your school uniform, a white shirt, a red tie, a pair of white thigh socks, black shoes and your red pleaded skirt. You look so pretty. You start walking around the corridors of the school, checking out the new classrooms and everything. You were not watching where you were going at some point when all of a sudden you accidentally fell onto someone. You looked up to the person. It was a teacher. You embarrassedly looked up to him and started apologising.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir, I was not watching where I

was going..!”

You really felt embarrassed after this…

He warmly smiled and looked down to you.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it, it’s fine!”

You were so embarrassed and looked down,

then he said

“Are you a new student? It’s the first day of school today and I haven’t seen you before here.”

You looked up to him and smiled

“Yes! I am a new student! I just came this morning. My name is y/n..”

“What a nice name…”

he replied.

“Have they assigned you with a class? I think it’s on the papers that they gave you when you arrived here this morning.”

Your eyes widen, realising that you do not know in which class you actually are.

“Oh, I forgot to actually check it… silly me..”

You say and laugh awkwardly.

“Well, I’d suggest that you actually go check it out because the lessons start tomorrow and I don’t think that you would like to lose one of your classes right?”

He says and winks at you.

You instantly blush..

He’s a teacher, and he’s already making you feel so…so.. hot..? You couldn’t explain it, but you were feeling things.

You give him a smile and walk back to your room.

The next day you wake up and check out in which class you are. The papers say C1.

You get dressed, eat breakfast and fix your schoolbag. Then you head out to your lesson.

You walk in the class and sit in the front seat. After a while you hear the door of the classroom open and your new teacher walks in. It’s the same teachers from the corridors yesterday. The moment this happens is when you realise that he never actually told you his name.

Then, he sits in front of everyone in the class and says

“Good morning everyone, I’ll be your new philosophy teacher for the year.. I am Anakin Skywalker, but you can call me Mr Skywalker. I also do tutoring lessons in case everyone has problems with philosophy, so could you always can count on me.”

he says and smiles. I look up to him and smile too. He notices me and winks playfully. I feel a wave of amusement and embarrassment wash over me. He’s my teacher and feel like that about him, but he’s already so nice to me and sweet, you said to yourself.

Days pass pretty fast. You’ve started your school year in a really good mood. You love your new philosophy teacher more than any other teachers. Whenever you see him, you talk to him and you guys have really good conversations. One day decide to finally take the step and ask him if he can tutor you.

After class, you walked up to him.

“Excuse me Mr Skywalker….from what I remember on our first lesson you said to us and we can ask you for help with tutoring.. I’ve been wanting to ask you for awhile about it, but I was just too shy I guess..”

You say, and laugh anxiously.

He gave you a warm smile and replied

“Of course…plus you are the only student who actually asked for me to tutor them, so whenever you feel like it let me know.We can arrange the days and all.. oh and I have some free time right now. We could sit here, on this class, if you would like me to help you out with anything hmm?”

you smiled in excitement.

“Oh yes absolutely! I do have some free time right now… and I would love it if you could help me right now..”

You said and giggled.

You guys start studying together. He’s a really good tutor. Without realising it, hours have passed..

Anakin takes off his glasses and smiles, while looking at you.

“I don’t get why you want me to tutor you… you are so good..”

He smiled once again.

You put a strand of your hair behind your ear and reply to him.

“Honestly…sir… I don’t really feel like it.. I mean I do try my best, but it feels like I need more help.. but I really appreciate the way you speak to me and the way you help me with anything… thank you sir”

He’s sitting right next to you with his hand on the desk while looking at you.. you guys are so close.. your lips are so close to each other..

just as you guys are so close to kissing he moves a bit away..

“The time has passed fast huh..? Perhaps you better if you went back to your dorm doll.. it’s getting late..”

you smile, awkwardly and reply

“Oh yes sir, you’re absolutely right… I will head back to my dorm.. and thank you… for today.. I’d like to do that more often..”

You leave the classroom.

After an while you’re back in your dorm.

You sit by the window and check out the view outside of the building. As you check out the trees, you watch your teacher under a tree, smoking a cigarette. You keep looking at him. And that is the moment you realise that you actually feel much more things about your teacher… you start noticing how hot he is when he smoking… the way he pushes his hair back, out of his face… the way he fixes his glasses.. it’s all so..attractive…

You didn’t care that you felt like that in the first place, you just wanted him.. so bad..

Days pass once again. He keeps on tutoring you. You guys get much closer than expected.

You are talking about more personal matters which leads both of you into realising that you are actually much similar than you thought..

The following week, you two decided to have a lesson much later that day. When nobody was walking around the classrooms and you had more privacy.

After an hour into the lesson, you guys are so close again…this time you felt like you needed to do that… you couldn’t resist, and as your lips were so close…You just leaned closer and kissed him..

He did not break the kiss. Instead, he put his hands on your waist as you were sitting in the chair and kissed you more. Then he set you on the desk and kept kissing you as his hands traveled around your body.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long doll… I’ve been wanting you for so long…”

He exclaims.

You couldn’t believe it.

You wanted him in the exact same way.

You stop the kiss and look up to him once again

“I’ve been wanting that too.. I want you here..right now, take me here..!”

You exclaimed. He smirked and laughed quietly.

Adrenaline washed over you.

He lifted your skirt as you were laying on the desk. Then he moved your panties to the side.

“And those pretty pink panties that you are wearing… such a shame that they are gonna be ruined by me baby..”

he starts fingering you

You keep moaning with your hand covering your mouth. Trying to be as quiet as possible..

After a while of prepping you.. he enters you.

He moves slowly.

“Baby? I’m gonna try to be gentle, okay? Tell me if anything hurts, hmm?”

you shake your head and smile warmly.

You spent the whole night getting pounded on a desk by your philosophy teacher.

After you guys finished, Anakin kissed your cheek and smiled

“You did so good for me doll..”

Turns out that the boarding school will be fun <3

[hard-core-super-star]

a kiss to every scar [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: servicetop!hailee steinfeld x [inexperienced] bottom!reader

summary: hailee sets out to show you the ropes of acting on a tv show...unfortunately, your very obvious crush on her distracts her enough to stop being so professional.

warnings: smut -> no minors allowed [this is technically porn with plot but the plot isn't important; fingering [R receiving]; praise + petnames; needy hailee [yes, this deserves a warning]; technically public sex but not really [aka sex in hailee's trailer but she forgets to lock the door]; hailee being overly protective but also very horny; R is technically younger than hailee but the age gap isn't that important, the height gap is though :) [sorry to my tall peeps]]

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: this request comes to you straight from our beloved 🧞‍♀️ anon! i tried to balance the fluff and the smut but well...you already know i always end up getting carried away. i TRIED, though. i'm going to make an announcement soon regarding writing hailee so stay tuned for that because it's going to be important. anywho, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You’re no stranger to surreal experiences. 

It seems like your entire life ever since being cast in your first TV role has been a series of unbelievable experiences after the other. Most of said experiences have been due to the overall excitement that comes with learning lines, going to outfit fittings, and talking through scenes with amazing directors and producers. 

However, the biggest, most surreal, of all the amazing things you’ve done has been meeting, working, and getting to know Hailee Steinfeld herself. The reasons for that are endless since you’re not only a genuine fan of her but you also have a not-so-small crush on her.

A crush that has thankfully managed to pass by undetected considering your overall awe at the work you get to do every day. It’s managed to be so undetected that you haven’t noticed how mutual the admiration that flows between the two of you actually is.

You’re not totally oblivious so you have picked up on some of the looks she sends your way and on the way she’s so adamant about helping you maneuver through the many obstacles that come with being on set all day. None of that seems like anything more than her being nice since you’re so new to a life that she’s lived for so long so you’ve never questioned it.

Plus, you like the feeling of her hand on your waist way more than you’re willing to admit to anyone. (Especially her)

Which is how you ended up getting talked into staying on set to watch Hailee finish her last scene of the day. It’s not something completely uncommon since you love watching her and the director in action but the brunette promised to buy you dinner afterward, something that’s never happened before. 

Your heart and mind have already made up more than enough excuses to overshadow the very clear intentions behind Hailee’s invitation but nothing can take away the pure joy you feel from being near her. 

A joy that draws in the actress like nothing else.

“What’d you think?” Hailee asks as she approaches you, her face lit up by a smile you know all too well.

“You’re incredible,” you reply the same way you always do and successfully draw a little chuckle out of her. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.”

“Practice…and way too much free time.”

She reaches a hand out to you, an unspoken question lingering in the air between you. You waste no time in taking her hand and letting her guide you toward her trailer so she can change back into her normal clothes. 

The walk is spent in the comfortable silence that always seems to follow the two of you and you pretend not to notice the way she keeps looking over at you with every few steps. You know exactly why her eyes keep shifting over to you but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed about it. 

Despite how used to being on set you might be by now, you still admire each and every detail as if it was the first day again. Part of it comes from how unbelievable it all still is and another part of it comes from how cool everything is. There’s always so much to take in and it’s become a habit of yours to be present and grateful for every moment.

A habit that, unbeknownst to you, Hailee finds really adorable.

The list of things she likes about you is quite long but at the top of the list are your wide-eyed looks of wonder and the smile on your face nothing seems to wipe away.

It’s no secret that the brunette has taken a liking to you, especially in her attempts to make sure nothing snuffs out the bright beams of sunlight you carry inside of yourself. She knows exactly what that’s like and she’d sooner lose her role as Kate Bishop than let you fall into any dark spirals.

“So…” She speaks up, gently pulling you closer to her side. “Did anything exciting happen besides watching me?”

Your cheeks flush at her words which makes her grin. “Sort of. Florence and I talked about walking around New York tomorrow since it’s just going to be you and Jeremy filming scenes.”

“Oh, yeah? Where are you thinking of going?” She leads you into her trailer while you launch into the specifics of all the places you want to visit and the things you want to see.

The brunette watches you intently, although her attention slips from the words you say to the genuine excitement your body language conveys. You’re too busy talking to notice the way she’s eying you or the way she keeps licking her lips.

You finish your explanation only to be met with complete silence and Hailee’s tall frame leaning comfortably against the door to her trailer. 

“Lee? Were you even listening?”

The tiniest of pouts tugs at your lips and the actress is quick to make her way over to you, completely forgetting about the unlocked door and her promise of taking you to dinner. “I’m sorry, baby, you’re just too cute, I got distracted.”

The “apology” makes your heart skip a couple of beats and you’re sure she notices your flustered state. “I guess that’s fine. I should probably go anyway so you can change.”

You look away from her and attempt to walk away but she stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. The contact makes you stiffen, not because it’s unwelcome but because it sends an overwhelming amount of feelings through your entire body. “You okay, y/n? I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

Your eyes remain locked on the ground below you as you shake your head. The lack of a verbal response only serves to worry the brunette further and her free hand quickly tilts your chin up until her warm eyes meet yours. 

She doesn’t say anything but the question on her face is obvious.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you force yourself to answer. “I just…I think I like it too much.”

The concern in her eyes shifts to something else, something bordering on passion, but you’re far too embarrassed to question it. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be nervous. I like you too.”

The words don’t fully register in your brain at first. Sure, you’ve lived through a lot of unbelievable moments but this is something right out of those dreams you can never tell a single soul about. 

“You…you what?”

Hailee chuckles, taking the smallest of steps forward so your bodies are practically touching. “I like you too, baby. I hate to break it to you but you’re not as subtle as you think.”

“Neither are you,” you blurt out.

She leans in a little and your eyes instantly drop down to her lips. “I know.”

Her whispered words are the only warning you have before she claims your mouth with her own. Whatever shock you feel fades away almost instantly and you can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around her and pulling her closer.

You’re so caught up in her kiss that you don’t fully register the way she gently pushes you up against the nearest wall and presses herself as close to you as physically possible. You don’t register anything besides the feeling of her lips and the way your hands tangle in her hair so easily.

Hailee’s not as zoned out as you are, though, and her ears pick up on the muffled sounds trying to escape you. She instantly pulls away from you, staring down at you with blown-out pupils. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Your response doesn’t seem to convince her but at least she doesn’t notice the way you’re clenching your thighs together. “We can stop if you want, I’m not looking for a one-night stand or anything.”

The sincerity in her voice is almost too much to handle and the truth slips out of your lips before you can stop it. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

She blinks a few times and you practically watch as the wheels turn inside her brain. “You’ve never…oh. Oh, wow.”

Her response isn’t bad but it leaves you flustered all the same so you lean forward and hide your face in her shoulder. “Hailee…”

“Hey, hey, look at me, baby.”

A few seconds pass before you follow her instructions and she instantly melts your worries away with a soft kiss. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s cute.”

“It’s cute that I have no idea what I’m doing?” You question.

“Yeah, it just means I’ll have to show you. I mean, um…if you want, of course. There’s no rush.”

All you can do is stare up at her while you think things over. There’s no denying how nervous you are but you trust Hailee more than anyone you’ve ever met before. So, maybe it’s time to take a small leap of faith with her.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

The brunette groans in response and the sound goes straight to the growing heat between your legs. She wastes no time in attaching herself to your neck, kissing and sucking every inch she can find.

The sensation is so pleasurable, it borders on overwhelming and your hands grip her shoulders in search of the stability you lost the day you met her.

“You're so pretty,” she murmurs against your skin. “You don't know how long I’ve wanted you for.”

“Hailee-” You gasp as her hands find their way under your shirt.

“I know, let me make you feel good, sweetheart. Can I?”

The answer is more than obvious but you find yourself nodding desperately anyway. You know deep down everything about what you're doing is desperate and yet you can't find it in yourself to want to stop. Maybe it's unconventional but you don't need anything more than the brunette to make your first time unforgettable.

Hailee detaches herself from you long enough to help you shed your shirt, her eyes swooping down to take in every inch of you. Your knees buckle under her gaze and all she does is grin. “You're fucking perfect, baby.”

The words themselves are enough to make you burn a few degrees hotter but then her hands are removing your bra and you're quickly standing topless in front of her appreciative eyes.

Her fingers soon follow the path her eyes trace and you shudder in ways you can't describe. Her thumbs gently rub against your nipples, your back arching almost instantly as you turn into putty in her hands.

“Does that feel good, darling?” All you can offer is a moan and she chuckles. “Gonna need some words.”

“Yes. Feels so fucking good.”

“There you go,” she murmurs, swooping in to litter kisses along your jawline. “Good girl.”

She pinches your nipples right as the words escape her lips and you're sure you almost pass out from the pleasure. “Oh- please.”

“Begging already?” Despite her question, one of her hands leaves your sensitive nipples to trail down the front of your body. “Do you think you're wet enough for me to touch you yet?”

You hum in response and attempt to keep your hips under control. “So wet for you.”

“Look at you,” she coos while her hand slips under the waistband of both your jeans and your underwear. “You’re already an expert at getting what you want from me.”

“Lee,” you whine. “Don’t tease, babe.”

“I’m sorry, you're just so cute like this.” She rests her forehead against yours, everything about her seemingly cool and collected while you're burning up and panting. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Tell me if it hurts too much.”

Your inexperience leaves you a little clueless…until she starts to slip one finger inside your tight cunt. You gasp almost instantly, your body tensing at the intrusion.

“Relax, baby. I've got you.”

It's hard to fully relax but Hailee does her best to keep you distracted by murmuring soft praises and keeping up her gentle touches to your breasts. The full length of her finger sinks inside and she gives you a moment to breathe and adjust.

“How’re you feeling?” She asks, warm eyes searching your face for signs of unease or pain.

“Full,” you mumble with a smile.

She lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a whine. “Fuck. That's so hot.”

The brunette leans in to kiss you before you can reply and you happily melt into the contact. You don't realize it’s yet another loving distraction until she starts to slowly pump her finger in and out of you.

You moan against her lips, the sound coming out muffled but no less desperate. Your walls clench almost uncontrollably with every move she makes which only fuels her need to pleasure you.

“You're doing so well for me,” she mumbles. “Taking me so well, aren't you, baby?”

Her words cause an unfamiliar feeling to start to rise from deep within you that only gets stronger once her thumb finds your sensitive clit. Your hips buck into her hand and she ends up burying her face into your neck to stop herself from getting too wild.

She somehow manages to keep her slow pace, fucking you nice and gentle to build up your orgasm and prolong your pleasure. At the end of the day, all she wants is to keep you happy.

“You’re so close, aren't you, sweetheart? I can feel it, the way you can’t stop clenching around me. God, it makes me so wet.”

You don't know what triggers it, maybe it's her words or her thrusts or the tight circles around your clit, but you fall over the edge instantly with a cry so loud, she has to kiss you to drown it out.

It’s impossible to describe how you feel. It's like you're floating and underwater and in the heart of the sun all at the same time. All you know is you've never felt pleasure like this and it's all thanks to Hailee freaking Steinfeld.

Hailee holds you close until your body stops shaking and you slump forward into her. “Hey, welcome back, y/n.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, every muscle in your body feeling absolutely spent yet satisfied.

She doesn't reply. She merely removes her hand from your sensitive center and kisses the side of your head.

“So…are you still up for dinner or…?”

“You're the worst.”

[messrmoonyy]

Pretty little thing

Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader

Prompt- based on a dark tess request that I lost the original prompt of but was along the lines of older Ellie and reader being friends and reader getting a crush on Tess, trying to make Tess reciprocate things until she finally gives in and fucks the reader including Dacryphilia , overstimulation, overall a more mean Tess. This also includes various other small requests that a mashed into this including face sitting and more Jackson Tess.

A/N- will say this isn’t very ‘dark!tess ‘ but you guys also requests a meaner/ rougher smut scene with Tess. So. You got it. I think. Prawn with plot. Enjoy

Warnings- 18+ || reader is a littlleeee obsessed, Tess is kinda mean. And patronising, canon compliment violence and discussions of infected, implied age gap, smut: fingering ( reader receiving ), overstimulation, degradation, dacryphillia, dumbification, choking, face sitting/ oral ( reader receiving), orgasm denial

Word count- 12.7k ( I am so sorry💀 my next one will be shorter I promise 😭)

Navigation | TLOU masterlist | AO3

Reblogs and comments appreciated and encouraged! <3

You were woken up to the sound of knocking. At first you weren’t entirely sure if you were hearing it or if it was something in your dream. That kind of far off, echoey sound to it where you were only half awake and still coming to terms with being back in the real world again. But it was real. When you fully opened your eyes the sound continued.

As your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room you first noticed you weren’t at home, your sleep disorientated brain failing to tell you exactly where you were right away. But you knew it wasn’t your home.

The knocking continued and you remembered that was why you had woken up in the first place.

“ I’m not going anywhere so open up or I’ll just come in and Joel will be pissed if he has to fix this lock again “ came a muffled voice from behind the door, an incredibly bored tone to their words. You sat up and winced as your neck ached from the funny angle you’d fallen asleep in, tired eyes adjusting to your surroundings “ I know you’re both in there one of you better open this door in the next ten seconds “

You were at Ellie’s. Sat on the floor, clearly having fallen asleep with your head lolled backwards onto the couch. The knocking continued, making you realise just how much your head was hurting. Your tired mind attempted to piece together the night before.

Drinks with Ellie. Then Dina, then Jesse.

Jesse and Dina were no longer there but Ellie was sprawled face down on the couch, snoring quite contently, clearly not even shifting at the sound of whoever was at the door. You groaned again and got to your feet as the knocking continued “ 5. 4- “

“ alright. I’m coming. Fuck “ you rubbed at your tired eyes and sighed. You didn’t even know why you felt so shitty. You’d barely even drank that much. Maybe it was lack of sleep and the absolute neck breaking angle you had somehow passed out in.

You crossed the room and cracked the door open, wincing away from the early morning light and squinting to adjust your eyes and focus on the blurry figure in front of you.

“ well hello sleeping fuckin beauty “ you were suddenly wide awake as you realised who was stood there. Arms folded and eyebrow raised as she eyed your post sleep look. You must have looked a mess. Bedraggled hair and eyes barely open, still wearing the clothes you’d been wearing the day before, but now with an odd stain on the front of your shirt that you weren’t entirely sure of the origin of.

“ oh. Tess “ she craned her head to look inside and rolled her eyes at the sight of Ellie passed out still, now mouth agape and drooling onto the cushions.

“ it’s your lucky day. You’ve been moved to pairs patrols. Get dressed. Meet me at the stables in 10. And tell Ellie she’s due out in a couple of hours too. So wake her ass up “ you tried your best to process the information as she turned and started to walk away

“ I- huh? I only do group patrols “

“ don’t make me come back and get you! “ she called as she continued to walk, not even answering your question. You closed the door and started to wake up fully, internally screaming at yourself for having stood there in front of her looking like… well. That.

Though you’d guessed she’d probably seen you worse. She’d been there the day Jesse had decided making his own moonshine was a good idea. In fact she’d been the one holding your hair back as you’d puked up said moonshine in her bathroom, rubbing soft circles into your back as you begged her not to tell Maria about it. She never had to your surprise.

You walked over to where Ellie was still dead to the world, not even having moved an inch at the sound of Tess and her knocking.

“ El. Ellie. Elliieeee. Dude come on “ you sighed, nudging at her with your knee “ Ellie. Ellie! “ she startled so suddenly she rolled off the couch, face first onto the floor.

“ what the fuck man! “ she grabbed a cushion and tossed it at you, missing completely and knocking over something on her desk instead.

“ Tess was here. I’m on patrol in 10. You’re out soon too she told me to wake you up. So. Now you’re up “ she muttered something under her breath and slowly pushed her way back up onto the couch, tipping her head back and closing her eyes again

“ my head hurts “ she groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes “ were Jesse and Dina here last night or did I make that up? “

“ no. They were here. In fact it was Jesses idea to play that stupid drinking game “ you still weren’t entirely sure on the rules and you’d damn played it. Though you did get the idea that Jesse seemed to be making them up on the spot anyway “ can I borrow a shirt? I won’t make it back to mine and to the stables in 10. And I don’t want Tess to be angry with me “

You didn’t wait for her to answer you, knowing she’d say yes anyway, and rummaged through her drawers for something clean to wear. You figured your jeans from yesterday would be fine and even though Tess had already seen you in the questionable stain shirt. You did not want her to see you in it again.

“ Tess? “

“ yeah. I just told you she was here. She said I’m on pairs patrols now “

“ that’s good. Isn’t that what you wanted? Maybe they paired you with her. That’s why she came to get you “ you could only hope. The entire reason you’d asked to be on pairs patrols in the first place was so that you could possible be partnered up with her. Though the chances were a little slim. She almost always went out with Joel.

“ she goes out with Joel “

“ Tommys back on patrols now. I bet he’s going with Joel. Ease him back into it “ Tommy had been out of rotation for a few months, taking time to help out Maria with the new baby. It couldn’t of been easy they already had one young kid, Maria definitely needed his help. You helped her out from time to time, but she had entrusted you with other things around town in her absence. Not entirely important things, you did get the feeling she was trying to make you feel needed. But it was whatever. You were happy to help.

It would make sense to pair Tommy up with Joel if he was back in rotation now. Pair him with someone he knew well, who was strong and capable, just in case he was a little rusty after a few months out.

So maybe Tess was missing a partner now. And pairing a newbie to pairs up with someone like her, someone who knew what they were doing and could do the trails with their eyes closed, would make a lot of sense.

You finished getting changed and grabbed your backpack from by the door, eager to leave even with your post sleep grogginess still clouding your head. You didn’t want to keep Tess waiting.

Ellie had flopped herself into bed now instead of the couch and you left her to it, your goodbye falling on deaf ears as she fell back into sleep again.

As you walked towards the stables the early morning air cleared your head a little and you finally were able to process what the day had in store for you. You’d been asking to be moved to pairs patrols for a while. You’d been on patrols since the day you’d hit 16 and been allowed out in the groups. You knew the regular group routes like the back of your hand, could take down infected better than some of the others could. So you had years of experience behind you now. You had truly solidified your spot on the roster.

But to your dismay. Tess was never on groups. She was always on pairs.

So you’d started talking to Maria and asking for pairs patrols. With the soul intention of being paired with Tess. Not that you’d thought it would happen. But it was always worth a shot, right? Maria was like a second mother to you, she’d taken you under her wing when your mother had taken ill and died a few years back. They’d been close since they were kids so you guessed Maria felt obliged.

So you knew in the end you’d bring her round to make her put you on pairs. And you did have the slightest of suspicions she knew why you wanted to be on pairs.

She gave you looks from time to time when she saw you both together. You did guess you weren’t exactly subtle with it.

How on earth you were supposed to survive a few hours completely alone with her? Even if that was what you’d been hoping for ever since you’d first met her. When that silly schoolgirl crush had first reared it’s head when she, Joel and Ellie had turned up in Jackson. It had only gotten stronger as you got closer to Ellie, spent more time with the three of them. You were a couple years older than Ellie but she’d stuck to you like glue almost immediately. She didn’t really seem to want to talk to anyone when she first arrived but you clearly had something going for you, cause she’d wanted to talk to you.

And you weren’t apposed to that. You loved Ellie. And it meant you got the added benefit of spending time with Tess. So what was there to dislike?

You’d gotten a little braver as you’d spent more time with Ellie over the years, finding excuses to sit close to Tess whenever you’d hang out with the family. Convincing her to dance with you at the parties Maria and Tommy threw in the tipsy bison from time to time, letting your hands wander a little too much but blaming it on the alcohol. When half of the time you hadn’t even drank a drop.

You’d practically thrown yourself at her multiple times over the years but she never quite reciprocated. But there was… something. The way she never actively stopped you immediately, would simply give you a look. Or tell you to be careful in a low tone that made butterflies swarm in your stomach.

You still thought about the last party Maria threw, when you’d made her dance with you and her face had been so incredibly close to your own. The tension between you had been so thick it was like no one else was even in the room with you, she swarmed every single one of your senses.

You’d thought she was going to kiss you that night. If only you’d had the guts to close the minuscule gap maybe she would’ve. But instead she’d dropped a light kiss to your cheek, dropped her mouth close to your ear and murmured ‘ be careful ‘ before leaving.

It had sounded almost like a warning. Like a woman on edge that was so close to snapping, a warning that you wouldn’t like what would come your way if she did snap. But you knew you would. It’s all you could think about. And knowing she was so incredibly close to giving in… maybe today might be your lucky day after all.

You didn’t know why she was holding back. At first you had thought it was because of Joel. When they first arrived in town to anyone with a working set of eyes they looked like a couple. The way they were so ridiculously in tune with the other, so much so that you’d often watched them have entire conversations without even opening their mouths. They worked and moved as one, were fiercely defensive and protective of the other.

It had been quite the surprise when you’d found out that they weren’t a thing. You’d gone over to their place to hang out with Ellie and she’d shown you around, shown you how Joel had his own room. And so did Tess.

From that point on you’d had less shame about swooning over her. Knowing she wasn’t actually with Joel. And that stupid little crush had stayed with you right though to the current day. Where it was now as strong as ever.

And seemingly finally ready to burst.

You had tried everything in your power. Even getting with occasional other person with the simple motivation of making her jealous. Nothing was working.

But you were persistent.

Tess was waiting for you by the stables leant back against the wall with her arms folded, as they always were, rolling a stone under the toe of her boot absentmindedly. It felt like an almost childlike thing from her, something innocent. A side to her that you only ever saw in those family nights at Ellie’s.

She looked up when she heard you approaching, a smile pulling at her lips.

“ right on time. I was beginning to think spending so much time with Ellie would rub off on you “ you rolled your eyes but smiled too. Ellie would be late to her own damn funeral it was true. She had zero concept of time keeping “ do you have a horse? “ she asked with a nod towards the stables behind her.

“ I usually just ride with Ellie when we go out on the group patrols “

“ are you confident enough to ride on your own? “ you were. But you stopped before you spoke, a lightbulb suddenly burning brightly in your mind. If you said you weren’t confident would she let you ride with her? Or would she just send you right back to group patrols. Was it worth the risk of saying no? Just for the chance of getting to sit close against her for a while? “ you can just ride with me if- “

“ yeah. I’ll ride with you “ you said it far too quickly. And you prayed it would just come across as you having some fear of riding alone and not that you were desperate to have some kind of physical contact with her. Of literally any kind.

The small smirk that pulled at her lips didn’t tell you which one she thought it was. If she was laughing at you for being afraid. Or was simply smirking because she knew you too well now and she knew exactly why you’d said it. Either way you didn’t really care, because the outcome was still the same.

“ alright. Let’s go “ you followed her into the stables as she checked out her horse, following closely at her side as she walked it by the reigns down towards the main gates out of town.

All of the morning patrols were waiting, Jesse up front looking far too put together for someone who had downed enough whiskey the previous night to absolutely obliterate his liver. He was reeling off the patrols and the routes they were taking, making sure everyone was present and correct.

“ we’re on a good route “ she said quietly, still looking at Jesse and feigning interest in his words “ easy as fuck. It’s why me and Joel always pick it “ she said with a small laugh “ unless you’re in the mood to fuck some shit up, then it’s not so great “

“ blowing the head off of some infected. Tried and tested stress reliever “

“ exactly “

“ so. Which route are we on? “

“ ski lodge. Nice and quiet. And the lodge is nice too, spend most of your time there because the patrol doesn’t take long. Definitely the best route to be on. Told you. It’s why Joel and I always request it. And I convinced Jesse it was a good route for a newbie so. Joel’s on the creek trails with Tommy “ she seemed quite smug with herself at the fact she’d gotten the better route.

It did sound nice though. And spending some time alone with her in the lodge? You really were winning today.

When Jesse finished giving out his orders, you mounted Tess’ horse behind her, scooching as close as humanly possible and holding onto her. You wanted to move your hands under her jacket, feel the warmth of her through the soft plaid shirt she had on. But you resisted, convinced that if you thought about it hard enough you’d feel it through the canvas material of her jacket.

You watched as the large gates out of town were opened, the wood creaking loudly.

Your family had been one of the founding members of Jackson, helping Maria and her father build it up into what it was currently. So all you’d ever really known was the town. So every time those gates opened you felt some rush of adrenaline. Excitement mixed with anxiety at leaving the safety of those walls.

Even though it was exactly the same, you always felt like the air was fresher the second you left. A cooler breeze, a warmer sun. It was nice. Summer was creeping up fast. The days were getting longer, warmer, brighter. It made you feel more awake.

Horse rides in the spring were much nicer than the winter too, the warm sun on your skin and the light speckling through the leaves of the trees. Jackson was unbelievably pretty.

Tess was quiet for a while as she rode, taking you in the opposite direction you were used to. The woods were a little denser than the routes you were usually assigned. It made the ride a little bumpy but you didn’t mind, it gave you another excuse to hold tighter to Tess. Able to use the excuse of some fear of falling off if she questioned it.

“ scared of riding or something? “ she eventually asked, a slight teasing tone to her words as she spoke.

“ not really. I’ve rode alone before but. I don’t know. I feel better with someone else. I fell off when I was younger and broke wrist. Freaked me out I guess “

“ they freaked me out at first “ she confessed “ before Jackson i’d never rode before. Joel taught me “ you wouldn’t have guessed that. She seemed a pretty confident rider right from the start. She seemed pretty confident with everything. You didn’t think you’d ever actually seen her afraid.

“ I didn’t think you were scared of anything “ she scoffed at that

“ i didn’t say scared “ she went quiet again then as you continued on. She didn’t speak again until you reached the lodge “ we’ll tie the horse here. The patrol route is just along the ridge up there, loops back around. Then down into the town down there, there’s a lookout log in one of the houses at the end of the street. Loop back up. Easy as fuck “ you nodded, squinting in the early morning sun as it cut through the gaps in the trees. Some birds were tweeting away on the branches and it felt almost peaceful.

She jumped down from the horse then turned to you

“ c’mon “ she grabbed at your waist to hoist you down, your hands falling onto her shoulders to support yourself. Your mind blanked for a moment at the feel of her hands on you, feeling as though they were burning through the material of your shirt. Something passed over her face as she looked at you, as if noticing the silent reaction you were having. But she said nothing.

She let you go and grabbed her rifle, nodding to something behind you

“ that’s the way. Follow me “ you grabbed your own gun out of your backpack as she started walking, running to catch up to her.

You trailed a little behind her as she walked, simply so you could get a better look at her. Even there when there was no one else around, no one she needed to look tough for. She still oozed confidence. The way she walked. The way she kept her head held high. No attempts to shrink away. To hide. To walk in the way Ellie had done when you first met her, like she was too afraid to take up space.

Tess wanted to take up space. She wanted people to know who she was and what she was about. She wasn’t afraid… of anything it seemed.

In fact. You knew she wasn’t.

You’d heard the stories. The rumours. The things that Ellie had told you. That Tess and Joel weren’t… good. They didn’t do good things. They hadn’t. But a twisted part of you liked that. Wanted to know more. Details. Wanted to hear about what she had done and all she was willing to do to stay and alive and to protect the people she loved.

You wanted to be one of those people. Wanted her to do sick things to protect you, to prove all she was willing to do to keep you safe.

You craved a love like that. A desperate and all consuming kind. A kind you knew she could give you.

If she would just stop holding herself back.

“ got some runners “ she said looking over the ridge to one of the towns in the distance. They were pretty far out, looking almost like little ants dashing around the place from so far away.

You watched as her hands moved into a comfortable and familiar position with her gun, pulling the trigger and taking down the strays with ease. You were fixated. On her face, the way her eyes narrowed as she aligned her shot through the scope, the way her lips parted slightly as she steadied her breath. Ammo was precious and she made every shot worth it. You watched her fingers, how long and slender they were. You wanted to melt between them. Wanted to feel what it was like to turn to mush beneath her finger tips.

You had spent many nights dreaming of how they felt. How they’d feel in your hair, trailing across your back, wrapped around your throat, curled up inside of you.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

“ alright. Let’s keep moving “ she snapped you out of your daydreaming as she lowered the gun, one look over now showing the little ant like runners were motionless on the ground.

“ that was impressive “ you said, clearing your throat lightly in some attempt to distract your thoughts.

“ it’s practice “ is all she said, carrying on along the track. You wondered if this was some old hiking trail or something. If people had come through there years ago, walking that same path for fun. Not to shoot infected. Though you weren’t entirely sure how anyone could find trekking through the woods fun. But maybe that was because your idea of it was so tainted.

It was pretty. You couldn’t deny that. The morning sun in the mountains and the flowers in full bloom. But you had a much better view.

As you watched her you wondered if she ever thought things like that about you. You had caught her watching you before. Many times. And she wasn’t sheepish about it either. She didn’t immediately look away if she saw you had caught her, would hold it another second or two and then look away.

It did make you think.

She came to a stop again looking out at a town slightly futher out than the last. She pulled some binoculars from her pack and looked though them for a moment.

“ wanna take ‘em? “ she asked, lowering her binoculars and looking over at you. The sun was catching her just right, enveloping her in golden light like the goddess you so often heralded her as. You were very obviously staring but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Maybe it was because she could clearly see that you were. And were certain you saw her lips quirk into a smile. Just a subtle one. But a smile “ hello? Are you suddenly mute? “

She waved a hand in front of your face and you shrugged, not even a sliver of embarrassment in your face. You wanted her to see you. Wanted her to know you were looking.

“ my gun doesn’t have a scope “ she held out her own gun to you, swapping it with your own

“ have at em “

“ alright “ you moved to stand closer to her, looking through the scope at the small group of runners aimlessly wandering around across the way.

You were a pretty decent shot. Better than others in town for sure. But you were no one if not an opportunist. So you missed your first two shots. And then your third. Repressing your smile when you heard her slightly frustrated sigh.

“ I’m getting there im getting there “ you said, missing a fourth shot.

“ you’re wasting all my fuckin ammo that’s what you’re doing. Come here “ she moved to stand behind you, her hands falling over yours to readjust your hold, her chest pressed firmly against your back. You didn’t hold back your smile that time, unable to hold onto the giant grin that spread across your face at her closeness “ now try “ she said, stepping back but holding her hands to your shoulders.

You made the shot. Of course you did. Even if it did take a second longer than normal to steady your aim, Tess’ hands on you throwing you off.

“ that’s it “ she praised “ good girl keep that up “ that threw you again, freezing a little at the term of endearment. The praise. From her. God you were fucked.

You cleared the ridge of infected and turned your head to look at her with a beaming smile.

“ pretty good huh? “ she was much closer than you’d thought, so close you could see the individual lashes on her eyelids, the freckles that sprinkled across her nose.

“ pretty good “ she confirmed, she had a slightly quizzical look on her face as she looked at you. Her eyebrows slightly furrowed.

Then she reached for her gun and stepped back.

“ sometimes some down by the ski lift too. Then we’ll grab the horse and head into the town “ you gave a nod and followed her.

She made quick work of the couple stragglers by the ski lift before you headed back down the track towards the lodge.

“ you like watching me “ she noted as you walked, catching you slightly off guard “ you’re not subtle about it so don’t bother saying you don’t “ you wouldn’t lie to her anyway. You weren’t ashamed. And if you were as un subtle as she said? Then what was the point anyway.

“ I do “ you confirmed with a shrug “ you’re nice to look at “ she scoffed at that, her face giving nothing away on what she really thought “ you watch me too “

“ you’re nice to look at “ she echoed, teasing tones to her words and a glance in your direction. She looked you up and down for a moment before looking back at the trail in front of her.

She had looked you up and down for barely a second, but it had made your cheeks burn. One simple look from her made you crazy. That paired with the ‘good girl’ from earlier was sending you into a spin.

She had said it to you once before whilst round at Ellie’s and Ellie had teased you for days about how flustered it had made you. It often made you wonder if Ellie knew of your ever growing desire for her pseudo mom. But probably not. Ellie was incredibly clever but oblivious as all hell when it came to things like that.

She had still questioned if Dina even liked her after the first time they had kissed, still asked you from time to time if you were ‘ sure she doesn’t have a thing for Jesse? ‘ as if Dina and her weren’t practically attached at the hip.

You wondered how she’d react if she knew. How Joel would react. How anyone would. It wasn’t like the gap in your ages was huge. You weren’t some doey eyed teenage running after a grown ass adult. You were an adult. Albeit a younger adult than her. But. Still. You wondered if it would raise eyebrows.

Though a part of you kind of liked that. In fact you really liked that. You could already picture how unbelievably smug you’d feel walking around with her, how much you’d love to shove it right into the faces of the other people in town who had tried it with her- and failed quite miserably from what you had seen and heard.

It was actually quite frustrating how she batted people away and yet still managed to make you jealous when you weren’t the full centre of her attention.

You made it back down to the lodge and Tess helped you back up onto the horse, happy to have your arms back around her again as you headed down into the small town.

“ is there usually infected down here? “

“ no. They tend to stay higher up. Don’t ask why cause I don’t fuckin know “ you smiled at that, immediately knowing that Ellie and her one million and one questions about everything were probably the reason behind her immediate request for no questions “ hold tight it’s bumpy down here “ you didn’t need to be told twice for that.

“ it’s nice out here isn’t it? “ you said as you crossed a small stream “ almost romantic right? “ Tess scoffed at that

“ you don’t strike me as the romantic type sweetheart “

“ oh? And what’s that supposed to mean”

“ you know “

“ I don’t “ you feigned innocence, knowing exactly what she did mean but wanting to make her say it. That she knew about you trying to her attention. That she paid enough attention to hear about the occasional fling with townsfolk with the soul purpose of making her jealous. You needed your delusions confirmed.

“ oh. Then I guess it’s not you that’s seducing anyone that comes within ten feet of me? Funny. Could’ve sworn it was you “ she knew. She’d noticed. It had worked.

“ I think you’re a little confused Tess “ you said close to her ear, trying to suppress your smile “ now why would I do that? “ you pushed the most innocent tone you could, a picture of pure demure innocence that was as far from the truth as could be.

No sweet innocent girl would spend her time fantasising about fucking her best friends mom.

“ I told you to be careful sweetheart. Do as you’re told “ her voice had taken on that low, almost threatening sultry tone it had done in the Bison. The one warning you to stop because she would eventually break and you didn’t want her to break.

But god did you want her to.

You reached the town with the air so thick between you you felt like you could cut it with a knife but you tried to ignore it and do your job.

“ we check in the buildings? “ you asked

“ just patrol the street. House down the end there? There’s a lookout log, we mark it off and head back. Then kill time until it’s time to change. Told you this route is easy “ you nodded and jumped down from the horse, grabbing your gun again just in case.

You made your way quietly down the street, your eyes looking at every single house you passed. Anytime you came across old buildings it made you wonder who had been there before. What the towns and houses looked like before they were derelict. Where were the people now? How many of them were still alive?

“ you ever live in a place like this? “ you asked. You didn’t know a whole lot about Tess and her past. In fact you knew nothing about her before the apocalypse. Ellie had never told you anything. You knew about some of the things she got up to in the 20 years before she’d found Ellie. Tommy had told you. Ellie had mentioned things. But pre apocalyptic Tess? You knew nothing

You wondered what she had been like and how much she had changed.

“ no “ was all she said.

“ where did you live? “

“ Detroit “ she said again, simple and matter of fact “ you? “ she was deflecting the topic away from her.

“ Jackson. Jackson. And er. Jackson. I’ve never seen anywhere else. What’s Detroit like? “ she shrugged

“ fine. I don’t like cities “

“ why? “

“ you ask a whole lot of questions sweetheart “ maybe spending so much time with Ellie really was rubbing off on you.

“ I’m just interested in you “ Tess scoffed again, glancing over at you for a moment

“ really? Never would’ve fuckin guessed that “

You both went quiet again as you walked. She looked like she wanted to say something else but was too distracted. Stopping in her tracks outside one of the houses in the street.

“ you hear that? “ she whispered.

You did. The shuffling and quiet sobs and groans that could only be infected. Tess slowly reloaded her gun and nodded in the direction she wanted you to follow her. You held your gun firmly, crouching below the window ledge next to Tess.

“ we’re gonna do this nice and quietly “ she said, her voice steady and low “ knife? “ you withdrew it from where you kept it tucked in your boot and she nodded “ okay. Nice. And quiet “ you had taken down infected more times than you could count, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying each time.

One bite and you’d be a goner. That’s all it took.

Tess carefully climbed though the window, you close on her heels. Once inside the house you spotted two. Thankfully. Easy. Tess made light work of the one furthest away and you took down the other just as swiftly, quiet in your approach before plunging your knife into its skull, angling it’s head backwards so it’s teeth couldn’t grab at you.

Tess snuck through into the next room, clearly hearing something else as you carefully lay the body on the ground, wiping the blood from your knife on the remaining upholstery of the couch. She was dropping the body of another infected to the floor as you joined her.

“ I don’t hear anymore “

“ should we check upstairs? “ Tess nodded and you led the way, careful on the stairs that looked ready to collapse at any moment. Upstairs you found a dead body, one that clearly hadn’t been as strong when the infection had taken over. You were just thankful for the fact that roof was half collapsed, fresh air spilling into the room so that the spores had dispersed.

“ this one’s done “ Tess said, looking over the body. You wondered how long it had been there. You guessed a while, the floor surrounding it was covered in dried out tendrils, the legs of the person practically melting into the hardwood. It made you sad to think about anyone ending up that way “ let’s go. We need to mark this down in the log “

She left the room before you, mildly fixated on the body on the floor. You’d never want to end up that way. The second you got bit you’d shove a gun in your mouth and end it before the fungus could control your mind. No way would you end up like that.

You left the room to find Tess had already gone back downstairs. But before you could make the precarious trip back down, you heard something. You assumed it was probably another runner that you had both somehow missed and decided to take it out too. Last thing you needed was it getting out into the street.

So you snuck into the room on the opposite side of the hall, pushing open the door slowly.

But what you found was not a runner. It was far worse.

It happened too fast for you to even process exactly what was happening at first. One second you were looking at the rotting wood of the door, the next the split open face of a clicker was bearing down on you.

You were too shell shocked to even scream, simply pushing and kicking to keep the gnashing teeth of the clicker away from you. The screeches it made made your ears ring, deafening you as it desperately tried to bite. To spread.

“ Tess! “ you frantically fumbled around for your knife, not sure where it had slid off to and unable to reach down for your gun.

The screeching was only drowned out by the sound of a gunshot. Blood splattering over your face as Tess shot it in the back of the head, it still screeching and wriggling to bite you. To fill your blood with fungus and control your mind.

She appeared above you, kicking it off and shooting a further two bullets into its face until it stopped squirming. It lay twitching on the ground for a few moments before going still. You pushed yourself onto your elbows trying to catch your breath.

“ well shit “ you gasped, looking up at Tess who was watching you intently, her eyes wide in concern. And maybe shock at how that was your reaction. But what else were you supposed to say?

You felt something twisting deep in your belly, the way she had thrown herself in harms way to protect you. How she looked stood there with her stern face looking down at you. Powerful. Strong.

You’d never wanted her so badly. Which was funny to think about. You’d just nearly died. But there you were simply thinking about your knight in shining armour.

“ you okay? You gotta be more fucking careful “ she held her hand out to you, pulling you up to your feet again. She ran her hands over your arms and turned your face in her hands “ clean? “ you were lost for words and simply nodded.

You didn’t entirely know what it was. Maybe it was the fact she had protected you without a second thought, had put herself in harms way. Killed for you. Maybe it was just the adrenaline cursing through your bloodstream.

“ well, could at least say thank you sweetheart “

You couldn’t help yourself.

You dove forward, kissing her without a second thought, wrapping your fingers around her wrists that were still holding your face.

It was like she had expected it. Kissing you back in an instant, her grip on your face tightening to move you how she wanted. You had initiated it but she had the control. She took your breath away. Your lungs burning with the lack of air but you didn’t want to stop. It was a little desperate, pure adrenaline and lust and nothing more. But you didn’t mind.

You were too focussed on her. Her taste. Her lips. They were as soft as they looked, pillowy against your own. She kissed you like you were her source of air, as equally desperate as you. Which was an interesting revelation for saying how long she had been rejecting your advances.

She broke away first, leaving you gasping for air as she scanned your face with her eyes. She held you for a second longer before stepping back.

“ I think that was all of them I don’t hear anything else “ she said in a steady tone “ let’s go fill in the log. And head back “ she turned before you could answer her, question whether or not she was angry or as happy as you were. You could never tell with Tess. She was too difficult to read and it was annoying. Because she was so incredibly good at reading everyone else.

You followed on her heels as she went back downstairs and walked in purposeful strides towards the house at the end of the street, from the outside it looked like all the other abandoned ones in the town. But she lead you up the half collapsed stairs and into the bedroom at the front of the house. The log was hidden under a box in the closet, months and months worth of patrol logs written down.

You glanced over as she filled it in, noticing most of the patrols were marked by her or Joel.

You didn’t know if you should talk about what had happened. The infected or the kiss. Or both. So you decided to just say nothing, watching as she noted down the infected in the house and up on the ridge, marking it as now all clear. Though it did sting ever so slightly that she wasn’t acknowledging it. Acting as though it simply hadn’t happened.

“ okay. Let’s go “

The house was on the edge of the town, a stream running along the back. You wondered if it was the same one you’d seen earlier. Tess stopped beside it, kneeling down to cup some of the water in her hands and wash the blood that had gotten on her face. You joined her, washing away the blood from the clicker and rinsing your hands in the cool water.

“ thank you “ you said suddenly. Realising you still hadn’t said it. Tess looked up at you with a small look of confusion, drying her hands off on her jeans “ for the clicker. Saving me “ she shrugged and stood up again, nodding back up the street.

“ it’s nothing. Let’s go “ you sighed, a little frustrated that that was all she had to say about it

“ it’s not nothing “ you said as you hurried to keep up with her “ you saved my life “

“ let’s not be dramatic now sweetheart “ dramatic. You huffed in mild annoyance and followed her back to the horse. How was she so blasé about it? Yes clickers weren’t exactly a new thing. And she had killed hundreds of them before. But she had still saved you. Had still stopped one turning you into a mushrooms little puppet.

“ I don’t think me saying thank you for killing a clicker for me is being dramatic Tess “ the glance she gave you was almost amused. Like she found it funny. Like what you were saying was stupid or funny. It was annoying “ don’t look at me like that “

“ like what? “ you didn’t even bother to answer her as you both headed back up the street. You mind began drifting back to the image of her standing above you, to how concerned she had looked as she frantically checked you for bites. You’d not seen her switch up so fast before. From looking so sinister and stern to looking almost soft.

Soft Tess was rare. You saw it so very little. Only in glimpses in those nights spent at Ellies, possible cracks in her strong facade. Light leaking through the gaps and showing what she might have been like before.

Had she had a family? Spent nights frequently like those with you, Ellie and Joel? But with her husband. Or wife. Did she have kids? Had she been alone? There was so much you wanted to know but quite certain you never actually would. She was too closed off. Those parts of her buried deep deep down so that maybe even she couldn’t reach them anymore.

You had seen it in others before. Seen how much the infected world had changed them, left them a shell of who they used to be. You couldn’t help but wonder how broken Tess was. You couldn’t imagine her as someone who was happy and joyful and that was sad. Because you knew at some point she had been.

A small, cocky part of you liked to think you’d get through that hard shell eventually. You’d pick away at her until she showed you some glimpse of the past her.

No time soon though. That shell was there to stay for now. But you didn’t mind. You liked her now. You liked her tough exterior and her intimidating gaze. You liked the adrenaline she sent cursing through you blood. You thought that maybe the nice and caring type wasn’t really the person for you.

Tess was.

The ride back to the lodge was quiet, your arms wrapped back around her again with your hands resting on her stomach. You could feel the heat seeping through her shirt now. From the adrenaline of the infected no doubt, you wanted to untuck the fabric from her jeans or carefully undo the buttons. Feel how hot her skin was, how it feel against your fingertips.

You almost laughed at yourself. How quickly your mind could dart back to the ever underlying lust that constantly bubbled in your veins.

She didn’t help you off the horse this time, dismounting herself and heading into the lodge. You got the idea that the ride to the lodge had given her time to think. A tension settling in the air now.

Was she annoyed? Angry?

You guessed the only way to tackle it was head on.

“ are we gonna talk about it? “ you asked as she dropped her bag down on the table, placing her gun down beside it. She didn’t look up at you, shedding her jacket too “ Tess “

“ what do you want me to say? “

“ anything “ she scoffed and looked over at you. She had that look again. That warning. That look that was almost dangerous.

“ anything “ she echoed, mocking.

“ even if you want to pretend I didn’t- we. Didn’t. At least tell me that for fucks sake “ you said, throwing your hands up in annoyance before leaning back against the bar with a sigh. She was so frustrating at times.

“ is that what you think? Is that what you want? “

“ no of course it’s not “ she was watching with a deep intensity, focussed and determined. It made you squirm “ I’ve wanted to kiss you for months “ you confessed with some new confidence “ and I know you did too “

“ oh? You know? “ she said with a small laugh, mocking again. She’d been doing that a lot. If it had been anyone else it would have pissed you off.

“ yes. I see how close you are to cracking “ you said, eyebrow raised and some cockiness dug up from god knows where. You knew it would push her buttons deliciously. She didn’t like being challenged. She didn’t like anyone attempting to one up her, get in her head and know what she was thinking. What she did enjoy was crushing that person like an ant under her boot, kicking them two pegs back where they belonged.

“ you think you know me now? Huh? “

“ I do “ she scoffed. Again.

“ you know nothing sweetheart “ her tone was growing lower. Darker. It made butterflies burst in your stomach. It was working. You were so close you could taste it. So close to kicking down those final bricks of the wall she’d built between you both.

“ I know you want me as badly as I want you “ you pushed yourself off the bar and took a few steps forward. The air was suffocating. So thick it was almost making you feel too warm “ so what’s stopping you Tess? I’m right here “ her gaze was piercing. Burning into you so intensely that you had to fight to keep up your confident facade.

“ you never listen. Do you? “ she said calmly “ I told you to be careful “ she had. A lot. But you knew there was something else below that. Something you were so close to finally reaching “ I don’t think this is you being careful “

“ I know “ she moved towards you then, slow but purposeful. Stalking. A predator hunting prey. A fox waiting to dive onto a rabbit and tear it to pieces. Backing you up until your back hit the bar again.

“ what do you want from me? Huh? “ her voice was low, gravely. It made your heart beat fast and something twist deep in your stomach. You wondered if anyone else would be scared. Intimated. If anyone else would back down and walk away. You wouldn’t. You refused.

“ you already know “ it wasnt as confident as you wanted, lower and softer. She was in your space now. She only had an inch or so on you in height, yet you felt tiny. Small. Your breath stuttered.

She nudged her fingers under your chin, tilting your face upwards so you’d look her in the eyes.

“ everyone back in town… they think you’re so good don’t they? “ she said, her eyes burning into yours. It made your knees weak “ but look at you. Listen to you “ her words were teasing. Mocking. Like she was making fun of you but you didn’t even care. You couldn’t think straight. Not with her that close, touching you, looking at you like that “ you’re not good “

“ you’re not good “

“ no “ she confirmed without missing a beat “ I’m not good. But you like that don’t you? “ did you like that she wasn’t good? That she had done bad things and had no ounce of shame about. That she would go to those lengths for the people she loved

Yes.

You did like it.

You wanted her to do those things for you. To go to those lengths.

“ I asked you a question “

“ yes “ you answered immediately, the most confident sounding thing you’d said so far “ yes I like it “

“ does Maria know you behave like this? Think like this? Does Ellie? What would they say huh? “ her other hand came up and brushed your hair away from your face, tucking it softly behind your ear. It felt too gentle in comparison to how she was talking to you “ what would they say if they knew what went on in this pretty little head of yours, hmm? “

“ I don’t know… I don’t think they know. But I’m not subtle am I? “ you tried to joke but her intensity made your breath stutter again.

“ you’re not subtle “ she confirmed “ you’re desperate “ you nodded almost instantly. What was the point in denying it when it was so clearly obvious to her?

“ and I keep pushing you away yet… you keep coming back “

“ you don’t scare me. You can tell me to be careful as much as you like. I don’t care “ that made her smile, huffing a small laugh through her nose.

“ you know the things I’ve done? “ you nodded again “ and you like them “ another nod. She was quiet again for a few moments, eyes slowly scanning down your face and to where she had her body pressed against yours “ does it make you wet? “ she asked with a smirk, your cheeks flooding with warmth at the question “ it does “ you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Finally “ what do you want from me? “ she asked again, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip lightly. You had to fight the urge to pull her into your mouth and trap it between your teeth.

“ you “ you said simply “ I want you. I need you “ her eyes narrowed a little, the smirk still on her face. She seemed to be thinking, milling it over in her mind and you knew it would only take one more simple thing to finally make her crack completely “ don’t you want me too? “ you asked, voice full of innocence.

She spun you around, trapping you between her and the bar, her hand gripping tightly to your chin to pull you back tightly against her and brushing her lips against the shell of your ear.

“ do you know how much I do? How much I think about this? About you? “ she murmured, her lips pressing against your exposed neck “ do you know how hard it’s been for me trying to restrain myself? With you throwing yourself at me like a bitch in fuckin heat? “ you pushed your ass back against her as an answer, pushing her to finally give in. She was so close.

Her other hand slid down over your ass, unashamedly groping at you through the worn, soft denim of your jeans.

“ then stop restraining yourself. No one’s stopping you “ you wanted to sound confident and cocky, but it came out breathy and quiet.

“ you don’t know what you’re asking me for “

“ I’m asking you to fuck me. Show me how badly you’ve wanted me “ she seemed to hesitate for a moment and you pushed yourself back against her again “ you think I should be scared of you. I’m not “

“ then maybe you’re stupid “

“ maybe I am “ it seemed to be enough persuasion, as her hand moved around to the front and unbuttoned your jeans with ease.

You pushed them down as far as you could reach before she could, too desperate to get them all the way off. But your confidence seemed to vanish the moment she cupped her hand over your covered cunt, palm pressing against you in a way that made you sigh softly.

“ sensitive “ she murmured seemingly to herself, tracing her finger over the outline of your pussy lips and the small wet patch that was already forming on the cotton of your underwear “ already wet for me sweetheart? “ your brain short circuited at that. All your cockiness and confidence melting away.

“ yes. Just for you “ you could feel your underwear flooding as the words left your mouth, as silky and seductive as you could muster. And it clearly worked. She hooked her fingers into your underwear and pushed them down so you could wiggle out of them. Your cheeks burned at being exposed to her. It was what you had wanted for so long. And now it was finally happening.

You pushed yourself back against her again, urging her to touch you properly. You were desperate for it.

“ such a desperate, pathetic little thing “ she said, mocking in her words. The degrading words made you squeeze your thighs together, your cheeks flushing “ ah ah. Legs apart. Be a good girl. You’ve been throwing yourself at me for months and now you try hide from me? “ you did as you were told immediately, moving your legs apart as she slipped her hand down. Her fingers ghosted over you, barely touching at first as she wrapped her fingers around your throat to keep you held back against her.

“ you feel so good “ she murmured, her fingers simply sliding between your folds, spreading you open and gathering your arousal on the pads of her fingers “ so fuckin wet for me “ you whimpered pathetically as some kind of answer, nerves buzzing at finally being touched by her “ where’s that fuckin attitude now huh? “ she teased, still avoiding your clit “ not so brave now? No? “ you were slightly embarrassed to admit the mocking tone she kept using was simply making you wetter.

You’d be lucky if you lasted ten fucking seconds.

“ please stop teasing “ you whined like some spoilt brat, you knew it would have absolutely zero effect on her but you had no shame.

“ you think you get to make demands? Hmm? That’s not how this works “ she squeezed at your throat, sending you light headed and fuzzy, effectively rendering you speechless “ so stupid you can’t even speak “ she sighed, a mock disappointment in her words that made you whimper.

Your previous confidence was obsolete. But that was what you’d expected. What you’d wanted. You knew she’d break you.

“ you don’t get to make demands do you understand? “ she said in that sultry, stern voice as she released her grip on your neck and turned you around so she could look at you.

“ yes “ you whispered

“ you’re gonna do as you’re told “ her fingers dipped between your folds again, pressing lightly at your entrance. You clenched around nothing, like some silent request for her to just push that little bit further. You needed to know what those fingers felt like inside of you, you’d spent so long staring at them. Imagining. You couldn’t wait any longer it was torture “ and I’m gonna fuck you how I want to “ you nodded frantically, no shame in your desperation for her now. You were quite sure in that moment you’d do literally anything she asked “ and you don’t come until I tell you to okay? “

The moan that escaped your parted lips was pathetic as she finally pushed past the tight muscles at your entrance, pushing as deep as she could get.

“ there we go. That’s what you wanted isn’t it? “ you couldn’t speak, eyes falling closed as you attempted to try and figure out whether or not this was all just some incredibly vivid dream.

You were certain any second you’d wake up in your bed, having dreamt the entire goddamn thing. But the way your skin was prickling with heat, the way her fingers felt as she set herself into a steady rhythm thrusting in and out of you… it had to be real.

She was speaking to you but you couldn’t focus enough. She wasn’t even really doing much. Her rhythm was steady. Her hand not even touching your clit. Yet you were on cloud nine. Pleasure trickling through every single drop of blood in your veins, the simple fact that it was actually happening making you want to explode with joy.

You had waited so long. Worked so hard. And now it was finally in action.

When she realised you weren’t exactly listening to her, she pressed the heel of her hand against your clit so hard it made you see stars.

“ silly little girl thought she could handle it “ Tess said, sucking her teeth and sighing “ barely fuckin touching you and look at the state of you “ you almost wished you could see. Wished you had a mirror to see how much she was ruining you with such little effort.

“ I can handle it “ you mumbled, forcing yourself to focus harder “ I can “

“ you can? “

“ mhm “ she took it as a challenge. Angling her fingers at a spot inside of you you could so rarely find yourself, hitting it over and over again at a relentless pace. Her palm brushing against your throbbing clit with every single movement. Your fingers wrapped around her wrist and she removed the hand still loosely holding your neck to pull your hand away instantly.

“ hands to yourself. Did I tell you could touch me? I don’t think I did “ you resorted to gripping at the worn wood of the bar as she continued back to her previous actions.

The way she was looking at you was too intense, the way she was smiling as she fucked you. Watching every little detail of your face.

You had thought about it too long and dreamt of it for too long, that you were quite sure you were gonna come any second. It had hardly been a couple minutes and you were done already? It was quite embarrassing

“ you need to come already sweetheart? Already? “ you closed your eyes, whines and moans tumbling last your lips as you gave her a small nod. She could read you so well it was scary. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment and anticipating the inevitable mocking that was coming your way “ I thought you were better than that. Do you remember what I told you? Hmm? “

“ don’t. Don’t come until you say “ you gasped, nails scratching at the hardwood as she started circling your clit “ fuck. Tess “

“ not yet. You can take some more can’t you? This is what you wanted “ your legs began to shake as she added a third finger, stretching you out around her digits. It was almost too much at first, the surprise and the overwhelming feeling of the initial burn that quickly slipped into pleasure as she squeezed at your neck again.

You could hear your pulse hammering in your ears, throbbing in your temples. The pressure back on your clit again was the final straw. You couldn’t hold on much longer

“ Tess i need to- fuck “

“ what do you say? “ she said in a calm tone, almost bored. As if what she was doing was completely normal, like you watching a movie or something else completely mundane. Not that she was fucking you in the middle of the lodge.

“ please “ you gasped “ please Tess “ you fought to stave it off, trying to angle your hips away from her in some hopes it would move her off the spot that was making you see stars. But she had you trapped and you were stuck there “ Tess “

She milled it over for a few more moments before sighing.

“ okay. Show me what you look like when you come “ you didn’t need telling twice, letting go and gripping painfully hard to the bar as your orgasm washed over you. Your legs shook as she kept up her movements, not stopping even when you went slack. You wiggled to get out of her grasp as she kept thrusting her fingers against your sensitive walls, a squeal of a moan as she pushed against your clit.

“ Tess “ she finally let you go, withdrawing her hand and making you wince “ fuck “ she gripped at your face as you tried to catch your breath, breathing heavily as she scanned your face.

“ do you come that hard for the others? “ she asked, eyes narrowing slightly as she waited for your response.

“ no “ you whispered. She looked incredibly put together still, barely breaking a sweat, her shirt still tucked in, hair still tied up. You knew it was a stark comparison to how you looked.

You wanted to make her look messy. To make her sweat. Make her moan. Wreck that stoney facade.

But she grabbed your wrist as you reached out for the buttons of her jeans.

“ no. You don’t deserve that yet “ you whined in protest but she simply sighed and gave you that mock look of pity as she pushed your hair from your face softly “ you told me you could handle this. So you’re gonna prove it. You think you get to come once and then you’re done? No “

“ I don’t know if I can “ you said with a small laugh. Not exactly wanting to tap out but your legs were jelly. You wanted to touch her even if just to give you time to regroup. To recover. To prepare for what was next.

“ yes you can “ she said without missing a beat “ you’re not done until I say you are. I thought you said you could handle it? “ she repeated her earlier statement

“ I can “ she pulled a face of mock pity, tucking her fingers under your chin so you’d look at her

“ poor baby thought she could take it “ her voice was dripping in sarcasm and you huffed in annoyance. You could “ I thought you were better than this. once and you’re done? That’s pathetic “

“ I. Can. just- fuck can we sit?” Tess grinned at your defiance, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to one of the large couches. She sat down, pulling you onto her lap so your back pressed against her chest

“ better? “ you nodded. It actually was. Your legs had felt like utter jelly “ spread your legs “ you took a moment to comply, getting your energy back. She tapped your thigh with the back of her hand “ do as you’re told “ you complied immediately with that, letting her grab at you and move you how she wanted you “ you gonna be a good girl for me? “

“ yes “ you whispered as her arm looped around your neck, her other hand groping at your chest through the thin material of your shirt. She pressed kisses to your cheek, such gentle gestures in comparison to how she was holding you.

“ gonna be such a good girl hmm? “ she cooed, still peppering your face in kisses as she groped at you “ my pretty girl huh? “ you felt like you were floating, eyes falling closed at the blissful feeling of being called hers ‘my pretty girl’. Hers. Hers. It was softer than how she had been a few moments ago“ you’re all mine now hmm? “

“ yes “ you breathed out, her hand skimming down across your stomach towards the already sticky mess between your legs “ yes im yours. That’s all I want “ you whimpered as her fingers brushed over your sensitive clit lightly

“ of course you do. You’d do anything for me wouldn’t you? So desperate for my approval. My attention “ you nodded immediately, never more certain on anything. You’d do anything and everything she asked of you. You felt her smile against your skin at your fast answer, her teeth nipping at your ear as she slipped her fingers back into you again.

A drawn out moan left your throat at the feeling of her inside of you again. You needed it constantly. Needed her that close, apart of you. You hadn’t realised just how empty you had felt once she was back inside of you again. She loosened her hold on you slightly, replacing her arm around your neck with her hand on your throat again, barely squeezing but enough to remind you she was there. That she had that power. That she was in control. As if you’d ever think any different.

You wondered if you should be concerned by it. She had your life quite literally in her hand. But you liked it. You liked how small it made you feel. Liked the power she had over you. The dizzy feeling she gave you when she squeezed. You knew Tess liked it because she liked the power. She liked the control she had over you.

Your walls were still sensitive from before, squirming in her lap as she moved her fingers inside of you expertly. It made you wonder how she was so good. How many people had she had before you? Did she call those people hers too? Or were you different? It made jealousy rise in your chest, pushing your hips down and grinding on the hand that was fucking you. Desperate to come again in some attempt to prove to yourself that you were different.

Because you were certain it wasn’t possible for anyone to feel as good as you did in that moment. She could never have made anyone else feel like that. Never.

“ oh? Greedy girl “ she said with a small laugh, pressing the heel of her hand hard against your clit the same as she had done before in a way that made your vision flash white, your fingers digging into her skin in a way that must be painful. But she said nothing.

“ I’m yours “ you whimpered, mostly to console yourself more than ask her to confirm it “ I’m yours “

“ yes. You’re all mine “ she confirmed as you rutted against her hand, chasing your next orgasm “ my girl. My special girl that I can use however I want to, isn’t that right? “ the words were almost soft. Loving. But the tone of her voice was so different to that “ keep going. Like that. Show me how desperate you are, keep fucking yourself on my fingers. That’s a good girl “

She urged you on as you continued rutting against her hand. A few minutes ago you hadn’t been sure you could take anymore. And yet now you were chasing another orgasm.

She dropped her hand from around your throat, hand slipping under your shirt to grab at your chest. You took the opportunity to look down at where you were grinding down on her hand. You were mesmerised by the way her fingers disappeared inside of you, taking her down to the knuckles.

She had nice hands, you’d always thought that. But they looked far prettier thrusting in and out of your cunt, shiny and sticky with your arousal. You liked that. You liked the possessive feeling that swelled in your chest. She was covered in you. She was holding you. Fucking you.

“ you like watching? “ Tess said lowly in your ear, nudging her lips against your burning skin “ look at that pretty cunt. All wet for me “ she grazed her teeth over the skin of your neck and you closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of her voice. The sound of the moans spilling past your lips, the lewd wet sounds of your cunt gripping to her fingers as you rolled your hips “ how long have you been thinking about this? “ she asked in a low voice, her lips brushing your ear as she spoke “ tell me”

“ ever since- ever since you arrived in Jackson “ you confessed, trying and failing to steady your breathing “ so long “

“ how many times did you touch yourself thinking about me? Hmm? How many times did you play with this pretty pussy and wish it was me? “ her crude words made you flush and you tried to focus your thoughts

“ so many times “ you whined “ so many”

“ such a pretty head with such disgusting thoughts “ You nodded frantically in agreement, orgasm so close you could practically taste it.

“ can I come? Please. Please “

“ not yet. A little longer “ you whined in response “ you held it before. Hold it again “ you focussed all your energy on ignoring how badly you wanted to come again, ignored the throbbing of your clit and the way your walls involuntarily fluttered around her fingers “ ah. Keep watching. Eyes open, watch “ she said, noticing your eyes had fallen closed.

“ please Tess “ she ignored your plea, sucking and nipping at your neck instead. There’s no way you’d be able to hide those when you went back. She was purposefully going to make it difficult for you. Of course she was “ Tess”

“ no “ it was becoming impossible to hold it off. Was she really going to make you wait until she said?

“ Tess I can’t- “

“ do. As you’re told “ she said sternly, you could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and you tried to focus on anything other than her. Of all the people you had been with, no one had ever made you feel like that. That desperate. That hungry to climax.

The mixture of her fingers curling inside of you and her lips and tongue soothing the tender skin on your neck, it was pure heaven. Like one of your dreams plucked right from your head and brought to life.

The only thing that would make it better was if she’d just fucking let you come.

She worked at your neck for another minute or so, even taking a moment to admire her work. It felt like an eternity before she finally sighed and hummed in appreciation at the bruises blossoming on your skin, before finally giving you the permission you were craving.

“ you can come now “ you felt her smile at the animalistic sound that left your throat, body shaking as you came for the second time. You tried to close your legs, trap her hand where it was but she slapped your thigh and pushed your legs apart again “ I didn’t say you could move did I “ she let her grasp on you loosen when you squirmed away from her touch, shifting onto the couch beside her and running a hand through your hair. Needing to escape the overstimulation she was trying to give.

“ oh man “ you sighed as you steadied your breathing again, dropping your head backwards and closing your eyes. You were exhausted.

You wondered how long you’d been there. How long did you have to run over your return time before someone came looking? What would they say if they saw you like that? Completely fucked out, with Tess of all people. What would Ellie say if she found out you were basically fucking her mom.

Tess’ hands gentle grabbed at your face, making you look at her again.

“ don’t go falling asleep on me now sweetheart “ you couldnt even focus on her properly. Your body ached. There was a dull throb between your legs. You wanted to go home and sleep for the rest of the day. Maybe with her. Cuddled up in her bed, in sheets that smelt like her, in her clothes.

She wouldn’t let you do such a thing though.

“ is there something more interesting to you? “ she tapped your cheek with the back of her hand, pulling your full focus back onto her again “ look at you “ she mused, a smug smile pulling at her lips and her eyes dragging over you in a way that was almost mocking “ nothing going on in that pretty little head is there? No. Dumb little thing “

“ not dumb “ you mumbled “ not “ she scoffed

“ then give me one more? “ everything was too much, your entire body buzzing and frazzled and unable to pinpoint exactly where pleasure was seeping into pain “ one more. And we can stop “ a sick, sadistic part of you didn’t even want her to stop. You wanted her to keep going on and on and on until your body gave out on you, wanted her to fuck you until you passed out. You wondered for a moment if she would. No.

You knew she would.

She was getting off on breaking you, on snapping every support you had keeping you standing, squashing you into a helpless heap on the floor. And you loved it. Craved it.

“ one more” you whispered and she smiled, shifting your legs off of where you’d draped them over her lap.

“ let me taste that pretty little pussy “ the words made you whimper, but you were more than happy to oblige to her wishes. Who were you to decline her? It might be your one and only chance.

You let her position you how she wanted , like some rag doll with no control of her limbs. Pulling you by the hips over her face and guiding you down.

You should’ve known her tongue would be just as skilful as her fingers. Strong and wet on the sensitive skin of your cunt, flicking over your clit in a way that made your veins feel as though they were filled with pure electricity. Sharp sparks running through your limbs and making your legs twitch at the overstimulating feeling.

It was almost painful. You’d never been kept going that long. You were achy. Sore. But you also didn’t want her to stop.

She was more gentle now, easing you over the bump in the road so that it simply morphed into pleasure again.

You let her hold your hips, move you how she wanted, dragging the flat of her tongue over every inch she could reach. It felt so good. So unbelievably good that tears sprung in your eyes again.

Tess noticed.

“ fuck you look so pretty when you cry. Are those tears for me sweetheart? You wanted this didn’t you? This is what you wanted “ you couldn’t give her an answer, your brain was mush. Your legs were shaking. You weren’t entirely sure how much longer you could keep yourself upright. She pulled you back down, brain fuzzy as she fucked your practically abused hole with her tongue. Her fingers still digging into your hips to urge you to move, rocking you lightly against her face.

She lapped at you like she was starved. Humming her appreciation against you, making you gasp and groan at the vibrations it sent through you.

You didn’t ask for her permission to come. Didn’t have the energy. It hit you as blindingly hard as the others, your body shaking and pathetic squealing moans leaving your throat as she held you in place. She didn’t let up in her movements, her tongue still frantic and nose brushing your clit every time you squirmed. She held you there even when you tried to move away, vision blurring as she dragged her tongue over your oversensitive cunt until you were certain you were going to fall.

And at the last moment she let you go, letting you move away as you attempted to catch your breath. You were cautious that you might be slightly crushing her and attempted to stand and move only to give up and slump in a heap on the floor, head lolling back onto the couch.

You felt broken. Completely and utterly ruined. Your bones were liquid, muscles as useful as a newborn baby’s. A smile crept its way onto your face though. You had gotten exactly what you’d wanted. You heard Tess moving around behind you before her hands grabbed at you, tugging at you so you were cradled in her arms as she sat next to you on the floor.

“ you did so well “ she cooed “ I’m impressed “ you nudged your face against her neck and smiled again, she smelt like sweat and the pine soap from the store in town. It was soothing.

“ was i worth the waiting? “ you whispered, your cockiness returning. It made her chuckle

“ what do you think? “ you wondered how this would change things. You hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. Would this just be a one time thing? Would she go back to avoiding you now? You didn’t know. But you guessed even if she did, at least you’d had this.

[myusuchaa]

ikemen villains: my recs and route/suitor rankings ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

disclaimer: these are my opinions based on the current released routes in both ENG and JP. i tend to love dark psych thrillers, lots of angst and pining, great banter between characters/lively convos, and a captivating plot, so that's what influences my ranks~ will update with future releases

figured I’d post my thoughts here!! in case anyone is a bit newer to ikevil and is curious OR if anyone has similar interests as me I’d love to squeal about them with you!! ♡

₊˚ପ⊹ROUTE RANKINGS

rank is based on: written flow, plot, descriptive language and emotional pull, uniqueness

1. Elbert

2. Alfons

3. Roger

4. Ellis

5. William

6. Liam

7. Harrison

₊˚ପ⊹SUITOR RANKINGS

rank is based on: how much I fell for them, their likability, personality traits, inner monologues from his side stories, overall character story, their interactions with others

1. Elbert

2. Alfons

3. Ellis

4. Liam

5. Roger

6. Harrison

7. William

₊˚ପ⊹ROUTE RELEASE TIMELINE

Beginning trio (JP/ENG): William, Liam, Harrison

Aug. 1st (JP/ENG): Elbert

Nov. 14th (JP): Alfons

Mar. 19th (JP): Ellis

Jul. 23rd (JP): Roger

my thoughts & recs on each suitor's route (no spoilers)

William: such an interesting take on love. maybe because of his curse but his route is up there with feeling the most historical, period-piece fantasy like (along with elbie and roger imo). he's a very unique LI i honestly felt like his route would do well as a 3 episode anime OVA ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ i recommend him if you like a more undefined approach to love, contractual partnership, mature and refined guys and not-so-innocent MC's

Liam: a precious bb ahh, and his VA is so amazing at emotional inflections! liam really shines in being attentive to kate and to the other crown members, i loved how he treated her in his route. i recommend if you don't mind self-deprecating guys, if you like drama and whirlwind romance, and if you enjoy a relationship built on assurance.

Harrison: the best soft opening to ikevil imo. quite a tame route with very real world problems as opposed to dark fantasy. if anyone stays true to his self, it's harry! he has some funny one liners too lol. i recommend him if you like intelligent sarcastic LIs, you like noir crime vibes, and if you don't want a heavy read.

Elbert: i mean he is my oshi for a reason! every time i read his route i fall more in deep love.. the localization team did an amazing job w the translation. i think his POV stories are the best. they add so much to his qualities and i feel really boosts his story. i recommend his route if you love yearning, emotional understanding, tragedy, dark psych thrillers, and slow (but dramatic) burn stories

Alfons: i used to hate him with a passion... until i loved him. his route truly is the definition of "fuck around and find out" keeping you on your toes. i loved the depth he has and how dubious they made him. i recommend his route if you like word/roleplay, morally grey characters, if you like having to guess at things without ever being told the answer, and a "we shouldn't be doing this but.." kinda feeling

Ellis: this man had me doing mental gymnastics to understand his true motives and i looooved that. visuals are also top tier. what i noticed is his route really focuses on his time with kate and has a bit more of a mundane (as mundane can be in ikevil) plot compared to other routes. this let his interactions with kate shine. i recommend ellis if you like hidden duality in a suitor, puppy boys that will do anything for you, a love that feels like a warm blanket, and you're ok with no real character growth (conditional love)

Roger: honestly i put off his route cus i wasn't interested at first but by the third chapter i was like WOW this is a breath of fresh air. the writers showed UP for part 2, i love the new plot points introduced, and his interactions with kate are sooo good. i loved his letters too! i ended up finding him extremely supporting and with a slight gap moe which kept me interested. i recommend this route if you like stories that are plot AND character driven, back and forth banter between MC and LI, and a shojou traditional charismatic love!

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Part 1

Hi!! I’m so excited to post my first-ever Harry fic! I’ve been on 1D Tumblr since the very beginning, logged off for 5 years and now I’m back 💀 So I’ve had a lot of ideas over the years that have just lived in my head. GOLFRRY + MUSTACHRRY are my weaknesses, so this is my twist on a golf/bev cart girl + agegap fic 🤩

I’d love to hear your thoughts. I have most of the story written, so I should be able to have a consistent posting schedule. Not sure the total # of parts quite yet. I’m also happy to write additional blurbs if y’all like Harry and Briar as much as I do 🥹🐥🦊 

Here is a mood board I put together. Feel free to picture Briar however you please. The mood board is just to set the vibez!

Without further ado...Enjoy!

~

Word count: 4.5K

Contains mature themes. Read at your own discretion. Agegaps, cursing.

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4

~

By the time she gets to her designated cart, she’s already fifteen minutes late; but her iced coffee is the perfect color, and her hair didn’t give her too much trouble this morning. A win is a win.

Briar Barlowe quickly dumps a bucket of ice in her cart’s side cooler as the bar back begins filling the bin with the usual suspects: Bud Light, Michelob Ultra, Fireball, Tito’s, Casamigos, Ginger ale, and, of course, grape juice. She makes sure to keep her lavender cups stocked and plenty of fun straws to make everything more fun. She even decorates her tip jars to say funny jokes.

Since starting at Wynnewood Country Club, Briar has gained a bit of notoriety among the players as the girl with a bright smile and a heavy pour. This job is exactly what she needs to fill the gap between graduating college and beginning her business degree in the fall. Good money, stress-free responsibilities, and time spent in the sunshine.

Her Uncle, Patrick Barlowe, is the golf pro at Wynnewood; a local legend who was just shy of making the PGA Tour himself. He spends his days teaching lessons, running the pro shop and serving on the Board of Directors for the club. If you’re in with Patrick, you’re in with everyone.

When he heard her worries of not finding a summer job after graduation, it was a no brainer to offer her a position as a beverage cart girl. They both gaze out over the course from a table under the gazebo on the top deck of the club’s restaurant.

“That job sounds a little sexist, Uncle Patrick,” Briar sneers. All she can picture is driving around in a little dress and a visor like Malibu Barbie, answering the male members’ every beck and call.

The club is gorgeous; first built in 1914, and the architecture reflects it. It has two golf courses, 4 tennis courts, a pool, and deluxe spa. The member fees skyrocket each year, upping the amenities and overall snootiness of the members.

“The money is good and the members are pretty harmless. From the way you’ve swindled me into throwing teddy bear tea parties, I think you’ll do just fine on the sales aspect.”

“Fine. When do I start?”

Patrick leans back in his seat, “I’ll call Dominic in the morning.”

With that, they finish their drinks and appetizers just as the sun sets.

Walking out to her car, she sees a black Range Rover pull under the carport. The boys at the valet stand are already bickering over who gets to drive this one.

Based on the surrounding town, the level of pretentiousness at the club never surprises Briar. The yearly member fee for the club can cover 2 years’ worth of her business school tuition alone. She shakes her head and jumps into her hand-me down Jeep to head back to her apartment, paying no mind to the man entering the front door of the club.

~

Her shift this morning started out in the frigid cold, forcing her to change outfits later in the day as the sun came out. She’s sporting her black athletic skort and a racerback tank top. She opts to leave her hair down and sport her black and white Nike trailblazers to keep the look casual.

With a few weeks’ worth of shifts under her belt, she’s learned the ways of the club and fallen into a good rhythm. On any given weekend day, she has to head to the clubhouse to restock twice before 12PM. Today is not one of those days.

As temperature warms up, the course begins to fill up. In the last hour of her shift, she’s left with only a few beers and a few shots worth of Tito’s. Her tip jar is a little emptier than usual, but the pun on her sign got a few chuckles. She sets up shop on the 17th hole and snaps a few photos of the sunset.

“I shot one under today. One under a tree, one under a bush, and one under the water.”

Briar jumps at the voice behind her. Is that an Irish accent? She leans to peer over the side of her cart. She sees a man, older than her, donning a light blue polo with dark blue pants and a white hat, reading the joke on her jar.

“Clever, isn’t it?” She smiles kindly at him.

“Hilarious. It’s like ya been watching my game today,” he laughs. He moves closer to where she’s standing.

“Can I get you anything? I’ll be honest, I’m mostly wiped out.”

He peers down at the contents of the cooler. “I’ll take that last Mich Ultra. Do you have any Casamigos left? My mate is a little picky.”

“No Casamigos,” she says with a slight frown. “I’ll try to keep my drinking to a minimum next time and save you some.”

He lets out a loud laugh and squeezes his eyes shut. “Alright, just this then. He’ll have to deal with it.”

“I can offer you some Peanut M&M’s for your troubles,” she says, pulling out her iPad to ring in the order. “Do you have an account with the club, or do you want to pay cash?”

“The account is under Niall Horan,” he says, putting a $20 bill in the jar. “Thanks for the M&M’s, darlin’.”

“I’m Briar. It was nice meeting you, Niall. Thank you!” She beams. He smiles and starts heading back to the path toward the clubhouse.

~

After cleaning her cart and counting her money, Briar finishes the day drinking a mojito at the bar, while Cam, her new friend at the club, is working her bar shift.

“How was it out there today, babe?” Cam asks.

“Slow at first, but it definitely picked up. I couldn’t even head back for a restock. Luckily, the members I got at the very end weren’t picky.”

“Oh! Did you see Niall?” she asks as she puts glassware in the dishwasher.

“Yeah,” Briar furrows her brows. “How did you know?”

“I used to serve him on the front course all the time. Now that I’m too old and wretched to work out on the course, he’ll visit me in here sometimes. He mentioned playing the back course with a friend today.”

Briar is always assigned to the back course. There are only minor differences in difficulty, but she finds the back course to be a little more calm and serious. They’re also a little more generous with their tips. She’s not sure if her assignment has something to do with her uncle’s knowledge of the club’s inner workings.

“He is really nice, and generous. I didn’t get to meet the friend, though. Did you?”

“Yes, he was a little more reserved. But Niall is a riot, so he makes anyone look calm. I didn’t catch his name.”

Briar hums and stirs her mojito around as she stifles a yawn. “Well, I’ve been here since 7:30 this morning, so I am ready to goooo,” she drags out her last word. She waves bye to Cam and begins the trek to the employee parking lot.

As she’s walking, she gazes up to the upper deck of the restaurant where she can just barely make out Niall standing by the railing. He’s talking animatedly and waving his beer bottle around.

A bit off to the right, peering down at her, is a tall, striking man with dark features wearing a white button down and a sport coat. The top two buttons are undone just enough to see his collarbones.

The club has a strict dress code for the restaurant. Briar often does a double take when she sees members out of their golf clothes. She wonders if he’s even allowed to show that much skin.

Shrugging it off, she continues toward her car, but not without looking back at the man. He’s still looking at her, curiously, taking a sip of his drink and turning away not long after she looks up.

She can’t help but get this strange feeling, almost as if the hairs on the back of her neck are standing straight up.

~

As the summer starts to heat up, so do her shifts at the course. By the end of them, Briar’s hair is sticking out sideways and her make up is smeared down her face. She bought a miniature fan that clips right to the visor of her cart to keep her cool throughout the day.

It’s just past 8:30 in the morning on Tuesday when she hears a familiar voice on the 8th hole. She squints and sees Niall, along with the dark haired man from the other night. There are a few guys she doesn’t recognize standing with them.

She maneuvers her cart through the winding path, closer to where the men are.

“There’s the beer angel!” Niall shouts. She smiles and shakes her head. He comes jogging over. “I hope you’re fully stocked this morning.”

“Yep, I am! I even have a few breakfast sandwiches, if you’re interested.”

His eyes light up as she pulls out a bacon, egg and cheese on an everything bagel from the warming drawer. Chef Lambo, the executive chef of the club, made them especially for Briar’s customers.

“Yesss. I’ll take one of those, a Mich Ultra, two Transfusions, and — H! What do you want?” He yells, partially turning to face his friend in the distance.

She faintly hears, “Casamigos!”

“And a Casamigos on the rocks, with a lime,” he finishes. It takes her only a few minutes to make the cocktails.

“Do you want these on your account?” Briar asks Niall.

He takes a huge bite of the bagel and mumbles, “No, you can put it all on my mate’s. Last name is Styles.”

Styles, or, “H” as Niall called him. The mystery man’s Last name is Styles. And, he’s a member here.

“Got it. Well, good luck today.”

“Thanks, we’ll need it. We’re trying to close a work deal with the two guys we’re playing with. Hey, don’t be afraid to swing by us multiple times. We can use all the schmoozing we can get,” he smiles.

“I think I can do that. Let me know if you need help, I’m told I’m very persuasive,” she smiles as she takes the emergency brake off of her cart. He throws another $20 in her jar and then waves, nearly dropping all of the items in his hands.

Niall returns to his group, handing out their drinks. Briar continues to watch before pulling away. H steps out from behind Niall, slightly lifting his cup — his lavender cup — towards her, as a thank you. His facial expression is stoic, watching her carefully.

She smiles to herself and drives off. The rest of the shift goes by in a blur. She swings by Niall and H’s group a few times. Each time, Niall greets her to grab more drinks and snacks.

Is that on purpose? If the drinks are on H’s account, why isn’t he coming over? She’d like to get a closer look at him. She chews on the inside of her lip and continues on with her closing duties. She loves the morning shift; in early, out early.

~

After parking her cart in the garage, she can see her uncle in the pro shop, glasses on the tip of his nose, peering down at something. She lightly knocks on the door and pushes it open.

“Hey, Briar bear,” he says, looking up at her. “How was your day?”

Briar sighs at her childhood nickname, plopping down on the couch by the practice putting green. Members can test out clubs before purchasing them in the pro shop, making it an optimal spot to hang out and mess around with all of the clubs.

“It was good, I just have to get used to waking up this early again. And I already know you’re going to say, ‘welcome to the real world, kid’, so just stop there,” she says sassily.

Patrick chuckles and focuses back on with his paperwork. They’re quiet for a few moments.

“What’re working on, anyway?” she asks, craning her neck to see what he’s doing.

“Just some budget sheets, and making a list of members who haven’t had a lesson from their amazing in-house golf pro,” he says, punching numbers into his phone calculator.

“They get a free lesson from you?”

“Yes, when they join. But now, to keep up member retention, we’re going to offer sessions to members who have been here for 5 years or more,” he scratches his temple. “Most of ‘em don’t need it, but I feel they always leave with a new drill to practice and some sage advice from yours truly.”

“That’s cool,” she replies absently.

“Wanna help?” Patrick asks her. She nods silently and takes a seat beside him. She sees a list of last names, first initial and  an “X” next to their name if they’ve taken a lesson.

She notices an X next to “Horan, N.” but not “Styles, H”. Interesting.

Briar continues to audit the two lists, until she hears her uncle clear his throat.

“Hey, are you going to hang here for a bit? I need to run back into the main clubhouse for a few minutes.”

Patrick runs the pro shop solo during the day, until a high school or college kid can come in in the afternoon.

“Yeah, I’ll hang here. What do I do if someone needs something?”

“Then you can entertain them with your dazzling personality until I get back,” he teases, sticking his tongue out. “Alright, I’ll be back.”

“‘kay,” she says, walking back to her original spot on the sofa, laying her head back on the edge.

Her eyes are shut, only for a minute, until a brilliant idea pops in her head. She rises off the sofa and saunters over to the computer her uncle was just working on.

The employee portal is logged in under Patrick’s account. Briar doesn’t know much about it, aside from using it to clock in and clock out. It’s still on the member screen, an area she’s 100% sure she doesn’t have access to.

She peruses the site until she finds a “Member Look-Up” tab. Briar’s intrusive thoughts win.

She slowly punches in S-T-Y-L-E-S and waits for the results to populate. 2 results found.

She clicks on the first profile. An account pulls up for a Paul Styles, and a photo of a white-haired man pops up.

Well, that’s certainly not him, Briar thinks to herself. She exits out and clicks on the next account. No profile photo opens, but the name is at the top. She bites her thumbnail in anticipation of what she’ll see.

Harry Styles. H. Niall’s mysterious friend. The tequila lover.

She starts to scroll down the page. The profile is more bare than the other man’s, but she can see the basic things about him. He’s 41, joined the club 8 years ago. He lives in another pretentious town only a few miles away.

Then, she sees a “Member Activity” tab. Out of curiosity, she clicks on it. Her eyes widen, seeing every transaction he’s ever made on his account. His “dues” each year. Holy shit.

His purchases seem pretty standard for members of Wynnewood. Mostly rounds of Casamigos on the rocks (shocking) and dinners ranging from $100-$400, with a few bills over $1,000.

He joined 8 years ago, but his transactions have only begun to pick up in the last month or so. Before, his visits were sporadic at best.

Briar can’t even fathom having that sort of money to throw away. She started working at age 14 and never stopped. The only reason she gets a taste of country club life is because of her uncle.

She closes out the portal, not wanting to risk Patrick walking in while she’s snooping around. She returns to her spot on the sofa and begins playing 1010! on her phone.

She exhales and tosses her phone to the side. As she sits up, Patrick reenters the pro shop.

“Thanks, Bri. Heading home soon?”

“Yeah, I gotta get back home for Gus,” she smiles, thinking about her dog. Her baby.

“Alright, I’ll catch you later. Say hello to my buddy for me. And give him a butt scratch — Tell him it’s from Uncle Patty.”

“Will do. See ya.”

~

When she’s showered and comfy at home, with Gus, her Bernese Mountain Dog, snuggled at her side, she finally feels relaxed. 

She’s worked nearly every day since she started. But, those are the sacrifices of a summer job.

She turns on Selling Sunset on Netflix to drown out the silence of her apartment. Already bored of this season, she pulls out her phone.

One last round of stalking, then she’ll let it go. She opens Instagram and begins typing in Harry’s name in the search bar. Nothing. Hm.

She tries Niall, immediately getting a hit. She clicks on his account to find it public, full of funny and happy photos. He’s clearly from Ireland, but has lived in the United States for some time. She wonders if he went to school here, or if he just got a job here.

She scrolls down to a group photo — on the golf course, of course — of Niall, Harry, and a few other guys. They look a lot younger here. She can see the photo is from 7 years ago. Harry’s stoic face is a stark contrast to Niall’s infectious smile. She clicks on the photo to see if Harry’s profile is tagged. Nothing.

Defeated, she moves onto LinkedIn. She tries Harry’s name again. Within 10 seconds of the search engine results popping up on the screen, her eyes land on exactly what she’s looking for. He has a profile. Her heart starts beating a little faster.

Really, Briar? All this for a guy you’ve barely caught a glimpse of? She clicks on the profile and sees the most gorgeous man at the top. He looked good from afar, but this is totally different.

Sticking out to her is his chiseled jaw, pouty lips, and beautiful (green?) eyes. His hair is longer in this photo than what she’s seen him with the past 2 times at the club, but she figures this page is old.

She scrolls down to the employment history. He works for a hedge fund. No wonder he has that kind of cash laying around. He’s been at the same company for a number of years, and received his bachelor’s degree from Georgetown and his MBA from the University of Pennsylvania. Smart dude. 

She notes his MBA graduation year is 2006. She laughs, knowing she was probably still playing on a playground that year. 

She exits out of the page, proud of her findings. She decides to text Cam about Niall’s friend.

B: Hey! So I totally stalked Niall online. His friend’s name is Harry! 😆

C: So funny, how’d u do it? 😂

B: Instagram for Niall, and earlier, I used Wynnewood’s portal to look up Harry. I just went on his LinkedIn, too. Now, I know all about his work and schooling, lol.

C: Your account is private, right? 😳

C: It notifies people if you’ve looked at their profile unless you’re private…

B: What?! I didn’t know that…WTF do I do?

Briar’s stomach drops. He’s probably already gotten the notification by now. She’s mortified. She logs back on to LinkedIn and deactivates her account. Reddit says those are her best chances of counteracting the notification.

She decides to go to bed, but ends up tossing and turning until 3 AM, knowing her alarm is set for 6:30. She stares at the ceiling, pleading for Harry not to show up at the club tomorrow.

~

The morning comes around, and after mustering enough courage to get up and make herself presentable, she rolls into work, ready to jump on her cart and be lazy. The universe (or Uncle Patrick, probably!) has a different plan.

Since it’s a holiday weekend, Briar is working inside for a change. She feels a little out of her element. She’s worked in restaurants in the past, but it’s always a little stressful when you have know idea where anything is, or how to use the register.

Taking a moment to survey the large banquet room, she doesn’t see Niall or Harry. She begins to relax. Until, 30 minutes later, she sees both of them enter and begin talking to the hostess.

Please don’t go to my section, she thinks. She watches the girl gathers 4 menus and turns to lead the men further into the room. Briar’s worry grows more with each step the hostess takes toward her section. Fuck.

She seats them down at a 4 person table right in the middle of Briar’s section, assuming the two men from yesterday will be joining them.

She takes a few deep breaths before grabbing a water jug and two stemmed water glasses. She casually approaches the table, lightly placing the water glasses down and filling them.

Niall looks up briefly with a smile before exclaiming, “There she is! I requested you to be our server after I saw you at the coffee machine over there.”

Briar smiles before turning her attention to Harry, who hasn’t glanced up from his menu. She looks back at Niall.

“Awesome! This is going to be great,” she lies through her teeth.

While this exchange is happening, she can feel Cam’s eyes burning through the back of her head. Cam is the service bartender of the day, so she has time to people watch and laugh at Briar’s bad luck.

“Are we waiting for any more guests to join us?” Briar asks.

Niall clears his throat and says, “Yes, those two blokes from yesterday. Harry here is going to close the deal with them today.”

Harry glances up at her with a shy smile. She reciprocates, unsure if he’s aware of her cyberstalking from last night.

“Wow, well, I’ll make sure my service is extra good, then. Can I throw in some drinks while you wait?”

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned. Harry?” Niall turns to his friend.

“Casamigos on the rocks for me, please. With a lime. Thank you.”

“You got it,” she says with a tight-lipped smile. Of course that’s the very first thing he ever says to her. And he’s BRITISH?

Cam laughs as the ticket prints at the bar.

“Oh, shut up,” Briar grumbles.

~

The other men finally arrive, and the meal goes by at a snail’s pace. When the group is finally ready to order, Briar is already mentally checked out. Briar goes to take Harry’s order.

“What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have the chicken, please,” he says simply.

“And how would you like that cooked?” Briar asks, furiously scribbling on her note pad.

Harry’s face contorts to a perplexed look, almost as if he was about to laugh.

“Um…cooked…all the way through?” He stifles a chuckle.

Niall bursts out laughing, cluing Briar in. She realizes the others ordered porterhouse steaks, so, out of habit, she asked how they’d like them prepared.

Her eyes go wide, “Right, well, I’ll go put these in. Thanks!” She shuffles away at lightning speed.

Harry stares at her from across the room, smirking when they make eye contact. She wants to bury her head in the sand trap on the golf course.

When the meal is done, the men shake hands, and Niall and Harry look relieved. They ask for another round of drinks for the two of them and the check. Niall heads toward the restroom while Harry pays. She tries to bolt as soon as the check is dropped, but she hears Harry clear his throat.

She turns to face him.

“We’re about to go play a quick round of 9-holes to celebrate. Are you our beer angel today, or are you stuck in here?” Harry says, as he opens his wallet.

Briar feels her heart begin to race. She’s sure her face is beet red. The word angel rolls off his tongue so easily.

“Um, no, I’m um, stuck in here for the rest of the day. I’ll be back on Sunday, though,” she says quietly.

“Shame, I was starting to think you were bringing me all of my luck. I’ve been crushing these guys in our last few rounds,” he smiles, swirling the remnants of his drink around.

She bites the inside of her lip, unsure if she should still be holding eye contact. He hands her the checkbook, full of cash. She smiles, unable to speak.

“Oh, and Briar— I’m an open book. If you wanted to know more about me, you could’ve just asked,” he says with a sickeningly sweet smile.

That’s the moment Niall returns to the table, and presumably the only reason she doesn’t drop to the floor in fetal position.

“Thanks, Briar. Lunch was great. We’ll see you next time,” Niall says sweetly.

“Thanks!” she squeaks, scurrying to the back, where she nearly mows down Cam.

“Woah! What’re you doing?” Cam squeals.

“He KNOWS!” Briar wails.

“Who? Who knows — OH!” Cam shrieks. “What did he say to you?”

“He said, ‘Briar, I’m an open book. If you wanted to know more about me, you could’ve just asked.’”

Cam’s mouth drops open. “Did he say it with his sexy accent and sultry voice?”

“Shut up!”

“Fine. Well, what did he tip you?” she asks, reaching for the book in Briar’s hand.

She opens it, finding enough cash to cover the $450 tab, and an extra $300 as a tip.

“Damn! Who has that much cash at one time?” Cam laughs.

Briar flips to the back of the book, only to find a note on a small piece of paper:

I’m an Aquarius, in case you were wondering. : - )

She stares blankly at the note. When did he have time to do this? Was he going to slip this note to her regardless? A million thoughts run through her head, until she hears Cam.

“What a creepy-ass old person smiley face,” she says, shaking her head.

Briar thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

~

Finally, her shift ends and she can escape the club, just for a day. As she heads towards the women’s locker room, she’s rummaging through her bag, attempting to fish out her street clothes so she can change as quickly as possible.

As she stalks closer to the locker room, she collides head-first into a firm, wet object. She feels strong hands grasp her hips to steady her.

“What the fuck?” she says, moving the hair out of her eyes, only to be met with a strong tattooed torso, partially covered by towel tied loosely around the person’s waist.

Her next words die in her throat as she looks up.

Harry.

Harry, who just left the steam room.

He smirks down at her, gently letting go of her waist. Suddenly, she feels hot, as if she were just in there with him. Briar’s fight or flight kicked-in, causing her to spin on her heels and flee in the opposite direction. 

He senses she’d run, so he gently grabs her wrist, locking her in place. She peers up at him like a deer in headlights. His other hand is firmly planted on his hip to hold up his towel, in fear of giving the whole club a show.

He tilts her chin up so she’s making direct eye contact. Her stomach drops, sending a wave of nausea through her body. She studies his face; long eye lashes, slight stubble and two dimples that form as he smirks down at her softly.

“I told you, I’m not shy.”

He releases her chin and saunters back to the mens’ locker room.

[nonsensical-pixels]

MY WEDDING TRAUMA: A SURELY-SIMS x ICE-CREAMFORBREAKFAST COLLABORATION, CONVERTED TO THE SIMS 2 [download - 👰🏽🤵🏽]

are you tired of brides in white dresses and toddlers with perfect pink flower baskets? is cereal packet gameplay just not doing it for you anymore? maybe you'd like your weddings to put the 'strange' in strangetown? search no more, the ingredients for the strangest wedding in sim nation are finally here!

so, since i caught that one virus, i've been playing around a bit more with ts2 cc creation and finally had the time to work on converting a big set again. but then... what to convert? the answer came to me in the links section of a random lookbook... in a sort of fever dream. a set that captures the recent theme on my blog, families, and yet completely destroys it at the same time: my wedding trauma.

everything here is remarkably versatile. i mean, i know for a fact that people aren't just going to use that jumpsuit for a wedding, elvis needs more freedom than that! there are 9 cas items and 6 buy items for a total of 17 items in this set!

the original ts4 collaboration is complete perfection; it has just the sort of trashy, nonsensical vibes that the ts2 wedding department is sorely lacking. my conversion of this isn't perfect, i'm still learning how to do clothing and there are some minor issues mentioned below the cut, but overall i think that it came out pretty good and i hope it invokes some chaos in your game. 💥

credits go to @ice-creamforbreakfast for most of the cas part of this collaboration, and to @surely-sims for the buy mode part!

keep reading for more info, rambles, and preview pics!

PART 1: BUY MODE (6 items by @surely-sims)

ITEMS INCLUDED ARE: 1 - Fancy Folding Chair - 1.7k polys 2 - Margarita Tower - 3.4k polys 3 - Pizza Party Banquet Table - 1.5k polys 4 - Tiki Mug - 1.7k polys 5 - Toasting Bucket - 2.3k polys 6 - Wedding Arch - 10.2k polys*

individual previews are also to be found in the download!

THINGS TO NOTE: - The wedding arch is quite high-poly compared to other objects (10k) but that is the max for the polycounts. - The collection file included in the 'Surely-Sims' folder should go in the Collections folder in Documents.

PART 2: CAS (8 items by @ice-creamforbreakfast and 1 by @surely-sims)

ITEMS INCLUDED ARE: 1 - Brandi Dress (YF-AF) - 3.9k polys 2 - Elvis Glasses (TU-EU) - 1.7k polys 3 - Elvis Jumpsuit (YM-AM) - 4.9k polys 4 - Goopy Jacket (TM-AM) - 2.3k polys 5 - Jess Hair (YF-EF) - 5.4k polys 6 - Kelly-Marie Hair (TF-EF) - 9.4k polys 7 - Malborough Dress (YF-AF) - 7.1k polys 8 - Newport Headpiece (YF-AF) 9 - Trashleen's Cigarette Bouquet (YF-EF) note: the Jess Hair is not part of the original set but is included because the Newport Headpiece is meant to pair with it.

individual previews are also to be found in the download!

THINGS TO NOTE: - The clothing may have some bone assignment issues (especially with straps) & mild gaps. - The 'Goopy Jacket' has a mild discoloration around the neckline. - All hairs are in @skittlessims Skittles Hair System - The 'Elvis Jumpsuit' is paired with 4t2 SP01 Pointed Stud. Converted by me :) - The 'Malborough Dress' is paired with Ice-CreamForBreakfast's Jessica Shoes.

PART 3: THANKS & RAMBLE

have one final pic of the quirky couple and their patchwork family (ex-wife and dog included) 💞

this set was such a rollercoaster to work on, but also so, so much fun! i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do 🥺

for anyone who's wondering--yeah i'm back for now, requests are still closed, wips depend on whether im in the mood... but from now on releases should be less queued and have a more 'personal touch' 😏

i'll get around to posting the discord-exclusives i released while i was gone... eventually. there's a few that i'm keeping for myself x

anyway... happy simming, hope you enjoy these conversions, and have a lovely day simming! if you use these feel free to @ me, i wanna see the chaos and the cool stuff these are used in 🥰

love,

~ Ky (nonsensical-pixels)

[leikeliscomet]

Heartstopper's Aspec Representation Isn't For Me - And That's Okay (Mini Essay)

Spoilers for Series 3!

So I just finished series 3 and I feel conflicted. I don't hate Heartstopper at all. I think it's a very cute show. I'm happy queer baby gen z and gen alpha have something to see themselves in, I love how Tara, a darkskin Black lesbian girl is happy in her relationship. I'm happy Isaac makes my fellow aspecs happy. I'm happy Charlie tore Ben's singlet in series 2 and for once the victim/survivor is allowed to not forgive their assaulter. I like Heartstopper's little moments but I've felt like something was missing overall and now we're on the third season, I think I know what it is now. There's comments on BL and yaoi by Alice Oseman I don't fully agree with, some of the acting in the show could be a bit better I guess, most of the characters are comfortably in the British middle class and I am a grown adult now so my interest in school/teen dramas has dipped a little bit (but not you Waterloo Road ily <3). So to an extent, there were always gonna be limits on how much I enjoy this show, but nevertheless, I still think they're worth pointing out, especially if we're claiming Heartstopper for the next gen of queer rep. Because honestly having watched shows like Heartbreak High and Koisenu Futari plus being a massive Selah and the Spades fan, I feel a bit robbed in terms of quality.

Isaac still feels underdeveloped and for a show that's been going on for 3 series now this feels disappointing. Like obviously Nick and Charlie get all the screentime as they're the main characters. Tao and Elle got a lot more juicer storylines from s2, Tara and Darcy got more to work with this series even if it was rushed (oh I miss you long series 2010s shows), but Isaac still feels leaps behind everyone else. He didn't really get anything in series 1. In series 2 we saw him coming to terms with his identity which felt like a good starting point but I was still waiting for the 'big asexual plans' Alice Oseman promised and... nothing. I liked his comment about googling aromanticism to Charlie because the representation by PowerPoint style of aspec writing can get tired. I also liked his moment of feeling left out by his friends plus still wanting to know Nick and Charlie's tea, giving him sexual agency whilst aroace instead of feeding into infantilisation. But apart from that... nothing. I wanted to feel more moved by the aquarium scene, but it felt tacked on because whilst Isaac's upset was justified, Imogen just wanted to chat about gay fish, so Isaac came across as a little passive-aggressive instead of what was supposed to be his moment. Plus it feels a little backhanded how much effort series 1 went to in how big coming to terms with your identity is, plus the gorgeous way Isaac's aroace revelation was filmed in series 2 was filmed just to have him blurt it out in an aquarium and have barely any of his friends actually support him like he supported them. But life imitates art I guess. This whole season we've seen characters talking about university plans, gap years and going through the post-16 struggle. But what about Isaac? We never find out what uni he wants to go to or even if he wants to go. What subjects does he like? What job does he want post-school? What's his relationship like with his family? The people need to know! I always found it weird how Isaac was left out to the point where straight characters, whilst still bearing in mind that Tao x Elle is an interracial pairing between two POC and one of which is a trans girl and this is very rare and deserved representation too, had gotten more screentime than him. Imogen, Sahar, Mr Ajayi and Mr Farouk had all been introduced for bigger storylines but Isaac, despite being in the main group, still had to wait for his share. This series was such a huge moment for everyone but Isaac... again. And whilst I'm happy if everyone else is, I genuinely feel like we all deserve better.

Tori was given bigger moments this series and that was great because I was waiting for my introverted slurping sister to come through. Her concern and care for Charlie and jealousy of Nick were great plus with the introduction of Michael, it was all leading to the big reveal of Tori being ace, right? Right? Wrong, because this scene was cut from the ferris wheel moment and I have no idea why. Oseman confirmed it was because Tori's storyline will continue in s4 and she didn't want to rush it but like, what? Series 3, at least in my eyes, did an alright job at building up her coming out. And again, if Nick could get his bi awakening in a one series arc, why can't this asexual character then too? They also covered Darcy's non-binary transition and coming out in this series too so I don't know why there wasn't room for Tori apparently. There was plenty of room for an 'I'm asexual' within those 5 minutes. Waiting to develop her in series 4, which is yet to be confirmed and likely to be the show's last series so it will already have a lot to do with wrapping up the Nick x Charlie saga seems like a poor decision. This is the second time we've had to wait till next season for the aspec character's arc by the way.

I'd like to see some aroallo POVs on this but this season put a lot of emphasis on linking love and sex together and it felt a bit strange icl. Yes, they're linked socially/societally and it's great to have sex with someone you love and love someone you have sex with etc etc etc but the first 2 series made a point of separating the two by showing love without sex and how it was just as meaningful. Almost every time a character was sexually attracted to another e.g. calling them hot or started making out because they wanted to have sex in that given moment there would be a dialogue from one of them going 'it's okay we're in love 'it's normal you're in love' 'well that's what people in love do!' and these are all correct statements but like... we get it! You don't have to be head over heels in love to find someone sexually attractive or just want to have sex with them. It's okay if you're not in love too y'know? I'm not sure what that constant reassurance was for because depicting sex without love isn't as pearl clutchy as it seems when all parties are safe, consenting and comfortable, or, if you've ever had any knowledge about aro(allo) spaces tbf. Nick and Charlie are not aspec and are very much sexually attracted to each other so the conclusion of them having sex isn't surprising at all, especially when I already knew from tweets back in series 1 that Heartstopper the comic already had a storyline later on of the two having sex for the first time. Plus the other characters aren't aspec either so their sexual debuts are also unsurprising and deserved. Plus, I'm actually glad they included Tara and Darcy having sex because many 'sex positive' shows seem to leave out the lesbians. But for a show with an aroace creator and aspec characters, the depictions of romance and sex don't feel like they were written from an aspec lense or for an aspec audience. It's normal for people to be romantically and sexually attracted to each other and then date and have sex. But if you're aspec, you know this. We all know this. This is the mainstream and default depiction of human (hetero)sexuality. We're watching the queer shows to see something different from that. When romance without sex can only hinge on the characters being below the age of consent plus a supposed 'innocence' due to their young age and sex without love is non existent, plus when you factor in how there are no aroallo or alloace characters in the show with 'groundbreaking' aspec representation, it makes for a bit of a headscratcher. Heartstopper may be made by an aspec, has aspec characters and aspec fans, I don't consider it an aspec show. Bit sad, but it is what it is.

It's honestly strange how despite this fact, asexuality and aromanticism is barely mentioned in the main discourse about this show. Antis claim Oseman is a cishet woman despite being non-binary and aroace. They blame the sexlessness of the show on puritanism despite Oseman being aroace. There's constant arguments about how 'unrealistic' it is for teenagers to not have sex despite Isaac being a whole teenage aroace and how some people just didn't have sex in their teens... like aspecs. People are annoyed the show keeps giving Isaac aromantic and asexual storylines because it's 'not as important' and they 'don't care' as if he's not a main cast member and again, the creator is aroace! If you look at the promo pictures of the show, it has the main three pairings, Nick and Charlie, Tao and Elle and Tara and Darcy and no Isaac. Despite the fact it's supposed to be 'for' us and made by one of us, it's not. And a lot of non aspec queer fans watching the show don't see it for us despite being made by one of us either. And that's a real shame.

I'm fully aware Oseman knows about writing aroace characters from the book Loveless, which has an aroace MC. But I think Netflix choosing to adapt Heartstopper over Loveless was intentional. I think Netflix creating Isaac instead of Aled, a demi gay non-binary character from the og comic, was intentional. I think all the decisions Netlix made with Isaac and Tori are intentional, the same way bringing Yasmin Benoit to the Sex Education writers room to cut half of O's storylines was intentional. Netflix has fumbled the bag with asexual and aromantic representation several times now (Cash Piggot and Todd notwithstanding) so at this point, I'm not surprised anymore. Again, I'm happy for anyone who really likes Heartstopper, but I've finally accepted that it's not for me. And that's okay. When someone makes the predominantly aspec, slightly more grown, queer show with fully fleshed out arcs for its's asexual and/or aromantic characters or hits up Lovie Simone for the scrapped Selah and the Spades TV show, I know where I'll be.

We deserved our moments too. We deserve our Heartstopper.

[couldawouldashoulda50]

Never Been Kissed - Part Three - Matthew Knies

Below is part three of my entry for @cellythefloshie's birthday BINGO, featuring Matthew Knies. Again, my 5 tropes (Virginity, Age Gap, Secret Lovers, Meet Cute, Pining) are spread across the 3 parts.

In case you missed it - linking Part One and Two

Warnings/Notes - general smut (p in v), allusions to smut (both m and f oral), swearing. For anyone who read the first two parts, I did adjust the OC's age slightly. I hadn't received any feedback, but after some more research to get a grasp of overall public opinion on age differences in dating, I did change Lana's age slightly.

Celly - I hope you had the most amazing birthday....you are truly one of my favourite writers on here so it makes me happy to try and do something for you. I hope you have enjoyed this journey with Matthew Knies -- I have really enjoyed writing him.

Word Count - 6.7k

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With the promise of their lunchtime rendezvous solidified, the pair went off in their separate directions—Lana heading into the office and Matthew to his condo and then to the gym.

Lana's casual attire—flowy linen pants and a t-shirt—was a clear signal that she did not plan to remain in the office for long. When Ainsley walked in and saw Lana's outfit, with her hair swept up in a loose bun, she knew something was up.

Ainsley approached Lana's office and softly knocked on her door. "Lana… are you okay?"

Lana noticed the concern on her assistant's face and tried to sound reassuring as she fibbed. "I'm fine, but something's not agreeing with me. Since it's slow today, I think I'll take the rest of the day off and deal with this at home."

"Is it like food poisoning or something?"

Lana wanted to tie up the line of questioning quickly and just get the hell out of there. "No—but let's just say my stomach isn't thanking me for the hot dog I had at the ball game yesterday."

"You ate a hot dog? Were you drunk or something? You never eat stuff like that…"

"Yeah, well, now I remember why." Lana rubbed her stomach for extra effect as Ainsley winced in a show of sympathy. "Anyway, call me if there are any issues. Looks like it might be a slow week anyway with the long weekend coming up. A nice relaxed week would be nice before the craziness of September hits."

Ainsley nodded and wished Lana well, telling her to go home and rest before the forecasted downpour begins. Lana felt a twinge of guilt for being untruthful to her assistant, but in this case, the less Ainsley knew, the better. Besides, Lana was aware that Ainsley had veered off the path of truth and accuracy on more than a few occasions.

Although it wasn't because of the hot dog, drinks, or anything else she had eaten the day before, Lana's stomach felt like it was turned upside down. Nervous energy swirled within her as she returned home with a few grocery items and one box of condoms that she painstakingly selected. After seeing so many brands, sizes, sensations, and everything else under the sun in the family planning section of the store, in a panicked state, she called Jason. Lana decided calling her brother would be awkward, and other friends might pry too much, so Jason became her unlikely condom consultant—a role he embraced with surprising enthusiasm.

Lana guesstimated that Matthew might return by about 11:30, so she had time for some personal care. With underarms, bikini line, and legs as smooth as silk, she slathered her favorite lotion from her neck all the way to her polished toes.

She dressed in a simple white t-shirt and loose-fitting pants and went about assembling fresh flatbread pizzas, salad, and some sweet but healthy options for dessert. Lana had no clue what hockey players ate while training, so she was forced to wing it to the best of her ability.

Meanwhile, across the city, Matthew smirked and shook his head as he evaded questions about his recent whereabouts from a few of his teammates, as he quickly packed up to leave the gym. Joe wasn't among those who kept pestering Matthew to come out with them after their session, but being one of his closest friends, he knew something was up with his buddy.

As Matthew smiled and bee-lined it to the door, giving a rather hurried wave to those around him, Joe quickly gathered his things, grabbed his bag, and bolted after him.

"Matty—hold up a sec…" Joe hollered as he ran to catch up to Matthew at the door. With a few long strides, Joe was next to him walking out into the parking lot. Joe chuckled at the determined expression on his good pal's face. "Hot date? Where're you heading off to in such a rush?"

Matthew decided to stretch and manipulate the truth as best as he could. Lying wasn't his forte. "I have an appointment with the realtor—just some things to, uh, you know… finish up—I guess…," his voice trailing off.

"How about we go out to that ping-pong bar tonight—y'know, get some of the boys and get some challenges going?"

Distracted by the rumble of thunder in the distance, Matthew fidgeted, shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other. "Uh—yeah, maybe… I'm not sure just yet… let me do what I planned to do and I'll let you know after I get a nap in."

Given his recent mood shifts and the fact he'd been a bit of a ghost for the past couple of weeks, Joe had all but expected Matthew to decline. "Yeah? OK… yeah, man… sounds good… shoot me a text then and we'll figure it out."

Matthew hurriedly threw his bag in the backseat of his vehicle, quickly blurted a "I'll message ya later" towards Joe, and promptly sped off, leaving his good friend even more puzzled than before.

As Matthew eased along Dundas Street West, he thought solely about Lana. He knew he might be too young to even have this notion, but he had never known a woman like her. He scoffed at himself, acknowledging how much of a cliché it was to even think the thought. Falling for a bona fide woman—a stunning, successful, electrifying woman—is what Matthew realized he craved. Girls his age were fun, vibrant, and awesome to hang out with, but the influx of women who'd emerged this past season had provided Matthew with a clearer picture of what he didn't want.

Matthew realized he was licking his lips incessantly as the nervousness began to build when he turned onto Lana's street. Drops of rain began to spatter onto his windshield, filling him with anticipation of the hours ahead. Unless something drastic had changed, he would be making love to Lana sooner rather than later, and this time, he was prepared.

Using the garage pass Lana provided him with that morning, he parked his vehicle beside Lana's in the underground lot and used the elevator that stopped directly in her place. Lana knew he had arrived even before the elevator doors had opened, having spotted him on the security monitor in her kitchen. How the sight of him walking across the lot to the elevators felt bizarrely familiar, Lana would never know. It felt as though he was meant to be there all along.

Matthew's face lit up as Lana came to greet him. She was about to ask him how everything went, but Matthew's mouth was already on hers, muffling her words. She couldn't help but smile and chuckle into his kiss before Matthew's kiss became a little more hungry and his grip around her more needful. She closed her eyes and offered everything she had within her to him.

Matthew began to walk them upstairs to her bedroom, but the sight of the prepared lunch stopped him in his tracks.

He looked at Lana bashfully. "Oh—man, everything looks incredible—sorry, I didn't mean to just come in hot like that… I just couldn't help it. We can eat—I don't want anything to spoil."

With a newfound confidence, Lana spoke as she kissed him. "None of it's gone into the oven yet—so… it can wait… if you had something else in mind…," Lana said softly between kisses, followed by a wink.

That's all the invitation Matthew needed. Within minutes, the two found themselves naked in bed, hands and mouths exploring in tandem, drawing out the most erotic sounds from each other.

The now torrential downpour added a glorious backdrop of white noise which accompanied the sweet, suggestive murmurs spoken against each other's warm flesh.

The condom conversation eventually occurred, and they couldn't stop laughing when they discovered the new bounty of latex sheaths that each had brought.

Lana was ready for Matthew, but nervousness continued to twist in her stomach. She bit her lip and tried to catch her breath as she watched Matthew carefully roll the condom down his firmly erect shaft. Like the day before, she fixated on every detail of his cock, and she felt a greater need for him blossom within her.

Matthew's hips pressed against hers as he leaned over and kissed her deeply. She raked her fingers through the longer strands of hair towards the base of his neck before her palms descended across his shoulders and along the ridges of his back muscles.

Lana spoke near his ear. "I think I'm ready, Matthew. Can we try now?"

Matthew nestled his face in the crook of her neck and responded "Yes" while softly kissing along her throat.

He positioned his cock at her entrance, rubbing the tip through her inner pussy lips. Slowly, he guided the head of his cock into her entrance as he gently pushed the full tip inside of her.

Matthew was careful and studied Lana's expressions and movements after she encouraged him to keep going deeper. She moaned and gripped his rock-hard forearms as he gently pumped his hips, allowing more of his shaft to slide inside her.

Matthew's full length was inside of Lana. Their gaze trailed from each other down to watch his cock enter and stroke her inner walls. Matthew noticed Lana start to relax as her initial discomfort began to dissipate. Her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth fell open, and her head lolled to the side as her hands roamed along all of his well-sculpted muscle groups. He gently worked his thumb around her clit, using the same technique that had brought her such bliss the night before. Steadily, Matthew continued his fluid motions, gliding in and out while he carefully caressed her highly sensitive bud, only stopping to wet his thumb, tasting her on his tongue.

Try as he might to prolong it, Matthew was getting close. He threw his head back, grunting loudly as he pumped Lana a little more quickly. When he heard her moan his name, he stretched out on top of her while her hands grasped onto his ass. Lana cried out and held onto Matthew's body as he tried to maintain his rhythm, but she just felt so good. Matthew gasped out that he was going to cum and gripped the pillow on either side of her head, flexing his muscles as his body spasmed and twitched with his release.

He remained on top of and inside Lana for a moment, breathing heavily, knowing how incredible he felt but unsure about Lana. But when their eyes connected, they shared a moment that was full of awe and amazement as their rapid breathing slowed.

For Lana, she had no expectations of what her first time would be like. She knew there would be discomfort and it wasn't going to look like the glorified Hollywood sex scenes she had seen in movies. But Matthew made losing her virginity feel natural, beautiful, and more enjoyable with his attentiveness and care.

The rain continued steadily into the early afternoon, but the dreariness outside was a perfect recipe for some relaxation, which Lana realized she had been lacking. Barely clothed, the two brought the flatbread creations back to bed and only stayed upright long enough to eat and drink. They kissed, chatted, and laughed while their hands feathered over each other's bodies. As they lay together, she learned about some of Matthew's physical scars, and he learned about the more emotional ones from Lana's childhood.

Eventually, Matthew enveloped Lana in his arms and held her tightly as he settled in for a nap. To Lana, a midday nap was unheard of; however, not long after Matthew's rumbling snores filled the room, Lana's eyes grew heavy, and she nodded off to sleep as well.

She awoke hours later to Matthew's mouth kissing her shoulder and his arm reaching over her to grab his phone. She smiled, hearing him groan and yawn beside her. She could hear him swiping and tapping the screen as she remained still with her back facing him.

Lana stirred slightly to signal she was awake. The typing on the screen ceased, and Matthew promptly set his cell aside. His hands then roamed her body, fondling everything within reach.

"Do you have anything going tonight? Or is it okay if I hang out here? I hope you're not sick of me yet," Matthew said.

She visualized his smile, one she found so disarming that she'd immediately cancel her plans, if she had any.

Lana kissed along Matthew's arm. "No, I have no plans… if you would like to, I would love to have you stay." She shifted her body, turning to face him. "So, you have nothing going on? I thought you boys would be constantly out on the town during this last stretch of summer," Lana said with a grin as she ran the back of her fingers down his cheek.

Matthew had just sent a message to Joe cancelling their potential plans for that evening. He knew he had begun to raise some questions in Joe's mind—questions that he would need to address at some point. But how could he when he really had no idea himself about what he and Lana were—or weren't?

"My buddy—Joe Woll—not sure if you know him?"

Lana nodded her head that she did.

"We had talked about getting together tonight with some of the guys that are in town now. But I just cancelled—I sort of wanted to stay here… hang out some more with you." Matthew seemed a little sheepish, now that he actually heard how the words sounded out loud.

Lana's brows furrowed with Matthew's admission. "Matthew—I hope you didn't feel like you had to stay… I know you have a life too—I'm not looking to get in the way of that."

"I know… I'm just not ready to leave this little space that we're in right now." Matthew's voice trailed off and then he chuckled. "I really like being with you and I want to do so much more of this… like, the last couple of days—getting to know so much more about you—I just—fuck—I think you're amazing…." Matthew's cheeks flushed at his confession, uncertain of whether Lana felt an ounce of what he had been feeling. "I hate asking this but, do you feel the same about me? Sort of like—do you have a picture of what we are… or could be? Maybe I shouldn't even be asking this…."

Lana looked up at Matthew, her expression warm and soft and full of affection for him. It boggled her mind that the soon-to-be 22-year-old would ever consider a relationship with someone well beyond his years.

"I'd like to continue this—whatever 'this' is... spending time together. I'm not sure of the proper label. Dating? Seeing each other?" Lana nestled closer to Matthew's chest, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin. She paused, then added softly, "But there's something I can't quite grasp."

Matthew shifted to get a better view of her face. He hadn't anticipated Lana's question and had to bite his tongue, allowing her to finish before he spoke.

"Why me? I'm not meaning to sound like I'm putting myself down, but I have tried to consider a few angles—you've got this incredible career ahead of you. You could have your pick of women—women more your age. Young women—models, athletes, whomever—that you can start your young lives together," Lana paused, gathering her thoughts. "I'm just… worried… I have lived my twenties. I'm in a whole other decade than you. And please don't get me wrong, when we're together, I rarely think about our age gap. You're so mature, intelligent, articulate, thoughtful..." She punctuated each compliment with a soft kiss on his chest. Then, worry clouded her face. "But don't you ever worry—if we were to start a relationship—that your family, your friends might feel I'm too old for you? You might even feel that way at some point down the road. I've seen all sorts of relationships with athletes, but this—this with me and you is something entirely different—"

Matthew interjected, shaking his head. "God—no. I know there's still so much we have to figure out about each other, but this being different is exactly what I want. I know I might seem too eager with wanting to spend as much time with you as I can—maybe I come across as immature... but it's because ever since we met, I never want our conversations—our time together—to end. It's like the biggest no-brainer I've ever had. So no—I don't think about whether there's a difference in age… I don't feel anything like that. I just can't ignore how great I feel when we're together."

Lana listened closely to Matthew's words, trying to uncover any red flags in how he viewed her. This didn't appear to be a ruse or him looking for a mother-figure, or anything else of that nature.

"Lana—look, I've been on the other side of things with my past girlfriends, even more than once—when everything becomes an argument, when even the simplest things seem hard, and being around them feels like a chore or an obligation. Fuck, I wasn't even looking to start dating—meeting you took me out at the knees and every single time we were together… you just—you brought out the best of me—and I think I did that for you too. So... if you're willing to give me a shot, I'm all in."

Lana's mind, once again, instinctively drifted into her natural mode of calculating risk. She could certainly see risks with Matthew, not just solely from his age, but questioning whether it was emotion or logic driving his feelings for her. She was in her own struggle between using logic or emotion, which was proving easier said than done.

But as Lana ran her hands down his broad chest, she agreed with him in her mind. He brought out the lighter parts of her personality, and she liked it. "I'd like to try. Take things day by day… spend what time we can with each other. I'm not looking to rush anything, and until we're both comfortable, I would prefer to keep this totally private. Does that sound okay?"

Matthew thought for a moment, reminding himself he had to be patient—this was her first relationship and she was understandably cautious. Matthew lifted her chin and kissed her gently while saying "Absolutely."

The rain subsided just before dinnertime. The two hadn't ventured much beyond the bedroom, and Lana fully and completely reveled in their lazy day together. Matthew's mouth explored more of Lana, and she, in turn, fueled by her fascination and internal drive, gave him her very first blow job. She thoroughly enjoyed the act, but it was the praise she received which made her positively giddy inside.

In Lana's mind, there could never be a comparison for the day she just spent with Matthew. He eased her comfortably into a whirlwind of changes and new experiences. Nothing felt overwhelming. It all just felt exactly as it should be.

In the days leading up to the Friday before Labor Day, Lana and Matthew managed to deftly arrange their respective schedules to maximize their newly sacred alone time. Knowing that Lana would remain up north for two weeks from Labor Day, Matthew pulled out all the stops, with romantic gestures and all-out wooing her before she departed for Muskoka Friday morning.

First, the bouquet of 11 long-stemmed white roses and 11 chocolate-dipped strawberries that arrived the following day. Ainsley delivered the gifts to Lana's office just as she exited the conference room, bidding farewell to her new client. Lana stifled a smile when she saw Ainsley's puzzled expression. She knew her assistant was bursting at the seams to ask the million questions she surely had bouncing in her mind. Lana glided over to her desk, marveling at the perfectly formed rosebuds, blushing as she removed the sealed envelope attached to one of the stems, and another on the box of strawberries.

"LANA—oh my god, it's killing me… who sent you roses and strawberries? Please… I won't tell anyone… please—are you seeing someone?"

Ainsley did not know about Lana's personal history. Although Lana had a good relationship with her assistant, it was after careful observation once Ainsley was hired that Lana saw Ainsley might be a touch too comfortable in sharing the private matters of others.

Lana fibbed. "Just a thank-you from Aryne Tavares for helping Matthew. I'm just going to call her now—I'll stop by your desk afterwards so we can go over some things while I'm away."

Ainsley recognized Lana wasn't eager to dive into a personal chat and quietly closed her office door, stopping to gossip with another sales rep in the break room.

Lana double-checked the door was closed before she opened the first envelope. The card read:

"11 is my new favorite number."

Lana wasn't sure of the reference right away, but it soon dawned on her. Their difference in age.

She chuckled and shook her head, grinning widely as she opened the second envelope.

"Better than beet juice. You can share these at the office—there will be more later."

Lana pressed the card against her heart. There will be more later echoed in her mind.

And there was more.

After Lana sent Matthew a quick thank-you note, they swiftly made plans to meet as soon as she arrived home from the office.

Just as Lana returned home, Matthew arrived at her door with two more bouquets of 11 long-stem roses—one red bouquet and one yellow, as he wasn't sure which color she liked the most.

Matthew also brought a second box of strawberries, dipped in rich Belgian chocolate, which had a dual purpose.

The strawberries, which were later placed on Lana's bare torso, would serve as edible foreplay.

After the delectable appetizer, the sustenance it provided fueled the pair for a marathon in bed. The freedom of knowing they wanted to try for a future together proved to be a powerful aphrodisiac.

Night had fallen, and Lana lay across her bed, breathless. Her skin still rosy and flushed, covered in a light sheen of sweat as she watched Matthew return from the bathroom. He crawled onto the bed, placing kisses over her naked body as she lazily ran her hands through his hair and down his back.

Lana mused that she could get used to this.

___

The Saturday of the Labor Day weekend was picture perfect. Bright and sunny skies, with every shade of blue on display in every direction. Lake Rosseau was still for the moment, the surface of the water would rival the smoothest glass.

Lana and Andrew's shared lakefront home was already buzzing with activity. Their Labor Day shindig was one of the area's most popular get-togethers, as the brother-sister duo were known for their warmth, hospitality, and delicious offerings from local food and drink venues. Lana and Andrew had long ago decided to take turns organizing the annual event. After Lana threw one of their most revered parties the previous year, Andrew and Jason were determined to outdo her this time. This friendly sibling rivalry to host the better get-together likely made their end-of-summer event one of the most sought-after invitations around Port Carling.

Andrew spotted Lana stealing a few moments alone on the south-facing deck of a sitting area. He handed her an espresso, which she hadn't asked for but deeply appreciated.

"Just got a message from Aryne Tavares," Andrew said. "She already RSVP'd for her and John, but it sounds like they have a few guests staying at their cottage. She wondered if we could accommodate some extra mouths to feed. What do you think?" Andrew maintained a straight face until he saw Lana trying not to smile, as she quickly guessed who one of the "extra mouths" might be.

"Drew, this is all yours," she replied, feigning innocence. "If your numbers say yes, then there's your answer."

"Aryne mentioned one of their guest's names is Matthew Knies. Ring any bells?" Andrew teased.

"You're such a donkey sometimes, Drew. Total jackass." Lana scoffed and bumped against him.

"I actually cannot wait to meet him. See the guy that's lifted all of that shit off your shoulders that our mother laid on you. Did you know he was up for the weekend?"

"He messaged me that he was staying with John and a few teammates for the weekend. Said he hoped that he could stop by for a bit."

“Well, once we’re all cleaned up here after the party, Jason and I are going on a little road trip, so your two weeks alone will be starting tomorrow. Although, the alone thing…maybe not so much anymore, eh?”

Lana chuckled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Sound carries like crazy up here but the glass doors are sound proof - I recommend keeping them closed if you and Matthew are - you know…”

“Jesus Andrew - will you stop?” Lana laughed.

“I forgot to mention - well done too….Jason and I were watching some press conferences… he sure looks like he’s got stamina. Built like a brick shithouse, as they say….”

“Fuck - I’m outta here…you’re too much…”

Lana stood up but stopped to wrap her arms around her brother. “I love you, Drew.”

“Love you to sis. I’m happy for you. Jason and I both are.”

—

Matthew spotted Lana first. Her naturally wavy hair flitted in the breeze with the ends brushing the small of her back. She absolutely took his breath away. She looked happy, relaxed, and incredibly beautiful as the light wind off the lake swept her hair to the side.

The man Lana was speaking to was no less beautiful, and Matthew had to get his bearings and calm his mind before he approached her. It was difficult not to react to the knot in his stomach given how close Lana seemed to be with the unknown man, who appeared athletic, tanned, and pretty much perfect.

Aryne, John, Joe Woll and Fraser Minten (otherwise knowns as Mints), signaled to Matthew that they were heading to get a drink and waved for him to join them. When Matthew indicated he’d be there in a minute, barely taking his eyes off Lana, Joe - in a flash - pieced it together of why his good friend had been so distant since he first started his search for a new place to live.

Joe watched from afar as Lana sensed a presence behind her. She turned around to see Matthew's face, and her own lit up, with bashful adoring smile. Lana approached Matthew and introduced him to the man she had been standing with.

"Matthew Knies—this is Jason Morin, my brother's partner. Jason, this is Matthew."

Jason shook Matthew's hand. "Great to meet you. I'm a really big fan of yours - and the team. Hoping for an amazing season ahead for you guys."

Matthew’s eyes widened once he realized he had misinterpreted the situation. “Oh - Jason - wow, awesome to meet you too. Yeah, it’s going to be an exciting season I think.”

The three chatted for a few minutes before Aryne, John, and the rest of their group made their way over to greet them. Hugs and handshakes and introductions were made and the group fell into mostly a comfortable exchange.

Eventually Lana ushered Aryne back into the grand main cottage - Aryne had her eye on some fixtures and dressings throughout the main room and Lana was glad to give her the details of the designer.

John and Fraser wanted to go explore the massive boathouse and the multi-dock/deck system, leaving Matthew and Joe with their Corona beers. They did a quick cheers and silently surveyed the southern view from the main deck at the back of the cottage.

Joe broke the silence but didn’t turn his head from the view. “Amazing spot.”

“Sure is.”

Joe smirked knowingly. He could tell Matthew was aware that Joe's keen "spidey senses" had picked up on something.

“Lana seems nice. Oh - right - she’s the one that helped you find your new place?”

Matthew fought against wanting to smile. “Yep.”

Joe bided his time and took another sip from his bottle. “Yep. Seems really nice.”

Matthew tried to fight it off but he broke in to a laugh. “Fuck dude - just ask what you want to ask or say what you want to say man - might as well get it over with.”

Joe teased his buddy. “You better work on not cracking under pressure like that - jeez, I was barely egging you on…”

Matthew rolled his eyes and scoffed. “So? What do you wanna know?”

Joe shrugged. “Anything you’re willing to divulge….”

“Well….. Lana and I are seeing each other.” Matthew exhaled deeply without even realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Joe’s eyes smiled for his friend. “Good for you, man - that’s great…”

Matthew nodded and looked around at the groups of party goers that had congregated near the bar. “She wants to keep it private - she’s worried that my family and friends are going to think she’s too old for me.”

“Ahhh - yeah, I get it.” Joe knew Matthew’s family would just want him to be happy but he certainly saw Lana’s point. “How old is she?”

“32. So just over 10 years difference.”

“Shit, that’s not bad at all. You’re 22 next month so yeah, ten years isn’t bad.”

"But… Jesus, Joe. Fuck, I couldn't help it. I swear, she took me out at the knees — first time I saw her, I was standing in her office behind John worrying I was about to pop an awkward boner."

Joe laughed, nearly choking on his gulp of beer.

"I couldn't have cared less about viewing the condos — I probably could've gotten everything decided in the first couple of hours, but I acted all indecisive for weeks, just to see her again. Man — she's just such an amazing person. She really is."

Aryne's voice behind Joe startled him and Matthew. "Is John still down at the boathouse?"

Matthew peered around a few groups of people and pointed John out to Aryne.

"Lana — I'll be back in a sec…," Aryne called over her shoulder as Lana approached Matthew and Joe.

“How are you guys doing? Do you need anything at all?” Lana said as she assessed the remaining beer in each of their bottles. She pointed out so additional food stations that had just been set up and rhymed off the varieties of cuisines, if they were hungry of course.

Joe smiled widely and chatted with Lana briefly before excusing himself, leaving Matthew and her alone together.

Barely moving his lips and pretending to look around, Matthew spoke under his breath to Lana how gorgeous she looked. Blushing, Lana did the same.

She paused for a moment and then asked if Joe knew about them. Matthew glanced downward and then apologetically looked into her eyes. Matthew explained that Joe had guessed - and that Joe was also exceptionally smart and seem to notice….well, everything.

Lana’s soft voice soothed Matthew’s mild panic, telling him it was ok that Joe knew. Her brother and Jason knew so it really was only fair.

Matthew had a sudden need to be alone with Lana and he leaned in towards her. “Think I could get a private tour of the inside?”

Lana’s eyes were directed towards a local power couple as she smiled and waved at them, but her mind was solely on Matthew. “Mmmm…I can give you a tour a little later - I have something else in mind. There’s a main staircase inside - follow it upstairs and I'll meet you up there in about 5 minutes, okay?”

Matthew chuckled and jokingly looked over his shoulder, then back to Lana. “Yes ma’am.”

__

Long after Matthew left with the Tavares’ Saturday evening, and once Andrew and Jason had departed on their scheduled road trip the following day, Loren was alone. She traipsed around from room to room absorbing the tranquility of the house, and the bright a breathtaking scenery outside. She always loved this time of year, and there was an odd satisfaction with taking time off when it felt most were venturing back to the work week and school grind after their summer breaks.

Lana changed into her typical work out attire, and headed down to the lake where her one-person scull awaited her on shore. Lana loved her solo rowing trips, especially on a day where the lake was as quiet as it was.

She rowed the lightweight boat along the shoreline at an impressive speed, concentrating on her tempo, proper posture and breathing. She was far off in her own world inside her mind, and barely glanced at the million dollar lake houses with their enormous floating docks and monster ski boats and jet-skis tied to each one.

After an hour-long trip around the lake, she approached her own dock and spotted a tall figure standing by the swim ladder. She stopped rowing to shield her eyes from the sun to get a better look— unintentionally rocking the boat and squealing a little when she realized it was Matthew.

As fast as she could, she hopped into the water and dragged the boat onto the sandy part of the shore, and ran up towards the gangplank where Matthew was climbing down to meet her.

Lana wrapped her arms around Matthew. “I am so happy you’re here but - I thought you had planned to go back to the city yesterday?” She was still puffing - partly from rowing but mostly from Matthew surprising her.

“Sorry - I hated being sneaky but yeah, I really wanted to surprise you. Worried me a little when I showed up and I couldn’t find you. I came out here and kept seeing a flash of something - it was the sun reflecting off your oars. You’re such a badass out there….”

They strolled up the path and chatted animatedly about the hours that passed when they were apart. They entered the main cottage through the large glass doors just off the kitchen.

Matthew was still in awe of Lana’s lake front setup and as they talked, he would meander off, poking his head in and out of rooms with a “not too shabby” expression on his face.

Lana beamed, looking at Matthew as he approached her, backing her up against the countertop by the kitchen sink. He slowly pressed his mouth onto hers and asked if he could interrupt her "quiet time" and stay for a few days. He would need to make his way back into the city at some point that week, but it was Joe who encouraged him to take the chance, come back to Lana's, and spend time with her before training camp got fully underway.

Lana wrapped her arms tightly around Matthew’s neck, her kiss full of need and desire for him. She was elated that he came back, otherwise, the thought had crossed her mind to leave the cottage, surprise him at his condo door - like they do in so many rom-coms - probably drenched from rain, too.

Every moment that followed, a sense of peace washed over Matthew and Lana, which neither had even known they needed. They simply wanted to be together. Whether they were exploring the beautiful towns nearby, sunning themselves on the dock (Matthew couldn't believe what a rocket Lana was in her bikini), or enjoying dinner for two on the boat as they cruised the lake — anything that allowed them to be near one another.

If their shared sense of peace was a surprise to them, their appetite for each other was not. At the party, after they stole away into Lana's bathroom for a few minutes (in reality it was more like 30), Lana channeled her newly discovered sexuality. Behind the locked door, Lana stripped down to her strapless bra and lace panties, and promptly palmed Matthew's cock through his pants. It wasn't much longer before Lana had her hand over her mouth, stifling her cries of bliss while Matthew kneeled in front of her, her one leg draped over his shoulder as he dined on her.

A "Car Ride" soon took on a completely different meaning after their road trips would extend past sunset. Lana was surprised to find a number of secluded spots to climb onto Matthew's cock and experience heaven — sometimes more than once.

For Matthew, picnics in bed had become a fast favorite. The amount of teasing that they unlocked with various edibles was positively sinful. If things got too sticky or messy, well then a joint shower, and everything that entails, would need to be had.

It was Lana's appetite for Matthew that brought her back to the city early, well before her two-week break had concluded. After Matthew had left their bubble to go back to Toronto to buckle down with training, Lana tried to push past the longing that had settled in deep for Matthew. She knew how to be alone—she had always been comfortable with her own company. But she missed him, plain and simple. As Matthew drove home after a morning skate, he scrambled to press "read" on his dashboard after a text from Lana appeared.

"Good morning, Matty. Would you be around for dinner tonight, or sometime soon? Just arrived home. Was missing someone terribly."

Matthew called Lana immediately.

"You're back?! God—that's really—wow… really good news. I was missing someone pretty badly too." Matthew heard Lana giggle and he felt his heart could burst with happiness.

"So, I was wondering if I could take the someone I was missing terribly out on a date tonight? That is, if he's available?" Lana asked hopefully.

Matthew was positively moony. "Does he have to wait that long—or can you maybe fit him in before tonight? Like, maybe now, if not sooner?"

Lana's smile could be heard in her voice. "I can. I'll meet you at yours in the next half-second."

Matthew's cock twitched at Lana's suggestive tone, and he let out a little groan. "See you soon then."

The afternoon was mostly spent horizontal—limbs intertwined and lips connected to each other in every way possible.

They slowly peeled themselves off each other, enjoyed a long and lazy shower, and got ready for their date. Matthew peppered her with questions as to where they were going, and Lana simply answered, "To dinner… and then I guess we'll see after that."

The only other hint she gave Matthew was that she was taking him to her favorite restaurant.

From a window seat atop the ManuLife Centre, 51 floors up, Lana gazed out at one of the most stunning sunsets she'd ever seen—a breathtaking display of reds, oranges, and purples. It felt as if the universe itself was sharing a knowing wink with her. She had gotten her wish - and what a redemption this was from the last time she sat in this restaurant.

The only thing that surpassed the outside view was the man she sat across from. His magnetic charm, disarming looks, with a genuinely kind heart.

Matthew Knies had been well worth the wait.

[forwhump]

a/n; I have a whole truman show style day in the life thing I did w point that I was trying to find but there’s a lot of creepy weirdness to sort through first to find it & I found this one instead & I feel it’s particularly ugh so <3 couldn’t let it go to waste

enjoy some rambling point introspection :’)

tw/cw: rape, noncon, misgendering, transphobia, dehumanization, kidnapping, captivity, psychological torture, sexual exploitation, degradation, misogyny

creepy whumper, rapist pov, the ramblings of a madman, mentions of a living weapon

“I think I’m in love with you,” Point tells the naked, crying girl shackled in his bunk.

Her wrists are bleeding from how hard she had tried to fight to get them free. She isn’t fighting anymore; he’s tired her out. He likes her tired. She looks up at him with wide, wet eyes and her bare skin is so warm. Quietly, she hiccups, “there’s something really fuckin’ wrong with you.”

She’s got such a stupid accent. A real backwoods aw, shucks kind of accent. She tries to thin it out as much as possible but she hates him so much she can’t control it around him, sometimes, and he knows she hates that, too. He loves it. He loves the accent, too, even if it is stupid as all get out, even if his men make fun of him for it relentlessly. They’re all full of shit — they’d each jumped at the chance to ride the cowgirl, and they each jump, still.

She’s fuckin’ unreal in that lethal, Playboy bunny, girl next door kind of way. A real fantasy kind of way. Blonde bombshell, right? What man in their right mind doesn’t want to fuck a pretty blonde? First time Point had laid eyes on her, sitting on the floor of that trap house, he knew he was gonna keep her. She was special. She had a mouth like Princess Peach and Point could fit both hands around her waist. He was never gonna let her go. Couldn’t.

Then she spoke, and Point had been taken aback by the stupid accent, thick and unexpected, the backwater twang of banjos, denim overalls, and tooth gaps.

The milkmaid braids had been his idea, a branch of two separate, very good ideas. The first was to put her in her place; her accent was stupid, and it was embarrassing, and the hat and the boots just didn’t feel humiliating enough. The second was that she had already gotten under Point’s skin; she spoke, from the floor of that trap house, and he’d just as quickly started harbouring a fantasy of holding the farmer’s daughter by her sweet braids, tied off with ribbon, and fucking her face. Vineyard, the creative bastard, had supplied the milkmaid dress — his niece was twelve, and it had been a Halloween costume. Wren’s a tall girl, long legged, and the dress never fit her, not properly, but it never needed to. They made her wear it for a long time, anyway.

Point has an inkling that might’ve been where his thing for the accent had blossomed, but it’s hard to say. “Oh, darlin’,” he croons, and he’s mocking her. He does it a lot, and doesn’t always do it on purpose but most of the time he does — it makes her flush, and he likes her flushed.

He likes her a lot of ways, really. Tired, flushed. He likes her when she’s crying and when she’s trying to fight him off. He likes her when she’s begging and when she’s sobbing so hard she can’t choke out words. He likes her when she’s barely conscious, all soft and wet and pliant. He likes her when she’s pretending to like him because she knows he’ll kill her dog if she doesn’t. He hasn’t had her in a way, yet, in fact, that he hasn’t liked her; he actually likes the girl in all ways. He doesn’t even like his wife in all ways. It’s why he thinks he might love her — it’s why he knows he does. How typical, right? The handsome jock and the hot blonde. Who could’ve predicted it?

She’s already flushed with crying but she flushes a little darker with humiliation and Point grins.

She definitely isn’t perfect — she gets a bit shrill, and her thing for the dog upsets Point so completely he can’t think about it too hard or he loses chunks of time. But her hair is pretty, and her mouth is pretty, and her cunt is always warm, and she really is beautiful, in that really rare, really impossible kind of way.

Point would keep her all to himself if he could, right here in his bunk. He’d stop applying for leave and she’d stop having to go back to that disgusting doghouse. He’d gotten close, once, but it didn’t last. And that’s not to say he’d stop letting his men use her, either — it’s everybody else. It’s that fuckin’ dog.

He stops grinning and spits in her face.

He doesn’t mean to, not really, but he looks down at her and he sees the way she looks at that thing. Point is being generous every time he calls it a dog, but chunk of meat is just too wordy. Is what it is, though, isn’t it? An ugly chunk of meat a couple of the military’s poindexters had reanimated. She doesn’t look at Point the same way she looks at that thing, and how is that fair? She does it on purpose, just to upset him. He knows she does.

She recoils and he grabs her by the jaw. Holds her still. “Open.” She struggles, trying to lean away, and he presses the back of her head harder into his mattress. “Open,” he demands, and she does on a sob and he spits again, into her mouth. She chokes and he hears himself tell her, “you’re disgusting.” She sobs again and he spits, “stop fucking the dog.”

“I’m not —“

“And stop fuckin’ lying to me,” he snaps.

That’s her worst thing. Worse than the whining, and the fact that she opens her legs for that thing — she’s a liar. She’s always lying.

But fuck, does it almost tie with the fact that she opens her legs for that thing. He hates to think about it but it’s hard not to equate it. Does she get just as wet for him? Does she make the same noises? It would probably make him hate her if he wasn’t in love with her.

“Why can’t you just be a good girl?” He asks, and he doesn’t mean to ask so sincerely. “Why do you have to be a whore?”

She looks up at him from beneath his hand with a hatred that radiates off her like heat. He’s willing to bet she never looks at the dog like that.

He’s also willing to bet the dog doesn’t know. It’s dumb, and he can’t see the girl telling it the truth. It had been wildly protective of her from pretty early into its placement, after however long it had taken the girl to manipulate it into wrapping itself around her little finger. Something about it makes her feel safer, more secure, even if it’s just a cute little lie she tells herself to sleep better sometimes. Even with the added guard dog, she’s still here with Point. She’s still been here with Point for hours.

He doesn’t care for the dog — he thinks it’s a hideous waste of meat and a disgusting fuckin’ science experiment — but he could probably feel bad for it if he let himself. The dog is just so dumb and it has no idea that its little girlfriend is a well fucked whore and if that if Point plays his cards just right he can get her to beg for his cock.

“You could be perfect,” he tells her.

She’s still crying — she’s usually crying — and she’s always doe eyed but when she cries it makes her eyes look a lot bigger and makes her look really scared and really pathetic. Point’s always thought she looks prettiest when she’s scared.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” she tells him, and she enunciates very carefully.

“Shucks,” he mocks, and grins when she flushes, predictably. Fuck, she’s pretty. If nothing else, she’s pretty. It’s almost enough to forget the stupid hillbilly accent and the fact that she fucks dogs.

He puts his hand on her thigh. She tries to flinch away but he holds her there, pressing bruises into her pale thigh in the shape of his fingertips. Vineyard bites her, fucks her up pretty bad sometimes, likes to mark her that way, but Point’s never cared much for biting. Point’s always liked to bruise.

He pushes her thighs apart and the way she trembles in his hands makes him smile. “Stop,” she begs, and the poor girl must be so tired but she makes a valiant attempt to fight him off, anyway. “Please. Please, no more.”

Point clicks his tongue as he settles between her legs. “You know you don’t get to decide when we’re done here, cowgirl,” he says. He holds her down against his sheets, standard issue — black, as opposed to the asset grey. Better thread count, too. The girl should be grateful, he thinks, that he prefers to fuck her here, on the best sheets in their chunk of the district, instead of the shitty sheets in the unit, instead of the concrete of any of the floors.

Point would love, in his wildest fantasies, to get her furlough and fuck her at home. His wife was in charge of the furnishing and all that, because why does he give a shit? But she knocked it out of the park with their sheets. The mattress, too. The whole bed is great, and Point would love to get the girl out of here and fuck her on it for days consecutive. He would love to ruin those sheets. But it would be sticky, ‘cause he’d have to get his wife and all four of the kids out of the house and to stay away from the house at the same time. The neighbourhood is affluent, but that annoying, gossipy sort of affluent that his wife finds so friendly but that makes Point sick and enraged. If he sent his wife and children on vacation, then showed up at the house, with or without a blonde considerably hotter and younger than his wife, they’d gossip. His wife would find out, at the very least, that he took leave and didn’t mention it to her, and that’s a can of worms he doesn’t think he wants to open. That’s the debate, at least.

But it’s an ongoing debate. Every time he’s eligible for leave again, he considers it. Sometimes, in his bunk with this girl, when her skin is especially warm and her cunt is especially wet, he thinks it would be worth it.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he tells her again.

She sobs.

[dramalets]

2024 watch list part 5

The Rebound - This is a fun pulp but not a lot more. It didn’t really seem to know what it wanted to be and suffered for that in the end. The ending is ass. 3/5

HIStory 4: Close to you - Trope city. I enjoyed the non brother husband pairing in this and also the friendship between the three elder leads was a lot of fun. This really comes with so many TWs though so be careful before you watch. 3/5 (13/8/24)

Ossan’s Love - You will like this or you won’t and I don’t think there’s an in between. Fortunately I loved this. It’s not a taxing watch but it does manage to pack character depth and heart into every inch of story. Haruta is a gentle soul with zero like skills and Maki is a mature but troubled younger counter. It’s very Japanese and you’ll like that or you won’t but I think it’s worth a go. 4/5 (14/8/24)

This love doesn’t have long beans - If you like Pon & Sailub then this is very enjoyable. But if you don’t know them then it’s mostly a paper thin plot and some sex. A good brain off fluff watch or if you’re looking for Mame style horny but without the trauma and rape. 3/5 (23/8/24)

We Best Love: Fighting Mr 2nd - Like with the first one I just found it fine. The chemistry of the leads is very good and they sell the show really. Zero idea what that nonsense with the second couple and their various MH disorders was. I’m really not a fan of slapping disorders onto characters in place of actually giving them development. 3/5 (26/8/24)

4Minutes - I was glued to this right from the start. It’s a BoC production so it’s beautiful to look at and the acting is high quality. This’ll be a fantastic binge watch for anyone looking for an excellently acted, well done sorta sci-fi. I’d have given this a five but I thought some stuff felt very rushed and we could have either done with a ten episode block or less time spent on one characters 4minute t/l. 4/5 (13/9/24)

The Trainee - Much like, another recent OffGun show, Cooking Crush this show was much more about its characters, and their personal development and progress, than it was about the romance of the two leads. For the most part I enjoyed this but it also felt like it didn’t quite stick the landing. I’m a big proponent of slice of life style stories this wasn’t really quite that but it also wasn’t a heavily plotted rom-com style story either. This was really just about community, self-esteem and personal growth. The cast in this were all round incredible and the intern friend group were absurdly easy to love. 3/5 (15/9/24)

Sunset X Vibes - Let’s be real; you watch this for MosBank and that’s exactly what you get. MosBank. This isn’t 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 as forgettable as Big Dragon but it’s close. The first half is fun and then it realises it’s run out of plot and just sort of doesn’t know where it’s going and adds some great kissing. The sub couples are sort of fun. But they were so sporadic in characterisation that they were sort of impossible to fully enjoy for anything but nice kissing. As with Big Dragon this was fine and I enjoyed it but I can’t really tell you anything much about it apart from MosBank. 2 ½/5 (15/9/24) (Also there’s heavily implied mpreg in the special episode. So that’ll be enough for this show to live on in fanfic.)

To My Star - I’m very hit or miss on KBL. Often it veers to melodramatic for me. This definitely is maudlin and a little depressing but it isn’t over dramatic so is a more tolerable kind of melo for me. Overall I did enjoy this, its leads were absorbing and enjoyable to watch. I do think a little more could have been done to establish them falling for one another as it did feel a little quick. 3 ½/5 (18/9/24)

Mr Mitsuya’s planned feeding - Just lovely. Couldn’t have come from anywhere but Japan and it’s beautiful for that. Carefully examines age, status and how hopes, dreams and wants shift as those things change. You’ll be okay with the age gap or you won’t, there isn’t anything predatory here it’s just a sweet age gap romance. 4/5 (22/9/24)

The On1y One - Absolutely perfect slow burn. Examines the fleeting nature of youth whilst serving us an achingly sweet, slow burn love between two young boys. Don’t watch this if you don’t enjoy slow but do watch this if you enjoy excellently crafted characters and beautiful cinematography. 4/5 (25/9/24)

You are my lover friend - This is a thirty episode het friends to lovers cdrama and I loved every bloody second. This wasn’t bogged down with stupid dramas,to stop ML & FL getting together, instead it was just a realistic look at all the reasons it’s very hard to go from very best friends to lovers. All the side cast were excellent there was a clear overarching plot weaved into the romance. I just loved it. 5/5 (6/10/24)

[girlboybug]

tear you apart

"i want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as i whisper in your ear, i wanna fucking tear you apart."

didn't anyone warn you about the man who lives in the cabin in the woods?

what's playing 🎧: tear you apart by she wants revenge

pairing : joel x reader

word count : 4k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, dubcon, unsafe/unprotected piv, size kink, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy but no actual pregnancy, slight bondage with ropes, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, cumshots, virginity taking, unspecified age gap (but if you wanna know joel is 50, reader is 21) sir kink, impact play, lots of spanking, light face slapping nothing intense, choking

TRIGGER WARNINGS : dubcon, slight themes of being held hostage kinda, joel is so mean and scary frowny face, unsafe piv, threats of knife usage, overall stranger danger!!!

a/n heyyy party people i’m sorry i’ve been so dead, work has been taking a lot of my time lately :( i miss u all dearly :( pls accept this as a little halloween treat from me to you <3🎃 comments rlly motivate me so if you enjoyed this plz lmk down in the comments!!!

you really should have known better. no one in their right mind would be in the predicament you’re currently in. feebly following behind a burly man, allowing him to lure you into following him deeper into the maze of a forest, all with the promises of shelter and a working phone. 

you hug yourself to soothe the nerves ricocheting like bullets all throughout your body, and he turns his head, glancing down at you from behind his broad shoulder to ensure you’re keeping up. you crane your neck upwards to offer a shy smile. you tell yourself that you were able to see the corner of his lips perk, just a little. 

he says nothing of grandeur when he pushes open the front door of his cabin nestled between a thick brush of trees and bushes, sitting adjacent to an inky black lake illuminated by the full moon. 

he walks in first, looking at you expectantly to close and lock the door behind you, to which you obey immediately. 

the decor is very…texan, a moose head watches your every movement from above his mantle as your heeled feet carry you to his worn in recliner, sitting down in it when he motions for you to. 

he sits down in front of you, his ankle resting on his knee, big hands dwarfing the arm rests, his eyes taking their time to really drink you in. “what were you doin’ out in the woods so late anyhow?” he asks you, the cadence in his voice sounding like a continuous grunt with a twinge of a southern accent. 

ahh, hence the texan decor…

“um,” your voice cracks, and your cheeks get hot with embarrassment. “w-was at a um halloween party but i wasn’t enjoying myself, so i left…stupidly, on my own. and i got lost.” you chuckle nervously, hoping he joins you to ease the tension but he doesn’t. he just continues to stare. 

“some wolf try an’ getcha?” he jokes dryly without the lightheartedness, and your chest tightens at his words. “wh-what?” 

he nods at your costume, eyes lingering on your ruffled skirt a little extra longer before he looks back up at you. you look down, hands shyly smoothing out your red riding hood dress, sighing out of relief to yourself. “oh!” you exhale quietly, shaking your head. “i guess you could say that,” you respond a little quieter, thinking back to a drunken owen trying to get back at abby by attempting to kiss you in front of her. 

“hmm,” a low throatily hum leaves past joel’s shut lips and you tighten your legs with angst. “s-so um can i uhh…use your phone?” you ask, hyper aware of the reason why you’re even in his house to begin with. joel nods, pointing into his kitchen. “s’by the fridge on your left.” 

his eyes follow your ass, barely concealed by the puffy ruffles of your dress, and you feel hot under his stare, wobbly legs trying to move fast towards the phone. when you pick up the landline, you’re greeted with silence instead of a dial tone. your heart sinks impossibly deeper and you turn to look at the man, swallowing hard. 

you turn back to the phone, trying to dial your mom’s number, praying somehow it connects you to her, not caring if you’re met with yelling, as long as you hear her voice, relief will rinse through your body. 

but it doesn’t. and fear takes over instead. “u-um…sir?” you call out, and he turns towards you. “what?” he asks gruffly and you switch your weight back and forth anxiously on either one of your feet. “y-your um…your phone doesn’t seem to be working?” you ask more than you tell and he just turns back around. 

“yeah. does that sometimes,” he disregards your worries and you grow increasingly regretful of letting him convince you he was your best bet at going home. a shaky breath leaves your lips as you clutch the phone tightly. “do you know how to fix it?” you try once more and he answers you without a glance. “nope.” 

you feel like breaking down and crying, gripping the phone before reluctantly putting it back. you inch your way back to the front door, avoiding eye contact. “i’ll just um…i’ll just try and see if i can get service back outside and call an uber or something. thanks for your help,” you hurriedly speak as politely as possible, unlocking his door and opening it. 

you gasp louder than you would have expected, your shoulders jolting upwards with fear when a large hand slams the door shut above you. “that ain’t a good idea.” he mutters, voice falling over the crown of your head and you shut your eyes fearfully. “wh-why not?” you all but whisper, your heart hammering against your ribcage when you hear the locks turn back once more. 

“girl like you shouldn’t be alone out there in the woods. safer in here.” he tells you rather than offering as a suggestion, a sense of finality in his voice. your hand desperately clings to the doorknob before you release yet another opportunity of safety it feels like. 

“what should i do then?” you question stupidly, as if the grown man before you really has your best interest in mind. “you can stay here. it’ll be easier for me to guide you outta these woods come mornin’.” he answers, the last utterances of his sentence ending in a tired sigh. 

you inhale deeply and attempt to exhale the fear buzzing around in your chest. “i really wouldn’t want to impose—“ 

“sit down.” he orders and you jolt at his voice, apprehensively obeying once more. 

he stalks your every step that leads you back into his living room, head inching along in unison with each movement of yours. he wordlessly stands up, eyes peering a cold downcast upon you, his heavy boots making their way towards you like the beginning to a ceremony. 

your chest rises and falls rapidly, feeling like a trapped animal below him. “you usually follow men you’ve never met before into their houses?” he questions you, a low gruff interrogation that escapes into the thick air from the cusp of his breath. 

you shake your head and he purses his lips, raising a brow. “no?” he asks again, mocking you. “no.” you whisper back shakily. 

he doesn’t respond, he leisurely pushes the red hood of yours off of your head and away from your face, allowing him a clearer view of your fear stricken gaze. 

he chuckles quietly, enjoying this game he’s playing with you. he bends down, leaning in close. his scruffy beard tickles your cheek, his strong hooked nose brushing against your ear. “you smell real nice,” he mutters into your hood. 

you close your eyes, trembling at his proximity, ignoring the fluttery feeling bubbling in your lower tummy, attempting to snuff out it’s flame. you refuse to acknowledge how a sick part of you feels a rush of adrenaline from how close this man is to you. 

he stands up straight again, this time a bulge stirring in his tightened levi’s visible before you. he stares at you gawking at it, a sense of pride inflating him. he eyes you for a few more seconds before impatience kicks in and he’s bent down, lifting you up in his arms and picking you up and out of the recliner. you yelp and flail in his hold but he’s got you pinned in his arms, you’re not going anywhere. 

he carries you into his bedroom, kicking the door open and pushing it back shut with the back of his boot. 

he drops you onto his bed and watches you hungrily, watching as you scramble on his bed like a little rabbit he’s just caught. 

you’re sitting at the edge of his bed, legs splayed straight, trying to cover yourself the best you can. he walks towards you, gripping your thighs and spreading them wide open forcibly, lowering himself down to his knees. you pant under your breath, a heavy sigh leaving past your lips when he ducks his head down lower to underneath his bed, and away from between your thighs. 

he returns to look at you with rope in his hands, and your heart falls deeper into your body than you thought possible. 

“wrists.” you hand them to him, too scared to see what would happen if you refused. he ties a knot around your wrists, letting your paired hands drop into your lap. “f’you really wanna get out of ‘em use your teeth to tug on this little loose end.” he follows his instructions by stepping aside to reveal the exit of his bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest. “you’re free to try an’ test your luck out there, or in here.” he looks down at you, biceps bulged from crossing over his chest, head tilting to the side, trying to read your facial expressions and figure out what option you’ll choose.

you stare at your confinements then flicker your gaze to the door and back at joel. you can’t seem to find something in you that will allow you to leave, despite common sense warning you, nothing feels as tempting as wondering what he’ll do to you.

something like a smirk takes over joel’s face when he realizes you aren’t going anywhere, and a wetness pools in your floral printed panties at the sight. “knew you weren’t goin’ anywhere,” he snickers with a sense of pride, moving closer to you now. he grabs your confined wrists and puts them above your head as he pushes you back into his mattress. he breathes in your scent, sighing to himself when the aroma of your fear mixed with your sweet perfume fills his nose. 

“gonna fuckin’ ruin you…gonna ruin this,” he mutters, cupping your cunt. you gasp and squirm in his grip, whimpering from his touch and from bud words. he slaps your pussy and you whine, trying to shut your thighs. “don’t you fuckin’ move. lemme play with what i caught here,” he grunts, lifting up your little white gingham printed skirt, exhaling when he sees the wet splotch at the front of your panties. 

he looks up at you from under his lashes, a smug expression wordlessly teasing you. 

your cheeks get warm and you opt for staring at the ceiling instead. 

“fuckin pussy achin for a cock huh?” he chuckles, vulgarity in his nature and you whine, not used to feeling so on display and viewed so objectifyingly. and more importantly, not used to liking it. 

he travels back up to take his time ripping open the flimsy corset top of your dress, groaning to himself when he exposes your cute breasts, nipples hardened and ready for his hungry mouth. 

he can’t help himself when he lowers his tongue over them, your little sounds only encouraging him. he bites down on your nipples, and you cry out, unintentionally arching your back into his mouth. he just laughs around your flesh, groping and squeezing you like he owns you. 

and he’d argue that he just about does. 

“haven’t had a cute little thing to play with in awhile, gonna have some real fun with you, girl.” he says from the base of his throat, his lips brushing against your neck. you can’t stay still, all the attention and groping is so unfamiliar, and you’re too riled up to contain yourself, the throb in your clit begs for attention, and all you can do is press your thighs tightly together and try to gain any kind if relief from the seam in your panties. 

he notices and scoffs. “keep your legs open, or i’ll tie ‘em to my bedpost.” he growls in your ear, and your clit pulses at the threat, taking a second to consider the consequences, before ultimately following his instructions. 

he wolf whistles at your pretty cunt concealed behind your panties, hooking his thumbs under them and dragging them down your perfect thighs until they hang from your calves. his cock fucking throbs when he sees your pussy glisten from the pane of moonlight that creeps in from his window. 

he slaps your pussy again, loving how puffy your lips are. your shoulders cave in from the sudden impact, whimpering at his harshness. “got yourself a perfect cunt don’tcha?” he exhales, mostly talking to himself, his palm coming down over his crotch to relieve some of the pressure building. 

“you ever been fucked?” he asks, patting your cheek. you blink a few times, wondering if you should be honest with him. you shake your head an ashamed ‘no’ and he grins for the first time tonight. “well ain’t that a treat for me. gonna break you in nice and good,” he shrugs off his flannel, hurriedly unzipping his levi’s. he fishes himself out from his boxers and your jaw goes slack, chest tightening again. 

his cock is huge, it’s fat and looks threatening. it’s almost a weapon and could probably be classified as one because shit, the stretch is going to hurt. 

he jerks himself off, bringing his tip to your clit. you gasp, your hips circling his cock. “i-i don’t know if that’ll f-fit,” you stammer nervously and he shushes you. “gonna make it fit and you’re gonna take it for me. think of it as a thank you, from you to me for lettin’ you come into my house,” he chides, laughing with a sense of entitlement, feeling as though your body is something he’s owed. your chest heaves with nerves and anticipation as you prepare to pay your debt.

he huffs lowly, bringing two fingers to your dripping sex, his cock twitching when he collects your wetness on the pads of his digits. “dunno why you’re so worried, it’ll go right in, pussy’s basically cryin’ for it,” he grunts, curling a middle finger into your little hole. you gasp, head falling back into his sheets, nails scratching at the rope that holds your wrists together. 

he pumps his wrist in and out, his free hand jerking himself off while he fucks you with his finger. “niiice an’ tight, gonna squeeze my cock jus’ how i like it,” he rubs against a sensitive spot within your cunt, throwing you a bone when his thumb swirls around your aching clit. 

you moan, eyes squeezing shut and eyebrows furrowing at the sensation. the bass in your tummy grows into a finely tuned crescendo throughout your limbs and as soon as it builds, it falters once he removes his touch. you whimper disappointedly, but he’s fast to shut your complaints up when he begins to split you in half with his cock, a loud whine replacing any of your needy grumbling. 

you cry out, knees trying to push at his hips but he grips them, forcing them open. “you’re gonna take it f’me little girl,” he growls, working the thick girth of his cock into you. you’re freely crying now, the overwhelming feeling of being so full is something foreign to you, and you’re not sure you can take it, but joel has decided you can and you will. 

he grips your face, squeezing your cheeks into your lips pucker, turning you until your cheek meets his mattress and he’s pushing you into it, inching his hips backward only to go in even deeper than when he started. 

“ooh-hoh-oh, fuck baby,” he groans, fucking into your cunt with no hesitation, your little hole barely able to accommodate him. “tha’s right,” he pants, swallowing hard when he makes you look at him again, your breasts bouncing from each hard thrust he sends you. “takin’ my cock like you’re made for it,” 

you whimper, taking his comment as praise and squeezing him, your poor neglected clit throbbing when he grunts above you. “can feel you in my stomach,” you whine and he laughs, pressing a hand right over the bulge that he creates. “good luck findin’ another man who can do that to ya baby,” he snickers, giving a patronizing kiss to your cheek. 

he grips the fabric of your skirt, using it as leverage to keep you close as he pounds into you, impaling you over and over on his cock, fucking the shape of it deep into you. 

you jerk upwards from each and every pivot he sends you and he’s hypnotized by the way your tits bounce from his movements. he smacks them and grips them tight, pinching your pebbled nipples, loving how you yelp from the slight pain. 

“sir please, t-touch me,” you moan pleadingly and he can’t believe his ears, his cock twitches inside you at your begging and he obliges you, bringing two fingers to your little clit and rubbing hard to match the tempo of his thrusts. 

“got you hooked on my cock, maybe next time you’ll get ‘lost’ again and come lookin for me huh?” he breathes out in your ear, and you nod dumbly, your pussy drooling all over his dick, sucking him in deep. 

his hand finds your throat and pins you down firmly, allowing you little access to air, but the lack of the supply is numbingly good, addictive. your eyes roll back, mouth parting with a soft string of moans. 

he brings his hips down into yours without fail, fucking you with an insatiable stamina, groaning and grunting at how you take his cock, his hand tightening around your throat when you clench around him, growling at the feeling of your soaked pussy all around him. 

“haven’t fucked a virgin in lord knows how long, forgot how goddamn good it feels,” he groans, his hand releasing your throat to toy with the glimmering cross necklace that lays between your breasts. he chuckles when he lets the silver cross fall back onto your chest. “cute.” he teases when he picks up a leg of yours and throws it over his shoulder, shuddering when he slides in even deeper. 

you sob loudly, wailing out his name and babblings of sir please oh god sir please please, at the deep intrusion. “go on ahead and cry all you want little red, no one can hear you out here,” he mocks, rubbing your clit to watch you cry harder. 

he pulls out and flips you on your tummy with haste, way too eager to be back inside of you. he readjusts you until you’re now at the foot of his bed, hips perfectly propped up on his bed frame, allowing him an easier access into your little cunt. 

he spreads open your ass, pushing his cock back into you, his thumb ghosting over your other little hole, enjoying the way you squirm around, wriggling your hips nervously at his prodding. you turn around to look at him from behind your shoulder, looking up at him with a startled stare. 

he laughs, spitting on it and shaking his head when he slaps your ass, hard. “don’t worry, i’m content with your pussy baby,” he says, sending an especially hard thrust as if you needed proof. 

you collapse in his bed, using the hard smooth wood of his bed frame as friction for your clit. 

his hands come down and grip your ass, spanking the full flesh mercilessly, loving your howls of pain from each smack. he’s only satisfied when he sees his handprints begin to form in your abused flesh. and even so, he continues to pair his harsh thrusts with unforgiving smacks that cause your flesh to burn. 

he grabs your throat once more, forcing you closer to his mouth when he whispers in your ear. “whaddya think little red? should i use this,” he pulls out the dagger that was previously hidden within his pocket, the coldness from the blade contrasts against the warm skin of your neck. “to write my name in you? let everyone know who fucking owns you.” he presses the blade enough to make you squirm, but not quite enough to draw blood. 

“n-no sir please don’t,” you pathetically shake your head and he mockingly coos at you. “why shouldn’t i?” he adds and you whine when he shoves his cock in you, hitting that achy spot deep in your cunt. “please don’t,” you moan, your words contradicting your voice, but fear still courses through you at the possibility of joel actually doing it. 

he doesn’t reply, the only thing that responds to you is the sound of his hips slapping against the thick flesh of your ass, his cock pumping in and out of you relentlessly. he drops the knife on the bed in front of you, silently notifying you he won’t mark you with his blade. you expel a small breath of relief when you see it discarded. 

your eyes flutter shut when he pushes you back down into his sheets, hand firmly keeping you in place by the back of your neck. his available hand unties the knot that bound your wrists together, now bending your left arm behind your lower back as he pounds into you. 

a dull ache from the stretch of his cock begins to spread in your cunt but as much as it hurts, it feels just as good. “you better not waste a single drop,” he grunts in your ear, starting to move sporadically behind you, and you can’t even ask what he means, too fucked out and drooling on his bed to truly care. 

it’s when he sends a harsh thrust into you, stilling inside you with a low groan. a warm sensation fills you and your clit tingles at the feeling. “how d’ya think people’ll react if they find out little red let some old man spill his cum in’ta her and got her pregnant?” he whispers in your ear and your eyes widen, shivering when he pulls out and immediately shoves his cum right back into your leaking hole. 

you crane your neck to watch it trickle down your thighs and you whimper, swishing your legs around and feeling it stick together. “there’s so much…” you scoop some of it with your fingers, and his cock doesn’t soften, it flexes upward at the way you look at his cum with watery eyes, long eyelashes slick from crying over his cock. 

“an’ you’re gonna get more, i ain’t finished with you yet,” his voice baritone and borderline hoarse. you look up at him, feeling weak and unsure. “more?” you whisper and he nods, a sick little smile on his lips. “you can take it,” he mutters, kicking off his boots prior to climbing into his bed. he makes himself comfortable, hands behind his head when he motions for you to crawl over to him from the foot of his bed. 

you comply, something about him has installed an inability to not only obey him, but a desire to.

he settles you on his lap, scooting you backward to circle his fat reddened tip over your swollen clit. “bet you wanna cum real bad?” he murmurs, it almost feels patronizing and yet, you eat it up, nodding desperately. “mhm,” you breathily reply, your orgasm that’s been pushed off far too many times building itself up all over again from the way he rubs his tip against your clit. 

“we’ll see if you get to this time,” and with the lack of a promise, he pushes into you once more, feeling prideful when his own cum gushes from your hole, squeezing his cock in a way he could grow addicted to. 

“bounce on it for me.” he instructs, hands tight on your hips. his orders catch you off guard and you sit still, somehow still bashful while speared on his cock. “i-i’ve never…but i don’t know-“ 

“you don’t know how to bounce up and down?” he asks dryly, an eyebrow raised. “i just…” 

“you just, nothin’ i suggest you start movin’ for me now. lemme see those fuckin’ tits of your bounce.” he’s serious, and you’re embarrassed at how the way he speaks to you makes you grip onto his cock harder. he notices it, leaning further into bed and straightening out his hips, intentionally pushing deeper into you, liking the way you shiver and moan at the intrusion. 

you place your hands on his chest, apprehensively moving your hips up and down. the pace is far too slow for joel’s liking, but he enjoys watching you use his cock the way you seem to like it, dragging your tight little cunt all along the long expanse of his dick, no matter how far up or down you move you can’t escape the feeling of being full. 

but joel only has so much patience before it runs out. a hard calloused hand slaps the curve of your ass, whistling for you to speed it up. “pick up the pace, now.” 

you struggle to obey this command, he’s so huge and you’re so sensitive you’re not sure if you can. you’re moving to the best of your abilities and honestly, your struggles are endearing to him. he takes pity on you, bear hugging your waist when he begins to jackhammer into you. 

you cry out, face falling and burying itself in the crook of his neck, letting him continue to use your poor little hole. 

“milk my fuckin’ cock,” he grunts into your chest, his mouth latching onto the flesh again. your clit makes contact with his coarse pubic hair and you’re flushed when you acknowledge how good it feels. 

“s-sir,” you moan in his ear, arms coming around to hang off of his broad shoulders. he kisses your throat, sucking a bruise into it. his hands migrate to your ass, gripping it and slapping it, hoping he leaves you incapable of sitting down correctly tomorrow morning. he wants you to only think of him whenever you try to sit tomorrow, a memory of him fully engraved into every inch of your body. 

his fingers find your clit and you hiccup sob from pleasure, starting to grind down and meet his rough thrusts. “thank you sir thank you thank you,” you chant, tightening your arms around him while you try fucking yourself on his cock. “you better cum right now,” he growls, pinching your clit before continuing his circular motions. your knees clench around his lap, your cunt squeezing his cock while you unravel in his arms. 

you’re panting, feeling like getting air into your lungs is an impossible feat as your orgasm rips through you, shattering through your ribcage, the sensation never fully ending due to joel fucking you through it. 

he continues moving you up and down his cock, playing with your little clit. you fall limp and powerless on his chest, whimpering and crying on top of him from the overwhelming stimulation. “n-no more please it’s too much, s-so much,” you sob and he slaps your ass right where he last hit, holding onto you tighter when you try and get away from the stinging pain. 

“you’re gonna give me one more,” he tells you, no sense of asking anywhere and you hide away in his chest, letting him continue using your gushing hole however he wishes. 

“i don’t think i can,” you slur, eyes starting to fall half shut, your clit burning with painful pleasure from his fingertips. “yes you fucking can,” he grits, rubbing harder and fucking you faster. 

“gonna make me cum again, and you’re going to, too,” he growls, fucking up into you with a force that makes you shake in his chest. 

he pulls out and rubs his tip against your clit, groaning while he forces his eyes to stay open so he can watch the way he paints your tummy and pussy white with his cum. you start taking in heavy breaths, tears welling up in your eyes when you feel your second orgasm ripple through you all over again, prickles of pain mixes with the pleasure that casts over you. 

“o-oh god, oh god,” you hiccup, tears streaming down your cheeks when you slump into him, feeling boneless and faint, twitching and jerking as the effects of your orgasm works it’s way through your body. 

joel guides you off of his lap and lays you beside him, watching you succumb to exhaustion from him using you like a toy, and he smirks to himself, eyeing the cum that decorates your lower stomach and trickles from your thighs. 

“i might just have to keep you for myself,” he whispers to your unconscious body, pulling your red hood back over your head.

[hangmanssunnies]

Sfumato

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

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

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

Word count: 23K

Playlist

AO3 LINK

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

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

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

++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jake, you have a bathtub!” 

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

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

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

“I had no clue.”

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

“No, Ma’am. You go right ahead.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In here,” you call back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? What are you doing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” You hum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cupcake?” Jake guesses. 

“Nope.” 

“Sunshine?” 

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

“Darling?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jake, I’ve got a question.”

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

“Who is our landlord?” You ask cautiously.  

“We don’t have one.”

“We don’t?”

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

“How is that possible?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, I was a pity project to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, listen. Please.” 

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

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

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

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

“No?”

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

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

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

“You didn’t even know me.”

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

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

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

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

“My feelings never mattered then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning.” 

“Morning,” He responds tersely. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking?” Jake asks. 

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

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

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

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

“Jake!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t find somewhere cheaper.”

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

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

“No, you’re a good roommate.” 

“What is it then?”

“Jake,” you sigh exasperatedly. 

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

“It’s not just the money.” 

“Ah, Just. So, what else is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, Jake.”

“Okay, what?” He asks you. 

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

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

“Yes,” you tell him. 

“I’m sorry. It’s a no then.”

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

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

“Why are you so difficult?” You ask. 

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

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

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

“What is this?” Jake asks you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should feel safe in our home. You’re always telling me that right?”

“Yes,” Jake confirms.

"Well, that includes being comfortable. So, you should be comfortable here.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable in our home,” Jake protests.

“I have a question for you.”

“Well then I imagine I have an answer,” Jake responds sarcastically, it was a known fact he hated when people asked if they could ask a question because that in itself was a question. 

“If I didn’t like this blanket, would you switch it?”

“Yes, of course,” Jake responds immediately. 

“Thank goodness,” you sigh, “Because I hate this blanky so much.”

He stares at you frozen. You wait patiently this time for him to react. Finally, after he has thoroughly examined every inch of you Jake’s frown melts away. Wordlessly, he trades the blanket out for a grey one in the basket. You watch him flip a corner to check the inside and make sure this one doesn’t have a lining. After confirming that he hold it up for you, clearly seeking your approval. You nod three times, and even give him a thumbs up. 

“I didn’t like how that stuck to my skin. It felt like it was a million tiny hands pulling at it.” Jake explains not embarrassed, because he rarely is, but something that shares a border with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know we felt that way about it.”

“I don’t think I did either,” Jake says unfolding the newly chosen blanket. 

"We," you correct him. 

"We think this one is softer anyways," he supplies. 

"Yes, we do," you agree. 

He is once again tucking the blanket, fluffing it around you comfortably before claiming his own half. Jake sits there a moment and then readjusts the blanket again evening out the sides a bit. He starts to readjust again, stopping halfway through, he harshly pulls the blanket balling it up tightly. Jake huffs frustratedly as he starts again. 

You patiently wait unbothered and unhurried. Simply content while he gets comfortable. Only humming sweetly each time he tucks your side of the blanket in. Once he determines it is even Jake sighs clearly pleased with the soft texture of this blanket. Jake sinks back, relaxing into the couch, and you notice the distinctive space he places between you. 

Since the two of you had passed into the realm of touch being an easy given between you, Jake hardly ever didn’t take the chance to lean into it. You watch him pick up his Sudoku book, open it up to a page stare at it for approximately 30 seconds before he closes the book and trades it out of the sketch pad he has on the table. Even as he opens his and starts working, he doesn’t lean closer. 

You tentatively reach over and rub his shoulder. “You good, Jakers?” 

“Yes Ma’am.” He responds, as his pencil scribbles along the notepad. 

His response feels short enough that you pull your hand away from him, even going as far as to scooch a little further away on the couch. You wonder why he even joined you on the couch, while you resist the urge to pout. After turning your show back on, you try to ignore the distance between you and Jake but it bothers you nonetheless. 

“What are you sketching?” You decide to ask him a little while later.

“You,” Jake responds without missing a beat. 

“Me?” You ask shocked. Leaning over, you see sure enough, Jake has sketched you. It is a flattering but accurate rendition, that is surprisingly realistic. 

“Oh wow,” you breathe. Jake hums in agreement moving his hand out of the way so you can get a better look. 

“Thank you, Jake. You created a very nice portrayal.”

“Art’s easy when your subject is so beautiful.” 

 You fight against the warmth that blossoms in you at his compliment. “Aren’t you a sweet talker.”

“It’s true!” Jake says. 

“If you say so,” you tell him. 

“God, I need to take you to a museum. I can’t believe you don’t believe me. You are prettier than any of those artist muses.”

“Is that what I am then? Your muse?” You ask him playfully. 

“You are absolutely my muse. Nothing inspires me like you do, sweetheart.” 

God, you could faint at Jake’s words or kiss him. You don’t do either though, instead you just lean into his space until he naturally throws an arm around you, letting you settle close to his chest. He glances down at where you have cuddled against him. 

“Is this okay?” he asks gently. At first you aren’t sure what he is talking about. However, when you feel his arm start to shift from where it’s wrapped around you catch his wrist holding him in place. 

“Yes, always okay.” You tell him. Jake does still move his arm out of your grasp though. You feel confused, trying to consider if you have crossed any of his boundaries. Physical touch and affection was so natural and commonplace between you two that you didn’t even really give it a second thought anymore. 

“Is it okay with you?”  You ask checking in. 

“It is, but only if you are okay with it.”  

“Not really how that works,” you tell him.

“That’s always how it works between us,” Jake says. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Jake.” 

“I won’t,” he tells you with conviction. 

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise,” Jake says, kissing your forehead. You can’t stop yourself from pressing a small kiss to his clothed chest. You try to disguise it by leaving your face there, breathing in Jake’s scent. 

He doesn’t comment on it. Jake just readjusts the blanket around you again, tucking it in around you until he is content. His arm wraps around you again pulling you even closer to his chest. With a little more shifting he is situated and goes back to drawing. 

It’s one of those nights that leaves you with the feeling there is nothing in the world you really have to worry about, not when Jake is at your side. 

— — — — 

"Do I look okay? I can't decide if this is too dressy," Jake asks you as he walks into the living room. Once he is standing fully in front of you, he adds, almost sheepishly. "It's for a date." 

Your eyes snap to Jake, and you inhale sharply, caught off guard by his words. You try to play it off, scanning him from head to toe. He is wearing a patterned button-down with the sleeves neatly folded to his elbows, and the top two buttons are undone. You could see the peak of his dog tags underneath. Jake has paired the shirt with some dark-wash jeans. He, of course, looks undeniably good. It doesn't help how your stomach is stuck on one of those whirly fair rides. You gulp down your bubbling emotions, trying to keep level and at bay. 

"You look great. What are you doing?" You ask casually. 

"We are going to some coffee shop," Jake tells you with a shrug. 

"Oh wow, that should be fun. "

"It'll be something," while he sounds confident, Jake doesn't really sound excited. 

"Normally, you are supposed to be excited about a date, you know."

"Yes, Sugar. I am aware of that." He says, rolling his eyes. 

With how hard you had been trying, you think that Jake would have acted on any secret or partial feelings he had for you. This felt like the final nail in the coffin. He wasn't going to love you back; he wasn't going to pick up any of your hints. All signs pointed to that he would never feel that way towards you. It seemed all other excuses now evaporated. It wasn't that he wasn't dating right now. It wasn't that he was too busy or wasn't looking for anyone. It was simply because it wasn't you, and it never would be you. 

God, he was so handsome; even in the trenches of your hurt, you can't help but think so. "It's your hair."

"What?"

"Come here," you tell him, motioning for him to come closer to your side. "It's your hair that is making you feel that way." 

Jake comes to your side and crouches down. You reach up and touch the gelled-back strands. Ignoring the product's texture, you run your fingers through it so that it falls much more loose and free.  

"You aren't going to work; you don't need your hair slicked back like this." You explain to him kindly. You fiddle with one of the strands absently, trying to decide how you want to place it. Jake's eyes flutter shut while you play with the strands. 

"Thank you," Jake says softly, his hand settling on your waist, holding you steady while you fix his hair. You ignore how big and warm his hand feels. It's like his touch burns you with how much it makes you want to cry. You pull away and lean back, making his hand fall back to his side. 

"Anytime, Hangman," you whisper. He pulls back from you and sits in his comfy chair. 

"So, tell me about it," you say after a minute of staring at him. 

"Well, she asked me out the other night at the bar."

The last time Jake went to the bar was on Thursday. That was four days ago, and he hadn't said anything. You feel the knife in your gut twist even deeper. 

"Well, how did it happen?" You don't know why you are doing this to yourself. You know that if you don't ask him any more questions, Jake will sit quietly and content in his chair on his phone until he has to leave. 

"Ah, she complimented my shirt. She is from Texas too."

"She just complimented your shirt, and now you are going on a date?"

"Yeah, I mean, she asked, and I didn't have an excuse to say no," Jake explains to you. It's true he didn't have an excuse; after all, the two of you were just roommates and friends.

"Oh, well, that's nice. She sounds bold," You respond.

"Bold's definitely one way to put it."

"What do you mean?" You are confused by his tone.

"Well, to put it plainly, Sugar. I think that she really only wants one thing from me." Jake gestures down the length of his body before pulling his toothpick case out of his pocket and popping one out to use.

“Gottcha,” you answer. 

Jake sits there with you for another ten minutes, bouncing his leg the entire time before he tells you he has to go. You manage to force out a polite goodbye telling him to have fun. You are anxious for Jake to get back. You try to distract yourself, but nothing seems to work. Finally, a few hours later, you decide it would probably be best for you to try and get out for a while. However, when you get to the garage, Jake is there. 

You are startled and set a hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing back down. He is wearing a pair of earmuffs and hasn't seen you yet. You notice that he has changed clothes since you last saw him. Now he is in one of his ratty garage shirts and jeans. 

Walking across the garage, you call to him loudly, "Jake!" 

He catches your movement out of the corner of his eye. He raises his hand in greeting and pushes off the earmuffs, then takes out the headphones he had on underneath. 

"Hi, Sugar," Jake says. 

"Jakers! I didn't know you were home. How did it go?" You ask. Despite having prepared yourself to be happy for him, your tone doesn't quite hit as easygoing as you hoped.  

"Yeah, I got home a while ago. It wasn't the best date I've ever been on," Jake says, throwing the cloth he has in his hands over his shoulder. 

"No?" You question trying to fish for details. 

"No," he sighs and rubs his face. His hair, you playfully mused earlier, is now almost messy, telling you he had been messing with it. 

"I'm sorry," you apologize. 

"No need to be. I only went to be polite anyway." Jake says, giving you a smile. His answer raises your heart from where it had been residing on the floor. You drift over to the bench to see what he is working on and gasp. 

"Oh my god, Jake, is this it?"

"Yes, Ma'am. One puzzle table, almost done." 

You appreciate the stained juniper and the design that Jake made for the table. It folds open, and the top is removable as well if you want it completely out of the way, not just folded. It has a soft white felt fabric on the inside. On the sides, there are a few hidden drawers to store pieces. You can tell it's impeccably made. The table looks almost exactly like the final sketch he had shown you for your approval and feedback before buying the materials. 

"It's amazing, just like your design," You sigh, going to run your hand over the smooth-looking wood. Jake stops you, his hand catching your wrist in a gentle grip.  

"The stain is still drying," He warns you before letting go of your hand. 

"How did you get so good at all this?" You decide to ask him, turning your admiration of the table back to him. 

"Miss Celeste."

"No way," you say, shaking your head at him in disbelief.

"No, it's true!"

"Why exactly did Mrs. Celeste know about all this?" You ask, waving towards the table and bench. 

Jake chuckles as he twirls a square pencil in his fingers. "She is a very talented woman. But the reason she learned about woodworking was because she fell in love."

"Don't leave it there, Jake." 

"Well, one day Miss Celeste drove into town to go to the store. And while she was in the tool store, she had gotten all turned around. That's where she met my Pop, Mr. Russell, he was also there and asked if she was lost. Now, Miss Celeste would rather die than admit she was in the wrong, or ignorant. So she told him she was exactly where she needed to be. So he asked her, what she needed the wood for, and what was she going to do with it? Then she looked him dead in the eyes saying she was building a new bed frame. And poor Mr. Russ had been so shocked that he laughed."

"He laughed?" you ask. 

 Jake grins widely towards you at the memory of the story. As he chuckles at his grandmother and shakes his head. "Miss Celeste was so mad that she decided she had to do it. She made him carry all the wood she picked out and to the register and then also to her truck. Pops didn't complain once about this small polish woman meeting him and immediately bossing him around either. After all the wood was all loaded up, he wished her good luck."

"Miss Celeste doesn't believe in luck." You say, thinking of some of the other stories Jake had told you. 

"No, Ma'am, and neither do I." 

"She told him that, didn't she?"

"Of course, and she said she didn't need luck, because she had skill and work ethic," Jake's voice dipped into an extra twist of accent that somewhat replicated his grandmother's unique polish southern twang you would hear on the other side of Jake's phone sometimes.    

"Mr. Russ just shrugged, helped her in her truck, and told her that he would believe it when he saw it. And it drove her a little crazy. She became obsessed with figuring out how to build a bed frame. Not just anyone but a good one. She went to the library, checked out a bunch of books, and even took some classes. When Miss Celeste finished it, she had no idea what to do. All she knew about him was he had been in a tool store, and his name was Russell.  

"Miss Celeste went back to the store and tried asking around after Russell, but no one knew anything."

"What happened?" you ask him. 

Jake's eyes absolutely twinkle, and sometimes when he talks about the things he loves, he nearly glows. He turns towards his bench and grabs a trunk off the top shelf. 

You lean close to his side as he opens it. The chest has a few different photo albums and other keepsakes. You spot a watch, a compass, some pins, and some patches. Tucked in the corner, you see a cello bridge you desperately want to ask Jake about.

However, before you can jump topics, Jake traces over the photo album's spines until he grabs one with a dark leather binding. Flipping open the scrapbook, Jake starts turning pages before he stops on one and shows the page to you. You follow where he is pointing. Saved in the scrapbook is an aged newspaper clipping. It's an advertisement for two handmade bedside tables; payment only accepted in one matching bed frame.

"He put an Ad in the paper?" 

"Every single Sunday after he met her, for months." Jake sighs and runs his fingers across the paper. 

"So, Miss Celeste finally saw it?" 

"Yeah, she contacted him and invited him over. Pops pulled up to her house with two bedside tables that matched the bed frame. Miss Celeste demanded that he put the bedside tables in her room to go with the frame. He asked her if they could go on a drive and dinner after. She said absolutely not. They had to test out how sturdy she made the frame. Pops was a smart man who said yes, ma'am, and followed orders. They have spent every day since then madly in love." 

"Wow, that's such a beautiful love story they had."

"Yeah, it was something."

"So, you are close with Russ too?" you ask. 

"I am, even if he ain't my grandpa," Jake says.

"What? He's not your Grandpa?" You ask surprised. 

"My actual blood grandpa, the one I'm named after, died young. Mr. Russ and Miss Celeste fell in love later. He always bothered my Da', but Russ is a good man."

"And good to you?" 

"Yeah, and good to me too." 

Jake turns the page, and you see the couple. They are sitting in two rocking chairs side by side, holding hands. Celeste has a neutral, if almost stern, look on her face, but Russell is grinning wide, his face happy and bright. The only thing that gives Celeste's true feelings away is that she is leaning towards him. It reminds you vaguely of how the sunflower can't help but turn in the direction of the sun. 

"He's the reason I applied to the naval academy. Helped me get my congressional nominations and write my application. My namesake was in the army, but Russ is a navy man, just like me." Jake turns the page again. 

The next picture is a huge barn with Celeste and Russell standing proudly in front of it. Russ has an arm thrown around Celeste's shoulder. She has a hand on her hip, and a hammer in the other. Celeste has a pleased look but not an actual full smile, while Russell is once again grinning. You reach out slowly without thinking and touch the picture. While Russell doesn't look like Jake, there is something you can see in the picture that is reminiscent of him. They have the same sort of aura around them.

"He is your grandpa, then."

"Yeah, he's my Pops." Jake says, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. 

"They built a barn?" 

"Yes, Ma'am, and it's still standing today," Jake answers proudly. Then he closes the scrapbook and puts it back in the trunk. Before you can jump on the opportunity to ask about anything else in the trunk, Jake snaps it closed and puts it away. 

"Thank you for sharing with me, Jake." You tell him. 

"Thank you for listening."

"One of my favorite things," you answer almost cheekily. You glance over to Jake and find him already staring at you. 

"I can't imagine and don't understand people who settle for anything less than what my grandparents have," Jake says seriously to you.

"Is that why it didn't work out tonight with your date?"

Jake is quiet for a minute, like he is contemplating your question. "I guess you could say it's something like that."

"Wow. You really don't want to tell me about your date." You laugh. 

"You don't tell me about your dates," Jake says, a bit annoyed.

"Maybe that's because I haven't been going on any," you defend yourself. 

"You haven't?" He asks.

"No." 

"Oh," he responds. Then his eyes drop down to the puzzle table. He twists the top of the stain off and dips a rag into it. Your nose wrinkles a little bit at the smell, but you stay close next to Jake's side. 

"I would tell you about them," you finally say. 

"You would?"

"Of course, I would. I always want to tell you everything, all the time." You admit this like it's a secret. 

Jake sniffs before he bumps his elbow playfully into your side. "That's one of my favorite things, Sugar. Now, so this whole day isn't wasted, will you throw on some tunes and hang out while I finish this?"

Your mouth feels a bit dry at his words but you quickly reorient yourself. "Do you need help?"

"No, just company. Plus, now that the table is done, you have a job to do."

"What job do I have to do?" You ask, turning on the speaker in the garage and connecting your phone. 

"Honey, it's your turn to pick us out a new puzzle," Jake says. 

"Are you seriously going to let me?"

"Of course, I'll grab my puzzle chest for you to look through in a minute."

"What if I don't like any of those options?"

"Then we'll order one you do like," Jake shrugs. 

"What if you don't like the one I pick?"

"I'll like it," Jake says reassuringly. 

"Yeah, but what if you don't?" You ask again. 

"If you pick it out, I will like it, sugar," Jake tells you more firmly this time, leaving no room for questions or argument. It's reassuring and a warm sentiment, and it makes it difficult for you to stop grinning when you start digging through the handmade chest and examining the different puzzles in his collection. 

^^^^^^

It's a scene you wouldn't normally involve yourself with. However, it is Javy's birthday, so exceptions do have to be made for the holiday. You had never known how seamlessly Jake and Marlee could work together until watching them pull off this surprise party. 

 Jake had stayed up until two am the previous night finishing the banner. It said, "Happy birthday Javy!" with several planes on it, all being flown by very realistic depictions of Coyotes, the animal that is. You had been enlisted in helping put everything together, which you didn't mind, but Marlee and Jake had really taken the brunt of the work. 

Now, here you are in the bowling alley Jake had rented out, which is now filled to the brim with people enjoying the night. You knew Javy was funny, sociable, and well-liked, but this was genuinely so many people you were shocked. More than any of the bonfires or other parties the Machados threw. 

You were even actually having a lot of fun at first. You enjoyed talking and laughing with your mutual friends who had come to celebrate. You were still grinning from the feeling that had swept over you, watching how widely Javy smiled when Marlee walked him in, and everyone shouted surprise. After Javy kissed his wife silly and started to greet people, the high-five Jake and Marlee shared was so loud your own hand hurt watching it happen. It didn't make the scene any less heartwarming. Nothing quite paralleled the feeling of seeing the people who mattered most in your life together and having fun. All your enjoyment came to a screeching halt when you heard a conversation that definitely wasn't meant for your ears. 

"Showboating at someone else's birthday is a bit much, don't you think?" you hear coming from the conversation a few men were having near you. Curious, you followed where their gazes were turned. They were looking over at Javy, Marlee, Tazina, their little sister, and Jake. The four of them were playing doubles pool, and Jake was laughing at something someone had said while knocking balls into pockets effortlessly. 

"Showboats at work, during class, and PT, showboats at the bar. That's Hangman for you. I don't know why you are surprised. I don't think he can help himself, honestly," one of the men responds. 

"I don't know if his being dick helps anything or anyone." 

"Naw, man, you are just mad he nailed that maneuver before you last week."

"No," the first guy defends himself. "It's not that, dude. Plus you know I was flying earlier in the morning, and the weather was shifting."

"Oh yeah, Amber, you told us all about it." The third guy says, sounding exasperated like he had heard the excuse a million times.

"I don't know. Haven't you noticed something off about the guy?" Amber continues on, turning to more fully face his friends and you inch closer to hear better. 

"What do you mean?"

"The guy is an asshole. He's always making fun of everyone and then showing them up. The other day he had the audacity to tell me he already had the new manual memorized. We haven't had those longer than a week."

"Just ignore him, Amber." 

"Hard to ignore him when he is so loud and never shuts up." 

Jake did draw the eye and attention, oftentimes to an edge you knew he didn't even notice. Jake was high-fiving Tazina, after which he he picked her up and spun her around the table, gloating about their win loudly. It looked like a genuine celebration, though, not designed to specifically rub in anyone's face. And even though it was Javy's birthday, with his arm wrapped around Marlee and sipping a drink, he didn't look anything other than happy. You didn't like people talking about Jake; it made your skin crawl. They were the ones who could take a moment to celebrate whose birthday it actually was.

"Yeah, I don't know why Yote is always keeping Hangman around." One said. The comment shoots anger through you and short-circuits your brain a little bit. That was just one step too far over the line on these guys' part. 

You knew exactly why Javy kept Jake around. You knew just how close Hangman and Coyote were. You knew about the unbreakable bond they had foraged, brothers in every way that mattered to each other, wingmen, and best friends for life and death. Jake often joked that he and Javy would be bunked up together in hell just like they had been back in college. 

You knew about the time they went hiking, and a freak blizzard had trapped them together for two whole days. You knew the calls and hours they would spend together. You knew how Javy would pull Jake back from the edge, and Jake would do the same for Javy. The hours they would spend reading over a manual long after it was memorized, trying to find any hidden details together and discussing technicalities. You had been there before when Marlee called Jake, begging him to bring Javy home. Jake had gone to the gym to collect the aviator, who had been on the treadmill for hours. Times they were both struggling, Hangman would take Coyote to a wing restaurant there they would eat and have a beer before returning Javy home to his wife. 

The implication that their friendship was anything less than the bond of brotherhood, that Hangman somehow didn't give as much as he got from Coyote, was enough to boil your blood. The anger builds more and more, so much so, you decide that you have heard enough of the slander. Walking confidently over, you stop at the little partial circle they are standing in. 

"You guys are wrong," you tell them with a frown, capturing their attention.

"What's that, sweet thing?" One asks you, clearly confused. 

"Hangman is the one who put this together for him and flew their little sister out." 

"Okay, and?" Another one of the guys asks. 

"I heard what you were saying, and you are wrong. Hangman is the least selfish person I have ever met. If you can't keep up with him in the sky, that is a different issue. Maybe you shouldn't be paying so much attention to other pilots, and you might fly better. I understand not having a photographic memory must be hard for you, but I promise there are worse real handicaps people have to get over every single day." 

All three men's mouths fall open shocked at your words. One of them opens his mouth as if he is going to try and tell you off, but you don't give him a chance barrelling on.  

" And it's a real low blow for you to bring his brother into it like that on the man's birthday, too. You can talk shit about Hangman, and he will laugh it off any day. Say something about Yote; that's a different story. So, maybe y'all are the ones who should focus on the birthday boy while drinking the liquor Hangman paid for." You add sharply, nodding to the drinks in their hands from the open bar. All three men stare at you for a long moment, and you are surprised none of them has jumped into being an asshole to your face. You are a bit pleased when they all avert their gazes and look at least a little 

"Sorry, ma'am," the one in the middle utters, lowering his head. 

"I'm not the one you should apologize to." You say with a point towards the pool tables. The group nods and then scurries away and over to Javy, greeting him quickly and striking up a conversation. 

"You didn't have to do that," you hear a  familiar voice say. You turn around, shocked to see Jake lingering close. 

"What's that?" you ask, pretending to be confused, smiling at him. You aren't sure how much he heard or how long he had been there. 

"I don't care what those guys think, and Javy knows I care about him."

"I know," you say, and it's true. You know Jake cares very little about the opinion of people he doesn't deem impressive in their own right or part of his inner circle.

"I don't like hearing them say things that aren't true, though."  

"Unfortunately, whatever they were saying before was probably more on the side of truth than you want to believe," Jake says. 

"Hmm, maybe not about Hangman. They are wrong when it comes to Jake, though. And regardless, even Hangman cares about Coyote." 

Jake gives a full belly laugh at that statement, "Yes, that's true, Jake or Hangman, Coyote or Javy. We go together."

"Machado and Seresin, two peas in a pod."

"Wingmen for life," Jake confirms. 

"Best buds. In fact, y'all are so close I think that you are the only person that Marlee would get jealous over."

Jake only laughs more, but he doesn't disagree. "You didn't have to defend me. I've heard worse, and I'm sure they have said worse." 

"Of course, I will defend you, Jake. You would defend me," you say with a shrug. As far as you are concerned, it is easy math. 

"I wouldn't put up with you being lied about. If someone was saying something about you, I would do more than just defend you, sugar."

"I know you would," you say, taking a step closer to Jake. Jake welcomes your closeness and leans toward you as well.  

"I'm worried you don't know that I'm a bad guy." Jake suddenly says. He takes a pull of his drink and finishes it in one smooth motion. Setting his empty glass on a nearby surface, Jake steps even closer to you. The two of you are almost chest to chest now, only a few short inches between you. 

"You aren't a bad guy." You say, shaking your head at his words. 

"God damn it," Jake groans and rolls his eyes. He turns away from you and to the open bar full of alcohol behind you. He grabs a glass and starts to pour himself a shot. Jake throws the tequila back without flinching and licks his lips slating those intense eyes back on you. 

"I am, actually. You don't got to—" Jake says, but you cut him off. You don't want to hear anything less than nice and praiseworthy about Jake for the rest of the night, least of all, from him. It makes you too upset.

"You are good." You say insistently, needing him to understand. Jake just starts to pour another shot, his jaw clenching at your words. However, when he doesn't protest, you continue on, "I don't know who convinced you otherwise, but I am going to have a talk with them. 

"I would never let that happen," Jake says in a surprisingly forceful tone. 

"No?"

"Nope," he pops the p sound. "I would never have let him within a hundred feet of you, sugar. Let alone close enough to have a conversation." 

"Oh, Jake. Who?" you ask, trying to press him for details on the subject that has come up glancingly several times now. 

"Naw, I don't want to actually talk about it. I just wanted to set the record straight."

"You could talk to me, though." You set your hand on his arm, stopping him from hastily throwing back his next shot. 

"It's nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart," Jake grits out. 

"I'm sorry," you start feeling a little bad. "I won't push you anymore on it, but you can always talk to me." 

He does take the shot he poured, but it's much more deliberate and controlled than the first. When he sets the glass back down, he reaches for a lime slice and bites into it. After which, he finally utters a quiet "Thank you." 

Jake doesn't stay down for long. As often happens in social situations he blossoms, earning easy and casual attention by simply being himself, a feedback loop that puffs him up more, making his natural draw that much stronger. 

As the evening continues, everyone is pulled together to sing Javy happy birthday while he blows out candles on the massive cake Marlee had ordered. Once the cake is cut, everyone starts drinking more than any other activity, but the whole atmosphere is happy and warm. As the party starts to wind down and people leave. You observe and enjoy the atmosphere when an arm is wrapped around your shoulder. 

"Thank you," Javy says as his arm curls pulling you into one of his famous bear hugs. You squirm a little bit, trying to find breathing room, and laugh at him.

"Your callsign should have been Bear because of your hugs."

Javy finds this suggestion hilarious, and you attributed that more to him being drunk and less to do with your joke. As his chuckles start to enter the giggle category, you join in with him. 

"What are you thanking me for, birthday boy?" Once you two manage to stop laughing.

"Thank you for being so good to Marlee and Jake. I love them both so much. It's nice to have someone I know cares about them as much as I do." Javy says sincerely. 

"Well, they sure make it easy," you said with a shrug. Both you and Javy turn to look for the pair. Most people have left now, leaving only a handful of Javy's friends left as well as Marlee and Jake. Neither of you are surprised to see them sneaking over to the bar and picking out shot glasses together. 

"When are you going to give Marlee what she wants?" You ask Javy conversationally, settling an arm around his waist but pinching his side affectionately. 

"When are you going to give Jake what he wants?" Javy throws back just as casually. 

"Jake doesn't want anything from me," you say, deflecting that comment away. Javy just laughs and rolls his eyes. His laugh dies down, and he starts fiddling with his wedding ring. 

"I've been trying to give her what she wants. Well, I should actually say we have been trying for what we want, just no luck yet." Javy says it lightly, but you know your friend well enough to tell this is something that's weighing heavily on him. 

"Oh. I'm so sorry, Javy. Marlee didn't tell me." You rush out, feeling bad for bringing up the topic. 

"No apologies allowed. We have been keeping it on the down low. Just until there is something to tell, you know. If there is ever something to tell. It's been hard on us, though. Marlee feels like there's something wrong with her."

"That's not how it works," you say as concern fills you for your friend.  

"I know. We know. But I'll say this, you and Jake will probably be some of the first people we will tell.' 

"Oh, Javy, we'll be so excited for you. I'm here, you know. If y'all ever need anything. If she ever needs anything."

"Yeah, we know," Javy says and kisses your forehead. "Thank you for helping them put together this party. I know you helped more than you will admit."

"Anything for you, Coyote. You've had fun?"

"Yes, I have had so much fun. But I think that it is time for me to get the missus home." 

"Not before you have another shot. It's your birthday!"

"That's true," Javy says with a wide grin. "But only if you take one with me." You agree, as that had been your intention from the start. You tug a bit on his hip to get momentum going as you let go and move away from Javy. 

"Come on, before we miss another round," You say, starting to walk towards where Marlee was deliberating between different liquor bottles. Javy falls in step with you no hesitation. 

"It'll only happen when you say you are ready, you know." Javy throws your way. 

"What will? Shots?" you ask him, confused.

"No, what I'm saying is there is no rush with you and Jake. He is going to keep waiting. At this point, I'm pretty sure he will wait forever, as long as you need." 

"Coyote," you sigh. "He doesn't feel that way for me." Javy doesn't acknowledge what you said with anything more than a frown that quickly melts away. A few feet later, he throws his head back and howls at the ceiling tiles. 

The sound makes Jake's head snapped up and towards you two. With a wide grin, Jake throws his head back as well and howls in response. Jake is at your favorite stage of drunk, where he is giggly and overly affectionate. His eyes light up, seeing Javy. 

"Coyote," Jake says gleefully, borderline yelling. 

"Hangman," Javy replies, grinning back. 

"Where did you go? Jake asks, a pouty frown replacing his smile. He looks so upset you have to resist the urge to pull him into a hug and pet his hair. 

"I made sure Tazina got in her taxi safely, but then I was just over there, bud." Javy gestures generally in the direction that you two had been before. 

"Do you want to do a shot?" Jake asks, already pouring the drinks.

"Yes, we do." Javy agrees, gesturing towards you. He pats Jake's shoulder, giving him a little turn to face you better. Jake shifts his eyes off Javy to consider you for a moment, and his grin reappears. Once Jake moves, Coyote slips over to wrap his arms around Marlee, kissing her soundly on the lips. 

"Missed you," Marlee says, pulling Javy closer into a kiss that quickly starts to become less than PG-friendly. You snap your eyes back to Jake and away from your friends. Jake is completely oblivious to them, or more likely, it is that he is better used to their PDA. 

"Sugar!!" He says enthusiastically. "Thank god you're here. I have a huge problem."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" You ask Jake with a laugh. Marlee pulls her lips off of Javy's and turns to Jake wide-eyed. 

"Oh my god, Jakers! You are brilliant." Marlee gasps. You feel a tiny twinge of jealousy in you at someone else, even Marlee, using your nickname for Jake. 

"Marlene, of course, I'm brilliant. Has it taken you this long to realize that?" Jake says back to her sassily. 

"Hey, you don't be mean to my wife!" Coyote says, glaring at Jake. Javy untangles himself from Marlee, and then a few moments later, the two men are playfully roughhousing. Marlee drifts to your side, and you wrap an arm around her waist in a half hug. She immediately follows in kind, wrapping you in hers. 

"Love you," you tell her quietly. Marlee grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and squeezes you a little tighter. 

"I love you too, bestie." 

You both watch  Jake and Javy playfully shove each other a few more times. When Jake goes to put Javy in a headlock, you decide to intervene. 

"Hangman," you say. His attention is pulled off Coyote and to you instantly, his eyebrows drawn close together. 

"Yes, ma'am?" 

"What's this problem you were having?" You ask, directing the question half toward Jake and half toward Marlee. 

"Well, you see, Marlee and I have been trying to finish this alcohol, and we just desperately need help."

"That is something I think we can help with," you say, and Javy nods enthusiastically, which makes Marlee and Jake cheer loudly. 

The four of you all take some final shots. Then you ordered Javy and Marlee a ride home. Javy and Jake hug for almost five straight minutes while waiting outside for the taxi. You make sure to take several pictures, sending them in your group chat with the guys and Marlee. You are already looking forward to hearing them try to explain their behavior in the morning. You imagine that Jake will give a long-winded explanation about how it was Javy's birthday and there is nothing wrong with hugging his bestie on his birthday. 

Once your friends are headed home safely, you and Jake, who is still shockingly coordinated, clean up the remaining decorations, drink water, and settle up everything with the venue. Then you call a taxi for yourself. Now you two are waiting outside for your taxi. 

"We should repaint," Jake decrees. 

"Repaint?" You clarify. 

"Yeah," Jake says, and he hugs you from behind. His arms wrap around you snuggly, pulling you close. 

"What are we going to repaint?" 

"The kitchen, your room, the whole house. Everything, anything." Then he hums in your ear. Dragging his nose up your neck, giving you a small nuzzle. "Whatever color you want."

You take a moment, then think of Javy's words from earlier in the night. How Jake is just waiting. You wonder for a moment if that's true and what he could possibly be waiting for. What more did you need to show him for him to be convinced that you love him and it might be worth his time to love you back? You had been putting in the work and done everything you could think of. Not that the things you did for Jake were only to win him over, you did them because you loved him, of course. It just all seemed so obvious. 

"I don't get you, Jake," you whisper to him.

"Well, that's just not true. Honestly, I think you understand me more than anyone else," Jake says, squeezing his arms around you a minuscule bit tighter. 

"No. I don't think so. You build me tables, you cook, you make me laugh, and you cuddle with me. Now you want to let me choose the paint for your house. Why?"

"Why?" Jake echoes, sounding just as confused as you felt. 

"Yes. Why?" He spins you around, his hands find purchase on your hips holding you steady. 

"How could you not know why?" Jake looks visibly distressed, and his hands squeeze your hips almost tight. He is searching your eyes and face frantically, trying to understand. Then closes his eyes like he is trying to do some really hard mental math.

"I need to detail your car." He says a minute later with a solid nod. Then he turns you around and hugs you close again.

"No, Jake. I don't need you to do that," you squawk, having no clue where that idea even popped into his head from. 

He just hums against the crook of your neck where he settles his head. His breath is warm against your neck, making shivers run up and down you. 

"Seriously, don't," you reiterate. 

He nods his head against you, "It's happening, Sugar."

You are at war with yourself. You want to be upset at him; you want to love him. You want to shake him hard and make him see, really see you. 

"Jake, how drunk are you?" you ask.

"Hmmm, why?" He wonders. Jake doesn't get actually drunk very often. Normally he drinks in measured, careful amounts. Rarely brushing completely out of his limits of control. 

 "Because I'm wondering." 

"I'm not very drunk. I've been layering  in water all night." He tells you, and it's a relief to hear. Because maybe Jake not completely in control, is what you needed. There was a difference though, between letting loose and being entirely inebriated.

"I have a question for you."

"I have an answer," Jake replies easily. You are still deciding if you are going to take the jump when your taxi pulls up. You start to wiggle out of Jake's arms to greet the driver, but he holds you still.

 "What's your question, sugar?"

"I'll ask you when we get home," you say gently. 

Jake accepts that and unwraps himself from you. Once you two are settled in the back seat together, it is like a switch flips in Jake. He is alert, and if you hadn't been watching him do shots and drink all night, you would believe he was sober. He confidently gives the driver your address and makes an easy casual conversation. 

You can't take your eyes off of him, admiring what you can see in the dark. Your eyes flick down, and you watch as his hand slides across the seat, it is a confident movement. Jake's palm flips over, where he leaves it there open and waiting. 

You hesitantly brush your fingers against his but don't settle them. Jake's whole hand flexes, clenching, going to hold you but coming up empty. Then he relaxes again, letting his fingers spread a little wider. You look up and meet his gaze, which is now pouring into yours. He is still making casual conversation, but you know he is lasered in on you. 

So in the dark, in the back seat of the cab, you settle your hand into Jake's. As soon as you do, Jake curls his hand into yours, slotting your fingers. It's not the first time you have held hands, but it feels so charged and intimate that your breath hitches just slightly. 

Jake's thumb draws against the back of your hand the whole rest of the drive. It's a slow, steady repetitive movement. You try to figure out the pattern, and when you two are nearly home, it hits you that he is drawing a question mark, tracing it into your skin. 

You are home. Jake had let go of you only once, and it was to jog and open your car door for you. Your hand was placed back in his as he helped you out of the car. He hasn't let go of it again since then. 

Neither of you says anything as you make your way into your home. Jake stares at you expectantly, and you are considering chickening out of your earlier plan. Even more so when the time has stretched awkwardly that you've stood in the entry, and Jake pulls his hands out of yours.

However, before the panic can settle at the loss of his skin,  Jake is bending down on his knees, helping you out of your shoes. He massages each foot and then your ankles. You can't help the sigh of satisfaction that falls out of your lips. After which, he places your shoes on your shoe rack. He is much more methodical and quick about shucking his own shoes. Placing them in their spot, Jake stands and pulls off his jacket, still not saying anything.

Part of you wishes that he wasn't letting you out of it so easily, but the part of you that is scared, and a bit of a coward, is thankful, glad even. You expressed gratitude too soon. 

"Sugar," he says, following you as you start to make your way to the stairs. You turn to face him, swallowing down the nerves you feel. However, you don't say anything yet. 

"I have an answer," Jake reminds you steadily. His eyes are burning bright despite the dim hallway; only one of the nearby living room lamps you had left on provides light. 

"But you don't know the question." You tell him. Jake's eyebrows crease, and his lips purse. 

"I think I do." He says carefully. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment, and you watch intently as he bites it a few times before letting go. "Why don't you ask it anyways." 

"What's the answer?" You ask him. 

"What's the question?" He repeats. 

You clench your fists tight and drop your eyes to the ground, trying to steady yourself. He has never been explicit with you about any feelings and what you want to ask is a big jump. You try to think of how you can ease him into it, how you can entice him, let him know what you want, and spur him into action. You stare into his green eyes, looking for answers, and he gives you a tiny encouraging nod. 

"Do you care about me?" You finally ask. 

"Yes," Jake says almost before you finish the question. When he processes it fully, he nods his head again as if deciding that was actually true. His answer helps ease some of the tension you feel, and you feel slightly more confident. 

"I have another question." 

"I have an answer," he replies playfully. You step so you are close to Jake and rest your hand his chest. He dips his head down a little bit to get a better look at you. He adopts a soft sweet smile while putting his own hand over yours. You can feel the steady pace of his heart pumping. 

"Jake?"

"Yes, that's me, Honey."

"Do you want me?"

"Yes," he responds steadily, and the balloon of hope in you raises so high you think you might float. 

"Would you like to fuck me?" You finally manage to ask. The soft smile on Jake's face melts, and he physically takes a step back from you. Your hand falls limply to your side. Jake shuts his eyes tight and scrubs over his face a few times. Then he pulls at his hair before looking at you again.

"No," he responds quietly. 

"Oh," you whisper. 

"No," he repeats more firmly and adds, "I don't want just to fuck you." 

You try to think of something to say, but there is nothing. All you can do is force the closest thing to a smile you can muster on, and you nod your head shakily at him. You watch Jake's eyes widen as his eyebrows draw together. He starts to lean towards you, but you can't bare it. To feel his warmth close to you at this moment is the worst thing you can imagine. It feels as if you have hyperthermia; all the heat has been sucked out of your body. Jake's gentle touch would be like throwing you in the bath, the only thing you want and the thing that would only kill you faster. 

You hurt. You ache. You want to cry and scream and maybe some other dramatic reaction. You want to do anything that would help you get some of this hurt out. You know you can't finish this conversation. You stumble back a little bit. You briefly and wryly think it would have hurt less if he had physically hit you. Bruises fade from view; you just got to give it a few weeks. You don't think that your heart will recover this time.

As you back up, your heel hits the first step of the stairs. You quickly turn, grab the railing, and start to step up the stairs. Right now, all you can think to hold yourself together is that you need to get away and be alone. 

"Wait," Jake rasps and steps quickly after you. His hand catches your elbow, pulling you back a little bit, but you refuse to turn to look at him. He presses his face into your arm. All you can do to hold your sobs in is take short, gasping breaths. You couldn't fathom how he could touch you so tenderly after having just rejected you. 

"Stop it, Jake!" You beg him tugging on your arm. Jake lets it fall from his grasp. It's a slow movement, halting and trailing. You turn to see his eyes there, waiting to capture yours. His eyes burn looking into yours, the edges rimmed in red.  

"Just, stop." You sigh, again barely holding the lump at the back of your throat down. 

"I don't understand," Jake whispers to you. His hands reach towards you but drop back to his side quickly. Where he clenches them open and closed repeatedly. Jake's hands then fist into his hair and he rips at it as his leg bounces restlessly. You can't stop yourself from caring about him. You can't stop yourself from reacting. No matter if he just shattered your heart, you won't let him hurt himself. 

"What don't you understand?" You ask as you pull the hair elastic off your wrists and hand it to him. Jake takes it from you, and his fingers start working and fiddling with it. 

"I don't understand your reaction. Why are you mad at me?" 

"I'm not mad at you, Jake." You take a deep breath and release it slowly, "I'm mad at myself." 

"Were you wanting me to say yes?" 

You just shrug and step back up another step of the stairs putting more space between you. Jake follows, not allowing more than two stairs to separate you. 

"It's a yes or no question. I need you to be direct with me. Did you want me to say yes?"

"The question wasn't about what I wanted, Jake. It was about what you did." 

"Can I change my answer?" He asks you almost timidly. 

"No," you whisper. You are unable to stop the few tears that slip down your cheek. Your eyes are burning from trying to keep the rest of them at bay. 

"But it didn't come out the way I meant," Jake tries to explain.

"It was a yes or no question, Jake. It's okay that you said no," you rationalize, trying to use that as a balm to your own hurt. 

"But, if you let me explain," Jake says as he pulls the hair band so hard it snaps.

"I don't need an explanation. I just needed the answer, and you gave that to me." Then after a small pause, you add, "Thank you, Jake." 

"Please," Jake says in that same small voice. He has his lips pressed tightly together, and you see that this conversation has also upset him. 

"You are hurting my feelings," you whisper to him. Jake staggers three steps backwards down the stairs as soon as he processes the words. You take another step up the stairs, and he doesn't pursue after you this time. 

"Are we going to be okay?" He asks solemnly. You think about his words and what had happened. Sure he rejected you, but it was probably one of the kindest and easiest ways it could have happened. Plus, now you had your answer. You didn't have to wonder anymore. Now you and Jake could just be best friends and roommates. You would never stop carrying a torch for him, you knew you would always love him, and you would get to keep Jake in your life at least, which isn't such a bad thing. 

"We'll be fine in the morning," you tell Jake pushing away a few more tears. He nods but otherwise doesn't say anything. You nod back and go finally are able to finish your escape into your room. 

What you said is true too. In the morning, you and Jake are fine. Neither of you mentions what happened the night before, except for Jake complaining about the picture you took. You tease him back about if he really didn't like them, why did he save them to his phone's camera roll. Jake still details your car and provides swatches of different colors for your approval. It feels like you are both grateful that you can move past what happened. And beyond that gratitude is a lot of heartache. 

======= 

You had seen all the signs again for a few weeks now. It was yet another one of those times that you could tell something was stressing Jake out, but you didn't know what. It wasn't hard for you to assume it had to do with his work, either. Surprisingly, usually, if Jake could talk about something that was stressing him out, like his sports teams, family, friends, or the store running out of the specific brand of yogurt he liked, he would tell you about it. Now that you knew what the signs were, it was easier for you to try to intervene and suggest Jake use one of his outlets. He was always grateful when you did, one time having explained to you that he really didn't notice sometimes until he was in the depths. 

You could tell this one was gearing up to be bad. Jake had cleaned the house from ceiling to floor, literally. He had washed the walls and scrubbed baseboards. Then he power-washed the driveway. The cleaning wasn't enough. You could see it in how he circled around the house like a shark as if ceasing to move would cause him to suffocate and die. He was staying up and working on projects in the garage until midnight. He went through every single box and chest in the attic. He also forced you to climb up the ladder so you would see the entire section he cleared out and left for you.  

What finally set you into action about intervening though was when you came home and Jake had baked 300 Pierniki mini cakes for the Big Brother Big Sister program he was involved with. When you asked if there was an event, he told you his little brother, Ryland, had a bake sale. Checking the flier that Jake had put up on the fridge, you saw the sale wasn't happening for a month and a half. You had sat with Jake in the kitchen as he baked, cooled, and packaged the Pierniki so they could go into the freezer while he cleaned. All the while found and ordered a gift you thought Jake might really enjoy as an outlet. 

When the package arrived, you spent more time wrapping it than you had any other gift in your life. You made sure that every one of the corners was folded and taped perfectly straight, as well as the bow. You were so excited you couldn't wait to tell him like you originally planned after dinner. 

"I got you something," you tell him, trying hard to hold back the excited grin that was threatening to give away your feelings. You wave Jake over, asking him to join you in the living room. 

Jake, who is fresh from a shower, has wet floppy hair and then his eyes take in the wrapped box on the table, and he almost looks alarmed. He approaches the box cautiously and guarded. 

"What is it?" He asks. 

"It's a surprise!" His expression doesn't change hearing that, so you add on, "If you really want to know, I can tell you what it is before you open it. Or unwrap it for you."

"Is it a good surprise?"

"I think so."

"Did you spend a lot of money on it?"

"I will not be disclosing that information," You answer in an overly sweet voice. It makes the expression on Jake's face crack, his lips quirking in a half-amused smile. 

He is reverent about unwrapping the gift. You can see the hesitant excitement on his face as he methodically unties the ribbon and finds each seam to pull. However, once Jake gets a peek at the box underneath, the wrapping is tearing before he has a second thought. He spares the paper a mournful glance. You just nudge the large box towards him, silently telling him it wasn't anything to overthink. 

"An aircraft carrier?" Jake's eyes drop to the model ship box as he takes in the details, analyzing the picture on the front. 

"I know that it isn't the same as yours, but —" 

"Sugar," Jake says, cutting you off. However, you barrel onwards anyways. 

"Listen, I can tell things have been hard for you lately. I don't know what's wrong, and I know if I ask, you can't tell me what it is. But," you sigh, frustrated, trying to remember the planned speech you had been practicing for when he opened this. 

"I don't want it to get so bad I come home and find out you jumped the gun on starting our next puzzle," You say. Jake laughs wryly and grimaces at that reminder.

"Not that would be bad if you wanted to, I wouldn't stay mad about it, I promise. But I thought this could be something different for you to work on with the stress. I think models like this could be right up your alley." you finish with a forced smile.

A minute of silence grows from one to two then three. Jake hasn't looked away from the box once, gripping the cardboard so hard there are indents now.

"Jake?" you ask cautiously, confused by his reaction. He ignores you and stays frozen there.

"Jake?" You ask again, a little louder. 

"Hangman," You finally try. 

Hangman's eyes snap up from the box and meet yours. "I'm shipping out, and I haven't figured out how to tell you." 

"Oh." you are so shocked you have no idea what to say. The box falls from your hands, and despite Jake's death grip, it slips out of his, too banging against the table. Neither of you pays it any mind. 

"When?" 

"Got about two weeks left, now."

Now. Jake said, now. It clicks for you, and can pinpoint it. You know the exact day that he must have gotten the news, about three weeks ago. He had come home after being at the gym for an extra hour and made one of your favorite meals. Jake hadn't said much and had scrubbed the kitchen after until it sparkled clean. 

"Oh, that isn't enough time for us to do this or a puzzle," is what you finally say, gesturing to the model box. Because what else can you say? You can't be mad that he hadn't told you, not really. 

"I was going to tell you, I promise. I've just been finalizing a lot of stuff and getting all the ducks in line."

"What kind of stuff?"

"I," he goes quiet and then clears his throat. "I updated my will, and I've been setting all my bills on auto-pay, making sure most of the maintenance around here is taken care of for a while. You know, all the checklist stuff."

"How long are you going to be gone?" You wonder out loud. 

"I don't know, six, maybe nine months," Jake responds clinically. Your heart clenches. Six months without Jake. Six months alone in this house.

"I'm going to miss you." You eventually manage to whisper out. Jake inhales sharply, hearing it. 

"I'm mad about it," he responds in a similarly delayed manner. 

“No, need to be mad Hangman. You know better than me how the Navy is. You would be just as well off being mad at God." Your joke is rewarded with one small chuckle, but Jake's serious face returns just as fast. 

"I've got so much stuff I've been working real hard on," Jake admits. 

"And you will be able to keep at it when you get back."

"There is no guarantee of coming back with the Navy either, Sugar."

"You'll come home, Jake."

"You think so?" Jake asks you. You are slightly comforted by the playful tone he adopts. 

"Yes, or else I'll reorganize all your books," You say. 

"Hmm, I don't think I would care if you do. Put them any way you like, sweetheart."

"I'll use your tools in the garage then."

"You are more than welcome to the shop anytime. Don't forget the color coding system." You both chuckle and take the moment to draw a steadying breath in. 

"I won't ever change the batteries for the fire alarms ever again." That one does provoke a reaction from him. His eyes dart to his watch. Jake stares at it hard. 

"Good reminder. Thank you, I'll text Yote the battery schedule. He will take care of it." Jake then loosened his watch's dark leather band by one notch; he shook his wrist out after, and the watch twisted out of place 180 degrees being so loose. 

"I'll do the new puzzle with someone else," you say, deciding you have to break out the big guns. 

"You wouldn't dare." Jake snaps. His attention was drawn entirely back to you. He plays up the part of mock outrage with impressive theatrics. 

"I certainly would." You wouldn't, actually.  

"Well, that's it then. I have to come home to you." 

"You never have to do something you don't want. There is no 'have to.'" You remind him, throwing air quotes in around the words. 

"Yes, there is," Jake tells you plainly and honestly. 

"What can I do to help you get ready to leave?" You ask to steer the conversation back on track. 

"Nothing and I don't want you acting differently on me out of nowhere, please. I understand if you need space because I kept it from you. But leaving is just part of my life; it doesn't need to be the end of our universe." 

"I'll try not to be weird, and I'll have months of space later," you console Jake. 

He looks at you, hopefully. Clearly, Jake had been expecting you to have a more adverse reaction. When you don't, and you open your arms to hug him, Jake melts into you. As you pet Jake's hair, you use it as a distraction to not think about the fact that he didn't say he would miss you back. It was probably just another one of those things that he didn't want from you. 

"You got us a new puzzle?" He asks you quietly after a while. 

"Yeah, it was also going to be a surprise. I originally got it as a birthday present for you. But I also thought it would be a good backup in case you didn't like the model." 

Jake shifts on the couch so he is lying down and buries his face into your tummy. His body starts to shake, and alarm shoots through you. You don't know what to do except continue playing with Jake's hair and occasionally running your hand down his neck and back in what you can only hope is a soothing motion. 

"What kind of puzzle?" He asks when his shudders die down. His head is still pressed into you, the words muffled. 

"I had it custom-made."

Jake pulls his face away and looks up at you, his eyes slightly puffy and rimmed red. "A custom puzzle?"

"I found this company that makes high-quality jigsaw puzzles out of real wood and then does a replica painting on it." You explain to him. Jake makes a sound closely resembling a whine and buries his face into your tummy again. 

"What painting? Can I see it?" is the next thing he asks. 

"Do you really want to know what it is?" 

"Maybe not." he finally says after long quiet contemplation. "Then I probably wouldn't stop thinking about it." 

"Don't worry, I won't touch it while you are gone. It'll be here waiting for you." I'll be here waiting for you, went unsaid, but you were sure he must feel it; he must know. 

 Jake sits up then, and he is so close to you, only inches away. He is staring at you intently, his breath mingling with yours. You smell the lingering mint that his toothpicks always leave. It takes all of your willpower to resist leaning forward those last few inches to finally find out how much the taste lingers as well. 

Jake's green eyes examine your eyes keenly. Then he is leaning forward, and everything else freezes. Your breath hitches in anticipation, and your heart beats so loudly it drowns out all other sounds. You part your lips the smallest bit in anticipation. At the last moment, Jake turns millimeters to the left, and his lips catch your cheek and just the smallest corner of your mouth. Jake's nose drags up your cheek slightly, almost a nuzzle, as he shifts to press a kiss to your forehead as well. 

"Thank you for the model. It's a thoughtful gift. I'll find somewhere we can store it." Jake whispers into your skin. 

Jake's warm body pressed against yours saps the strength, and you lean heavily into him. It seems to be what Jake had been waiting for when he pulls you down on his chest and pulls the back of the couch blanket over your form, tucking in the edges. 

"Why did you pick this specific aircraft carrier?" He eventually asks, his hand smoothing down your back. You press your face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, sighing and relaxing even more.  

"It's the same one Mr. Russ was on. I saw it in one of your pictures." You explain slowly to him, hoping he won't be upset you did a little snooping for your gift. He isn't. Jake makes a hum of acknowledgment but otherwise doesn't comment. 

"What do you need? What can I do for my favorite girl before I go?" Jake's asks, also sounding tired. His Texan twang deepens to a level you have only heard when he is half asleep. You would bet if you were to remove yourself from this embrace, you would find Jake's eyes had already drifted closed. 

"I don't want you worrying over me when you have 100 other things to think about." 

"So stubborn," Jake sighs. It's quiet then, and you relax more into Jake, starting to walk the line between napping and still awake. 

It was one of those naps you never wanted to wake up from. If the universe was kind, it would have let you stay there forever, or at least until you had your fill of Jake. But that request would be a bit longer than forever.  

Two weeks is a much shorter amount of time than you had previously thought. You could only hope the time would keep flying by when Jake was gone. There was packing, doctor's appointments, meetings, and so many goodbyes. Every day there seem to be more goodbyes happening than there were before. 

You had asked him one day as Jake was throwing together some lunch how he stood it. Jake shrugged at first, saying that he got used to it, and now it was just part of the process. Then he had opened up to you and admitted that goodbye sometimes could still exhaust him, and it felt like he was handing out more farewell memories than he had left in him. Jake tried to explain to you that he knew most of the goodbye weren't about him but rather the people he was leaving, so he made time for it. 

"I'm sure your barber would understand if you canceled the dinner with him after your next appointment," You suggest to Jake, trying to see where more time could be made for whatever his secret project out in the shop he had been staying up way too late working on. 

"Honey, I don't think you understand how important a man's barber is." 

"Okay, okay." You say placatingly. Better to leave Jake alone concerning the 2 and ½ hour appointment he scheduled for that. 

"Okay, well, I only see two other times you can cut into," You tell Jake, scrolling through the schedule he had made for his remaining time. 

"Yeah?" He asks from where he is standing by the stove. 

"Tomorrow, when Javy and Marlee come over, or you have this blocked-off time on your last night. The whole evening is blocked off. It doesn't say with who, though." You tell Jake while locking his phone and setting it lightly back on the countertop. 

"Those are the two worst things to shorten," he mutters. Jake blows out a long-frustrated breath. 

"Sorry, Jakers." 

"I'm glad you looked because I was setting that time aside for me. For us to say goodbye to each other."

"Just us?" You ask. 

"If you're free, yeah." You hadn't thought about confronting your own goodbye with Jake. Well, you had, but anytime you did, the emotions you were trying hard to bottle up would threaten to explode, rattling violently behind your ribs.

"That works out perfectly, then. We will push back hanging out by a few hours, giving you plenty of time to finish your project." You grin at him, pleased you were able to figure it out together. 

Jake picks up his phone, frowning. "Yeah, absolutely not. I would beg to monopolize you for the whole day if I knew you didn't have an appointment."

"Jake, what are you talking about? I cleared out that whole day." You check your own calendar to confirm this and run through your mental one as well. 

"I know you did. That's why I'm treating you and Marlene to relax and get your nails at the spa." 

You blink at him, not sure that you heard that correctly. He is typing on his phone, but you see the cheeky look he has every time he looks up. Jake is very pleased with his surprise for you.

"I think I would rather spend that time with you," you tell Jake honestly. He softens hearing that from you. His dimples make a full appearance, and Jake seems less exhausted and more alert. 

"I appreciate that, but I think it will be good to relax for a bit. I've been worried that you've been more worried and stressed than I am. It's important to think of your own needs." Jake reminds you gently. 

"Wow, thank you."

Jake's large hand is warm when it covers your and gives you a quick squeeze. "I'll be an hour or so late with the Machados, but they will understand."

"It'll all work out, Jake," you tell him confidently. 

"Yes, Ma'am. I think it will." Jake responds, but he breaks eye contact before saying it, making unease creep its way under your skin. 

Now, it was his last day. By this time, the next day, Jake would be gone. You had a lot of fun at the spa. It was mostly relaxing. Marlee knew the best ways to keep your spirits high and your mind from wandering too far. Jake had asked that you texted him when you were on your way home. You had but never heard anything back. Even once you got back to the house, you didn't hear anything. You got dressed in something cute but comfy, which Jake had told you was the dress code. After waiting a bit longer, you finally decided to seek him out. 

Downstairs, You hear some banging in the garage, which leads you there. You half push open the door but not so wide you risk ruining whatever surprise could be there, waiting a moment before calling his name. 

"Yes, Ma'am?" Jake says after a decent pause. Then you hear the slamming of three different heavy lids, probably one of his trunks, you assume. 

"Is everything going okay? Is there any way I can help?" You ask while opening the door wider. Before you commit to stepping out into the garage, though, a hand stops the door's movement. Jake standing right in the doorway with you now. 

"Just some last-minute list things," he says almost too cheerily. 

"I thought we checked everything off the list?" Just the day before, you and Jake had crossed off the last items on his pre-deployment checklist. Both of you had been glad to have things done a day early. After a high five, he had picked you up and spun you around the room twice before letting your feet touch the ground again.

"We did," Jake responds, reassuring you. "This is just something that popped up in my head. Not a big deal or anything you need to worry about. Plus, some of the last-minute stuff for tonight."

"Jake, I thought we were just being comfy, hanging out, and saying goodbye?"

"We are," Jake confirms. 

"You aren't going to elaborate, are you?" You ask. 

"I don't want to. But if you really can't take it being a surprise, I'll tell you." Jake admits. You think about it before shrugging and stepping back into the house. Jake follows you in and shuts the garage door firmly behind him. 

"I can wait," you sigh with a pout. Your answer makes Jake smile, though, so you can't really be upset. 

"I am going to change. Will you be ready in fifteen?" 

"Sounds good," you confirm. Jake gives you a thumbs up and starts to jog up the stairs, but halfway up, he comes back down three at a time. 

"I'm sorry. I forgot to ask about your nails." Jake exclaims, shifting his gaze expectantly. You show the design you choose to Jake. He compliments them several times, pleased you had a fun time before he ran up the stairs again. 

"I have a question that's going to shape our whole night. Do you want to go on a drive?" Is what Jake asks you when he returns in a different set of clothes. 

"Sure. Let's go for a drive." You agree. You know Jake has the whole night planned, a fact that makes you a little giddy. It also makes the idea that he built choices for you into the plan even sweeter. He guides you out the front door to where his truck is waiting before helping you inside. Then you two are on the road driving, and an almost painful tense silence descends. 

"This is nice," you finally say, fiddling with your seatbelt. 

Jake shoots a small smile at you like it is a hard thing to do. A harrowing sight on the face of a man born to grin. Jake's mouth never knew when to quit; whether a sarcastic remark quip or an easy smirk, it was up to something. 

"You can't relax, can you?" You ask when he still doesn't say anything. Jake's shoulders slump at your question. 

"No, I can't. My mind is flying faster than my jet."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you." 

You hadn't expected him to take you up on the offer, but you had hoped he would.

"Let me help you," you beg softly. Jake's hands tighten around the steering wheel, and his knuckles whiten. 

"Six months is a long time. Nine, even more. I could come home in nine months, and you could have a baby." 

"A baby?" you splutter. Jake nods back solemnly. 

"A baby, a husband, new friends, a different car. You could have a whole new life." Jake says these like each one is not only in the realm of possibility but also that he expects them all to happen simultaneously. 

"Well, I'm not planning for any of those things to happen. And I can tell you, with certainty, there won't be a baby or husband."

"Never say never."

You did want to say never, though. You wanted to hammer that point home to him. The idea of having either of those things without Jake intrinsically involved isn't even fathomable to you anymore. You can't say that out loud. You can't open that conversation because, in a matter of hours, he will be gone. It was beside the point to tell Jake that you already had a whole new life, one with him. 

"Okay, Justin Bieber. Never say never." You tell him by throwing air quotes around the phrase with an eye roll. 

Jake cracks a weak chuckle at your joke and settles back in his seat, fighting the urge to fidget. Then he summarizes, "It's a long time."

"It's not so very long. Less time than I've lived here." You mention. Jake nods along with your words, but they don't seem to help him feel any better. 

"Come, Jake, what's really bothering you?" You pry again. 

"I'll tell you, just give me some breathing room, Sugar. Please." Jake requests. 

You apologize for being pushy, which Jake instantly forgives, and silence descends. Jake drives until he finds somewhere to park the truck for y'all to look at the stars. He had carefully led you across the uneven ground to the back of the truck. You gasp when you see the setup. 

In the truck back, you find a blown-up air mattress filling the space, along with ample blankets and pillows. There is also a cooler and picnic basket in the back corner. Jake helps you get in the back before anything else. As you get comfy, he rolls the canvas top of his soft-shell camper back, revealing the quickly approaching night sky. It's a beautiful setup, and your compliments over it are waved off by Jake nonchalantly. However, he can't completely hide the pink that dusts his cheeks either. 

Once on the bed, Jake settles infuriatingly far away from you, leaving a large gap. No part of you is even close to touching. He stares up at the stars, looking troubled. You have already tried to push him to talk to you tonight, though, so you won't again. Instead, you simply enjoy the moment and look up at the stars.  

"Thank you," Jake says a while later. You don't ask what for. It doesn't feel necessary. You also worry about how long he might drag out a list. 

Jake slides his hand across the space between you. You are alerted to it when you feel the light brush of his pinky along yours. You turn your hand and let it catch his. As always, Jake wastes no time taking what he is given. He threads his fingers with yours, and his thumb starts up tracing along the back of your hand and wrist. 

"Is this where you draw all the constellations out for me and wow me with your impressive knowledge of astronomy?" 

Jake huffs a small laugh, "Not this time, sugar."

"Have I finally found something you don't know about, Jake?" You playfully gasp. 

"Oh, please, honey. You know me better than that." Jake chastises, turning his head away from the sky to give you an unimpressed look. 

"Yeah, I do. You are probably about to tell me how you did an internship at NASA." Jake opens his mouth with a tiny smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. Your eyes widen, and you speak before he can say anything. "I swear you better not be about to tell me you did have a NASA internship. I will lose my mind." 

Jake snaps his mouth shut, but the small smug smirk doesn't fade from view. You move, so you are more propped up to see more of his face. You try to analyze any hidden information on his features there. 

"Goodness. Jake, no way. Did you actually?" You ask. The longer Jake leaves you hanging, the more unsure you are. 

"Do you know what my dream is?" He asks you, ignoring your question and changing the topic. You huff in annoyance. It's not annoying; you can't feel that when trying to be some porous surface attempting to absorb as much as possible. The fact that he will be gone haunts your every movement and word in hours.  

"What's your dream, Jake?" You respond good-naturedly. 

"To go on Jeopardy," he answers automatically. It's a quick, instant response. You laugh at him, and his chuckles join in moments later.  

"We could probably make that happen." You say when you can breathe properly again. You picture getting Jake on the show, where he would insist on wearing his whites. 

"It's not my only dream, though," Jake says warmly. 

"Is it not?" you say lightly. 

"No," Jake responds in a much more serious tone. You abandoned the pretense of looking at the stars. Turning on your side, you stare at Jake instead of trying to memorize him. The slope of his nose and of the line of his neck. 

"Has it always been your dream? When you were a little kid, did you want to grow up and be on Jeopardy?"

"It was one of them," Jake reveals. 

"What were some of the others?" Jake's hand goes loose in yours, and you think that he might pull away. That you had overstepped. 

"Common Jakers, you can tell me. It's okay if you want to be something weird." 

"They aren't worth mentioning, and I don't want to trigger you with anything, sugar."

"Why would I be triggered?" You ask him, giving his hand a small squeeze. 

"Not everyone would call my childhood warm, but it could have been worse. I know that isn't the best topic."

"I want you to tell me, Jake. I'll stop you if it's too much, okay?" You say after thinking of your boundaries and the likelihood something would trigger you. 

"You promise?" He asks. Jake turns his head again to meet your eyes deadly seriously.

"Yes, I promise. Now, what was little Jake's dream job?"

"It was to be a pilot."

"You're living the dream job, then?"

"Yeah, I sure am. However, back then, I wanted to be a pilot, so I could fly far away." The weight of his words isn't lost on you. 

"Jake, what happened? You can tell me if you want." He heaves a heavy hard sigh at your kind words. He is clearly preparing himself to speak about something difficult. 

"My dad wasn't a good man, and my mama let him break her. He broke me too. To the outside world, he seemed like the perfect loving husband and father. At home, it was a different story. My dream was to be free, be a bird finally let out of my cage. 

"The older I got, the better I was at taking the beatings. There was this one time I was 13 years old and chopping some wood for Miss Celeste. I was doing it wrong, I guess, so he threw a log at my head. It hit me so hard that I saw stars, and my ears rang for two days after. Tali had to superglue my head closed enough that I would be able to walk over to see Miss Celeste and get it properly stitched up." Jake reaches up his hand, and it ghosts along the back of his head, remembering the age-old hurt. His eyes briefly press tightly closed, shutting out the memory.

"After that, I figured I could take any beating, any lecture, any mean word. I could take it all. So, I did take it all. I wasn't going to let him hit my ma or my sister. I learned how it wasn't hard to capture his attention. Especially if he was already worked up." 

You want to cry for him. You can't get the picture of Jake as a young, bruised, beaten, and bloody child out of your head. That boy walking the five miles to his grandmother's house, half stumbling, half running. Jake having poked at his dad before a hand came down on his mom or sister. How it was probably a common occurrence. 

"Jake, I am so sorry." You squeeze his hand sympathetically, feeling your heartache painfully for him. 

"When I finished my first year at USNA, I decided enough. After plebe summer, I was probably the most fit I have ever been in my whole life. It's funny how he raised me to go to a military academy, and that was the same place that would be the end for him. I went home for winter break, and everything had changed. I was bigger than him, stronger, quicker. I knew I was better in every way than him. I hadn't just done well at USNA. I had excelled, thrived even. There was absolutely no reason to cower and take it anymore. So, the next time he tried to hit me over winter break, I took it, but I warned him. I said I'm a grown man. You hit me again; I'll hit you back."

"And?" You gasp. 

"I stayed true to my word like any half-decent man would. The next time he hit me I hit him back." Responds Jake not able to completely keep the hint of satisfaction out of his voice. Your fingers flex in his, and Jake takes a long-measured breath. He shrugs nonchalantly but you can see the tension he is holding. 

"I would always goad his anger onto me. If I found him already mad at Ma or Talia, I would find some way to make sure his attention came back to me. I could take a punch in the face, a slap, or some other punishment. It was easier to explain that Jakobi is scrappy and gets into fights with the ladies and church than for my mom to try and claim she fell again or some other half-ass excuse." 

"Everyone just pretends like nothing is happening," you say quietly. 

"Yup. They don't want to address it, but how could they not know?" 

"Exactly," you confirm, thinking of similar situations you went through growing up. 

"It was my first-time home since Winter, and Miss Celeste and Mr. Russ were even coming over for dinner. Dad didn't like how Ma set the table, it wasn't hard for me to step in. Then the next thing I know, he is in my face screaming everything under the sun. Mind you, not any of it was good, and then he tried to punch me. 

"I hit him back, and I didn't fucking stop. Not until there was blood, and then I kept going for a bit more. After taking it over and over for my whole life, I snapped. Don't know what would have happened if Miss Celeste and Mr. Russ hadn't shown up." 

Jake is squeezing your hand hard. Even though the air is cool and fresh in the back of the pickup, it feels tainted, full of long-past memories and hate. Jake takes a moment, clearly needing a breather, regulating the old emotions bubbling in him. 

"It was stupid and risky. If he hadn't been so ashamed, if he wasn't so full of pride, my Da' could have ruined everything for me. Wouldn't have been hard to get my ass thrown in jail and kicked out of the naval academy. 18 years of work and my future and life could have been down the drain in one fell swoop. I am lucky. He knew how that would look reflected back on him. Beat within an inch of his life by his own son, and then that same son was dishonorably discharged. It is probably the only reason I got away with it."

Jake shakes his head wryly; you watch as he uses his free hand to pull his toothpick case out of his pocket. He secures one tightly in his teeth, the minty smell drifting towards you as he snaps the case shut. 

"He deserved it. He deserved every blow, and a million more still wouldn't have been penance for what he did. I think he learned his lesson, in the end. He didn't try to fight me unless he was very drunk after that. Was better to Tali and Ma too."

"And now?"

"Now, he is dead," Jake says plainly, not betraying any grief or sadness over that fact to you. 

"Oh," you say. You think maybe you should say you're sorry, but that wouldn't be the truth. Instead, you are glad that this man who committed such evil and was so terrible to Jake is no longer around. 

"He died four months before I got my wings." 

"Oh, Jake. That is so much. I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that." You whisper. Pulling your hand, he still has clenched in his grasp up to his lips. Jake presses a lingering kiss to your pulse point. 

"No need to be sorry. It's in the past. I wish I could have stopped it sooner. Protected Tali and my Ma better. They never deserved to go through that." 

"You didn't deserve to go through that either," You add to Jake's statement. 

"I don't know. It was my responsibility to take care of them. I never should have let that all happen in the first place. I could have stood up to him much sooner. I will say, at least it gave me a leg up in basic." You try to contain your cringe hearing that mentality from Jake. 

"No, Jake, stop. You don't understand. You didn't deserve to go through that. You still would have made it through Plebe year just fine. And you're wrong. It was never your responsibility." You try to impress upon him. 

"Of course, it was my responsibility," Jake protests. 

You sit up, no longer able to handle the nonchalance of lying down for this conversation. He keeps your hand in his, not letting you pull away from him. Jake needs to know this, though. You need him to understand. Cupping his cheek with your free hand, you make sure his eyes aren't anywhere but on yours. 

 "You were a child, Jakers. A kid. I don't care if you're a boy or the oldest. You were a child. You had adults around you. It was their responsibility to protect you. It was your Ma's and Miss Celeste and Mr. Russ. They should have been the ones helping you. It was their job to do that, not the other way around." 

Jake's mouth drops in as he processes your words. Then he whispers. "I guess I was just a kid." 

"You wouldn't expect Franny to do what you did. Would you?" You ask him gently. At the mention of his niece, Jake's teeth clench together. You can practically see the anger bubbling in him at anyone even saying something unkind to his niece, let alone what he went through. 

"No, I wouldn't," he grits out. 

"No, you wouldn't," you agree with Jake's answer. 

His stubble prickles at your hand, but you ignore the feeling and continue watching him. His green eyes meet yours steadily as Jake tilts his face to kiss your palm. After which, he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath like he is preparing himself for something. 

"I have to tell you something. I can't leave before apologizing or having this conversation. You deserve me to be fair to you, and you deserve to be treated right. So, I need to put something out there in the open, just in case you haven't figured it out or it hasn't been made clear yet."

"You can tell me anything, Jake." You tell him steadily despite that extremely ominous intro. You hope it will help him feel at ease, but if anything, he tenses up more. Moving so that he is sitting up, Jake's face is pulled from your hand. He retracts his hand from yours as well. Your palm feels cold without his and a little sweaty, which only adds to the overall chilling effect. 

"I am broken, Sugar. I think I know what you want from me, but I am too messed up. I can't give that feeling back to you like you deserve. I want it to be clear it's not you. I don't think I can truly ever feel that way. I don't know if I'm capable."

You briefly consider what you are hearing; Jake knows you love him and has probably known for a while. It doesn't hurt as much as you thought it would. What hurts more is that he feels this way about himself. You do your best to swallow down your own feelings and put them in the corner to unpack and deal with some other time when you are alone. 

"Oh. I see." You finally manage to stutter out. Jake does look genuinely apologetic and upset as well, which is some small consolation. 

"I just. I can't. I'm not built for it. Whatever that part is in people that lets them feel and talk that way, I'm missing that piece. I don't think it's even missing. I never had one to start with. I wish I could. I wish for you, but I am broken, Sugar. I am so sorry." 

You want to protest. You want to shake Jake and tell him he isn't broken. He can love, he should love, and he does love all the time. You see that aspect of him constantly. You see it when he calls his niece every week. His phone calls with his Ma and Mrs. Celeste. The way he worries over his junior officers. You see it when he spends time with Javy and Marlee. More often than not, Jake is almost bursting at the seams with love. 

You suck in a deep breath as you consider how Jake can express love. You can't help but consider how he is with you. Jake has been showing he cares about you. You have never once questioned if he had any affection or positive feelings for you, only if any romantic ones were mixed in. That all the actions you thought were hints, a slight implication he might feel the same way, were actually declarations. 

And now here Jake is saying that is all he can give you. How Jake has loved you all along. He is trying to tell you, 'Here it is. Here is my affection. This is the best I can do. You won't ever get more than what you have right now. 

You think about that for a minute. You would never get more from Jake. He will never say the words he loves you, and he will never romantically love you. There won't ever be rings, or a honeymoon, no anniversaries. There won't be a cute baby with a mix of your and Jake's features. 

So, you have to decide if what he does give you is enough. Was doing puzzles with him enough? Was talking for hours on end? Was cuddling? Maybe not, you briefly think. However, when you think of the feeling of safety, he provides that you had never experienced anywhere else. You think of that, and you have your answer. 

You accept it. You can live with it; you can love him enough that it fills in the gaps. Knowing he loves you at all, even a little bit, even if he cannot say it. It's enough. It's enough to get to keep him. It's enough because even if Jake believes he isn't capable of love, that's part of him, and if it's part of Jake... well, water is wet, isn't it? 

"You aren't broken, Jake," you finally say after long and quiet deliberation. 

"I am," he disagrees. "I'm twisted and broken. I can't be good for you." 

"God, Jake. You already are. Sweet man." You firmly reach out to hold his cheeks in both hands, staring hard into his eyes. Your grip is firm. "Handsome, you already are a good man to me."

Jake shakes his head against your hold and slams his eyes closed. You soothe your thumb across the stubble on his cheeks, tracing extra softly under his eyes. However, he refuses to open them for you again. 

"Listen to me, Jake." He screws his eyes even tighter at the request. It reminds of a little bit of a petulant child, and despite your own heartbreak, you just want to smooth the lines of his face out and make sure this isn't hanging over him before he goes. 

"Jakobi," you beg in the softest, sweetest tone possible. You wait for him to open back up before going on. You hate trying to gauge his emotions when you can't see his face. He does eventually open them, with his gaze trained on you. In the dark, you can't wholly make out the green of his eyes, but that's okay. 

"You are good, and you are a gift, an absolute marvel. You are not broken. You don't have to feel any which way for me. You do not have to be anything more than you are right now. You could never change or completely change, but I will still love you the same."

"Thank you," he says. 

"No need to be thankful for the truth," you tell him kindly. 

He shocks both of you by crying. You are so surprised by it that your hands fall from his face. A tear falls down Jake's face, and he pushes it away, looking at his wet fingers in surprise. His eyebrows quirk, drawing together in the middle. Then more tears fall as he blinks in distress. The more he cries, the more upset he seems to be about the fact that he is crying. 

"Jake, can I hold you?" you ask him hurriedly but not wanting to trigger him further with any unwanted touch. Jake nods, and he turns towards you falling into your embrace. You wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest. Jake's arms snake around your hips, pulling you flush to him.

The two of you just hold each other for a long while, breathing each other in. When Jake pulls out of the embrace, he doesn't go far. He only pulls away to fully look at your face. 

"You know, I can't leave without hearing your laugh. I think that's one of the last things on the to-do list."

"I didn't read that on the to-do list, and I checked it twice this morning." You say, pretending to be confused. Jake's fingers flex, gripping you tighter for a moment before relaxing again. 

"It's just my notes app one," Jake mutters, taking you seriously, his eyebrows creasing. 

"That makes two things that on this secret to-do list you are keeping from me. Is there something I don't know?" You try to urge him into the joke with you again. Jake just looks more and more removed from you, though. You are desperate to fight against that, wanting to keep him as close as possible for every second you have left. You nudge his leg with your foot playfully and let go of some of your inhibitions. If Jake will never admit to loving you, you might as well throw caution to the wind.

"I can't believe you have been keeping a second to-do list on the side and not including me," you tell Jake in a more obviously teasing way. You pull lightly at the short hair at the base of his skull. It makes him sigh in a way that leaves you feeling like you need to chase that high.  

"It isn't like that, darling. I promise," Jake says, catching up to the joke now. A playful smile smooths out his face, and his eyes aren't so distant now. 

"Oh, I've heard that excuse a million times."

"A million? That's a pretty big number."

“Well I grant you this, it’s not always to-do lists, sometimes it's calendars, calculators, personal planners, whiteboards, notepads. Somethings always being hidden from me. You hid a whole bathtub.”

“I did not hide the bathtub from you!” Jake protests light heartedly. 

“Sure you didn’t, Seresin. But I have to ask, are you hiding anything else from me?”

“Nothing! I promise.”

“You know you can be honest with me, Jake.” You remind him playfully pinching his cheek.

“I am!” Jake whines while pouting. 

“Okay. Well then I am sure you won’t mind telling me about what I found in your truck glove box…” You trail off trying hard to keep it in.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Jake shrugs in denial. 

“Is that so?” You question him giving him one last opportunity to think. 

“Yes,” Jake whines dragging out the s for an unnecessarily long time. 

“Okay,” you sigh heavily. By his neck you pull him back a bit and try to maintain the straightest most serious face possible. He is nodding along already. “Then how exactly do you explain the 300 hot sauce packets in there?”

Jake gasps and pulls further away from the close embrace you two had adapted. 

“How did you find those?” He gasps. 

“You didn’t even hide them! They were literally under your gas, mileage, and maintenance tracking book.” 

“Sugar, I don't know what to say.”

“Did you not only four days ago tell me we were out of hot sauce?”

“That definitely might have occurred. But,” 

“You’ve been caught red handed, Seresin.” You sigh, shaking your head as if you are extremely disappointed in him. 

“Woah, hold your horses, now.” Jake request clearly ready to launch into an explanation.

“Sir, this is a sting. Please save your excuses for the MP. They are on their way to this location as we speak.”

Jake’s eyes widen and he looks around the empty and very far removed area he had driven the truck. Clearly pretending to be panicked, he turns up his drama meter to the max setting crying out pleadingly, “It’s a misunderstanding. There’s been a  framing, trickery, bamboozlement even!”

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah, by me. ” Jake says intensely THen he shifts his whole demeanor pulling on a serious confidence, and utters “Ma’am I work for the FBI we have been instigating you this entire time.”

“On what grounds?” You gasp in fake outrage. 

“There have been multiple reports that link you to the scene of several art thefts. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What can I say? I see something precious, and I just decide it has to be mine”  You say with a shrug.  “We live in a free country, that should be one of my god given protected rights.” 

“To steal? We should review the commandments, honey.”

“No, to have precious things.” You correct him before continuing, “Isn’t that your whole military shtick? Protecting freedoms and all that?”

It takes two beats before Jake can’t take it anymore and starts roaring with laughter. That’s all it takes for you to crack up as well. Was there anything better than Jake’s smile and laugh? You thought the answer was probably no. Nothing compares.

You and Jake laugh together and don’t stop. It keeps dragging on, cycling through all of Jake's laughs including a snort or two. It's that type of laughing that makes your diaphragm ache. The longer it's drawn out, the more deranged the sounds you two make become. Finally, it decrescendos, trailing off to You and Jake are wrapped around each other, and his forehead presses against yours. 

Your breath mingles together. You appreciate the warmth, the relief, and underneath it all, as is often found in Jake's eyes, the deep-seated sadness there. It almost feels easier for you now. Easier with the guesswork and hope gone, easier to focus on what it should have been about all along, you and Jake. You don't have to think about hidden meanings, secrets, or signs. 

It lets you be wholly consumed by the details of Jake instead. How he radiates heat and almost always manages to smell good. The sturdiness of his hands with their well-manicured blunt nails. The fine lines he had around his eyes. You try to memorize exactly what color green his eyes are in the dark like this. Each detail you notice is more catching and striking than the last.  

You categorize each part of him he is willing to share. Finally, with your chest still hurting, from laughing, from tonight, or from the lingering knowledge of a goodbye, it doesn’t really matter. Jake is here now though still with you.  So you offer him a soft smile and let more of your skull's weight press into his. 

"Ah, there she is," Jake breathes to himself. Then his hand is on the side of your neck, tilting you to meet his eyes a little more directly. He wears one of your favorite smiles, where the edges twitch upwards, and his eyes are tender.  

"I got a question for you," he mutters. 

"I got an answer," you tell him just as softly. 

"Are you sure?"

"Ask me your question," is all you give him for a response. 

Jake leans in closer to you, and his lips brush past your cheek dragging along the skin to whisper his question in your ear. You only take a moment to think of your answer. It doesn't take more than meeting the honest vulnerability in his eyes. The answer falls from you easily. After all, it was the question you were expecting.

It’s the last question Jake asks you for 6 ½ months, his entire deployment, with not one single word, complete radio silence. 

[vilegelics]

I’m dying for a fix about Chris being absolutely obsessed with an older chick. Like just wants to make sure she has everything she needs and wants. Always wanting to prove he’s mature enough for her.

The people that are against this the kid clearly has an older lady / mommy kink. No one can tell me otherwise

— think i need someone older…

→ pairing: chris sturniolo x older reader hc’s

→ warnings: none! just some teeth rotting fluff

→ notes: ohmygod ur so right?? i love this request and hope you enjoy it 🫶 (send more requests! my inbox is open and i don’t sleep :))

sfw…₊˚﹕✧﹒

- okay so… the age gap wouldn’t be anything too crazy (chris: 20 & you: 25)

- he’d be absolutely enamored by you the first time he saw you; his friends dragged him and matt out to a launch party for your brand.

- he didn’t want anything to do with it at first, mostly because he didn’t know you and didn’t exactly feel like going out that particular night but everything changed the moment he noticed you

- one of his friends introduced him and matt to you

- it was lowkey awkward because kid got nervous and talked only about his brand within the first minute of meeting you 😭

- it’s okay though because once he got more comfortable later in the night, he came back up to you and apologized for it. asking to start over, to which you said yes (how could you not?) and gave him your number

- which began endless hours of texting between the two of you, dude is answering quicker than he ever has and matt makes sure to remind of that fact every time he hears your specific text notification (because of course chris set yours to a specific tone)

- fast forward a couple months (after lots of talking and cute dates)…

- you ask chris what you guys are and he responds without even thinking…

- “i mean, you’re pretty much my girlfriend at this point-“

- he freaks out after saying that because he wasn’t sure if you wanted it, which resulted in him absolutely stuttering all over his words as he tried to make a comeback from what he said

- but you cut him off quickly trying to shut down his anxiety

- “chris- i would love to be your girlfriend”

- in the beginning of your guys’ relationship, he does anything and everything to impress you.

- flowers once a week, date night every saturday, leaves cute lil notes for you around your apartment, gifts you books he hears you talk about

- (he’s so boyfriend i’m melting)

- you have an extensive library in your place and even a specific shelf for all of your favorite books.

- chris takes notice of this and takes a picture of the books on that shelf, ordering all of them on amazon the moment he gets home so he can read all of them and talk to you about them :,)

- PRINCESS!! TREATMENT!!

- he will not let you get your own door, won’t hesitate to give you a message after a long day at work, carries any and all bags for you & etc.

- he’s just overall head over heels for you & is constantly trying to challenge himself to be the best boyfriend you could ever have (and he really doesn’t have to try hard to do that <3)