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[whenthegoldrays]

uhuhu

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Losing Game

♡ featuring: ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: simmering feelings boil over as you're confronted by the man you hate the most; tartaglia, your boss. wc: 3.1k+

♡ cw/tw: afab, degradation, humiliation, creampie, squirting, light choking, sadism, throat-fucking, cum play, fingering, overstimulation, brat taming, mind break, pet names (doll, baby)

notes: hiii, the positive response from the last one motivated me to get this done just in time for Fontaine. kinda long this time so sorry abt that. ajax my beloved <3 art by sonomi_rap5 on twitter comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Working for the fatui wasn’t easy in the slightest, especially when you aren’t on harbinger status. You were sent on long, grueling tasks only to be met with loose interpretations of gratitude and sometimes silence from the higher-ups, in which most wouldn’t even glance in your direction. Pleasant beginnings became a sour afterthought, and your perception of the fatui changed drastically. Your grievances, however, weren’t helped by your quick-witted snappy attitude and competitiveness; Presumably why you ended up under the division of Tartaglia. You assumed a binding contract from the capricious redhead wouldn’t mean much, but that was quickly proven false.  

You'd rather climb every mountain in Snezhnaya than spend a minute talking to that airhead. He was instructed to keep a watchful eye on you during missions despite the competence you demonstrated. It was insulting. Anything he did you could do better. It’d been proven multiple times from the petty challenges you created. How much water you could drink, how long you can stay up. You won every time. How could you not hate him? His feigned ignorance and careless flirtations were enough to drive you mad. “Please, call me Ajax” he’d say, winking. The simpering smile he gave you after every comeback shot daggers in your pride. What made you particularly furious was the incessant drum of your heart whenever he was near you. The warm autumn morning that was his hair. The cool still waves his eyes sent to your core. You couldn’t fall for him, or else he’d have one up on you. You had to be stronger than that. You quelled your stress in a tattered journal gifted years ago. 

“Hey, comrade!” His bubbly tone makes knots in your stomach, and you choose to stay silent. You’re hoping this mission will go without a hitch, as long as he doesn’t get in your way. Ajax lets out a teasing whistle. 

“Yeesh, tough crowd.” As you’re collecting the items needed for the deal, he rocks back and forth on his heels directly in front of you, absent-mindedly watching. 

You whip your head to face him, “You can’t see I’m doing something right now?” 

“Oh, I see what you’re doing. But this isn’t entertaining.” 

“Unlike you, your majesty, I have no choice but to be perfect. I apologize if that’s not exciting enough for you.” You retort with sarcastic curtsy.  

“Haha! You’re always a pleasure to be around, (Y/N). My faithful, kind-hearted companion.” he said with a taunting wink. You're beyond flustered, haphazardly stuffing the remains in your bag and lugging it over your shoulder. 

“Let's go.” You say lazily. He follows closely, arms crossed behind his head. “Calling me like a dog, how romantic.” 

“If you don’t want to be called like a dog stop acting like one.” 

“You could at least give me a treat if I'm gonna be your dog.” He looks at you, making his best impression of puppy-eyes. You bite back a few choice words, and glare at him instead. He isn’t fazed by this and flashes a beguiling smile that makes your ears warm. Glancing at the weight you’re shouldering, he comments, “You sure you don’t need any help with that?” 

“No. The last person I need help from is you.” 

You and Ajax regroup in an alleyway deep in Fontaine’s bustling city. You are assigned to retrieve a rare gem for one of Pantalone’s elaborate schemes, and you quickly prepare yourself for this interaction. Ajax studies you, leaning against one of the walls. 

“Can’t you be a little nicer to your superior? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be in a lot of trouble half the time. You’re welcome.” You scoff. “I don’t know why you’re here in the first place, I have no problem doing this on my own.” 

“I’m sure. Don’t mind me, Ms. Independent.” A sly smirk crawled up his face. “Fucking asshole” you mumble under your breath. “I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat it?” 

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” After a few moments of silence, Ajax grips his chest in feigned agony. “Ouch. I’m gutted!” 

Just as you're about to leave, he snatches your wrist, now only mere inches away from your face. His hand gently brushes away the strays of hair on your forehead. “There you go, doll. Gotta be perfect for your debut.” A whirlwind of emotions strangles your ability to think clearly, you pull your wrist away and start speed walking, attempting to gather yourself before you get to the jewelry store. 

You enter the empty store and are immediately confronted by the jeweler. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Do you have an appointment?” You proclaim your business and appointment under a fake identity, posturing yourself as wealthy. “May I see identification please.” Of course, you say. As you’re looking through your purse you notice something: there’s no identification here. Surely you weren’t that negligent over something so simple. You rummaged through the other compartments, trying to stay calm in front of an increasingly concerned jeweler. But it’s not there. How is this possible. Your nerves are heightened and the anxiety of failing the mission starts to creep in. “I made an appointment with Lottie; she’ll be able to provide reference. I believe I left my passport at home.” The jeweler seems slightly disappointed. “Unfortunately, ma’am, I am not allowed to present any gems without identification.” Your heart beats faster. “Well, sir, I’m very busy and I’m afraid this is my only chance to close on this item. You wouldn’t want to push away a well-paying customer.” 

“I have no choice in the matter. If you have no proof of identification, I must ask you to leave.” Should I take it by force? You thought, thinking about the next possible option. As you’re about to handle the rest physically, the door swings open. Ajax comes up to you, placing his arm around your waist.  

“My love, were you able to get the gem we were discussing?” You’re annoyed, but you improvise and look at him as if he’s the love of your life. “Not yet, dear.” Suddenly, he places a plush kiss on your lips. You’re stunned and speechless, filled with anger and wanting. 

The jeweler interjects. “And are you the husband? Would you happen to have any identification.” 

“Yes, sir.” Ajax pulls out a passport and fake birth certificate unbeknownst to you and begins to close the deal. The rest of the meeting you sit speechless. 

“Thank you for your patronage.” are the last words you hear as you leave the store, Ajax guiding you with his hand. You’re silent the whole way back to your room. 

You turn your bag upside down and begin looking for the mismatched documents. All while Ajax stares at you expectingly. You ignore his presence.  

“So... how about a ‘you’re welcome?’” 

“For what.” 

He lets out a mocking laugh. “For what? I don’t know, maybe saving your ass back there? You froze, and you were unprepared, Ms. Independent.”  

“I wouldn’t have forgotten it if it wasn’t for the obnoxious bullshit you did this morning.” 

“That’s dishonest, I wasn’t even talking!” he pretends to be hurt. “Admit that you need me.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“No.” His light-hearted inflection vexes you and makes it hard for you to focus as you read through the mountains of pages in your folder. 

While your head is down, Ajax comes across the tattered notebook just peeking out from under the bed. Storing the months—no years—of feelings you had regarding the fatui. Regarding him. Some time passes and you finally raise your head, met with the horrifying reveal of him skimming through the journal, mischief coating the deep void in his eyes. You spring up and reach for the book but he’s faster, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. 

“This is really good stuff... really good.” You shout profanities over and over, anything to get his attention away from the book. But he continues to read as if you’re not there. When he’s done reading, he lets you go, and you instantly try to swing at him. Before you can land a hit, he grabs you by the throat and stares into your soul, almost as if he’s trying to swallow your being. 

“You’ve been acting like a little fucking brat all over a crush? Not very big girl of you.” 

“I know you think you’re beyond charming, but I promise you don’t have that effect on me.” 

“Really? Let’s play a game then.” He knew you’d accept just to beat him at anything. 

“If you don’t cum by the end of this journal, I’ll apologize for everything. I’ll do whatever you want. But if I win-” he steps closer to you, “You have to do everything I say.” 

You almost burst out laughing. Such an easy challenge, how hard could it be? 

You're panting, trying your hardest to focus on the words that seemed to melt off the page. Your back lays comfortably against his chest, with his legs keeping yours spread. 

“Next page, baby.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Your words are lenient and breathy. Your underwear is still on, but Ajax’s fingers are covered in your slick, playing with the erect nub just enough to make you fuzzy. “You look like you’re tapping out.” 

“This? This is nothing” You respond meekly, continuing the reading.  

“I can’t help but have fe-elings for himph.”  

“There’s some nice things about me in here, why aren’t you always like this?” He says, circling and dipping into your gushy folds, smearing the glossy mess all over your vulva. You try so hard to read the letters, squirming from his touch. The sensation pulsing from your clit to your brain made you incoherent; the more you move, the more he moves. The contents of the journal are humiliating, detailing your romantic and sexual attraction towards Ajax, and your attempts to stifle these feelings. He was getting a kick out of seeing your flustered face stammer over his appearance. He plays with the precum glazing his fingers, widening them to watch the trail it left. Only two more pages left. 

“I-I-” You couldn’t get through the first sentence on the last page. Your thighs are trembling, and your pussy began to twitch. “Uh, s-shit. Ajax, wai-.” He trails his fingers over your clit spelling his name, then pushes two inside, fighting back an amused grin. “You’re almost done” Teasing in your ear. You bite back the moans threatening to escape; at the very least you couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He watches you fall apart, shaking more aggressively before your body gives in and you cum on his fingers.  

“Uh oh, that’s unfortunate.” You try your best to catch your breath, but he rides out your orgasm, making you subconsciously grind yourself into his palm. Then you’re struck with the reality of losing. He licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling back from the taste. “So fucking good, does being a bitch make you taste better?” You were too embarrassed from the loss to retort. “You won.” 

“I did.” He lifts you off the bed and onto the floor, your legs still recovering. He hikes your shirt up, trailing kisses up your stomach until he gets to your nipples. He flicks and sucks one while kneading the other one, occasionally biting the slightly bruising flesh. “Not gonna moan for me, huh baby?” 

“Not in the slightest.” You rasped. He smiles and blows cool air on your tits, sending a rippling feeling down your back. “That’s okay, you’ll give in.” 

Ajax unbuttons his pants, and they drop in front of you. Unsheathing his thick throbbing length, drooling with desire. His balls are full and heavy, and as you look up at him his eyes are clouded with lust. The pretty freckles that dotted his arms and chest are much more visible now, and so are his battle scars. He breathed in deep, "take care of this for me, yeah?” You wanted to say no and say fuck this; but there was another side that wanted him desperately, that needed this.  

You force your jaw open to accommodate his size and push yourself halfway on his girth, feeling his cockhead hit the back of your throat. Once you feel like you got it in, you slobber all over his cock, dampening his balls and begin to bob your head. You stroke with one hand and massage his sack with the other, leading to a breathy whimper from him. “Ah fuck, feels good. Suck it slow, slut.” You begin to move faster while cupping his balls, obscene noises leaving your sopping mouth. You have tears running down your sweating face trying to keep up with the vigorous movement of your tongue. You feel him throb a few times, his moans and grunting getting progressively louder.  

“Need more” is all he says, putting one of his legs on the bed and grabbing both sides of your head. Before you can register what’s happening. Ajax pushes your head onto his cock until your nose reaches his pubes. He lets out a breathy sigh and starts throat fucking you with an animalistic grip. The gagging and spit noises echo off the walls, along with his continuous whimpering. You wanted to hate him, but your blood was buzzing, and your panties were drenched. “Shut up and take it” followed by broken fuck’s and yes’s. He threw his head back, hair slicked and torso gleaming with sweat, “look at me.” You reluctantly look up, addicted to his passionate expression. “I want you looking at me when I cum.” You grip his thighs, and he twitches a few times before spurting white, thick cum down your throat. He pulls out slightly to drag his semen over your lips and then taps it on your face, holding you in place.  

“What are you doing? Clean me up.” he husked. You clean him up without complaint and lick your lips, forced to maintain eye contact with him the entire way.  

In one swoop, Ajax picks you up and throws you on the bed, eager to get your underwear off. “You proved your point, stop being an ass" you slurred out. The room was intoxicating, all you could smell and feel was him. He takes your panties off, spreading your pussy to watch the slippery puddle dribble down your thighs. He shoves your panties in your mouth, “Fucking liar, I know you like it. Can’t taste how wet you are?” He aligns himself with your aching hole, keeping your arch steady with you bent over. Shoving his cock in, moaning from the feeling of your body perfectly molding for him. Ajax starts moving at a rapid pace quickly, his big slender hands tightly gripping your ass. The sound of wet sticky skin slapping together and the squelching from your core made you shudder. It was all too much; you have been teetering on an orgasm since you went down on him, and the way his balls thump your clit make you quiver.  

“Whiny brat. Just needed to be fucked good to shut up, yeah?” he groaned through his words. Tears were coming down your eyes now, you can’t tell if he’s edging you by accident or on purpose. But right now, you’d do anything. He turns your head to face him, gazing at your tear-stricken face. “Aww, you cryin’ for me?” He stops to kiss and lick your tears, delighted by your tenderness. Taking the panties out your mouth, he brings your body flush with his and continues to pump inside with you looking at him.  

“So sweet all of a sudden, where’d that attitude go?” The morals you had for moaning went missing and mewls and soft whimpers began to leave you. “Let it out, baby.” You’re suddenly babbling please’s begging for him to let you have it. “Pathetic, can’t even get off on your own. You need me that bad?” You nod repeatedly, dangerously close to your release. He had a dark look in his eyes and a sinful smirk. “Yeah? Okay, you’ve been so good.” He reaches down and starts to rub your clit ceaselessly, kissing your cheek. Your whimpers become loud shaky moans and he finally lets you have it, shockwaves going through your body as you’re dissolved into pleasure. You pulsate through the explosion, jello-brain and boneless as your cum leaks down his thighs. Just as he pulls out and flips you over. You’re dizzy and drunk off him, legs shaking indefinitely from the intensity. Then he puts it back in. “You can take one more, yeah baby?” Your overstimulated and violent shaking wasn’t enough for him to stop. He wanted you ruined. He keeps going, grabbing your face to kiss you deeply, tongues intertwining with each other. He feeds you deep strokes, tip prodding your spot every time and watching as your tits bounce. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You have no thoughts, only his name rings in your head. You can feel the coil inside you winding up, pleasure beyond the searing pain of your swollen pussy. He looks down at you and smiles.  

“Look at me." You can’t hear anything at this point, not even the sound of your own voice. So, it’s a pleasant surprise when your voice carries his name, “Ajax, Ajax”, chanting as if he’s your god. “Fuck. Gonna cum. Let it out. baby” he says grinning. You’re clamping him so tight and throbbing until you ultimately shatter with him, releasing a stream of squirt onto him and the sheets. He bucks into you, letting out thick spurts, panting heavily as he watches you in disarray. You instinctively hold on to his arms, trembling uncontrollably as you try to search for breath and ride it out. You’re completely hysterical and sobbing from the emotion it ripped into you. You were in shambles and Ajax couldn’t help but smile out of happiness for what he caused. “I’m so sorry.” you say repeatedly, eyes shut and lined with tears. He got closer to wrap you in his arms, and you cling to him for stability. “It’s okay, I’m here for you.” 

You didn’t want to talk about it when you woke up. You were hoping he’d be gone, and therefore wouldn’t have to deal with the humiliation. But there he was, watching you sleep just as the sun rose. His ginger hair danced with golden flecks of light, and he looked at you like you were the only person on Teyvat. 

“Creep.” 

  “Good morning to you too, baby~.” 

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : I’m back!! am i still sick? yeah a lil~ But I can finally look at my phone 🥹. Thank yall for waiting and supporting NOTP series 🧡.

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Cursing, Grammatical Errors

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 7 | Next >

“I have nothing to say to you”

“Ok, then let me do the talking. Y/N I’m really sorry”

“Lando, you apologizing wont make what you did go away! Can’t you just leave me alone??”

“I will, I promise… i just want to end everything correctly… please let me. Y/N please”

“i’m already happy Lando.”

“I know that Y/N and I’m happy for you! I don’t want everything to be awkward with Oscar when we do see each other.”

“For Oscar…”

Y/N. 3m

story replies

oscarpiastri am i crazy or is the coffee we make in your flat better than this??

Y/N. No lie youre so right, this coffee lowkey is not it.

oscarpiastri I thought I was tweakin. Where are you btw?? I left for the bathroom for 3 mins and ur gone??

Y/N. uhh… im looking for popcorn :DD

oscarpiastri How aren’t you getting a stomachache with the things you eat baffles me .

Y/N. Ion know myself dude 🤷🏼‍♀️ I’m amazing like that

oscarpiastri well no need to look, they have it at the plane. I asked John if the plane stocked popcorn and yes they do

Y/N. Really? You’re literally the bestttt 🥺🫶

Y/bf Y/N L/N when I found out that you’ve died from caffein overdose I wont even be surprised 😀

Y/N. I just wont die, simple as that my dearest best friend.

Y/bf just have fun and give em hell 🤭 . Oh! my chocolates dont forget!! Safe travel luv 🫶

Y/N. Oh they wouldn’t know what hit em. I will bring chaos . I wont forget your chocolates y/bf!!. And thank youu

maxverstappen1 Y/NNnnnnnnnnn I’m sorry 😩

Y/N. Sorry? and you are?

maxverstappen1 I changed my password already! Plsss do not be mad >:((

logansargeant Y/N are you going to the raceeeee???!!

Y/N. well yes I am American Boi

logansargeant why am i always the last to know?!!

Y/N. Sorry (Lmao I’m not)

logansargeant Ur so mean to me >:((

oscarpiastri

story replies

Y/N. 🧡🧡🧡

oscarpiastri food was 🔥 music was 🔥 the pretty girl held my hand also 🔥.

Y/N. Is it safe to assume you liked everything then…. 🫣

oscarpiastri YES i did! I’d wife you up if you’d let me.

Y/N. I haven’t met your family yet SIR. 🤨

oscarpiastri That wasn’t a no. If the last song in your album wasnt a proposal…. 🤭

Y/N. OK! you win. Be grateful I love you. Now stop looking at ut phone you need to focus on your debriefing! I could ser John glaring at you rn!!

charles_leclerc is that Y/N’s Unreleased album????!!!

oscarpiastri why yes father, it is 😌.

charles_leclerc and you and Y/N are not letting me listen?? HOW DARE YOU TWO 😭

oscarpiastri Sorryyy . I get first listens ~ you wait for the release of Heartbreak club like the otherss😛

charles_leclerc even Alex is freaking out!!! comeonnn Son. Just 1 song plsss.

oscarpiastri ask Y/N 🙂‍↕️ She’s the genius behind this masterpiece (that i get to listen to whenever i want 😛😛😛)

charles_leclerc I will revoke your adoption! Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc.

logansargeant Heartbreak Club??? Isnt that the name of you and Y/N’s club for people who got cheated on

oscarpiastri the very same HAHAHAHAHA

logansargeant so its about Lando cheating???

oscarpiastri Yes and No… and I’m not allowed to elaborate further!

logansargeant Boi without me there wouldnt even be a club with you and Y/N~ mate yall owe me 🥰😀

f1wags

liked by user1 , user2, and others

f1wags Oscar and Y/N are already in Belgium🫶 .

user1 Oop, is Y/N going to attend the race 🫣

user2 Ohhhh I really hope so! Plss plss

user3 I really miss Y/N in the paddock. Miss ma’am pls mark your territory! Ion like that other girl there 🤡 Ur tainting the McLaren brand pls exit the premises.

user2 The height difference is so 🥰🫶🧡

user3 I offer myself as their child or their pet I dont care. Pls just have me

user4 Their future child would be troy bolton i swear. To sing or to do sports 😩

user5 HAHAHAHAHAHHA I could so imagine it.

user6 BET ON IT!

user7 I SAW THEMMM 😭 they were do cute I can’t!! Y/N was so busy yapping and Oscar was just smiling at her and nodding. Boi is just happy to be there, Oscar same.

user8 I still cant believe that Osc knows the tracks inside Y/N’s album

oscarpiastri

liked by Y/N., mclaren, charles_leclerc , carlossainz55, and other

oscarpiastri Touch down and Landed 🛩️ Excited to get behind the wheel!

charles_leclerc what is with you and spa (wdym landed?? you’re literally here since Tuesday??)

alexandrasaintmleux let him have his fun, babe.

Y/N. Yeah! have your own timeline Lechuck

oscarpiastri listen to the ladies, Mate. It’ll do you good.

charles_leclerc I love my life and the people in it 😀

mclaren Locked and Ready 💪 Let’s go for Podium!!

user1 LETS GO OSC!!

user2 continue the podium streak champ!!

user3 Oscar future WDC , i’m calling it

user4 Oscar looks extra pookie todayyy 🥰

user5. Ah Y/N effect 🙂‍↕️~ I see your man girl!

user6 Y/N’s influence on Osc is really showing fr. Ma’am ur doing amazing work!

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[uzurakis]

Hi! I like your writing about jjk men reaction to y/n reader breaking up, but would they react the same if the reason for break up is y/n falling out of love? 🥹

YOU? FALLING OUT OF LOVE?

featuring: gojo satoru. fushiguro megumi. nanami kento. choso kamo.

n. yall rlly like to hurt yourselves 😭 godd the amount of angst i have in my inbox. hope this one pains you enough then </3

“we need to talk..”

GOJO SATORU. he looked up from his phone, that stupid smile dancing on his lips. “uh-oh, that sounds serious. what did i do this time? forget to take out the trash?”

trying to maintain your composure, you shook your head. you usually would lecture him about that, but not this time. it’s far more different than forgetting to take out the trash or not washing the dishes. “no, it’s not that. it’s… it’s about us.”

gojo’s smile faltered slightly, but he remained playful. “us? oh, let me guess. you’re secretly in love with my best friend, right? this is just one of those elaborate pranks. you should delete tiktok, i think it’s—“

“satoru, i’m falling out of love with you.” you took another deep breath, held in it for some amount of time to see his reaction, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“great, just what i needed to hear today. so funny, babe.” for a moment, he just stared at you, as if waiting for the punchline. then, when it didn’t come, he laughed nervously. “you’re kidding, right? this is a joke. you can’t be serious.”

“i’ve been feeling this way for a while now..”

his laughter faded, replaced by a look of confusion and hurt. “no, no, no. that can’t be true, baby. you’re just having a bad day or something, right? we can work through this.”

you felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly. “it’s not just a bad day, satoru. i don’t feel the same way i used to.”

he stood up, pacing the room, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “this doesn’t make any sense. we were fine. we are fine. you can’t just… fall out of love like that, right?”

“tell me i’m wrong, please..”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. for a moment, megumi just stared at you, his eyes wide with surprise, mouth slightly opened; like he intended to say something but immediately got eaten by the weight of the situation. then, his expression hardened, and he looked down, his hands clenching into fists. “i… i don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion.

the silence that followed was suffocating. you could see the pain in his eyes, even though he was trying to hide it. “megumi, i’m so sorry. i didn’t know how this happened, i.. never wanted this to happen..”

“no..” he shook his head, still looking at the ground, “what changed? did.. did i do something wrong?”

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “i tried to make it work. i really did. but i can’t force my feelings, it’s eating me alive too, gumi..”

megumi nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “it’s my fault i didn’t realize you felt that way. just, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

guilt and regret struck a chord deep within you. the pain in his eyes, the genuine hurt in his voice, the way his shoulders slumped slightly, and it tore at you. it was clear that he blamed himself, and that realization only made your own emotions more compound.

you reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away, the gesture making your heart ache even more. “i don’t, i didn’t know how to say it to you.. how could i? i care about you so much, megumi. but i can’t lie to you or to myself.”

“if that’s how you really feel, i guess there’s nothing i can do to change your mind.” he stood up abruptly, not sparing a glance at you, not even once. “so, we.. we just… go our separate ways now?”

“…sorry, i.. i need some time alone.”

NANAMI KETO. nanami just stared at you for a brief while, his expression unreadable. he nodded slowly after that, his eyes becoming thoughtful. “i see,” he said in a quiet manner. “i guess we’ve both changed.”

you felt a lump form in your throat. “i never wanted this to happen, kento.. never once i even thought about this.”

he reached across the table and took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “it’s not your fault,” he said softly despite the circumstances you’re throwing him in, “people change, feelings change. it’s a part of life.”

“but i feel like i’m letting you down. like i’m betraying everything we had. i don’t want that, kento.”

“you shouldn’t burden yourself with guilt, sweetheart. this isn’t something you can control, and it’s not fair to blame yourself for it.”

looking down at your intertwined hands, you felt some kind of sorrow and relief. “you’ve always been so understanding, kento.. i don’t deserve this.”

he squeezed your hand gently. “we shared something special, and i’ll always cherish that. but if your heart is no longer in it, then it’s better to be honest.”

“we can certainly try. it will take time, but i’d rather have you in my life in some capacity than not at all.”

CHOSO KAMO. choso’s face fell, a look of shock and pain replacing his usual demeanor. “no, please,” he said, voice desperate, reaching out for you. “let’s talk about this, please. there has to be a way to fix things, love?”

it crushed your heart to see the agony in his eyes. “choso, it’s not something you can just fix. it’s how i feel.”

“is it something i did? how can i make things right?” he pleaded, every word cracking with emotion.

“it’s not about you. it’s just… i don’t feel the same way anymore.”

choso took a step closer. “i still love you,” he murmured, hanging his whole existence on it. “i don’t want to lose you.”

your heart ached at his words, knowing how much you were hurting him. “i know, choso. and i’m so sorry,” you said, your voice also breaking. “but i can’t change how i feel.”

“please,” he whispered, reaching out to take your hand and pulled you into a tight embrace. “don’t give up on us.”

“i just want you to be happy,” he murmured into your hair. “even if it’s not with me.”

@uzurakis

[pickingupmymercedes]

Whispered fairytale - Lewis Hamilton

request: "hi can i have a request about moments of fluff when reader's pregnant? with lewis of course <3" - anon

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: fluff, like a lot of it

wordcount: +2K

a/n: I am not sorry for the sighs I was letting out as I was writting this. You guys have been warned, it's dad Lewis after all.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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Monaco shimmered beneath the fading sunlight, a familiar scenery for Lewis and Y/N. This time, however, the champagne flowed with a bittersweet undercurrent as nestled in a drawer, a positive pregnancy test hummed with a quiet revolution. No elaborate pronouncements, just a single pink line etching a new chapter onto their shared story.

Their path to parenthood hadn't been meticulously expected. Discussions about starting a family had danced between them, unspoken agreements carried on the wind of their non-stop lives. Lewis, now an eight-time champion, a feat achieved under the scarlet banner of Ferrari, still felt the fire to chase another title. Yet, amidst the celebrations at the end of season, a quiet voice whispered that perhaps, the timing might have been just right.

As the celebratory roar began to fade, replaced by the clinking of abandoned champagne flutes, Lewis found himself gazing at Y/N, her smile hesitant yet imbued with a radiant joy, although the reason behind it hadn’t been revealed.

Their planned racetrack of a future had morphed into a sprawling unknown, but as Y/N's hand met his, a quiet certainty bloomed within him. This unplanned detour wasn't a wrong turn. It was a victory lap of a different kind, perhaps the starting grid for their greatest adventure.

A Dream

Sunlight speared through the sliver of uncovered window, painting a warm stripe across Lewis's features. Y/N stirred beside him, the weight of sleep clinging to her eyelids. Disoriented for a moment, she blinked, the room slowly coming into focus. Lewis, sprawled on the plush white chaise lounge next to his driver’s room sofa, was the first thing that registered.

Except, he wasn't really by himself, not mentally anyway.

His gaze was fixed on a spot above her stomach, a soft, almost reverent smile playing on his lips. He spoke, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

"Alright, little one," he was saying, "I know you can't hear me yet, but listen up. This whole thing...it's a bit overwhelming, you know?" He chuckled, a nervous sound that tugged at Y/N's heart. "Honestly, I don't have a clue what I'm doing. But your mama here," he glanced at Y/N, his eyes warm, "she's a trooper. We'll figure it out, together. As a team."

The sight of Lewis, ever the composed champion, confessing his anxieties about fatherhood sent a wave of tenderness over Y/N. Carefully, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against the dark braids of his hair.

"Lewis," she croaked, her voice thick with sleep.

He turned, his smile widening as he met her gaze. "Hey there, beautiful.”

"Just getting to know the newest member of the team," he continued, his eyes flickering back to her stomach. "We were having a little chat."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, a soft sound that echoed in the quiet room. "It can’t really hear you" she said, her smile fading slightly. "It's still early days, remember?"

Lewis's smile softened. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her stomach. "I know," he said, his voice gentle. "But that doesn't mean I can't try, does it?"

Lewis, ever the believer in manifestation, ever the optimist. She scooted closer, making room for him on the sofa. He settled beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"How was your nap?" he asked, his lips brushing against her temple.

"Good," she mumbled, nuzzling closer to him. "But you woke me up with your…pep talk."

"Just some heart-to-heart, you know?!" he said with a wink. "With the little one, of course."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but a smile tugged at her lips. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. The surprise of the positive test, the initial shock, the overwhelming joy – it had all been a blur. Lewis, ever the supportive partner, had taken it all in stride. Sure, there were moments of worry, of panicked glances exchanged in stolen moments, but mostly, there was a quiet excitement that simmered between the couple.

Out of the blue, as it tended to be, a loud growl echoed in the quiet room. She winced, covering her eyes in shame. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, his voice laced with concern. "This little one needs some food, right?"

Y/N nodded, the growling easing down "Yeah," she mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Sorry, I..."

"Don't apologize," he said firmly. "This is all part of the journey. We're in this together."

His words held a quiet strength, a comforting confidence that calmed the churning in her stomach. It was more than just constantly being hungry; it was a reminder of the tiny miracle growing inside her.

They lay in silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic rise and fall of their breathing. Outside, the world buzzed with activity, the roar of the racetrack a distant rumble. But here, in this quiet haven, a different kind of race was about to begin – a race against time, against uncertainty, but most importantly, a race towards a future filled with the promise of a tiny miracle. And that little one, even though they were still just a whisper of a dream, was already so loved. More than Y/N could ever imagine.

Your scent

The crisp scent of Lewis's signature cologne, a heady mix of citrus and spice, usually sent a wave of warmth through Y/N. Today, however, it was the trigger for a rebellion in her stomach. A wave of nausea crashed over her, sending her scrambling out of bed towards the bathroom.

Lewis, stirred by the commotion, sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Y/N? You alright?" he called out, concern etching lines on his forehead.

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she mumbled, her voice weak. "Just a little…" she trailed off, the metallic tang of bile rising in her throat.

Lewis was by her side in an instant, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Morning sickness again?" he asked gently.

Y/N shook her head, forcing a weak smile. "Second trimester was supposed to be smooth sailing, they said" Her voice held a hint of sarcasm, even to her own ears.

Lewis chuckled softly. "Maybe smooth sailing is a bit optimistic," he admitted. "But hey, at least you're keeping food down" Y/N grimaced. That particular phase had been brutal. She rinsed her mouth in the sink, the minty freshness a welcome relief.

"Actually," she started hesitantly, Lewis's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Y/N hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Your cologne," she began, gesturing vaguely towards the bottle on the dresser "it's making me sick."

The surprise on Lewis's face was comical. He stared at the bottle, then back at Y/N, as if trying to process the information. This was the cologne he'd worn for years, his signature scent. It was practically an extension of him.

"My cologne?" he finally managed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "But it's…" he trailed off, searching for the right words. "It's me, Y/N. You love me, right?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. "Of course, I love you, silly," she said, reaching out to cup his face. "But right now, your child doesn’t really enjoy your 'you-ness'”

A slow grin spread across his face. "Alright, then” he declared, picking up the cologne bottle. "Operation: Find a pregnancy-safe scent it is."

Y/N watched, a smile playing on her lips, as Lewis rummaged through his extensive collection of grooming products. "How about this one?" Lewis asked, holding up a small, unassuming bottle with a label that read "Lavender Serenity."

Y/N wrinkled her nose playfully. "A bit too…serene for you, wouldn't you say?"

Lewis chuckled, tossing the bottle back onto the dresser. "Maybe. But hey, at least it won't make you puke."

Whoever they are

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/N's mother hoisted a heavy bag of groceries onto the kitchen counter. Lewis's dad, Anthony, hovered beside her, peering inside with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Alright" Anthony announced, brandishing a head of cabbage, "let's settle this once and for all. Boy or girl?"

Y/N chuckled, her belly, now a prominent dome beneath her maternity clothes, bouncing with laughter. "Lewis and I have already agreed, no peeking!"

Across the room, Lewis, ever the competitor, mirrored Y/N's amusement. "Besides," he added, winking at Anthony, "I have a feeling your cabbage test is about to be proven wildly inaccurate."

Anthony scoffed playfully. "Don't underestimate the power of tradition. Now, hand me that measuring tape."

As the pregnancy had unfolded everyone had made the bump a target to old wives' tales and lighthearted debate.

Y/N's mother, a firm believer in the "pregnancy glow" theory, insisted the baby was a girl based on Y/N's radiant complexion. Anthony, armed with his cabbage test (apparently, a high, round shape indicated a boy), remained stubbornly convinced otherwise.

Lewis, however, held a quiet confidence in his prediction of a girl. He couldn't explain it; it was just a feeling, a deep one that resonated within him.

The rest of the family, friends, and even Ferrari staff, seemed convinced it was a boy. The sheer volume of blue onesies and miniature race car toys accumulating in the nursery was a testament to that.

Despite the overwhelming "boy" camp, Y/N found herself drawn to Lewis's quiet certainty, her mother's unwavering belief and Leclerc’s claim that Lewis was a girl dad and he wouldn’t believe in anything else. There was a subtle shift in their preferences, a secret language of pink frilly socks and delicate stuffed animals tucked away in the corner of the nursery.

As the due date came ever closer the playful arguments gave way to a more sentimental atmosphere.

Anthony surprised everyone one evening by pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. "Girl or boy," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you're going to be incredible parents. And that little one," he patted Y/N's stomach gently, "they're already so loved."

A tear escaped Y/N's eye, mirroring the glistening in Lewis's. The truth was, the gender didn't matter. They were about to embark on the greatest adventure of their lives.

As Y/N snuggled against Lewis on the couch, just days before their little one arrived, her hand resting on her swollen belly, a wave of peace washed over her.

"You know," she whispered, "maybe the whole point isn't about knowing the gender."

Lewis turned to her, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe," Y/N continued, a smile gracing her lips, "the point is in the surprise. The joy of meeting them, whoever they are, for the very first time."

Lewis's smile mirrored hers. He squeezed her hand gently. "We're ready, whatever comes." he said, his voice filled with an unshakeable certainty.

Their shared ritual

Exhaustion clung to Y/N like a second skin. The past three months had been a parade of sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the constant, gnawing worry that comes with being a new parent.

But nestled in the crook of her arm, a tiny miracle slept soundly. Her daughter, in a quiet moment of shared hope, was a testament to the love that bloomed amidst the chaos.

She was a symphony of soft sighs and the occasional gurgle, her tiny fists clenched in a peaceful slumber. However, the moment Lewis's voice cut through the quiet of the room, her whole world seemed to shift.

"Hey there, my little champion," Lewis cooed, his voice a low murmur as he entered the nursery. The infant’s eyes, a pitch perfect copy of her dad’s brown ones, snapped open. A wide, gummy grin split her face, and a high-pitched squeal erupted from her tiny lungs.

Y/N watched the scene unfold with warmth washing over her. Lewis, ever the prodigy, had taken to parenthood like a natural. The same gentle persuasion he used on the racetrack was now employed to coax a smile from their daughter, his voice a soothing melody that calmed her fussy cries.

The transformation was remarkable. Y/N vividly recalled the first trimester, Lewis sheepishly confessing his anxieties about fatherhood to their unborn child. And throught the months a routine was created as every evening, he'd spend a quiet moment by Y/N's side, whispering words of encouragement and promises of love to the tiny bump.

"Alright, little one," Lewis would say, his voice barely above a whisper, "we're going to face whatever comes our way, as a team, okay?"

Those nightly pep talks, once a source of amusement for Y/N, now seemed almost prophetic. The kid, it seemed, recognized Lewis's voice as a source of comfort, a familiar sound that echoed the evenings spent nestled safely inside Y/N, bathed in the sound of his love.

Lewis, oblivious to the internal monologue playing in Y/N's head, scooped the baby into his arms, his face alight with a radiant joy. He bounced her gently, singing a silly, made-up song about a race car driver and a tiny princess. Captivated by her father's performance, the infant cooed and gurgled in response, her tiny hand reaching out to grab a lock of Lewis's dark braids.

Watching them together, a lump formed in Y/N's throat. The exhaustion that had threatened to consume her throughout the day had faded away, replaced by a fierce and overwhelming love. There, in the quiet sanctuary of the nursery, their team flourished – united by an invisible thread of shared love, a love story whispered before their daughter ever entered the world.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

[benedictscanvas]

hey love! im sorry your request box hasnt been what you were looking for but maybe this will work! can i request a ball with benedict bridgerton where feelings are only realized when one of them dances with someone else? i dont really mind if its reader or benedict but i just think it would be cute!! hope you’re doing well <3 <3

hello my lovely. you're the sweetest, thank you so much for such a gorgeous request. I've got a pretty similar fic where Benedict realises his feelings, so I was super excited to do the other way around, I hope you enjoy <3 <3 | 1.5k words, fem!reader

There is a woman in Benedict’s arms and it isn’t you and you think you might throw your lemonade at her. Accidentally, of course.

You don’t know her, and if the reasonable side of your brain was in charge, you’d probably think she looks quite lovely. Her hair is adorned in elaborate braids and her smile is demure but still a little goofy - she isn’t shrouded in the fake humility that she finds so many ladies of the ton carry around with them. 

But still you find yourself fantasising about a large lemonade stain painting the front of her dress, the poor girl hurrying away in her shock and distress.

Away from Benedict. Who’s now laughing. At something the girl has said, no less. Why, you’d never seen him laugh at any lady of the ton who wasn’t either his sister or, once, Lady Danbury.

And yourself, of course, but you didn’t count.

At least, you didn’t think you counted. You didn’t think you wanted to count, content to while away the balls and the promenades by Benedict’s side, sometimes Eloise’s, whispering about so-and-so’s hat or whats-his-name’s hair. He’d never asked you to dance, although you’d never wanted him to before. Now that he was dancing with someone for the first time you could recall, however, you could feel that changing very swiftly.

”You know, looking vexed in the corner isn’t likely to win you many adoring suitors, Miss Y/L/N.”

Eloise always knows just when to get on your nerves and she’s grinning at you slyly when you turn to face her, finally breaking the spell that Benedict and his new dance partner had placed on you.

”Since when have you believed that was my endeavour, dear Eloise?”

”Since you’ve spent the entire night glaring at pretty young Miss Pennyforth. It’s making you look rather jealous, to the untrained eye.”

You turn away from her, fixing your eyes on her brother yet again. They’re not talking anymore, just staring at each other as he twirls her again and again. Maybe it was better when they spoke after all, because now your stomach is twisting into something that does indeed feel a lot like jealousy.

”Yes, well, you know better than to think I’m jealous. Though I do seem to be in a foul mood.”

Eloise nods exaggeratedly, a pretend-sympathetic pout on her lips.

”Yes, you poor thing. And it obviously has nothing to do with the brother of mine that you can’t take your eyes off.”

You pointedly look at her again but she just dissolves into giggles at the look on your face.

”If you have a point, Eloise, I suggest you make it.”

”Oh, no point at all. Only that the one ball where Benedict decides not to stand with you and ruin his prospects all night, you seem to be very dour indeed. With no correlation, of course.”

You glower at her as best you can. You have the irritable feeling crawling out of your stomach through your throat that you might be about to cry, and you refuse to do so here, or to allow Eloise to think it’s her fault if you do.

”You run along and find Penelope or I shall tell your mother there’s a gentleman asking after you.”

She gaped at you, quite genuinely.

”You wouldn’t,” she murmured, but then promptly hurried away when you fixed her with a look that told her you most certainly would. It was a lie, because you could never bring yourself to do that to your friend, but it was a ruse that allowed to slip away from the ballroom.

You cast one last glance over your shoulder at Benedict to see him kissing the back of Miss Penny-something’s hand and your eyes began to sting.

- - -

There was a little bench hidden away to the left of the grand entrance, just dark enough to not be spotted by those near the carriages. You managed to shed a few tears in private, silent silly things, and you wiped them away angrily.

It was only Benedict. Quiet, mischievous, generous Benedict. He was creative and caring and could come up with the most brilliant insults you’d ever heard. Obviously, he also had a beautiful face, but you’d never given it much thought. All the Bridgertons were beautiful, it felt like a requirement.

”Did Lord Tennesby try to talk to you again?”

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes with your head bowed. Of course he’d find you. If anyone was likely to be looking for a quiet spot for a moment’s reprieve, it was him.

You wiped at your face in vain before looking up at him with what you hoped was a convincing smile. 

“I’d be halfway back home if that was the case. What are you doing out here?”

Why aren’t you with Pennyfuzzy? was the unspoken second question that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to ask, knowing how spiteful it would come out. You wished you had realised you might want more from Benedict in the comfort of your own home, where you could take a week to process those feelings and prepare for how to deal with them.

Instead, you’d just have to see what happened in this conversation and go from there. Sounded promising.

”I was going to ask you the same thing. Have you…been crying?”

”I think it’s the flowers,” you point over at the hyacinths in the nearby flowerbed, “They often get the best of me this time of year.”

”Daphne’s ball last year was filled with hyacinths and you didn’t so much as sniffle.”

You frowned at him.

“I probably sniffled.”

“You didn’t. I would have noticed. I would have offered you a handkerchief like the dashing young gentleman I am.”

It was enough to pull up your frown at the corners, which in turn propelled him to take a seat beside you on the bench. You busied yourself with a crease in your dress when you talked to him.

“Maybe you’re not as dashing as you think.”

“I’m incredibly dashing,” he argued, pointing his chin upwards in that silly, mighty way you always giggled at, “I swept Miss Pennyforth off her feet just moments ago.”

Like an ice cold bucket of water poured right over you. You almost shivered.

“Ah, Miss Pennyforth. Has someone finally captured your wayward attention, Mister Bridgerton?”

You looked up at him and tried not to sniffle or snuffle or anything else that might give you away. He was just looking puzzled.

“What? No, I meant I quite literally swept her off her feet. I got the steps wrong, according to Eloise, who helped me up once she had a hold of her laughter.”

You blinked at him.

“You fell?”

“Into quite the heap. Miss Pennyforth was a good sport about it all but she did end up with a rather unfortunate lemonade stain all down the front of her dress. I think she was a little embarrassed.”

He had the decency to look a little embarrassed himself. There you had been, ready to hurl the contents of your cup at the girl and Benedict had solved your predicament for you. A twinge of guilt tugged at you.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” you said honestly, face overtaken by a wry smirk since Benedict had not sat down singing her praises. Still you had to be sure, “She was looking a very good dancer before I left, I was afraid she might steal away my conversation partner.”

It ended up sounding far more transparent in your intentions than you’d hoped. But you held his eye contact defiantly when he grinned.

“I knew you missed me,” he said, smug, “I took one look at your face and I could see it plain as day. Really, you should have hidden it better.”

“I don’t enjoy these events and you know it, Benedict.”

Back to his first name and by the light in his eyes, he’d noticed the switch. He stood up and held out his arm for you.

“I know. I’m very grateful for it. Now come along, I’ve done my duty to my mother dancing with that girl and now I would like to do my duty to myself.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, not moving a muscle.

“I would like to make fun of the Featheringtons with my most cherished friend. Would you do me the honour?”

Something skipped inside your chest. Light and airy again, no longer weighed down and chained to something churning your stomach. His most cherished friend. Despite the evening’s revelations, that sounded heavenly.

“Is Eloise inside waiting for you then?” you can’t help but tease and he promptly puts his arm back by his side with a huff.

“You are intolerable. I’m going without you.”

“No - wait!” you laughed, following after him gleefully as he turned away from you and started walking. You managed to catch him on the stairs, threading your hand into the crook of his elbow with ease as you did.

The smile he sent you would take at least the next week to contemplate but you had time. You could be a very brilliant 'most cherished friend' for now.

(and you were far more cherished than you knew, of course, but he wasn't quite ready to tell you yet)

---

if you'd like to request something of your own, please see this post for characters I write for and two super brief guidelines. thank you for reading, sunflower <3

[entitled-fangirl]

He may always be a demon from hell, but she still loves him.

Crowley x human!reader

Summary: The reader and Crowley discuss what she's reading. She says it reminds her of him, to which he panics.

Words: 1,784

Warnings: demon, heavy makeout session, angst, alcohol

Author's note: I don't own the character or the book mentioned in this! Eeeeek enjoy!

Masterlist <3

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Crowley looked up from the glass of bourbon in his hands as he sat in one of Aziraphale’s many chairs. There she sat across from him. The pretty little human.

Her legs were pulled up onto the couch, her body curled into itself as she held her book out in front of her to read.

She was quite pretty. He had always thought so. Of all his years on this earth, this one was by far the best he had seen. And her soul simply solidified it. Her mind, body, and soul were precious. 

She was entirely focused on her book, not noticing Crowley’s gaze. He took that to his advantage, his eyes scanning her entire frame before finally resting on her face. He opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he would do anything to talk to her as much as he could in her lifetime.

“What are you reading, Flower?”

That was his name for her. Aziraphale was his angel, sure. And she seemed like an angel herself, the metaphorical kind, anyway. She was not like a real angel, which is annoying and dull. No, she wasn’t like that at all. He hadn’t read many books but knew how humans romanticized the term 'angel.' The innocence it carried in its title. 

No, no, no. She was his flower. He spend many days searching for the right name, but once he came up with that one, it stuck like glue. He loved plants. He loved plants so much. And he loved her. She was his flower.

Now, her head perked up to let her eyes meet his. She held his gaze, admiring the snake-like pupils the demon had. She seemed to snap out of it quickly, regaining her composure. “Oh, uh…,” her voice soft, “it’s the Phantom of the Opera. Have… Have you read it, Angel?”

His eyes closed. He loved it when she called him that. He was no angel by any means, but she used the term every chance she could the day she learned that he had once been so. She had two angels as far as she was concerned. And while one had a significantly more gothic wardrobe, she still considered him just the same.

He nods, “I was around when it was written and published. Hated it then.”

Her lips slowly pull into an amused smile. “And now?”

He shrugs, looking back into her eyes, “…Do YOU like it, Flower?”

A soft breath comes from her lungs, “…Not sure, but I believe so. Won’t say until I finish it. You know how it ends, Angel?”

He shakes his head, “Can’t say I do. Didn’t care enough to finish it.”

She finds that quite amusing. She pulls her legs closer to her to get comfortable, trying to keep herself warm. “Well, I’ll let you know when I’m done, yeah? If it’s good enough, will you try to read it again?”

“Tell me why you like it so much, Flower.”

She considers his words carefully, “I… perhaps see similarities in it… sometimes. You know?”

His eyes move back down to the liquor glass in his hand. He remained quiet, a silent sigh for her elaborate on her findings. 

“That was… stupid. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m… I’m sorry…”

He was much more intrigued than before. Sorry? For what? He wished sometimes he could just see what was going on in that funny little brain of hers. “No. Tell me.”

She knew that wasn’t a reassurance that he wasn’t annoyed. It was more of a demand. 

“I don’t know, Crowley…”

He grins, pulling the glass to his lips to take another sip.

“Tell me what you DO know, Flower.”

Her eyes wander around the room in thought. “I suppose I feel remorse for the Phantom…”

He hums.

“…and… everyone makes him out to be a horrid creature. A vile beast worth ending. And he believes it too about himself. That he’s awful and cruel. But they don’t know anything about him. Nothing. They even assume it’s a ghost sometimes…”

By now, he’s hooked on her words. Not that he cared for the plot much, but just her. She was beautiful like this, the sunlight from the windows behind her casting a light against her back, giving her body a glowing effect. 

“…anyways, this girl falls in love with him. And she finds out he’s just a man. He’s a man like anyone else. He’s not the vile thing everyone makes him out to be.”

He’s taking in every word.

Her voice drops to a low volume, “They call him a demon from hell.”

Crowley felt his jaw clench at her words. 

“…But, he’s not. Not at all. He’s just a man. A man who deserves much more than life handed him. He was no demon. He could’ve been an angel. He’s kind and fair. Honest and witty. He protects her with his life. And he’s loyal. He is quite admirable, honestly.”

She held this look. It was a loving look as she stared at Crowley. This time, he could read her like an open book. She was referencing him. That everyone believed Crowley was vile and cruel. But he was just like a man. 

“…You’re awfully quiet, Angel.”

That sold it for him. Angel. Her angel. His eyes closed, taking in a deep breath. 

He stood up quickly, setting his glass on the side table before approaching the sofa she occupied. She noticed, scooting over slightly to make room for him, but he didn’t sit. He kneeled in front of the couch, in front of her. 

If his eyes could produce tears, they’d be running. “Flower? You truly think that of me? That I’m just a man?”

She nods, her breath quickening at his proximity. 

He wanted to believe her. He truly did, but he couldn’t. He leaned in, making their faces inches apart. 

“You think all this and you haven’t finished the book?”

She nods again, her gaze staring to settle on his lips.

His hand reached forward, grabbing her face gently. His voice became a low growl, “And what if this angel truly is a demon from hell? Would the girl stop loving him, Flower?”

She isn’t sure what to say. She’s not sure who they’re even talking about at this point. Her gut told her to say one thing, but her head said another. And his grip on her face was not helping her focus.

“I.. I don’t think… love takes what they are into con… consideration when it chooses them…”

Satan, she was perfect. She always knew exactly what to say, the sneaky thing. It stilled his vessel’s heart, his eyes still drilling into hers. 

“And… will she truly listen to her heart?”

She nods. “She would be a fool not to, Angel.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Here she was, sitting so pretty for him, her words causing a fire to erupt in his stomach. He leaned forward, pulling her face towards his. 

Their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It doesn’t last long because Crowley pulls away.

“Maybe you should finish the book before you make your conclusions, Flower. Perhaps he’ll always be that demon from hell.”

He stands, sliding his hands into his pockets with a sigh before exiting the bookshop.

…

Days pass and Crowley acts as if their interaction never happened. It broke her heart. Aziraphale couldn’t take the two ignoring each other and decided to fix it. 

He told Crowley to be at the bookshop at a certain time. But Aziraphale wouldn’t be there. No, this was to get the demon alone with her to talk again, as they had before. And that plan worked perfectly.

This time, however, she was placing books on the bookshelf when he entered. He walked in confidently, but the confidence soon fell as he saw her pretty face. 

“Oh. I… where’s Angel?”

She shrugs, “Haven’t seen him all day.”

Curse that blasted angel from his stupid plans that always work. 

Crowley sighs, “I’m sorry I ran out on you.”

Her eyes finally move to find his. “I finished the book.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat at her sudden change of subject, but he went along with it nonetheless. “…Well, Flower?”

Her fingers lightly played with the spine of the book she had in her hand. “He may always be the demon from hell, but she still loves him.”

He was so stupid to leave her. To abandon his sweet Christine like this. His little flower that was always in bloom. 

“Oh, Flower…”

He moved forward, immediately wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her in for a kiss.

This kiss was very much different from their first. Where the first was soft and hesitant, this one was heated and passionate, as if this was their only method of communication. And to Crowley, it was. He needed her to see just how much her words meant to him. How much he craved to feel her lips on his again. How he imagined her the nights before. 

Her hands move to him, the book in her hand long forgotten. One rested on his forearm, the other cradling his face. She kissed him back with as much reverence as he did. She needed him to know she didn’t care. She didn’t care about what he was. What he did. She needed him to know that she loved him.

She loved him.

His tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip. She left out a soft moan, paring her lips. His tongue gently began to explore her mouth, their bodies holding each other in fear that they could be ripped from each other at any moment. 

She gently pushed him away, needing to catch her breath. “Sorry… sorry, Angel.. just… just gotta breathe…”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her jaw lightly, trailing the kisses up towards her ear before whispering softly, “‘If I am to be saved, it is because your love redeems me.’”

She let out a soft gasp, and her hand moved to the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. “You… you know it?”

She could practically feel his smile against her neck, his voice vibrating the bones there, “Read it again after we talked…. All the way through this time…”

She was speechless at his words. He had went back and not only read the story for her, but then was able to quote it. She had never felt love radiate in a room until this very moment in time.

She pulled him back in for another sweet kiss.

He was no demon. To her, he was an angel. Her angel.

.............................................................................

[diremoone]

whipped cream apology | r. sukuna

fights are uncommon between you and your fiancé, but there are times they do happen. you know you’ll never hear a verbal apology come from him, but you know he’s sorry; Sukuna’s apologies always come in the form of gifts, food, or acts of service. this time is no different :3

w — modern au, chef! sukuna (he owns and works in his own restaurant but that’s not elaborated on), itsy bitsy sprinkles of angst bc of a mentioned fight, fluff, this is super duper short haha, food and food descriptions bc I am a woman who loves her food so sue me :3 this is just a random lil fic I wrote in like a day so i won’t be surprised if this flops lmao

[ divider credit to @/inklore ]

You don’t know how you go to sleep angry, but you do.

Last night had been awful. Maybe you’d blown everything a little out of proportion, maybe not. Your energy hadn’t been so great coming through the front door of your home. You’d just been stalked by a couple of guys that wouldn’t stop leering at you, and to top that off you had an old woman at the register of the store get ugly with you. All you wanted was the nice dinner you know would be awaiting you and to not be bothered for awhile after that.

Problem was, was that Sukuna was also in a bad mood. Someone at the kitchen of his restaurant had put him in a super bad mood by not following orders, and a food critic was to be coming by in a few days. And when you mixed his bad mood with yours, it led to you two going to bed on bad terms.

But now, you’re not even sure that Sukuna had come to bed.

Did that idiot sleep on the couch?

Just as you’re about to get out of bed, you see a note on the nightstand with your name on it. You grab it, unfold it and read: ‘Stay in bed and text me when you’re awake.’

Your sleepy brain goes blank for a moment, but you oblige your fiancé’s request anyway, texting him that you’re awake with a pink heart afterward, hoping he still wasn’t upset with you.

Sukuna’s answer is almost immediate.

Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be upstairs.

But you do need to pee really really bad. You make your bathroom trip as quick as possible and hop back in the bed, miraculously just as Sukuna comes through the door with a large tray of what you smell to be food.

“Morning, baby,” he greets you.

You can see the solemn look on his face, one of upset. He’s still bothered about last night.

“Morning, ‘kuna,” you reply, smiling at him. It seems to partially work, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You flatten out the blanket as he sets the tray over your legs. Your eyes can’t help but blown open so wide in shock and excitement that you accidentally make them hurt. To your expression and blinking eyes, Sukuna chuckles.

“An apology, for my shitty behavior last night.”

There are several plates of food on the large tray. Perfectly cooked eggs, bacon, sausage; all of your favorite comfort foods all sit before you.

But right in the center is a heaping pile of one inch-thick, fluffy pancakes the size of your head, four stacked atop of another. Butter runs down underneath the sweet maple syrup. Neatly placed around the edges of the plate are bananas and strawberries. And on the very top is a generous pile of whipped cream in a fancy swirl.

You grin at his meticulousness of making such a wonderful plate that’s only just going to get messy.

“Sukuna—”

He scowls. “Don’t even bother me with apologizing back. I don’t wanna hear it. I’m the asshole. You did nothing wrong.”

Love swells in your heart and soul for the man you’re soon to marry. God, you love him.

“You’re sure?”

He tsks. “Positive.”

You smile brightly. “I love you.”

His cheeks and ears go pink. “Just eat.”

“Cheeseball,” you call him, cutting into the pancakes. “But don’t mind if I do.”

“If you can’t eat all of that, I’ll eat the rest.”

“Fuck off, it’s mine.”

taglist: (no longer adding)

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @yuujispinkhair | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss

[tragedybunny]

I love how you write astarion!! Would love to see you elaborate on that part in Sated where it mentions astarion has a hard time when he feels like tav is mad at him and what would happen with that <3

Hello Hello. Sorry this took a bit.

Treading With Grace - Astarion x GN!Reader

Even with the one he loves, Astarion has a lot of trauma to sort through.

You don’t even remember what exactly what you said, but you knew your tone had been short. The day had been long, like every other day lately, and you hadn’t meant to snap at him. Astarion went silent and turned away from you, whatever his next quip was dying on his tongue. Inwardly, you groaned, now you would have to deal with him being angry at you on top of everything else. Despite the feelings you had for each other, Astarion still had a short-temper he let get away from him at times. 

“I’m going for a walk,” he declared, stalking off even though everyone else in camp was settling in for the night. 

Watching after him, you debated following him, hurt and frustration rising at the seeming abandonment. All it had taken was a couple of cross words to get him to walk away. After a few seconds you sigh and take off after him, not willing to let him revel in his anger and maybe even wanting to argue with him if he was going to be like this. To your shock, you nearly stumble over him not far from camp. “Oh, hello,” he says, glancing up from where he was seated on the ground, voice forlorn, not at all what you had been prepared for. “Are you still mad at me?” The mask of charm and confidence and fallen awaycompletely and this Astarion seemed almost wary of your anger. 

“I-,” you took a seat next to him on the ground. Hovering over him didn’t see like the best way to talk this through. “I’m sorry I sounded cross, I’m not mad at you. Is that why you left?”

When he looks up at you with watery eyes your heart stutters, you hadn’t realized how deep that moment of frustration would cut him, and he sighs. “You know, I don’t think you’ve actually lost your temper with me once. But I just, I can’t stand the idea.” Without interuptting, you shift closer, putting a hand over his where it rests on the ground. “Somone else’s anger doesn’t usually end with pleasant thins for me, and when it comes to us, well.” He follows it with a shrug. 

It’s like he doesn’t want to say, to even give voice to the thought, but you understand the intention, you could just leave him. With anyone else, you might be insulted they could even think about you like that, but he’s known nothing else but this type of petty cruellty for so long.  “I can’t promise to never get angry with you Astarion, but I promise I’ll never try to punish you for it though.” 

He smiles ever so slightly, leaning a head on your shoulder. “Thank you Love, those words  means so much to me.” 

Although he tries desperately to hide it, you’re learning just how much gentleness Astartion needs, a well-spring of love and kindness to support him.You lean a cheek on his head and let the quiet moment between you two keep going a little longer. You make a second, silent promise, to take care with his feelings as much as you can, so he never again walks away doubting if you’ll want him to come back. 

[eyelessfaces]

deep crust

firefighter!poe dameron x reader

happy poevember<3 here's this little alternate universe oneshot as a treat! it takes place not too long after the events of ashes to ashes, but you can read this even if you haven't read it (though it's probably more enjoyable if you have the whole context!)

summary: poe is utterly horrified to hear you've never tried a chicago pizza.

warnings: none<3

tags: poe being a drama queen, poe being absolutely whipped, fluff, kissing, just sweet stuff and moments tbh

word count: 1.2k

I gotta admit, my non american ass had heard of chicago style pizza but had never seen what it looked like before writing this so I realized it lowkey looks unappetizing (I'm so sorry chicago people)

heat me up masterlist

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

The topic comes around the first time you officially invite Poe to have dinner at your new apartment. He's properly appalled, his jaw dropping in shock as he lets go of his fork.

“You’ve never had a deep dish?”

You smirk, knowing it would draw this reaction from him – or from anyone you know here, as a matter of fact. You know from experience, and it being so amusing each time kinda participates in the fact you’re refraining yourself from trying those famous Chicago style pizzas.

You give him a shrug of your shoulder, indifferently keeping on chewing on your salad. 

“That’s fine. I’m doing fine living this way” you chuckle. 

“Oh but you’re missing out.” he shakes his head, his hand closing around his glass of wine. “You don’t know it but you’ll realize and you will hate yourself for not trying them sooner.”

He sips on his wine and you scoff, looking at him, at his handsome face bathed in the warm glow of your apartment light. “You’re so dramatic.”

He points a finger at you, a stern expression over his face. “This is a proportionate reaction.”

You huff out from your nose.

He shakes his head in feign disappointment. “I can’t believe I kissed someone’s mouth who’s never had Chicago pizza” he mutters under his breath, a laugh escaping him when you playfully swat him with the back of your hand. 

From there, Poe takes it as his personal mission to get you to try a Chicago pizza.

At first, it’s just a running joke. Every time he sees you, he manages to smoothly slip it into the conversation. 

“I still can’t believe you’ve never had a deep dish,” he’ll sigh, shaking his head in fake dismay as you roll your eyes. Or he will go off on mini monologues, exaggerating the “wonders of Chicago’s pizza crust” – as he calls it, then proceeding to babble out an elaborate description of the layers of cheese and sauce with a genuineness that borders on comical. 

And each time, you brush him off with a laugh, stubbornly sticking to your claim that you’ll get around to it eventually.

But Poe is nothing if not persistent. And the principle of making you try a Chicago pizza is also what would be considered a date with you.

One evening, you receive a text from him, a link revealing “the top ten pizzerias” in Chicago, even though he knows which one is his personal favorite. 

“It’s so you have multiple options to choose from. Whichever seems the most appealing to you” he attaches to the link.

You receive another text not long after. “I’m willing to drop my favorite place but I know the owner and he would be pissed if he learned that the man that put out his kitchen fire went to another pizzeria.”

You can’t help but laugh and text him you will think about it, but he still doesn’t let up, because he has not won until he's leading you arm in arm to a pizzeria. 

Finally, the very next morning, you receive another text from him while he’s on shift at the firehouse. “Even my crew thinks it’s crazy you haven’t had a real Chicago pizza. Don’t let us down here.”

You smile, shaking your head as you type back, “You’re relentless, Lieutenant”

Seconds later, his reply comes. “This is important. History is watching”

Characteristically dramatic. Then, a picture pops up. His face, mouth twisted into a small pout, and a something in his pleading eyes that makes you think he knows exactly what he’s doing because you’re quick to text back,

“Fine. Pick me up on Friday”

—

“I’m gonna show you the best in town” he assures you on Friday, his face lit up with excitement and a hand at your back as you get close to his pizzeria of choice. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You know, I have high expectations now” 

“Yeah, maybe I’m overselling it,” he laughs. “But trust me” he grins, pushing the door to the place open. 

Comes the time you’re served and you take your first sample of your awaited first Chicago deep dish experience. Poe has pushed his own plate aside, waiting for the conclusion, the denouement of that whole affair.

“So?” he asks after a while, forearms leaned against the table as he intently awaits your reaction. His teeth sink into his lip, gaze thoroughly focused on every micro expression of your face as you take your time chewing on your first bite.

You lightly clear your throat once you’re done, taking the time to wipe your mouth with a napkin. 

Poe impatiently shifts his position onto his seat, and you take a deep breath for the dramatic effect and impending suspense.

“Don’t get mad,” you start, pinching your lips. He stammers, his expression turning into a remorseful one at the idea you think he would truly be disappointed for you not liking it, his hand reaching for yours over the table. “–I should have listened to you. You weren’t lying” you smirk as you continue, witnessing his face clear up almost instantly, a startled laugh escaping his mouth. 

“You had me in the first half” he admits with a grin, leaning back in his seat. “See? I would never lie to you.”

You glance up at him when you savor your next bite, but he’s not eating – he’s just watching you. There's a soft look of satisfaction and an underlying sweetness in his gaze, and the expression is so open and so unmistakably Poe it makes your stomach flip. 

“You can breathe now,” you tease, lightly nudging his foot under the table. “Come on, eat before it’s cold” 

—

You keep on teasing him when you exit the restaurant, telling him that maybe his reaction was a bit too excessive and dramatic for something that is “just pizza.” Only he’s quick to exaggeratedly counter, telling you that “it’s not just pizza, it’s a life experience”

It’s cold outside as you walk side by side down the street, in a comfortable silence between the both of you. 

Your hands lightly brush and Poe's smoothly slides into yours, taking a glance over at you to make sure it is fine, and without even looking over at him, you squeeze his hand in silent assurance, firmly looking ahead of you as the feeling of his touch makes something flutter inside your chest. 

His hand is warm and his grip is steady against your fingers numb from the cold, and it feels undoubtedly right to be holding his hand.

When you finally reach your building, he pauses, still holding your hand as he faces you, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Can I kiss you again now that you’ve tried Chicago pizza?”

You laugh wholeheartedly, spontaneously nodding, a wide smile over your face as you lean into him. His lips are soft as they press against yours, his grip on your laced fingers tightening when you rest your other hand at the side of his face. 

“Goodnight,” he says quietly, the feel of him lingering as he pulls back with a soft smile.

“Goodnight, Poe.”

You feel hollow saying this, already missing his presence.

You only let him go after kissing him again.

—

any and every feedback/reblog/comment is greatly appreciated and keeps authors going!!

poe dameron taglist:

@lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift

@whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry 

@jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious 

@stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly 

@pigeonmama @c-losur3

[sanspuppet]

MDNI - smut

professor!Mingi x afab!reader

W/T: University AU, unprotected sex, breeding, public sex, quick dick sucking, reader’s first time, pet names (pretty, lovely, darling)

A/O: @ahimhere here’s your request for the prompt “Shush, we can’t have anyone hearing this”, i figured some professor Mingi, hope you can enjoy hehe <3

When the bell rang, and all the people that frequented your course left the classroom, the professor called your name once you walked next to his desk.

“Y/n, Miss. Can you please come over to my office? We need to talk about something.” Your body blocked, hearing his low voice demanding you. You couldn’t deny that he’s the finest, the most handsome man that you’ve ever seen, and the classes you had with him were always hard to focus on, as you were completely infatuated by his hot look. You shook your head to turn again to reality, pressing hard your books against your breast due to nervousness: why would he want to talk with you?

“Oh… Yes, surely Sir” you headed to his personal office, after walking over the class door. Your gaze was locked down your shoes, your cheeks felt burning at the thought of being alone with him.

You turned around to see him walking behind you, he reached the door and opened it with one of the keys he hold in his pocket pants. The man nodded to you as he sat on his chair. You walked over him and sat shyly on one of the two other chairs in front of the huge desk.

“So…” he opened a drawer, where he placed his books before closing it back. “You’re seriously a model student” his eyes were locked on yours, he had his fingers crossed when he continued: “You still have great grades, even though you seem very distracted during my lessons”

“Oh, uhm…” you blinked while staring at the floor, your mind was elaborating a good excuse, but the man beat you on time: “I’ve started to think that the reason you can’t focus properly is because of me, do i bother you?” You were confused as you saw a slight smirk diving onto his face, waiting silently for you to reply him.

“Yes- i mean… kind, of. I’m sorry.”

The man nodded, shaking slowly his hand to you. “You don’t have to be, i only need you to explain why you’re being distracted by me, so maybe we can work on this together.”

You played with your hands nervously, chuckling shyly and shaking your head before articulating the dumbest thing you could have said: “Oh no, no i shouldn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow, standing up to get closer to you. He held on his knee with a hand as the other lifted your chin. “Why shouldn’t you? Miss, i have already figured out why. But i want you to say it, so i can be sure of that”

Your heartbeat accelerated at the idea of him knowing that you use to fantasize about him during his classes, mixed with the sight of his face close to yours enough to feel his warm breath.

“I dream of… you, during lessons” you weren’t actually going to say what you daydreamed of him, right? It’d be so shameful, for your imagine of perfect student, but you couldn’t do anything about being a fucking pervert when it came to that professor.

“About? Keep going.” His hand never left your chin as he kept trying to make eye contact with you, despite your eyes were forcefully locked on the floor.

“H-having…” you gulped before continuing. “sex, here.”

He pulled back, murmuring a long: “Ooh~” with his arms crossed. “Just as i thought” He supported himself with the desk top. “I still don’t blame you, every student has his specific distraction… what i am asking to myself and obviously you, is… What should we do about it?”

Your mouth hung open waiting for your mind to elaborate anything, but the only thing that left your mouth was a simple: “i don’t know Sir…”

He scratched his chin, widened his eyes once he chose the best option: “Tell me y/n, if i fuck you and consequently fulfill your needs, will you focus better during my classes?” He got closer to you again.

The air inside the room felt heavy, you were struggling to breathe, and you could feel drops of sweat resting on your forehead as soon you realized how hot it was there. You were fatigued by some unknown reason before, but now the heat between you and your professor seemed uncontrollable to you, so couldn’t do anything but nod.

“Yeah, i think.” you murmured, finally looking at him. The man was loosening the knot of the tie to breathe better, you watched him unbuttoning his shirt, every movement of his got you wetter as reaction. You stood up and bent over his desk, your skirt was already on the floor when you dragged down your panties, a string of arousal connecting them to your pussy.

He groaned once he turned to see you prepared to take him. His hands were caressing your hips, his eyes inspecting every detail of your bare skin, even though you were one of his students, he couldn’t deny that you’re a hot yet pretty girl.

“I know i shouldn’t make preferences, but you’re my favorite student y/n, such a beautiful and smart girl.” You shyly chuckled, but the slight laughter quickly turned into a needy moan as soon as you felt his fingers slicking against your sticky cunt. “Shush, we can’t have anyone hearing this” You obeyed him, biting your lower lip to muffle any sound that could have escaped your mouth.

“Unfortunately i don’t have any condoms here with me, i will have to breed you, if it isn’t a problem.” You nodded, turning your head to try to look at him while he unzipped his pants. “You can”

In less than a minute he was already buried inside you, pumping as fast as he could without making any sound of skin slamming against skin. His hands were gripping your waist to hold better, your suffocated moans made him even hornier. “Fuck it’s so tight, is this your first time lovely?” his pace slowed down to help you reply easier.

“Y-yes” you layed on your elbows, your face was pressing against the wood of the desk.

“Oh so bad, your boyfriend should have been your first.” He was already tired of the sleepy pace, so he started to hammer again roughly into your pussy. You breathed deeply before talking back:

“It’s o-okey—fuck, i- i’m in love with you” you were so embarrassed to say it, even though it was the truth.

“We’ll se what we can do about it, but for now, let’s focus on orgasming, got it pretty?”

In effect, you found yourself really close to your high, but you still wanted to fuck with him more. The nasty and squelching sound was too loud that there was no fucking way it couldn’t have been heard from ourside, but even if people were probably thinking the professor was having a quicky with the sexy English teacher, he was actually fucking “the sexy student” as how he used to call you for himself. You could notice that the thrust became sloppier at some point, warning you that he was close to climax soon.

“God, i’d like to fuck you all day long but we have other classes in five minutes” He slammed his big cock inside your throbbing cunt enough to make your clit red from how he was balls deep in you. The heat turned into pure desperation of cumming as you two kept fucking.

“Sir… i’m close” you whined with your face squeezed into your arm to muffle the occasional loud noises.

“Gonna spurt my cum into you very soon lovely, get ready” he couldn’t hold back his groans, too.

You came the same second you felt a hot liquid releasing into your pussy, mixing it with your own. The man behind you groped your ass, spreading your ass cheeks to admire the mess leaking slowly out of you.

“Does it bother you if you keep it inside until you get home, darling?” he asked you, dragging your panties up to put them in place again. “it’s fine”

Once you were fully clothed, you turned around to look at him. Quite to your surprise he pointed at his still leaked crotch.

“Could you please clean it up, quickly?”

You immediately kneeled, licking down on all his length until all the cum on it was in your stomach. You took him out of your mouth with a pop, he didn’t wait any longer before putting back on his pants along with the boxers.

“I had a great time y/n. About what you said to me, maybe we can give us a chance, don’t you think? Let me give you my number, when you’re completely sure about that, we can hang out together.” he smiled at you, after asking for you phone where he could type his phone number.

After a minute, when the bell rang again, he opened the door holding it for you to leave his office first.

“Thank you, Sir” you cooed, a genuine smile popping out your face.

“You can call me Mingi, now go, maths is waiting for you” he chuckled back.

[slut4thebroken]

Trapped

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Capa x reader

Summary | You ask Capa for his help, then get stuck in a a room barely big enough for the two of you. After only a few minutes of forced proximity, he snaps.

Warnings | NON CON sexual content, 18+, smut, dubcon but technically noncon tbh, forced proximity, vaginal sex, painful sex, forced breeding, crying, idk what else lol.

Words | 1k+

Notes | Don’t ask for specifics on the beginning… I kept it vague for a reason💀 Also I lowkey can’t tell if this is cringy cause I wrote and published it in one day which I never do so I’ll probably come back to it😭 but anyway I hope y’all enjoy

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Yeah I know, but everyone else is busy.”

“I’m busy.” He retorted. 

“With what exactly?” You waited and he huffed, rolling his eyes, making you smirk. “It’ll be quick.”

“Fine.” You led him through the long hallways before finally stopping outside of a door. You used your key to open it, then stepped inside, and he waited impatiently for what you wanted to show him. 

“I just need you to double check this for me. Better safe than sorry, you know?” He mumbled out an agreement, then stepped closer, trying to see. When he still couldn’t quite make it out, he stepped forward even more and your stomach dropped as the light quickly left the room, followed by the door clicking shut. 

“Fuck! Capa— this door locks!” You all but yelled, panic filling your chest. 

“What?” 

“We’re trapped, you fucking idiot,”

“Hey, this is not my fault. You could’ve told me.” You could hear the handle violently jiggling as he tried to open it, despite what you just said. With the door now closed, you couldn’t even turn around to face him because of how small the space was. “Who else did you ask to help you before me?” 

“Not enough people for them to realize we're missing anytime soon.” He cursed under his breath and you let out a heavy sigh. There wasn’t a light in this ‘room’ so he couldn’t even look at what you originally came down here for, which just made all of this worse. 

You shifted your weight, trying not to think about how long you might have to stand here without being able to move. Even though you were praying someone would come, you knew deep down that it would take a couple hours at least. You heard him try the handle again before letting out a heavy breath. You were silent, trying to think of something to say or if you should even say anything at all. When his breathing picked up, you paused, listening for a few more seconds just to be sure. 

“I hope you’re not claustrophobic.” You said, mostly teasingly. 

“That’s not the problem right now.” He muttered, making your brows furrow in confusion. He cursed under his breath and you waited for him to elaborate on what the problem was. Instead, his hands just barely brushed your hips, making you stiffen. When he grabbed them lightly, your breath caught in your throat. 

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t hide the slight quaver in your voice. He ignored you and started rubbing up and down your sides. “Stop it.” You warned, trying to bat his hands away, but barely being able to in the small space. You suddenly felt his breath on your shoulder and he dragged his nose up your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Capa?” You whispered, stomach knotting with fear. He let out a low groan and suddenly gripped your hips, hard enough to make you wince, to keep you from moving. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered. Before you could ask what that meant, he was shoving your pants and underwear down, making you yelp and try to pull them back up. His were next, pushing the clothing down just enough to free his cock. 

“Wait,” You tried thrashing, but he pushed you forward against the wall and grabbed your hips again to limit your movement. “Capa, stop!” You felt his cock brush your hole and you stiffened. He moved one hand to line up his cock and the other to cover your mouth. 

He applied some pressure, but wasn’t able to push in, so he used more force until he finally breached your hole. You let out a hoarse scream behind his hand, feeling your eyes burn with tears. That was nothing compared to the burning between your legs though. 

“Fuck— I’m sorry. I just need this…” He said through a breath, only staying still for a moment before starting a brutal pace, making your tears fall. He rutted into you and the hand not on your mouth wrapped around your stomach, holding you still. You clawed at both of his hands and arms, trying to get him to release you. Instead, he just groaned at the pain and fucked you harder. 

“I know… I’m sorry.” He said, as if that could make up for anything. You sobbed violently behind his hand and that only seemed to encourage him, making him fuck you even rougher. “Fuck you’re so tight.” He whispered, hot breath fanning your ear. “You feel so fucking good… god— it’s been so long.” 

He humped into you desperately, chasing his own pleasure and ignoring your muffled cries. Even though your body was starting to adjust to make this easier, it still hurt like hell and you already knew you weren’t going to be able to sit comfortably for at least a day or two. He groaned and cursed against your ear as he tightened his grip, fucking you more frenzied now. 

“Oh fuck— I’m already close… I have to fill you.” He said lowly. You let out the loudest scream so far. “I know, I’m sorry, I just need it so fucking bad. I need to come in a tight, hot pussy, I can’t take it anymore.” He whined, holding you tighter. You let out a stifled sob and shook your head.  

“I’m sorry,” He moaned, thrusts becoming more forceful and desperate, “I can’t stop— I can’t pull out, I’m so sorry.” You tried to scream protests at him from behind his hand but nothing you said was coherent. 

He moaned out one last apology before his hips snapped forward, burying his cock deep enough to make your cervix ache. He humped into you as he rode it out, groaning against your ear and squeezing your body tight enough to almost hurt. You felt his cock twitching as warmth filled you, making you let out a strangled whimper. The hand on your mouth dropped so that his arm wrapped around your chest instead, still holding you against his body as you cried silently. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, one last time. 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues

[cinnbar-bun]

Would you be willing to write what kind of fan would ace, sabo, shanks, and law for the reader!! I loved your last one!!!

You got it dude! Sorry for taking so long.

Ace, Sabo, Law, and Shanks- Reversed AU HCs

AU: In which YOU are the character of a very famous franchise, and they are regular people who are fans of your series.

Note: GN!Reader, crack, very unserious, SFW

Part 1 with Straw Hats here!

Ace

Broke ass guy who can’t afford anything for you minus like, a bootleg or something small. Has buttons of you. 

Highkey think he would be a menace and just wear something so off with you on it (you are free to decide what that looks like). 

If people ask why he’s got you on his phone or like a keychain of you, he just beams and responds that you’re the love of his life and refuses to elaborate. 

Lies, he WILL be elaborating and making it everyone’s problem. 

Marco wants him to shut up about it. 

Thatch jokes around often and makes cakes of you for Ace on his birthday or something. Ace refuses to eat it for like two seconds before he’s quickly trying to fight off the others from taking a slice. 

Whitebeard has not realized you’re fictional and still asks about meeting you soon… he just wants to meet the one his son keeps raving about. 

Ace has to lie and it becomes a whole ‘my partner is in Canada, actually they can’t see you now.’ 

Whitebeard is so impressed with the fact you travel all over the world <3 wow, you must be so worldly! 

Sabo 

Rich boy who I don’t think would directly get merchandise of you, but he would totally buy things that have your signature color or remind him of you. Very subtle things. I could see him buying one expensive figure of you, but otherwise it’s just subtle things he will proudly wear in public. 

Doesn’t have much time for gaming, so I don’t think he would be playing the mobile gacha games but he will admire the artwork and units of you. 

This is actually a partial truth, he had them at one point but was sinking so much money into your units that Koala had to step in and get him to stop this addiction. 

He’s been doing his best okay… but your alt unit is so tempting he wants to GET IT HE NEEDS TO GET IT LET HIM ROLL ONE MORE ONE MORE ONE MORE- 

Sabo’s phone is now under parental controls and he needs Koala or Dragon’s permission to download or buy any in-app purchases. 

But he’s like, so normal about this, okay? He doesn’t have a problem.

Likes to eat your favorite snacks or food on your birthday as a sort of ‘celebration’ of you. Again, pretty subtle things like buying a dessert you like from that one bakery, or ordering a meal that you ate one time on the show. 

On second thought I could see him having special editions of the manga, but that remains in his office never to be borrowed by anyone. 

Law 

“Why the hell would I be into this?” 

Acts like he’s above watching cringe animes when he’s got better taste in his consumption of media like House MD or Scrubs or something. 

But you know, he’s always getting dragged into silly shit with his friends so everyone is forcing him to watch this popular anime with over 1000+ episodes. 

Law feels like performing surgery on himself with no anesthesia at the sheer number of episodes. 

It isn’t until like 400 episodes in when you’re introduced and everyone swears they can see the light in his eyes return and he’s entranced. 

Suddenly this is his favorite show, although he refuses to entertain that. 

He totally has a few figures of you, but when asked, he just yells that they’re Bepo’s and he’s keeping them safe. 

The others know he’s not going to buy merch so they just buy him silly trinkets of you and he tries to keep lowkey and hidden so no one knows about his love for you. 

He’s not the same man he was 400 episodes ago. He still can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad one. 

But you’ve invaded and latched yourself into his mind and damn it, he’ll keep you there. 

Shanks 

Cringe but free. 

Buggy got him into this show (Buggy made a slip up once and has tried to deny that he’s liked this series since) and Shanks casually watches a few episodes when he’s free. 

Has a couple of figures that a kid Uta always wants to play with (hell no, put that shit back!!!) 

Lies to Uta whenever she asks who this figure is of and he dramatically will hold the figure of you and tell her this is, in fact, who her other parent is. 

Great job, Shanks, you weirdo. Of course, Uta knows when she’s older that he’s lying out of his ass, but when she was younger she was deadset on meeting you. 

So Shanks was forced to include her in his watches so she can see her ‘other parent’. Shanks makes wild stories when Uta asks why you’re in the TV and says you’re so so cool they just had to make a tv show about you. 

He’s the kind of guy who forgets Uta is a kid and whenever something super violent or adult happens, he goes ‘oops’ after a few seconds and shoddily covers her eyes, to the point she can pretty much still see everything. 

So both of them kinda get in a feedback loop where when he gets something, she wants it, and when she wants to do something, he’ll do it when it comes to you. 

You are a staple in that household. Shanks isn’t the best at maintaining your figures but he does remember to dust you off once in a while (mostly after Uta screams at him to keep it in good condition). 

He’s tried to get into the card game (Uta insisted), but he finds the rules too hard and difficult, so him and Uta made an easier version (which he often lies about to be able to win). 

His luck is crappy too when it comes to the blind packs, so when Uta got the rare card of you he was practically gonna wrestle it out of her. 

He’s also weird and rich enough to get any crazy or out there merchandise of you if he felt like it.

[sweethischier]

𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 | 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐚

yourusername

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yourusername skate date<3

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jackhughes um?? _quinnhughes lhughes_06 are you guys seeing this????

lhughes_06 she's not answering her phone

lhughes_06 i’m booking a flight to michigan. i should’ve never left her unattended in ann arbor

_quinnhughes mom says she knows who it is but she won't tell me

yourusername love u guys🫶🏻

user1 are we shocked she has a hockey bf lmao

user2 i’d only be shocked if he WASNT a hockey player

trevorzegras i know something you don’t 🎶

yourusername shut UP trevor

jackhughes why tf does trevor know and not your own BROTHERS

╰➤yourusername pure accident. i regret it every day. like literally every day

jackhughes oh god it’s not trevor is it??

yourusername he wishes

╰➤trevorzegras true

╰➤_quinnhughes vancouver isn’t that far from anaheim zegras. remember that

user3 LMAO TREVOR

edwards.73 still can’t believe he got you to skate

yourusername he achieved the one thing my brothers couldn’t. now i’m a pro 🤷🏻‍♀️

╰➤ edwards.73 must’ve been a pretty good teacher 🥸

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lhughes_06 i don’t like this interaction. not at all

jackhughes hmm. interesting

markestapa

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markestapa no one tell luke 🤫

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edwards.73 lhughes_06

yourusername eddy did you not read the caption

╰➤ edwards.73 i’ve been keeping this secret for too long i couldn’t do it anymore

╰➤ lhughes_06 how long ethan??? HOW LONG

jackhughes at least it isn’t ethan

╰➤ edwards.73 ????

trevorzegras at least he’s wearing clothes

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lhughes_06 i’m sorry??!

user1 HELP WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

yourusername trevor please shut up. i’m literally begging you. please

╰➤ trevorzegras okay fine. but only because you’re my favorite hughes

╰➤ jackhughes no trevor. please elaborate or you’re uninvited from the lake house

╰➤ yourusername no he’s not. i can invite people too

╰➤ jackhughes no. you’re not even invited anymore

user2 sad day for the mark girlies </3

yourusername best 8 months of my life❤️

markestapa i love you

lhughes_06 8 MONTHS?? you were dating before I even left???

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╰➤ edwards.73 i only knew for 5 😄

╰➤ user3 something tells me that doesn’t help ethan’s case

seamuscasey26 where is quinn???

edwards.73 Mark blocked him because Quinn scares him

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user82849492763 don’t worry. i’m still here

[pixelxgore]

hers a billfold wip as a treat i changed his face bc i have free will

The art is to encourage you to read my silly little insanity (you should totally do it btw)

I'm dyslexic so sorry if anything is spelled grotesquely wrong lol autocorrect sometimes has no idea what i’m trying to spell

Starting with my head cannon because every thing will make more sense with it (or it wont that's entirely up to you) Imma try my best to make this enjoyable

So I head cannon both bill and ford as aspec this is important for the rest trust (I'm Aroace myself so some of my words are based of of experience ) being aroace doesn't mean you can't have a toxic one-sided relationship with a triangle

(most of this is pretty vanilla but I still wanna talk about it)

I believe it started of as a one-sided relationship on fords part (wow shocker) but it wasn't really love because he's ace it was more of infatuation (this stems from the fact he is a science boy and like ooo demon triangle thing) mistaken for love (I'm pretty sure this is common among aroace people or I just had an original experience) and maybe bill had just a little bit of the same feeling but instead of infatuation it was just pure obsession and when they had there little “tragic break up” and bill finally came to realize his obsession and it consumed him (idk i think that how abusive obsession is) and he realized he can’t live with out ford (i man he can but unhealthy obsession) and thus bills one sided relationship with ford where he just tries to get his puppet back but can’t figure out why he needs him so bad so he comes to the (subconscious) cuncultion there in love (because of course that’s the reasonable decision) and then you all know what comes after

I think bill has major will wood music vibes so I have nominated three songs of his for bill ford (cuz I'm genuinely going insane over them)

This is for fun and based off my head cannons

All of my discussions are made purely of the vibes the song gives me and how cool than animation in my head looks so take everything you know about these will wood songs and throw it out the window cuz none of that is relevant :3

i saw someone say “Will Wood songs can really be interpreted in different ways, and most of them seem like wisps of similar thought rather than a concrete narrative, so you're always a little bit right and wrong when you take a guess.” and i think you should keep that in mined

(I'm gonna embarrass myself so hard (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) )

I'm not gonna elaborate much but just trust me ok I put it kind of in chronological order

fords one sided relationship with bill: ...well, better than the alternative

Ok so this one is the least perfect out of all of them cuz it only half what I want (obviously this song is a stretch but hear me out) It's mostly for the like the last half of the song (remember what I said about throwing out the meaning for get that i lied) this song about the struggle ls of growing up and is a heartfelt plea to be understood and accepted for who we are (which obviously ford was a wired kid) and this kinda ties into the one-sided infatuation because it also is about the romanticism of nostalgic love, and the pressure of society telling you to find someone and "settle down" as we get older (witch yk aroace can’t really do that) so he’s grasping at the fact that he is enamored with this demon he just summoned (because science) so he can come up with this narrative in his head of how he is in love and can finally fit at least one of the societal boxes (idk it sounds like something to me probly ooc but I'm having fun)

bills one sided relationship with ford: ¡Aikido!

obsession with someone and how people often use coping mechanisms such as drugs to help with their feelings of uncertainty and helplessness. (yes this is copied not fully of a site this is tumblr not an english assignment) it also explores the idea that love and obsession can often manifest in neurotic and even pathological behavior.(oooo oooo look i’m so smart like staring the apocalyps) i’m not this cool this whole thing started with the first like whit h is “I apologize for playing with your eyes But I’m obsessed with you” witch reminded me of how bill used for as a puppet and then yk fords whole world came crashing down (this one explained its self more i have to do less mental gymnastics) and he’s like im sooo sorry i can’t live with out you

there whole relationship from the deal to the end of bill: Misanthrapologist ("In case I make it,"

Outtake)

ok this one is the one that mostly made of vibes because the song is about an unhappy codependent relationship through metaphors of christianity, nihilism, outer space, and mozart (witch only really encompasses a portion of the relationship) the song stars with “I wanna meet your make Shake him by his ensanguined damask lapel Holler "Look what you've done Gave this planet a sun And made a man to wonder if he's more than the sum of his cells"” which makes me personally think of obviously the deal fore made with bill and how bill stroked his ego all the way through there partnership um you can see where i goes from here just go listen to the song

ok this one’s off topic and only for my imaginary animation but the line “So how could I stand a chance, let alone dance With the way you sweep me off these two left feet?” just like imagine this with me it’s bill (human probably cuz i don’t work with the triangle) and young ford in the minedskape thing and its bill dipping ford and when it goes down it switches to bill and fort in bills pyramid thing with ford chained up do you see the vision ok I’m done now (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

[ussgallifrey]

Home for the Holiday | Part 3

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, arguments, fake dating, hurt/comfort, Jake’s family being fake and generally awful towards him, mentions of divorce, mentions of past abuse, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 9.9k

✦ Author’s Note: Hi, has it been over a year since I posted anything for this story? It must be a Christmas miracle! Anyway, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, slowly getting added to every few months. And here we come to the end of Jake's annoying family. The next two chapters will be decidedly happier, I promise.

[Master List]

You’re woken neither by your own internal clock nor the backup alarm on your phone but by the irritated slamming of something across the hotel room. It takes you a second to properly assess the sound as being of the non-dream variety. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you push up onto your elbow to stare into the unsettled darkness.

The golden light from the bathroom spills out into the entryway where a shirtless Hangman seems to be fighting a losing battle with the foldup ironing board.

“You good?” you call out, voice still hoarse with sleep.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, mustering out an almost guilty, “Shit, sorry Pits.”

You wave him off, sitting up properly - the white sheets spilling over your thighs.

The bedside clock informs you that it’s still early in the morning, though not unreasonably so. He had told you the drive to his father’s place would take a while, so it made sense for him to be up at this hour but less so for whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish across the room.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, scratching at the back of your neck as you pad your way over to find out.

“What’s with the iron?”

There’s a seafoam green shirt on the board with a plugged-in iron on its end, that much you can see.

“Damn thing won’t turn on,” he flicks the buttons on the iron up and down, on and off.

Quirking your brow, “You know it takes time to heat up, yeah?”

He pauses, fixing you with an exasperated look, “Fifteen minutes enough for you?”

Throwing your hands up in a defensive hold, you take a step back.

“Shit. Look, I’m not trying to be a total ass here. Just, I didn’t exactly go packing a lot of options and I can’t go wearing what I did yesterday because Josh saw it already - ”

“Got it.”

He sighs in defeat, grabbing hold of the shirt. Giving it a good flap, you can see the clear wrinkles on the front.

For a lazy day in, the shirt would be fine. But this was a family get-together and Jake Seresin was a naval officer. His closet was likely similar to your own when it came to precision-pressed and properly hung items. Wearing this shirt, the way it was, would not fly.

“Well, before you go complain to the front desk - give it here, and let me try something.”

His own brow rises but he ultimately hands it over by the scruff of the collar. Swiping up your toiletry bag, you head into the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to give him a small smile.

“Let’s see if the magic of steam can’t work a miracle on this.”

His features drop in a way that says he hadn’t even considered that as an option before he grins, “Here’s hoping.”

After hanging the shirt on the towel bar, you take an extra long and heated shower. Letting the water massage your back and shoulders with its pressure. You certainly missed the little things like this when you were aboard the carrier. Uninterrupted, hot, lengthy showers where you didn’t feel like it might be a biohazard to touch any surface.

No, this was nice.

And when you step out of the tub and wrap a towel around your middle, you crack the door open to inform Jake that his shirt is just about good to go.

“But I can hit it with the hair dryer still. We got time, right?”

He hums in reply from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him.

Turning on the exhaust fan, you wipe down the steam-covered mirror with a hand towel and go about finishing your routine. Making sure your feet are actually dry, you step back into the room - walking over to your bag in search of another outfit.

Jake had pushed aside the blackout curtains in your absence, filling the room with natural light. He’s sat on the edge of his bed again, but now he has a plain white tank on to go with his jeans. You can hear the faintest clearing of his throat, making you look back at him.

His gaze drifts down your back for a second before he seems to busy himself with his phone again.

“I’m guessing this one is a little more casual?” you ask, pulling out three different shirts.

“Mmm, yeah,” he clears his throat again with a cough, glancing over towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your shirt out in a minute. I’m just letting the steam work its last bit of magic on it.”

His eyes finally meet yours and he frowns slightly, “I wasn’t - y-yeah… okay.”

And then it seems to dawn on you: you were only wearing a towel.

And while it might be common for the guys of your squadron to walk around shirtless in the gym, or when they were changing out of sweaty flight gear, it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence for you to be seen in anything but your usual navy-issued tank and shorts. And while Hangman himself had been in nothing more than a towel yesterday morning, during the rush to get ready, that seemed like an entirely different situation to your own.

Your heart races as you become aware of just how exposed you are right now.

Grabbing hold of your entire bag and muttering out an embarrassed: “Sorry, I’ll just - ” as you hurriedly flee back into the bathroom.

Hangman, for his part, seems too stunned to even form a reply and you can’t exactly blame him.

Jesus, what were you thinking? You might be comfortable around your squadron but nothing over the past two days had elicited that level of comfort between the two of you.

Taking far longer than necessary to choose an outfit and get dressed, you’re slow and methodical about your hair and makeup this time too. Only when your nerves have settled down from the encounter, do you finally grab his shirt and return to the room.

“Well, what do you think?”

You hold the shirt up for him to examine. He nods, standing from his spot on the bed to take hold of it by the shoulders.

“Thank you.”

You just nod, tight-lipped, as you go about putting your bag away in its rightful spot. Jake tugs his arms through the sleeves before heading over to the full-length mirror by the front door. You watch as he methodically rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, creasing the cuff perfectly each time. When he’s done, he twists his watch around - back and forth, a few times.

And then he clears his throat, looking over towards you as you slip on your boots.

“You look good, by the way.”

Slowly, your eyes meet his and you offer him a gentle smile.

“Not too shabby yourself, Bagman.”

He ducks his head down for a second, grinning all the same. But then he’s glancing down at his watch and frowning again, patting his front and back pockets as he checks his EDC.

“You ready to go?”

Rising from the desk chair, you fix him with a questioning look, “Are you?”

With a smirk, he shakes his head. Offering an honest, “No.”

Jake holds the door open for you as you leave the room, heading down to the stairwell. You make an off-hand comment about it not being the way to the free dine-in breakfast. But he just keeps walking and eventually, you're in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger side of the rental car, you watch as he adjusts the rearview mirror and his own seat.

Before he even starts the ignition, he looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Well, someone wouldn’t let us go down to the lobby for breakfast.”

“Ha,” he chuckles. “Come on, I know a better place.”

Raising your brow as you buckle your seatbelt you say, “I’m intrigued.”

Hangman just grins, grabbing hold of the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.

You're not sure what you expected, but when Jake pulls into a busy Sunoco gas station ten minutes later, you can't help but raise your brow skeptically at him.

“Trust me,” he grins - all teeth - as he snags his aviators from his shirt collar.

“Tell me they have the best donuts around at least,” you call, following him out of the car.

He had parked off to the side, away from the entrance of the food mart. Digging his hands into his jean pockets, he waits for you to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the hood of the rental car.

Grinning with all the smugness of a higher power, he nudges your arm with his elbow and leads the way. Avoiding the building entirely, which makes you even more curious. The two of you round the other side of the gas station where the smell of smoked meat and spice fills the air.

There are two food trucks, a yellow tear-drop-shaped repurposed camper, and a smaller red build. Each has its own canvas tent with tables and chairs set up underneath. Fancy chalkboard signs bring the promise of amazing food as do the long-stretched lines outside of them both.

“Okay,” you admit, “You had me concerned for a second there.”

He chuckles, getting into the yellow truck's line, “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart. Anyway, I wanted to give you the chance of having an Austin staple.”

Well, if the menu wasn't enticing enough for you, then the smell certainly was. You find yourself nearly floating along the line with Jake. After ordering, you grab an empty picnic table to yourselves and proceed to dig into the absolutely massive breakfast burritos.

“Have you eaten here before?” you ask after swallowing another absolutely sinful bite.

“No, actually,” he wipes his mouth with another napkin. “This place didn't exist until two years back. Found it online when you were, uh, getting ready.”

Your chest aches as you recall the awkward encounter from this morning. Slowing your chewing, you manage out a pinched, "Well, god bless online reviews. This is incredible."

After another bite, you rub your lips with the back of your hand, glancing across to meet his gaze - his sunglasses remain folded on the table now, so you're able to see the green of his eyes once again.

“I mean it,” you swallow. “This might be the best breakfast I've ever had.”

He stares for a moment, swallowing his own bite before a slow smile graces his lips.

“Better not let your momma hear you talking like that.”

You laugh, “I'm sure she'd understand.”

Jake gives a warm chuckle, shaking his head, “Hell, think you know more about my family than I do about yours at this point. Not even sure I can remember you ever talking about them.”

Setting the burrito down carefully in the foil wrapper, you contemplate his small accusation. While you had certainly heard your fill of just about everyone else’s families while on deployment, you can’t recall if you really ever dove into talking about your own.

Obviously, you had heard all about Jake’s very extended family at this point. But even you knew about Freud and his weird association with his mom’s current husband - her fifth husband if you were remembering things correctly. Cosmo had a close relationship with his sister Cecilia but not his sister Lucia. Slab had a complicated connection with his adoptive parents but got on okay with his older brother. And so on.

“They’re not very interesting,” you finally settle on.

He raises a single eyebrow, “I highly doubt that.”

“Compared to yours?”

That makes him smirk, “Fair point.”

From there, it takes you a little longer to realize that you’re both eating at a leisurely pace and that Jake isn’t constantly checking his watch or telling you to speed it up. It’s a strange occurrence, given his usual attentiveness for being timely. Jake Seresin lived by the motto that if you’re early, you’re on time and if you’re on time, you’re late.

So, as nearly a full hour of the two of you sitting there and shooting the shit passes, you start to grow the slightest bit concerned. Going on to ask:

“How far did you say your dad’s place was?”

His lips immediately fall into a sort of scowl as you pull him away from a very amusing story about his time in officer’s school.

“Two hours,” comes the almost robotic reply.

“Does that mean we should start, you know, heading out?”

Your breakfast had long since been finished and the wrappers thrown away. Your drinks were little more than melted ice and semi-chewed straws at this point.

After ruffling his hair and twisting his watch around a few times, he finally sighs.

“Yeah, probably.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you slap his shoulder as you finally stand up from the picnic table.

“Come on, Seresin. You got me as your wingman for a second round today. No time like the present.”

Grabbing hold of both of your near-empty drinks, he too lifts his leg over the side of the bench and stands up with a playfully annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now, Pits.”

The ride to his dad’s house is filled with Christmas music played by two different country radio stations. As the odometer slowly creeps up mile by mile, you can see the difference in your companion’s composure. He started out relaxed, almost lounging in his seat. And then it grows more rigid; with his hands clutching the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.

Last night, the two of you had talked about the upcoming shitstorm of a holiday get-together.

You knew Josh would be there again. But you would also be meeting his other brother, Justin, and his wife and kids of course. And then there was his sister, Jess, and her brood - as he had put it.

Just from the way he talked about his siblings, it was clear that Jake did not get on with - nor keep in close contact with - any of them. He seemed particularly hung up on his sister more so than his older brothers. And while you were sure there was a story - or two - there, you didn’t feel it was the time, or place,to pry.

And then, of course, there was the infamous Mr. Seresin himself. Of him, you knew the least amount of information. Only being told that you should keep your conversations limited if not just nonexistent. You weren’t sure how well that idea would apply in reality, but for your friend’s sake, you promised to keep things to his plan.

As the radio DJ announces yet another Thomas Rhett song, Jake finally hops onto an exit ramp, signaling that you were close to the inevitable get-together.

In almost two hours, you had covered a variety of topics pertaining to work. But seeing the great amount of tension currently attacking your wingman, you finally relent with a different story.

“I got my pilot’s license at seventeen.”

Only because you’re at a stoplight does Jake look over at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar as the beginnings of a smirk curl into place.

“Do tell.”

You chuckle as he turns the wheel.

“Whole line of aviators, actually. Great-grandpa was a paratrooper during Korea and I guess he just missed the adrenaline when he came back to the States. His son took up commercial flying and my dad got his license just because it seemed like everyone else in the family was doing it.”

“And you?” his sage green eyes meet yours for a quick second before he focuses back on the road ahead of you.

With a shrug, you draw your knee up on the seat and stare out the passenger window. Swatches of dusty farmland and wooden fences pass you by.

“Guess I was always just growing up around them. My grandpa took me flying all the time when my dad was busy working. Did my first solo ride at fifteen in a glider and got my license two years later.”

You can see his grin from out of your peripheral and count it as a victory.

“Any other incredible talents you’ve kept hidden under that smartass exterior?”

“Hey!” you gently slap his arm, pulling a fake pout. “If there was, I’m not telling you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he bites his lip, tapping the steering wheel as a sense of ease washes over him. “I’ll play nice.”

With a roll of your eyes, you mutter under your breath, “Fat fucking chance.”

There’s a seemingly dramatic sigh from him which is immediately followed by a hand being jabbed into your flank and a screech of laughter erupting from your lips as Jake proceeds to tickle your side.

“G-god fuckin- STOP, y-you asshole,” you try to squirm away from his touch, but his fingers seem to know your exact weak points and there’s only so far you can scramble away.

“Give it up, Pita,” he croons sweetly, still somehow managing to drive the car steadily down the road with his left hand.

“Mercy! Mer-cy, you jackass!”

You shove at his hand until he finally relents. Absolutely beaming as he looks over at you, unable to stop his own chuckle from seeing the state of you. He sighs, the bubble of laughter on his lips as he turns down a dirt road.

“Sure know how to distract a guy.”

With a huff of indignation, you say, “I’m sure there’s more alluring ways to do that.”

Only when Jake chokes on his own spit do you throw your head back in a howl of laughter.

“Christ, the look on your face, Seresin.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, catching your gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Cause we’re almost there.”

That does seem to sober you both up almost instantly.

The radio sways in and out between bits of static break-up. As the houses fall further and further back from the road, it seems like you’re looking at nothing but straight-up copper-dusted fields.

Hangman leans forward on the wheel as he peers out at the stretch of dirt road, checking the numbers on the mailboxes that pop up every mile. And then, at last, he finally slows the car down to a steady roll.

And while Lady A is singing about it being an absolutely Wonderful Christmastime, you watch as all signs of joy seem to drain from your friend’s face as he turns onto the long-winding drive of his father’s ranch. The tires kick up dirt and pebbles, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You’re jostled in your seat from the rough terrain of the unpaved driveway.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” he murmurs, staring up ahead at the trucks already parked next to the white barn.

The house itself is a massive ranch-style home, with wood siding that almost makes it look like an older cabin. But the windows are clearly modern and sleek. It was no question at all that Jake’s father had some serious money to his name here. If the accompanying acres of farmland weren’t already a dead giveaway.

You wait for him to park, killing the ignition and resting his arms on the steering wheel with a resigned look in place of his usually bright eyes.

“When, uh, when was the last time you were here?”

With a sigh, his chin resting on the wheel now too as he stares up at the sprawling house.

“All the time as a kid. It was my granddad’s. Went on to my uncle until he ran himself straight into debt from all the gambling and drinking. Then this one - ” he jerks his head in the general direction of the house once again, “ - got it passed onto him. Haven’t been back since my granddad passed. So maybe… fourteen years?”

With a singular blink, you mutter an equally pressed, “Jesus, Seresin.”

“Yeah, well…” he just shakes his head, having already given you the gist of everything last night. No point in rehashing old news.

“Looks like everyone is here,” you comment after glancing around at the other numerous vehicles in the drive.

He nods, finally pulling the keys from the ignition and swinging the chain into his hand.

You follow him up the path to the front porch – a once beautiful piece of craftsmanship now deteriorating and stained. The floorboards of the deck squeak under your shoes and a handful of the railings seem to be either broken-off or missing entirely. A black bear carved out of wood greets you both with a simple welcome sign held in its fur-textured paws.

Jake gives a solid rap to the door before he grabs hold of the handle and shoves it open. More of a courtesy knock than anything.

With a little squeeze to his bicep, you give him your best encouraging nod and follow after him as he slides through the entryway where a massive pile of boots and shoes has been deposited.

You’re only afforded a sliver of a proper view into the main living space, but the noise level is already on par with an F18 ready to take off from the flight deck.

As you kick off your shoes into the sprawling mess of footwear, you’re assaulted by the sound of screaming children, raucous cheers, a football announcer blasting through surround-sound speakers, and the faint twang of Christmas music radiating out from a speaker somewhere in the middle of it all.

Mixed with the pungent smell of sweat-soaked shoes and rosemary-scented turkey roasting in an oven, you reach out to grab hold of Jake’s arm – simply from the overwhelming amount of things happening all around you before you even see a single person.

“You good?” he murmurs, a shocking amount of concern etched onto his usually playful features.

“Mhmm,” you manage.

A warm hand eases its way onto the small of your back and you feel the madness fall into a pinpoint tunnel where it’s easily manageable and not so disconcerting.

“Never better,” said through a set of clenched teeth is all you can work up for him.

With another squeeze to his arm, you allow Jake to guide you – by the hand still on your lower back – down the front hall to the large open-plan living space. To your left, several women lean against the russet-colored cabinets, with glasses of dark red wine in hand and ringing laughs as short blonde-haired children weave their way through the space.

To the right, near the stone fireplace sits the majority of the men on overstuffed leather couches and recliners as they stare up, with rapt attention, at the game currently projected on the large flat screen mounted above the mantel.

“Uncle Jake!”

Your eyes lock onto the blur of yellow and red that comes charging toward you both. Stepping out of the fray, you watch as your companion drops to his knees to scoop up the girl with the maroon ribbons laced through her platinum hair.

“Kenna Kenna Kenna,” he grins, grabbing hold of the young girl around her waist as he hefts her up and swings her back and forth in his embrace.

A smile that you can’t seem to control graces your lips as you watch the scene play out.

Oh, the guys back on the carrier would kill to see this side of Hangman right now. What a privilege it was for you to bear witness to.

From over his shoulder, you’re presented with the curious brown eyes of the girl who then jabs her hand against Jake’s chest and demands:

“Who’s that?”

You watch as your companion’s grin slips down for just a brief second before he forces a tight smile.

“That,” comes the familiar voice of the older Seresin brother, who rises from one of the leather recliners with a beer in hand, and a too-smug smile on his face. “Is Uncle Jackie’s girlfriend.”

The girl gasps, staring up at Jake with a pure look of wonderment, “You have a girlfriend?”

Out of instinct alone, you wrap a hand around his right arm – encouraging the act from him.

“I do,” he nods at last, glancing over at you with those piercing green eyes. And then he’s laughing, dropping the girl back down onto her feet as he says, “God, when’d you get so big?”

“Probably sometime between your last visit and now.”

Your gaze snaps over to the woman in a denim blouse in the kitchen area, swirling her wine before she finishes it off.

If you had to take a guess...

“Jess,” he greets, short and to the point with a curt nod of his head.

Bingo.

As the girl, Kenna, skirts off to join the other kids currently hanging back by the patio doors near the massive Christmas tree, another man wanders over. Similar to Josh and Jake, he’s got dimpled cheeks, darker blonde hair, and a distinctive swagger to his walk.

“Hey man,” he claps Hangman on the shoulder, presenting him with a bottle of beer in his other hand. “Long time no fucking see. Look good though.”

Jake takes hold of the drink before he slinks his arm back around your waist, guiding you forward and into his side.

“Justin,” he nods, half in greeting, and half in explanation for your current confusion.

Ah, brother number two.

“And you’re the mysterious girlfriend,” his eyes slip past his brother to land firmly upon your face.

You offer your hand in return, along with your name.

“Never thought we’d see the day,” he grins in return. And then he’s backing away, gesturing toward the fridge, “Something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke?”

Surrounded by so many people who all seem to be particularly interested in scrutinizing your every move, you merely shake your head, “Think I’m good for now, thanks.”

Jake squeezes your side and you look to your left to see him already staring down at you with a soft smile. Emboldened by his apparent approval, you begin to make your rounds with him never far from reach.

You’re introduced, quickly, to Gwen. His bubbly stepmother with dark roots and straw-colored hair who hands you a glass of wine without taking no for an answer. She’s brightness personified and the definition of a doting host. Beside her stands a rather quiet fixture in the kitchen.

Marissa is the curly-haired young wife of Justin Seresin. She watches on with a bottle held between her chipped-red nails as Jess hollers at Kenna from across the room when she tries to drop a handful of slime on her uncle’s head.

The woman remains silent, though she holds an amused smile, as she watches the madness of her inlaws take place. There’s a brood of children that moves and weaves through the adults who remain largely indifferent to their antics.

From the countertop, where an array of appetizers are laid out, you watch as the two seven-year-old twins – Dawson and Dixon – gulf down scoops and scoops of bean dip. While their sister - Brynlee, as Jake’s stepmother manages to tell you over the noise of the get-together – seems content to cling to Marissa’s pant leg as she stares up at the towering adults overhead.

Your nerves begin to ease as a sort of familiar feeling washes over you. If you convinced yourself hard enough, you could almost pretend this was one of your mom’s extended family reunions.

Sure, you weren’t well-acquainted with everyone yet. But if you forced a good smile and made an effort to be courteous, you were sure you could get through the ordeal without tarnishing your wingman’s reputation.

Slowly, Jake guides you through the room, until, at last, you’re sat on the armrest of one of the leather recliners, watching with distant interest as the announcers recount the last play in the game before halftime.

“So, you gonna introduce us properly?”

Your eyes shift toward the couch where you spot the gray-haired tresses and stern sun-baked face of Daniel Seresin. Your companion, who had been standing off to the side of the living room speaking in quiet conversation with his eldest brother, seems to straighten up to full attention as if an admiral had just entered the room.

With a twinge of discomfort, your gaze tracks Jake as he strides over to you, a hand resting on your shoulder when he finally comes to a stop. You can feel his breath on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

In a rigid tone bordering on inspection-line worthy, he introduces you by name and rank to his father.

A smile flits across the older man’s face as he beams up at you, rising from his lounged position on the couch to properly shake your hand. He looks the part of a typical rancher with his light-washed jeans and buttoned-down shirt tucked in with a flashy belt buckle.

“Real pleasure to meet you,” he grins. His hand is large, calloused by years of work. “I can’t tell you the last time Jake mentioned a girl catching his interest. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

You feel rather than hear the clipped mhmm that Jake gives in return. His gaze remains largely focused on the wall behind his father where an array of framed family photos resides. Never affording the man with the respect of holding his gaze.

Daniel claps your shoulder warmly and invites you to sit down with promises of their dinner being a real feast.

“She’s a saint, Gwen,” he tells you as you resume your position on the side of the armrest.

Jake, pointedly, slouches down in the actual recliner, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle as he stares – unseeing – at the TV.

“Hell, damn near blew myself up last year with the fryer. Don’t think she’ll let me in the kitchen, will ya, honey?”

He shouts the last part, to be heard over the crowd. Followed by a ringing you bet your ass I won’t coming from the vicinity of the stove.

You watch as Josh shakes his head in amusement, cradling a wriggly toddler in his arms. But your attention ultimately falls to the man seated to the side of you. Lost in his thoughts, trapped in his own head.

Reaching down with a tentative hand, you squeeze his fingers with your own.

It takes a minute, but then those welcomed meadow-green eyes meet your gaze and you can almost see the momentary relief that crosses his face as he squeezes your hand in return.

Dinner at the Seresin house is a decidedly casual affair in comparison to the meal you had shared with Patricia the day before. Gwen dishes out the seasonal fixings onto Christmas-themed heavy-duty disposable plates. Accompanied by wrapped bundles of plastic cutlery in Santa Claus paper napkins.

Balancing your plate on your lap is a true feat of talent as you’re the main entry and exit point to the kitchen, still settled on the armrest beside Jake.

The nieces and nephews, all eight of them, are situated on the floor on a big fleece blanket that quickly becomes an absorbent towel for their stray food bits more than anything else. Your hostess has the foresight to turn the game down to a more reasonable level, though the noise in the living room is still on par with a jet engine firing.

You find yourself shouting to be heard whenever anyone graces you with a question, which isn’t many... at first.

“ - anyway, after he pulled them over,” Jess continues her story about her husband, Nick: the Statetrooper. “He told them that he – god damnit! MacKenna Jaymes, are you or are you not watching your sister?”

Your attention, involuntary, falls to the oldest grandchild who has a mouth full of food as she stares helplessly at her younger sister who’s let her plate slip and spill all over the blanket.

“Fucking Christ,” Jake scoffs in heated breath, too quiet for anyone besides you to hear. His anger isn’t directed at his niece, of course, but at his sister.

Shoving his plate onto the other armrest, he peels himself up from the chair and crouches down to the oblivious toddler who has orange cheese sauce all around her lips – which he wipes clean with a napkin.

Jess, for her part, rolls her eyes and continues on with a biting tone about children needing to take care of their own messes. But Jake merely scoops up the girl’s food and settles the plate back down on the floor in front of her with a gentle ruffle of her sweet blonde locks.

You hold his plate for him when he returns to the chair, running a hand through his own hair.

“Thanks, honey,” he says in a cadence so natural it almost makes you drop his plate.

When he’s settled, you chance a look at him before you find your gaze trailing over to the far too smug brother seated on the chair adjacent to yours.

“See? This is the shit I was talking about last night,” he waggles a finger between the two of you as an example.

“Dad, do you remember when he brought over that girl? God, Jackie, what was her fuckin’ name?” Josh perks up, sitting on the edge of the cushion as he grabs his father’s attention, and, inadvertently, Jake’s as well.

“Oh, gosh,” Daniel starts, slapping his knee in thought as he stares up at the ceiling for the answer.

After a beat, you hear the soft utterance of, “Sarah.”

You glance down at Jake who keeps his head bowed under the weight of old memories.

Josh snaps his fingers, “That’s it! Fucking head cheerleader wrapped around his damn finger and did he even spare the girl a glance? I swear to God, he - ”

“Christ, can you knock it off with the swearing already?” Jess snaps.

The mischievous brother merely grins at you in a way that seems to say you see what I’m dealing with here?

“Must be all that growing up that’s got you so enamored.”

Settling your hand on Jake’s left shoulder, you give him a reasurring squeeze. You’d already dealt with his brother’s annoying antics and personality last night, what was a few more hours of unending torture under a familial microscope?

He lets out a long ragged breath, but you can feel his shoulders loosen marginally.

You almost miss the biting sound of the Seresin sister when she mutters, “Doubt it.”

But Jake doesn’t.

And he latches on to it like an enemy target on his radar system.

“Something you wanna say?”

The room falls to a stifling silence like the distant whistle of a falling shell about to make impact. You fear for the fallout from the impending crater.

She has the audacity to look aghast, a hand held to her heart in surprise as she manages to finish off her potato salad in one quick bite.

“Jacob. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all.”

“And yet you always manage,” comes his lightning-quick response.

“Well,” she drawls. “On a holy day like Christmas, I think you can find a way to keep your opinions sealed up.”

The other occupants watch the sparring of words like a tennis volley. But someone seems to have had enough.

“Oh, bless your heart dear!” Gwen says, standing quickly from her position on the couch beside her husband as she makes her way over to you. “You’re all out of casserole. Come on, now. Let’s get you fixed back up.”

Your chest tightens as you’re literally pulled to your feet by the determined woman, who quickly leads you into the depths of the kitchen. The words from the two siblings are still just as biting, but slowly the trickle of grandchildren also make their way into the kitchen.

Just another Christmas get-together for them as the grown-ups row.

As Gwen tops your plate to the point of sagging with more food, you watch MacKenna as she settles her younger sister on her hip while holding a hand on top of the toddler’s head.

“You’ve got your hands full,” you manage to say, hoping the smile you offer her isn’t tight with worry as the noise in the living room continues to grow.

The girl shrugs, as much as she can with a one-year-old in her arms. She tracks her siblings as they settle onto the hightop stools and begin to rummage through the lower cabinets.

Josh has his hands out as he tries to delegate between the bickering siblings, but Justin and Marissa just have the peace of mind to leave the scene altogether – also journeying over to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” the eldest brother says to you, leaning on the counter as he carefully pushes his twin sons away from the bowl of Chex mix. “They always get into it when they’re together. Has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can say in return.

“Here, hun,” his wife says to the nine-year-old struggling to hold onto her baby sister any longer. “Give your arms a break.”

With a handful of chips in his mouth, Justin points at his wife, “We’re not having another one.”

She nods congenially, patting the baby’s back with her hand, “I know that.”

Jess is on her feet now, pointing a dangerous finger at Jake, but you feel rooted to the spot because this was never a discussed topic of possible scenarios between the two of you back at the hotel.

“Abandoning your fucking family because you have goddamn daddy issues. Get the fuck over yourself, Jacob!”

For all the hostility his sister throws his way, your companion remains level and coolheaded as always.

He stares up at her with a perfectly blank face, “Can’t go one damn holiday without throwing a tantrum can you?”

Gwen coughs, pulling your attention away for just a moment as she all but shoves a platter of cookies in your face.

“Want one? Got more than the two of us can eat here. I made peanut butter, peppermint, pecan – ”

“ - and you think you can just show up here like it’s all water under the bridge and everything’s fine and dandy just because you have a girl on your arm? That doesn’t make up for the last decade of your shit.”

You take a step toward the living room, where even Josh has shrunken down onto the couch with his head between his hands. Daniel remains completely stock still as he watches the seemingly one-sided fight drag on.

“Just ‘cause you found the first broad to give you the time of day, doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and – ”

Before you can even register the words, Jake is on his feet.

Staring down at his sister with a heaving chest and balled fists.

You break away from the cluster of family members as you make your way to his side. Tentatively, you reach for his hand – easing his fingers away until you can entwine your hands together. His nostrils flare as words that have been building up since childhood begin to battle their way up to his lips, but it all comes to a halt when you murmur a gentle:

“Baby?”

With a slow turn of his head, he looks down at you – fight dissipating from his eyes as you squeeze his hand. Giving a gentle tug, Jake follows you over to the sliding doors of the back deck.

Behind you, you can hear Josh give an admonishing, “Never known when to close your massive fucking trap, do you?”

But you push aside the door and lead your wingman into the fresh afternoon air before you can hear her likely cutting response.

Having no real idea of the lay of the land, you pull him down the back steps and find yourself traversing a small pebble path around the back of the house. Jake, still in a state of silence, allows you to guide him forward without so much as a peep.

Near the back wooden cattle fence dividing the backyard from the actual farm property, you stop under the shade of a large tree. The billowing branches bring not only cool shade but a sense of privacy away from the prying eyes of the bickering family inside.

Releasing your grip on his hand, Jack takes a few unsteady steps forward before he drops down onto a faded old wooden porch swing. It creaks under his weight but seems sturdy enough as he eases his heels into the ground and pushes back and forth.

You stand there, staring out at the vast fields for a long long moment before you hear your name whispered into the breeze.

Turning back to your wingman, you take a seat beside him, your knees brushing as he continues to make the old swing sway.

Out here, if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re in the cockpit on a smooth return flight. The only noise comes from the gentle breeze drooping over the tall grass that bends like ripples in the water.

But your attention ultimately falls to your friend. With his knuckles gripped white on his knees, his head bowed down with his shoulders hunched high to protect him.

This version of Hangman would never be seen by your squadron, nor would it ever be mentioned.

With a steadying breath, your voice cracking as you force out the words, you say, “I have a soft spot for disco music.”

It takes a second for the words to register, but Jake slowly lifts his head and stares at you with pure confusion.

“What?”

“Disco. It’s my... thing? And I’m swearing you to fucking secrecy, Bagman. But... I belt out ABBA songs when I’m alone. Donna Summers too.”

The making of a grin begins to form on the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got it bad for the Bee Gees.”

His brow raises ever so slightly.

“Do those private serenades also include a dance number?”

With a bark of laughter, you tuck your hands between your knees as he rocks you further back on the wide swing.

“Oh, absolutely.”

When you look up, you find his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. But not in a harsh way. More like you were a puzzle he was just only now figuring out the missing pieces of.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Giving a shrug, you say, “Because I wanted to. Also, no one will ever believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence before his lips tug up into a radiant smile that has him shaking his head.

“God damnit, you’re right.”

You let your left shoulder bump into his right as his laughter slowly ebbs away to silence once again.

He spares the house a furrowed expression before he lets out a slow exhale of breath.

“This thing,” he starts, twisting his watch back and forth on his wrist. “Between me and Jess, it goes back years.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” you assure him with a soft utterance.

But he presses forward despite it.

“Josh and Justin were already out by the time things got bad. Just me and her in the house. Not that she paid much mind. She was ‘bout to graduate and I was just some snot-nosed ten-year-old.”

He eases into the swing, dipping his head back over the headrest to stare up at the swaying green leaves above the two of you. You find yourself turning to face him, pulling your left knee up onto the seat.

“Mom started drinking ‘round then after she found out he was fucking his bowling buddy. Had been, for the last two years or so. But Jess didn’t know that shit, just saw Mom passed out on the couch with an empty bottle on the floor.”

Jake shakes his head, pushing away the memory.

“They never said it to my face, but I know. I was the save the marriage baby.”

“Jake...”

Offering you a tight grimace, he continues.

“Spoiled as hell, got whatever I wanted and then some. Private school, the works. Brothers didn’t care much, but Jess...” he trails off.

Your hand settles onto his forearm, offering a squeeze of comfort when your own words fail you. He dips his chin in return, welcoming the touch of familiarity.

“That’s what I meant by it the other day. They sided with him and I went along with her because I found out what was really happening. Don’t get me wrong, Gwen’s a good lady and the two of them are better off divorced. But... put a wedge between me and the three of them.”

Clearing your throat, you ask, “Is that why you left to join up?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Couldn’t fucking stand to be around either of them by the time I graduated. Just wanted to start over, do something for myself on my own terms.”

And then he scrubs his palm over his face, wincing as he does so.

“Christ, I don’t know why I’m fucking telling you any of this.”

“I said you didn’t have to, you know,” you nudge him with a teasing tone.

With a look of pure exasperation, he holds his hands out like a confession, “Got me bleeding my heart out here like I’m Freeze or something, Pits.”

“Eh,” you sigh, twisting your body to pull up both of your legs onto the bench – only to deposit them both right across Jake’s lap with little fanfare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”

Something funny flits over his features for a moment before he places his hand over your calf and resumes his gentle rocking of the swing.

Eventually, you both manage to peel yourselves off the swing and wander back into the house. Jake says something about being completely okay with ditching the whole thing and heading back to the rental car. But you have to remind him that your shoes are still currently lost in the massive pile in the front entryway.

He then tries to convince you to leave them, going so far as to say he’ll buy you a new pair before your flight.

But, reluctant as he is, you walk hand-in-hand back into the house. You get lost in the excitement of the kids who want to open up all their presents right this very second and it seems like, for the moment at least, the fight has been put on hold to allow the true joy of Christmas to take place.

Though Jake and his sister remain on opposite sides of the room for the entire duration of the madness that is eight kids scrambling to unwrap their numerous presents the fastest.

While Justin plays the role of gift hander-outer, Jess lounges on a barstool in the kitchen, watching the mess play out with a stink eye. Jake, for all his hold-ups on the day, also drops to his knees to help the younger nieces unwrap their gifts.

Which leaves you, surprisingly, with a small bundle of drooling baby in your arms since her own mother would rather watch from afar than interact with her own children.

June is happy to suck on the left foot of her new stuffed buddy, lounging out in your lap as you rock the recliner back and forth. Jake shoots you several amused glances before he gets tugged into the decidedly un-fun realm of opening up all the plastic-wrapped toys for the kids.

The living room floor is heaped with wrapping paper and ribbons, loose twist ties, and chunks of cardboard and plastic molds by the time he returns to your side. This time, he’s the one resting on the armrest as he gently taps the snoozing baby’s foot with his fingers.

“Out like a light.”

“No better way to celebrate the day,” you agree.

The sleeping babe must be used to the chaos that is the Seresin family, as her siblings and cousins run amok with their new toys that beep and jingle. Tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floors as they zoom up and down the long hallway separating the living area from the rest of the house.

“Now that’s a picture if I’ve ever seen one.”

You lift your gaze to Gwen as she rounds the corner, a wine glass in hand as she settles in next to Daniel on the couch across from the three of you.

“Think you two will ever settle down stateside?” he asks with a true glimmer of hope in his graveled voice.

Jake winces, hand falling to your inner thigh for support.

“I, uhm, I could never ask Jake to put his career on hold for that,” you find yourself saying.

“Same for you,” he adds a second later.

Gwen, for her part, gives an understanding nod – settling a hand on her husband’s arm to stifle the topic down.

“How long have you two been flying together?”

Your wingman seeks out your gaze as the two of you mentally run through the tangle of memories.

“Three, almost four years now?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what set this all off, if you don’t mind me prying?”

Jake clears his throat, and you have to turn your head to hide the beginnings of laughter that bubble up to the surface. He shifts his weight, draping his right arm over the back of the chair, a finger playfully tugs at the fabric of your shirt.

“It was after a mission debrief. Fourteen hours, dead on our feet,” the story, completely fabricated, comes to him with a true sense of ease.

“And, I dunno. Everyone was shuffling outta the room and I just looked over and saw Pita and thought...”

At the pause, you turn your face to look up at him only to find his softened eyes seeking you out.

“Wow. I can’t have this girl out of my life.”

That piercing expression nearly takes your breath away and you want to applaud Jake for his terrific acting on the fly.

Pulling your gaze back to the seated couple, you add, in jest, “I’m sure my greasy hair and flight suit was what did it for him.”

“Hundred percent!” he grins, tugging a strand of your hair.

At some point, the others filter back into the room and Marissa kindly takes the snoozing June from you. You have to shake out your arms just to return the blood circulation. Who knew kids that little could be that heavy?

And while you get lost in the rushed conversation of two seven-year-olds trying to tell you all about the mechanical workings of their new RC cars, Daniel pushes up from the couch and weaves his way over to Jake, before saying something in his ear. You can feel the way he goes rigid as he slips his arm away from you and slowly stands and follows after his father.

You watch as the two men disappear down the hall, toward one of the bedrooms or office from the looks of it. A cold dredge of worry washes over you, cooling your insides and twisting your stomach into another uncomfortable slosh of concern. He had just started smiling again.

“He’s really got you bad, doesn’t he?”

Pulling your gaze away from the empty hall, you find the piercing eyes of Josh inspecting your face as he leans across his chair to speak to you.

“You. You’re worried about him.”

“Comes with the job,” you say.

A smirk tugs his lips into a twisted look as he too glances down the hallway.

“He’ll be fine. Little testy with whatever Dad’s about to try pulling. Won’t be too surprised if that’s the end of our little visit.”

Your brows pinch, “That bad?”

He chuckles, easing back into his recliner, “Always.”

You try to focus on the happy children occupied with their new toys and the soft lull of the TV sportscaster, but you find your primary focus pulled toward the long empty hallway.

He had told you all about the history between him and his old man, both in the backyard confessional an hour prior and the day you arrived in Austin. Yet now your mind was conjuring up worse and worse scenarios of what was happening in a closed-door room several feet away.

Another few minutes pass where you try your best to ignore what could be transpiring a few yards away, but the sound of a door opening followed by a pleading voice saying:

“Jacob, come on now. Jake. Jake.”

You crane your head just in time to see your companion striding down the hallway, directly toward you – pushing both Justin and Gwen gently out of his way. You’re on your feet by the time he reaches you and before you can even ask are you okay, he’s grabbing hold of your arm.

“Think we’re done here, sweetheart.”

Trying to get a read from his expression alone is useless, so you merely nod in return.

“Okay.”

As Jake directs you toward the entryway once again, with a trail of family members walking a few steps behind you both in silent anticipation, Daniel Seresin finally makes a reappearance.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he just shakes his head in return to his wife’s questioning look.

Hangman can’t seem to move fast enough, even as the nieces creep past you to get to him.

“Are you leaving now, Uncle Jake?”

“When am I gonna see you again?”

He’s halfway between tying his left boot when he looks up at the little faces curled with worry and childhood innocence. Frozen, unable to find the right words to explain his hasty escape as he peers up and over their heads at his father standing silently at the end of the hall.

“Oh, that’s my fault, I’m afraid,” you say, leaning down to grab your own boots as three braided-blonde heads turn to look up at you.

“We need to hurry to the airport to catch our flight, don’t we, honey?”

A flash of gratitude in his eyes and a slow exhale has Jake nodding, quick to play along to your tune.

“That’s right, sweetheart. We have to go see Pita’s family now. Wouldn’t be fair to keep her away on Christmas, yeah?”

Shelby clings to his leg, her face squished into his thigh as she murmurs, “But I’ll miss you.”

Jake shoots you a clear help me look, but your rescue comes in the shape of Josh Seresin who swoops in and collects the five-year-old up into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from Uncle Jackie soon. Won’t you?”

Your companion gives a fast nod, “That’s right, kiddo. Soon as we’re back on the carrier, I’m gonna call you right up.”

The little girl peers over her uncle’s shoulder and you meet her soft gaze.

“And Pita too?”

Jake almost laughs, but he curves it into a smile instead.

“Yeah, her too, honey.”

Oh, your breakup in a few weeks was gonna be fun to talk through with a kindergartner.

Pushing that thought from your head, you righten your boot into place and fall back into Jake’s easy embrace, his hand finding a too-familiar spot on your waist.

The drive back to the city is shared in silence with only the familiar Christmas tunes from the radio there to fill the void between you both. And even then, the holiday spirit has already seeped out of the vehicle and into the vast countryside. No amount of classic jingles could fix that at this point.

When you arrive back at the hotel, it’s as though you’re waiting for the missile to hit. That weapon of course being Jake himself.

But the man in question is as silent as ever as he drops down onto the edge of his bed. Too tired to even remove his boots as you carefully tread around him to take care of your own shoes.

His silence makes you even more cautious in your moves, tiptoeing across the carpet to your bag and back again. Afraid to make any noise that could set him off. Oh, you could handle the fallout, of course. You’re just not sure if he could at this point.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in your sleepwear, Jake is lying flat on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. His eyes open and staring, almost unseeing, at the popcorn ceiling.

After spending a moment to assess your situation, you unceremoniously flop down on the bed beside him, a hand plopping down on his right knee.

And there you sit, in the stillness of the hotel room for a series of long-passing minutes. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, curling your fingers tighter and then looser on his jean-clad knee. Until, at last, he speaks.

“Should have never did this to you.”

You wait until his eyes land on you before you respond.

“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.”

It takes a second, but he eases up onto his elbows.

“I’m serious. Yesterday with my mom was one thing. But this shit? Today? God,” he drags a hand down his face in annoyance.

Releasing a breath, you lay down beside him on the bed. He stares down at you for a long moment before he falls back down next to you.

“I told you, I don’t care. I agreed to this entire insane endeavor and I told you I was gonna see it through no matter what. So, lose the bullshit grief, and don’t worry about me.”

Tugging on the loose fabric of his seafoam-colored button-down, you give him the space to respond or not. Hell, you were gonna be the last person to try and press the man for anything right now.

“I just...” he exhales, resting a hand on his chest. “I dragged you across the country, away from your own damn family, just to do this.”

Rising up slightly so you can stare down at him, you retort, “Which I agreed to. If I didn’t want to do this for you, do you honestly think you could force me to do any of this? Honestly?”

Jake glances back at the ceiling before a smile graces his lips.

“Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you reply, dropping back down.

“Well... at least it’s over.”

You hum in response.

Come morning, you would take the rental car back to the airport and board separate flights. You up to Michigan and Jake back to California. You would enjoy a family-filled holiday and he would be...

Your stomach turns at the thought.

Alone.

After everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, after all that he was dragged through. Jake would be alone come Christmas day. Alone with his own damn thoughts and whatever reemerged trauma that came with this particular visit produced.

Maybe that’s why, after several more minutes have passed you both by, that you turn toward him and say:

“Do you... I don’t – well, that is to say, uhm...”

You can feel the look he gives you but you have to crane your neck back to properly look him in the eyes. There’s something there in the meadow green of his irises that emboldens you – allowing the words to come easily.

“Jake, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?”

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