#standing in front of me and then disappearing into thin air as I reach out to touch him

[tealchameleon]

does anyone want to be friends. I don’t have discord but I guess I can get it… I could just really use some company rn

[teamred]

so contagious

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | smut | 2.8k

SUMMARY | following the kissing from your movie night, logan takes you out on a proper date, while you take him back to your place afterwards. // part two of any other way

WARNINGS | smut, breastplay, oral s*x (female receiving), piv s*x, unprotected s*x // this is 70% fluff - 30% smut!

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i didn't intend to make a part two, but so many of you loved it, i had to give it a shot! this one is from logan's perspective. yes, i know this logan is a bit ooc, but, in my head, this takes place some time after worst!logan enters wade's universe and he's softened up. please leave some love if you enjoy it!

Logan has absolutely no idea what he's doing.

Standing in front of the living room mirror, he debates if he should choose the pale blue plaid shirt he's currently wearing or one of his brown ones instead. But if he chooses the latter, it'd be too similar to the one he wore when you saw him yesterday. 

Overthinking isn't his style, and yet here he is, obsessing over something as trivial as his shirt color. It’s been decades since he’s been on a proper date, maybe even ever.

“Well, don't you look handsome,” Wade cuts through his thoughts with a grin and folded arms, peeling himself away from the kitchen door frame. He saunters over, reaching out to touch Logan’s hair, only for the larger man to shove him away immediately. 

“Not now, Wade.”  

Wade sniffs his hand dramatically. “Oh, my God–you even used hair product! This is so exciting. It's like witnessing a teenager on his first date. I feel like your mom!”

“Well, Mom,” Logan refocuses on the mirror, fixing the mess Wade made of his hair, “you can fuck off.” 

Wade points a finger at him with mock sternness. “Hey, watch your language, young man.” 

Then, to Logan’s surprise, Wade grows momentarily quiet as he stands next to him, both facing the mirror. “Also, the blue shirt’s the better choice.” 

“Yeah?” Logan quirks an eyebrow, glancing over at the brown plaid shirts laid out on the couch. 

“Yeah,” replies Wade softly, and Logan catches a genuine smile in the mirror. The heartfelt moment doesn’t last long though when Wade claps him on the back. “And don’t be so nervous, Wolvie. You already went to second base with her last night. The deal’s pretty much sealed.” 

Logan scowls. “I’m not nervous.” 

“Mm-hmm. You say that, but you’re being even more testy than usual. Dare I blame it on the hormones?” Suddenly, he plants a quick kiss on Logan’s cheek.

“What the fuck?!” 

Logan recoils, then almost lunges at him instinctively. However, Wade’s already retreating and walking backwards, making a beeline to his bedroom with a wave of his hand. 

“Be back by curfew, sweetie! But text me if you’ll be out late, or if you need anything. Some snacks, some condoms—” 

“Wade!” he growls, his patience wearing thin. 

Wade blows an air kiss, disappearing into his room. “Love ya! And you got this!” 

Logan mumbles to himself, “Yeah, I sure hope so.”  

Turning to the mirror for one final check, he adjusts his collar and straightens his shirt. His phone vibrates on the living room table and he reads the incoming texts from Laura: 

- hey sorry for the late reply - but if you haven’t gone out already, i prefer the blue over the brown - not that it matters though - she’ll find you handsome either way - don’t worry! it’ll go well :) 

Logan nods, reassured by Laura’s texts. It’s just a date with someone he’s already known for a little while; it’s not like a blind date or anything. He can do this. 

With one last look in the mirror to check his hair and beard, he grabs his keys and wallet, slings his dark brown leather jacket over his shoulder, and heads out the door.

Logan pulls up in front of your apartment complex and gives you a quick call to let you know he’s here. When you step out of the building, his eyes can’t help but sweep over you—fitted jeans hugging your curves, an off-the-shoulder top that shows just enough, and that stunning smile that lights up your face.

He notices you checking him out too. Realizing that his hair might be messy, he quickly combs his fingers through it as you stroll over. 

“Long time, no see,” you joke, referencing how you saw him just yesterday.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Logan greets, trying to sound more relaxed than he feels. He holds a helmet out to you, but catches how his grip is more tense than usual. “You ready for a ride?” 

You nod, eyes sparkling with excitement. As he steps away from his bike to help you with the helmet, he finds it endearing how you lift your chin and pout a little, making it easier for him to secure the straps. He hopes his touch isn’t too rough, but when your eyes meet his and you smile up at him, he knows he must be doing something right.

With his hands so close to your face, his mind flashes to how he palmed your cheeks and neck last night as he kissed you deeply. It’s presumptuous, but he hopes for a repeat tonight. 

Once you hop on the bike behind him and wrap your arms snugly around his waist, he revels in the warmth of your body against his. As he weaves through the city streets, he occasionally glances back to make sure you’re comfortable. 

Logan thinks to himself how good this feels, to ride around freely with someone he cares for by his side. It’s been awhile since he’s let someone get this close to him… 

Maybe he could get used to this. 

Eventually, he pulls up at an old diner he’s grown fond of across town. The place gives him a sense of nostalgia, a reminder of simpler times (and, even though he tries not to think of it, it also brings back memories of that one time with Wade in the Void).

He offered to take you here because it’s familiar, cozy, and he didn’t want to overthink this date with reservations to some high-end restaurant.

Walking across the mostly empty restaurant, a waitress leads you both to a window booth, where you sit across from each other.

At first, there’s a bit of awkwardness—Logan recommends what’s good on the menu, and you take a moment to decide what to order. His foot taps on the floor as he peeks over the menu, sitting in the silence uncomfortably. 

But once the waitress takes your orders, conversation flows more easily, just like it normally does at Wade’s get-togethers.

You check in with how Laura’s doing, if he and Wade have been on any more assignments recently, and how his motorcycle is running since he fixed it last. 

Logan’s grateful you’re leading the conversation and asking questions; it’s always been easier for him to listen than to talk. 

But he’s putting in effort tonight—he takes it upon himself to know about your life outside of work, if you’ve been reading anything lately, and how you felt about the ride over to the diner.

“A little scary, but it was fun!” you grin, resting your chin in your palm. “I’m just glad it’s you driving it. Like I said yesterday, I always feel comfortable and safe around you, Logan.” 

As your foot brushes against his under the table, Logan’s gaze meets yours. You flash him a shy smile, and before he can think twice, his foot instinctively strokes yours in return. A flicker of doubt crosses his mind—Is this the kind of thing people do on dates?—but your soft giggles melt away his hesitation. The lighthearted game continues until the arrival of your food.

You dig into your food, and a random thought crosses your mind. “Have you ever used your claws to cut your food?” 

Logan pauses mid-bite, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “You know, in all of my two-hundred years of living, I’ve never really thought to try it.” 

“Probably ‘cause you always have a knife around,” you say. 

“Probably,” he smirks. With a glint in his eyes, he unsheathes his claws and the sound makes you jump slightly in your seat. 

“Whoa,” you whisper, eyes widening in awe. Logan realizes you’ve never seen them before. Slowly, he extends his hand, the blades gleaming under the diner lights. 

“Go ahead,” says Logan softly. “Just be careful.” 

You reach out carefully, your fingers grazing the cool, polished metal. You’re both unusually quiet, your attention fully on each other.

Once you pull away, he turns back to his plate with a slight grin. “Okay, let’s see how this goes.”

With surprising finesse, he slices through his burger using his claws, the action both impressive and a little absurd to witness. 

You burst into laughter, the sound contagious as he joins in. “Logan, I think you need to stop before you break the plate.” 

He chuckles, retracting his claws and grabbing a sliced up chunk of his burger. “Yeah, probably a good idea. At least we know the answer to that question now.”

As you move on to dessert, you savor a slice of cheesecake while Logan indulges in a slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. When he’s almost done, Logan takes a slow lick off his spoon and catches you staring at him. 

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” he asks with a playful smile, raising an eyebrow as he takes another bite of pie.

You scarf down the last few bites of your cheesecake before answering. 

“Okay, I have to ask—” you lower your voice and lean in across the table “—can you actually smell how horny someone is?”

Logan freezes mid-chew, remembering what happened yesterday before you left.

“Fucking Wade…” he mutters, shaking his head. After a beat, he sighs. “Do I really have to answer that question?”

You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. “Oh, my God, you totally can…” 

All Logan gives you is a brief laugh and a shake of his head. He fishes for his wallet, tosses some cash onto the table, and then stands up with a grin. “C’mon, gorgeous. Let’s get outta here.”

As he pulls you to your feet, you ask half suspiciously and half in jest, “Are you saying that because you can smell something or…?” 

“Maybe, maybe not...” he teases. He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you to the door. “Either way, let’s head out. C’mon.” 

As you step outside and Logan helps you with your helmet again, you look up at him with a different look this time than before—one that signifies that the night’s only beginning. 

As you fumble with your keys in front of your apartment door, Logan steps in from behind and grips one side of your waist. He leans in, pulling you close, and kisses the crook in your neck. You inhale sharply, losing focus as you melt into his touch. 

After you finally manage to unlock the door, Logan quickly shuts the door behind him before he presses you up against the wall. Initially, you share an intense kiss, but it soon becomes fervent and open-mouthed. Rough edges of his beard even brush against your lips at some points. 

Both parties quickly kick off their shoes. He peels off his leather jacket and aids you with yours. Still lip-locked, he then lifts you up and has you wrap your legs around his waist; his evident desire presses against your body. 

Logan drags your top off, his heated kisses trailing from your mouth, to your neck, and down to your clavicle. His mouth leaves love upon your breasts before he pushes your strapless bra down. You gasp as his push is so rough, the bra merely snaps off and falls away towards the floor.

But Logan doesn’t stop—he hones his attention towards your hardened tips, sucking and nipping with a fervor that makes him lose himself in you.

The moans that fill your entryway only drive him crazy further, along with your fingers tugging at his hair tightly. His hands are needy, kneading your other breast with a blend of tender and strength. After a moment, he pulls back, gently setting your legs back onto the floor.

He kisses his way down from your breasts to your stomach, dropping to his knees in front of you. Logan blinks up at you as he helps unbutton your jeans, pulling them and your panties off and tossing them aside. The sight of you, completely bare and vulnerable, only heightens his desire.

He kisses your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin as he moves towards your core. The scent of your arousal is unmistakable and intoxicating, but it’s the way your body reacts to him that drives him wild. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulders, he dives in without hesitation, his tongue exploring your wetness.

His tongue skillfully works over your most sensitive areas, each touch and flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. Logan is so immersed in the moment, he feels like he's freefalling, lost in the intensity of it all.

The need to be inside you drives him to a point of near frenzy, his own body responding with instinctive thrusts. Each lick and suck against your folds is fuelled by both the need to make you feel good and to be desperately inside of you.

“Logan, Logan—” 

You shatter and unravel for him, jerking your hips against his mouth. He holds you still, securing your orgasm rides out fully. Once you do, he stands up and kisses you gently, intermingling your taste with his tongue.

Dazed, you hook your fingers with a couple of his and lead him towards your bedroom. You lay yourself on the bed first, while he watches you as he strips his shirt and tank top. He sees the inflamed hunger in your eyes at the sight of his entirety. 

Crawling over to you on the bed, his hands roam your body, caressing you passionately before the next part. When he finally undoes his jeans and belts and throws them aside, he looks at you intently. 

“Do you have—?”  

You shush him with a finger, whispering, “Just get inside me, Logan.” 

A smirk spreads across his face as he aligns himself with your slit, teasing you slightly before sliding in. Being inside you draws out a low groan from him, while you throw your head back and expel a long moan.

When you finally acclimatize to his girth, he starts to thrust slowly and kisses you throughout. It’s so easy for him to lose control, to get this over and done with, but he wants to make sure it feels good for you as it does for him. 

But it doesn’t help when your hands dig into his back and your walls clench harder around him. 

“Faster, please,” you beg. 

He checks in with a smug grin, cocking his head slightly. “You sure, gorgeous?” 

You nod breathlessly, “Please, Logan.” 

And that’s enough to make him lose all restraint. He picks up the pace, his movements becoming more intense and primal. His thumb circles your clit, and the combination of his hard thrusts and gentle touch brings you over the edge in unison. He ensures you’re satisfied first before he pulls out and marks you with his release. 

Panting, he catches his breath, and grazes the back of his knuckles against your thigh. Logan turns to look at you. “You ready for round two, beautiful?” 

You laugh with disbelief and exhilaration. “Wait, round two alr—?” 

Logan cuts you off with a deep kiss, his grin wide and satisfied. He feels you smiling into his kiss, your excitement matching his own. 

Oh yeah—he definitely could get used to this.

EPILOGUE — ONE WEEK LATER 

Back at Wade, Logan, and Blind Al’s apartment during another weekend get-together, you’re seated next to Logan at the dining room table, caught up in a quiet conversation with him amidst the animated chaos around you. 

Suddenly, Wade appears behind you, throwing his arms around you both and playfully squishing you together.

“Say ‘thank you, Mommy Wade for our beautiful dating life and we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and I’m gonna name our kid after you and—’” 

“What the hell is happening?” you cut in, looking at your new boyfriend. 

“Just ignore him, baby,” Logan groans, shaking his head. 

“Already using terms of endearment? Y’all move fast,” Wade quips. “And is that any way to treat the person who got you two lovebirds together?” 

“Hey, I helped too,” Laura interjects from Logan’s side.

Wade waves her off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You might’ve mentioned something here and there, but I saw the vision, and not Wanda’s, might I add.” 

“I’m not gonna call you ‘Mommy Wade,’ but I will thank you.” You lean over and give him a quick peck on the cheek. He gasps theatrically and ruffles your hair with exaggerated affection. Times like these remind you why Wade has always been one of your closest friends. 

“Well,” says Wade, as he steps back to return to his seat, “at least one of you appreciates Cupid Wade’s handiwork.”

Later, while you’re chatting with Yukio and Ellie, you notice out of the corner of your eye Logan and Wade exchanging glances across the room. Logan gives Wade a small, grateful nod. 

“Thank you, Wade,” Logan mouths, his expression soft and sincere. 

“Anytime, Wolvie,” Wade mouths back with a wink, raising his beer in a mock toast. 

You catch Logan’s eye, and both of you share a smile that speaks more than words ever could.

[notjustjavierpena]

Dream

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A little Acacius piece to jumpstart my brain again!

Summary: Out on a war campaign, Marcus wakes up in the middle of the night to a dream of you. Oh, how hard it is to be apart.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18, YEARNING, kisses, piv sex, emotional and passionate sex, slight breeding, creampie

Word count: 2.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60742789

Dream

The Roman encampment lies quiet underneath the starry sky as Marcus startles awake, his legionnaires long ago having extinguished fires with dirt, downed the last goblets of drink, and found rest in their cots. It is in the middle of the night, the general judges by the silence around him that’s only disturbed by the hoot of an owl somewhere. Along with the warm sun, early mornings also bring the sound of a bustling camp - its soldiers chatting and preparing for the day’s march across the country - but right now, all is still. 

Marcus also deduces that it is way into the night because the moon hangs high and silent on the horizon, its pale and beautiful light shining into his tent. With sleep still clinging to him, he realizes that he has been woken up by a warm breeze catching the flaps of the tent, the entrance repeatedly opening and closing with a whipping sound.

His first instinct is to reach for his dagger, sure of the fact that he secured the entrance to his makeshift bedchambers before falling asleep, but the second he wraps his fingers around the hilt, he sees you standing there with the moonlight bathing you from behind in a bluish glow that makes you seem almost ethereal. 

You approach his cot, and he lets his hand fall from the dagger and drop onto the chest of his tunic. You are so beautiful, radiant in the same nightgown that he saw you in the night before you parted ways and he went to war. It is a memory that keeps him going even through the hardest of days; the way you had kissed him so deeply, sprawled out beneath him. This was while you had looked at him pleadingly and with tears on your face that he tried to catch with his thumbs before they rolled down into your hair. The way he had made love to you is burned into his mind, keeping him warm when temperatures outside drop along the seaside. He promised you that he would return to you as soon as he could but here he is in your company much sooner than he anticipated, and he knows it cannot be real. 

Your gown flows around you with each step you take, draping so perfectly along the curves of your body as if you’re the personification of Venus herself. He knows what the white fabric hides, even if it weren’t for the rounding of your breasts being outlined or the peaks of your nipples poking against the front. You perch yourself on the edge of his cot, leaning over him and smiling tenderly down at him. 

“This is a dream,” he says quietly. He reaches out to curl his fingers into your dress, wondering if you’ll evaporate into thin air if he touches you. He doesn’t think he can handle it if you disappear from his grasp.

“If this is a dream, then I wish never to wake," you declare and the sound of the melody that is your voice has Marcus’ heart nearly leaping out of his chest. You stay with him as he tugs you down for a kiss, solid against him and nowhere like the mist surrounding the tents in the morning like he had feared, “Yet some say that we must be thinking of one another at the same time to be meeting like this.”

“I am always thinking of you. I miss you more than I can bear,” he says weakly, a lump having formed in his throat, scratchy from sleep. You rest your forehead against his, the both of you sighing softly in relief at being so close. Then you place a hand on his cheek, and Marcus feels a whole universe of emotions inside of himself, expanding so fast that he can’t breathe, that it threatens to overwhelm him. 

“You have me,” you reassure gently, opening your eyes to look at him even as you kiss him softly on the lips. Your scent envelops him, jasmine flowers - his favorite - from the garden where he took his first stroll with you. And there his heart and mind go once more, feeling relief yet longing, happiness yet sadness. 

“This war,” he whispers and his gaze is fleeting, “It feels meaningless if I cannot be with you, beloved wife. We are parts of the same soul, you and I. What good am I here if I am merely a puzzle missing its pieces?”

“Shh, look at me, my love,” you soothe and it’s like his body is draped in the warm blankets of your shared bed, hearing the sound of his home bustling with happiness. You brush your fingers across the stubble on his cheek. He leans into the touch, knows that his eyes are wide and pleading as he returns them to you. You scratch his beard again, “You are whole, Marcus Acacius, even here. You carry me with you, just as I carry you.”

“My clever wife, yet again you are right. It is my weary heart that speaks. Of course, you are always with me, always in my thoughts even when it feels like the skies will tumble down upon me and the world will end,” he replies, taking in the way you look to the version of him that dreams. He wonders if the picture before him will etch itself into his mind, so deeply that his thoughts will conjure up fresh images tomorrow during broad daylight. 

“Those skies are skies we share, always under the same sun and moon,” you smile, and he sighs, closing his eyes as you trace his face with your fingers. You draw invisible lines across his features, gently over his cheekbones and carefully down the length of his nose, fingertips dancing across his eyelids with featherlight touches, “Do you remember nights spent under the stars? You love that spot close to the river back home.”

“Tell me of home," he asks of you, a bead of desperation rattling around in his chest, "Tell me of the river, the fields, and the stars, of the songs the birds sing at dawn."

“The river flows like it always has, my love. The fields stand golden and the wind makes it seem like they are one with the water surrounding them. Can you see it?” You sound like a lullaby. 

Marcus nods, the sight is painted on the back of his eyelids. He knows each hue of blue and golden, each curve of the bending riverbanks, and he can almost feel his heart beating slower at the mental image. He finds peace in the idea that nothing has changed back where you are waiting for him, the familiarity more soothing than any draught or potion. For a moment, he is home with you and all is well. 

You peck his lips while brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “And the birds. Can you hear them? The way the larks greet each morning?”

“I hope the Fates are not so cruel as to keep us apart for much longer. I want to hear them again soon,” he murmurs, opening his eyes to find himself staring into yours. He reaches up to cup the back of your neck, feeling how warm you are despite not actually being here. 

“Sleep,” you encourage gently. 

“I can’t, not with you so near,” he whispers and draws you nearer to his mouth again. He captures your lips in a longing and deep kiss, a quiet urgency rising in his chest when you sigh the way he loves. As you thread your fingers through his graying hair, he reaches for your waist and guides you to sit on top of him. 

Your dress pools around your thighs and him like the mountains and valleys he crosses each day. He pulls back to drink you in, committing you to memory as his eyes dance over the curves he had noticed beneath the fabric as you entered his tent. 

"Then touch me," you let out a little breath of desperation, a fire having ignited in your eyes while you stare into his. He feels the flame within himself too. 

One of his hands moves slowly up your bare arm, the other tracing the length of your spine on top of your dress until you shiver. He lets both hands grab at the straps of your gown, guiding them off your shoulders until your chest is bare to him. You lean down for another kiss but he grabs your soft shoulder to stop your advances, his thumb resting against your pulse point. He marvels at how real you feel, can feel your heartbeat underneath the tip of his finger as if you are truly here. 

"Marcus," you plead him quietly and he doesn’t hesitate. He sits up slowly until your breasts touch his chest and then he finds your mouth again, his fountain of youth. He slips his hands underneath the skirt of your gown and feels that you are already ready to welcome him if he wants. He touches you there for only a moment but you still beautifully furrow your brow with pleasure from how much desire Cupid has sent through your veins. However, he decides that he has no time to prolong this moment with you because only Somnus will know when he’s going to wake up. 

“Lift your arms,” he guides after hearing you make a feeble noise when he removes his digits from your slick core. 

You do as he says and he lifts the waves of fabric over your head, throwing the discarded gown onto the ground with a smile on his face. In return, your hands find the hem of his tunic, sliding it up and over his head. The tunic joins your gown on the floor, the both of you finally touching each other’s naked bodies with soft chuckles. There’s something euphoric about simply being naked in each other’s arms before making love, something so vulnerable and private that it’s reserved only for each other. 

Your palms roam over his broad, strong chest and your fingers thread through the coarse hairs there. His hands mirror yours but instead, they feel the softness of your skin that prickles his with warmth. He skims them over the swell of your breasts, the touch full of worship while he buries his nose in the crook of your neck. 

“My beautiful wife,” he murmurs while he showers you in kisses from neck to collarbone to the top of your breast. 

“Make feel whole,” you moan and cradle his head, holding him against your chest while his mouth trails across the valley of your breasts. He doesn’t need to be commanded twice, already helping you to sink down on him to the very hilt of his length. 

The connection has the both of you gasping and chuckling further in relief, none of you moving as you get used to having him so deep within you. He stares up at you as you’ve elevated yourself slightly to sit down on his cock, blown away by your beauty that’s enough to make him twitch inside of your pulsing heat. 

"I love you immeasurably, my wife.”

"And I love you, my husband.”

You move against him for the first time and he groans low in his throat, already feeling the stirrings of pleasure. With his hands on your hips, the two of you slowly begin moving together, your bodies finding a rhythm that is instinctive and familiar. He finds that he doesn’t need to intervene in your sinful ministrations on top of him; he knows the pattern of your hips’ movements like the back of his hand, knows when to leave you to do as you please and when to help you. Right now, you are an expert in driving him to madness. 

His hands are everywhere as you take what you need from him. He touches where he can reach - your thighs, your hips, your back - as if he cannot figure out where he wants to hold you the most. Eventually, your hands find his to anchor him, entwining your fingers together to ground him in his longing for you. 

However, Marcus is not a man of restraint when it comes to you. He needs you in ways that make him yearn for you even when you are on top of him. 

“Faster,” he brushes his lips against your jaw, kisses your chin when he was supposed to find your mouth. You hold his hands and oblige, the rolls of your hips quickening to a pace much faster than how you’ve been imitating the waves of the sea. Your skin is glistening in the moonlight coming through his tent, sparkling like you are a goddess descended from the heavens and into the arms of him, a mere mortal. 

You’ve closed your eyes as you near your crescendo, your lips parting in a breathless moan while the world outside is lost to the both of you. He can feel you choking his length, tightening around him like a fist. In his belly, heat is tightening like a rope about to snap in two. He feels it within you too, both of you teetering on the edge of unmatchable pleasure. He wishes it was real and not in the realm of dreams, wishes that this was the moment he created a family with you and made you his entirely. There’s so much to look forward to in his return. 

“Let go, my love,” he says in an almost commanding tone, “Let your general feel you.”

And you do. Your peak hits you like a bolt of lightning to the point where he has to keep up your pace, his hips thrusting up to meet yours while you lose yourself in the sensations running through your veins. He drags your entwined hands to his chest, placing your palm on his pounding heart, and mirrors his own hand on your chest too. Your hearts beat in unison and he can’t take it anymore, can feel his control slipping from his grasp. 

He comes with a quick intake of air and then a growl, his hips stuttering before he spills inside of you. His body tenses up for a moment before it relaxes thoroughly, chest heaving and head swimming with the intensity of it all. You say his name and he finds himself saying yours, repeating it like were they prayers for the Gods. 

Eventually, your body slumps against him and he slips out of your spent heat. Your breaths are synchronized, even as they slowly start to calm down in your bliss. He holds you close to his chest, feeling you stick to him but he doesn’t care. He’ll take anything you have to give when his body and soul miss you so thoroughly. 

“Sometimes I wonder if the Gods are punishing me for loving you so deeply,” he murmurs with a trail of kisses along your shoulder. A loud, satisfactory sigh leaves him when you slide your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. 

“Your ability to love wholly and completely is yours alone. Do not let the Gods take credit for what belongs to your heart,” you whisper back to him, stealing a kiss when he looks up at you. 

“Stay with me,” he begs of you, “Don’t ever go.”

“I will stay as long as the night prevails,” you reply gently, “But come dawn, I have to go.”

It is unbearable but it makes it more precious. He reaches to brush a strand of your hair from your forehead as it has fallen into your face during your intimacy. He smiles as he takes in the sight of you, how beautiful you look with heated cheeks. 

“Tell me about home again,” he requests, “Please.”

And so you do.

.

.

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[soulwrencher]

put my hands on her hips and said, "just focus on me"

sorta switch!ellie x reader, wc: 1,3k

summary: ellie has been gone on patrol for way too long now, leaving you guessing. but when she returns things get hot and messy. or: you're about to eat her out and make her go all subby for you ;)

warnings: not proof read, nsfw

foggy and grey, the sun's weak rays seep through the curtains. you groan in annoyance. how come you only noticed now that these curtains are awful? you rub your eyes, dry rheum poking your inner corners. you've managed to carry yourself to the bathroom, hands holding your body over the sink. you look at yourself, a dusty blue hue coating the room, coating your tired face.

god, you looked like shit.

amidst lost thoughts, you wait for the water to warm up, examining your face up close in the mirror. you splash water on your face, once, and then once more, at least ellie wasn't going to see you like this. right, at least she isn't going to see how awful you're doing without her by your side. but it is driving you crazy, not knowing where she is, not having her here. it was driving you insane. by now you've rearranged the kitchen cabinets 4 times, gone to tipsy bison every single day in hopes of clearing your mind, and even played with the children at the playground. and you're still in the bathroom, slouching over the sink. the absence of her presence is filling up the room, suffocating you slowly. and the fact that you are on patrol tomorrow makes you want to rip your hair out.

fuck, a teardrop falls into the sink, down the metal drain. and to make matters worse, someone just had to knock at the door. "i told dina that jesse is going today, ugh," you mumble under your breath while dragging yourself to the door. you rub your wet, puffy eyes and take a deep breath. it's fine, you tell yourself, going on patrol today would mean you could take your mind off the thoughts that have been plaguing you, not admitting that your worries about ellie were eating you alive, from your gut to your lungs, it was unbearable. your limbs felt heavy, and your hand could've ripped the door handle off, but the door creaks open, a scent and a silhouette, both too familiar.

no, that can't be possibly true. your eyes widen in disbelief as all your worries wash away, it's her. it's ellie, standing right in front of you, she smells like sweat, and her face looks rough. she gives you an apologetic look, her eyes give her away. and then it hits you hard, you missed this woman, and you were grieving her absence. it was an overwhelming feeling that was consuming you. she looks at you, eyelids low, eyes wandering from your shaky hands to the tear stains on your cheek.

"i'm so fucking sorry, tommy just—" ellie glances at you softly, the corners of her mouth twitching to form a sentence. but you reach for her hand, your other tugs at the strap of her backpack. you still can't believe that she's right here with you.

"shut up, i missed you," your voice breaks from being unused all morning. but it's enough to make ellie go all weak for you, she sighs a little oh fuck to the sky and smoothly glides the hand you're holding over your waist, pulling you close. your skin was burning underneath her fingertips, you wanted to melt into her. "i'm so sorry, my love," ellie's voice is small and croaky. "but i'm here now," she says, her other hand finds its way up to your face, cupping your cheek slightly before resting on your nape.

her words echo in the back of your mind, you feel yourself melt away under her lingering gaze. ellie can't look away, her yearning heart deludes her into believing that the second she looks away, you will disappear into thin air. her grip tightens around your nape, fingers grazing over the side of your neck. ellie missed you too much, the thought of you being by yourself was killing her slowly over the past three days. her touch made your heart beat faster, you just want to close the distance.

and ellie wanted you, more than ever. you could feel her hot breath tickle your cheek, but the way she was glancing at you made you think of all the other places you felt her hot breath on. and the auburn-haired woman picks up on that, her lips felt soft on yours. your hands search her body hastily, until your fingers are tangled in her hair, your bodies were pressed against each other. she slips her tongue into your parted lips, you breathe heavily. animalistic, the way ellie throws her backpack inside onto the ground, closes the door behind the two of you while forcing you backwards against the wall. her body on yours, tits pressed against one another. she slips an i missed you in between sloppy kisses, leaving you gasp for air. wet lips, you could feel your clit throbbing as ellie tugs on your bottom lip, the taste of her was addicting. she pulls away, a moan escaping her mouth.

oh how you've been dying to hear that, hungry to hear her sweet, croaky voice. it was everything to you. you watch her inhale sharply as you cup her tits and feel her up through the endless layers of clothes she's wearing, you want them off, now. ellie bites down her lip as she watches you unzip her jacket, unbutton her shirt, ready to rip it off her skin. "now… hold up," she whispers in your ear, nibbling on it while taking her clothes off. her wet lips send shivers down your spine and heat straight down your clit. she smirks at the sight of your flustered face, her toned arms fully exposed now. ellie's exhaustion was clear, she struggled to take off her pants, but she looks so helpless. so helpless, you can't help but desire to devour her.

"slow down, ellie," you say gently as you wrap your arms around her waist, walking her backwards to her couch, pushing her down onto it. she looks up to you through her eyelashes, confused. you rest your palms on the insides of her thighs, they were warm. and it is bright enough to see goosebumps covering her whole skin as your fingertips touch her bare skin. "open them," you command, her cheeks flush pink. she blinks at you a few times, adjusting herself, you feel her squeeze her thighs together. you're hovering over her by now, tilting your head in expectation. ellie is losing herself under your gaze, she desperately wants to let loose and let you take care of the warm, sticky mess in her panties. "don't think it's a good idea," the woman says breathlessly. you raise your eyebrow in response.

"i was sweating my ass off, i haven't showered in—" you shut her up with a soft kiss, drag them to her cheek and over the side of her neck, all the way up her earlobe. she throws her head back, fuck did you feel good.

"just shut up for once," you whisper, earning you a scoff. but you weren't going to let that sit on you, ellie scoffing at you? your thumb gets dangerously close to her folds, grazing the sensitive skin through her panties. you feel her chest rising abruptly, legs slightly parting as she pushes her hips forward, it was exactly what you wanted. you could finally force your hands in between and spread her legs apart. you inch closer, eventually going down on your knees to examine the wetness leaking through her panties. you loved the sight of her, all desperate, flushed cheeks, just needy and dirty. you massaged her pussy through the fabric, oh how you missed seeing ellie squirm under your touch. and as you thought that it couldn't get any better, she reaches down for your hand, holding it firmly.

before you could question her, a weak and breathless please escapes her mouth. you're more than amused, you love making ellie go all dumb and needy for you. "please what?" you ask teasingly. she rolls her eyes. "fuck, just touch me, please."

i swear there is a second part coming this week where reader eats ellie out i just miss my girlfriend and am done for the day lol

[insomniac-dot-ink]

I can’t go home. There are only a few places open this late and I am walking. I leave a trail of footprints in the powdery snow. The music hall in the middle of town is playing a local band no one has heard of and a single popup store sits outside. I go to the window. The clerk is on her phone in the small cramped cart. Her screen goes dark and she looks up. Her hair is deep brown and tied back so neat and boxy you’d think it was a nun’s habit.

“Hot chocolate,” I say.

The clerk is nonplussed. She takes my money. Her habit-like-hair is stiff and doesn’t shift as she nods and counts my ones. She moves from one end of the little cart to the other with a Styrofoam cup. 

She carries the sugar-thick hot chocolate in one hand and it lets out a thick steam. I am sure she made it too hot. She stops. Her gaze draws up and over my shoulder. Her pupils expand and shoulders rise almost to her ears.

She glances at my face and then away again. Her lips are thin and uncolored. She mouths the words like an unskilled ventriloquist, “do you need me to call someone?”

I shake my head and take the cup and the texture is squeaky and flakes off in my grip. I walk. My footprints mark the powder-white snow and my city only has a few places open at this time of night. My legs are numb with cold and my eyes ache from lack of sleep. I am grateful for the street lights which are all a pale blue color that is supposed to help the birds. I am a bird person, I think, if I was going to be anything.

Cars pass and I am grateful for those too. I reach the street of little cramped stores, one after the next. A fabric store. A second-hand book store. Florists and boutique shoe shops. All too charming to be supportive. The Walmart is just outside our small town limits and I can’t go home.

Across the street, the pub has lowlights on and voices rumble like a thunderstorm from within. I don’t think the rest of the town likes the pub. The bar has one long window made up of colored glass in muted reds and blues and yellows. It reminds me of church windows and leaves the impression of making up for it. Making up for being what it is.

I square my shoulders and push my way in. The air is warm and floor a good type of dark wood. The tables are full enough to be considered a party–or, what I imagine a party to be like. I hadn’t noticed the dusting of snow on my hoodie, and shook it off like dandruff.

The man behind the counter gives me a cursory look. He is a big man with a large mouth and wears frowns like he’s making up for something too. “Mark isn’t here,” he says in a further cursory manner. I shake my head and make my way to the counter. I hadn’t finished my hot chocolate and clutch the Styrofoam cup in both hands.

“Warm up?” I ask but Steven Plyer, the barkeep, is looking over my shoulder. He mouths to himself silently like he’s working out a math problem under his breath.

Two men, big and strapping, move away from the bar’s church-like window. They take seats at the end of the bar and Steven Plyer, the barkeep, leans over the counter. His pupils are ink-dipped coins. I fiddle with the ends of my sleeves. He looks over my shoulder just as I push my hot chocolate closer over the counter.

“There’s a whole world out there,” he says.

I close my eyes. “I know.”

“You don’t have to go.”

I shake my head and Steven Plyer takes my hot chocolate and disappears behind the swinging doors to the back. The rest of the men have moved away from the window and sit on either side of me. They murmur in voices too low to hear.

The oldest of them, a man that smells like leather, stands. His voice has a vibrating quality, unsmooth, dragging out the “a’s” like a regal sheep. “Do your parents know?”

Steven Plyer returns with my hot chocolate steaming and passes it to me with both hands. I get up because the old man needs my seat, I think. The first two men huddle by the front door, coats on and heads bent together like prayer, and I leave without them. The snow is no longer powder but inch-thick fluff. I kick up the fluff with each step and the silver hangs about me like fairy lights, I imagine. I take a sip of hot chocolate and it is too hot and too sweet and you can be grateful for that too.

The sidewalk ends and I walk alongside the side of the road just on the edge of the white line. I think I can see the lights of the Walmart beyond the lights of the city. Trees gather on either side and I miss the blue glow of the street lights and the concerned gaze of the clerk in her tiny cart. I wish she had come with me. I wish Steven Plyer had called me by name.

A solitary car passes and its stark white headlights blare against the night, more violent than kind, and I have to shield my eyes. The car is red and large and pulls to stop on the other side of the road. The window rolls down and a curly-haired woman sticks her head out. Her face is small and elfish and mouth pinches together at the corners. She wears a tight shirt buttoned up all the way to her throat like it might hold her in.

The head beams glow perpendicular to me and I regard the woman as she regards me. She is slow to speak. Slower than the men at the bar had been.

“Get in,” she says, buttoned-up to the throat and with eyes more tired than sad.

“No,” I say and take a sip from the hot chocolate. It’s cold.

Her windshields wipe away the snow and she looks over her dashboard. Her voice is breathy in the way of a Hollywood actress from a bygone era. “I’m worried.”

I nod. They all are. “That can be enough.”

Her mouth zips together into an angry line. She sticks her head out the window, close to a snarl, looking past me, and honks her horn in one long blast. I shy away from the noise and the too-brightness of her head beams. She drives with her head out the window, honking her horn over and over again as loud as she can.

I walk and there are no more cars. The snow settles over my shoulders and I don’t bother to dust off my hood or warm my hands. I leave the white line and walk in the middle of the road. The lights of the Walmart warm the night just outside of town and I can make out the outline of parked cars in the distance. They’re aren’t that many places open this late at night. 

I slow to a stop and sway a bit, like I'm drunk, I think, if this is what that's like. A second pair of footprints mark the snow in front of me. When had that happened? I tilt my head all the way back. The clouds are bright like daylight and snow growing heavy. I think it will all be glittering when the morning comes.

FIN

My book! 🐈 Newsletter

[wileys-russo]

Could you do leah williamson "why the worried faces, I was only asleep for an hour"

leah williamson

“i’m just going to physio babe.” you looked up from the floor as your girlfriend stood in front of you. “okay baby, love you.” you craned your neck up to meet hers in a sweet kiss as she ducked down.

“oh grow up you toddler!” you glared at kyra who was stretching beside you making kissy faces and noises, only poking her tongue out at you in response. “have fun babysitting.” leah chuckled, running a hand through your hair and sending you an amused smile before wandering off.

“oh how will you live without her? will your fragile little heart be okay pookie? aw come here!” you yelped as kyra launched herself at you, landing on top of you in a bear hug as you groaned.

“ky can you go one day without injuring or assaulting someone?” steph sighed from down the line, working out some tension in her hamstrings with the massage gun.

“no she can’t!” you moaned from beneath her, shoving her off with a huff as the australian just jumped right back on top of you. “steph!” you whined, too tired from training to even try and fight off the younger girl who continued to poke and coo at you.

“kyra!” the older australian called out in warning, handing off the massage gun to jen and standing to her feet. “get off her!” steph ordered sternly, hands on her hips as a few of the girls oohed at her strict tone.

“okay stuffy.” kyra grinned, smacking your cheeks playfully and pushing up off of you, instead attaching herself to stephs leg who threw her head back with a groan both at her actions and the nickname.

“get off me you gremlin!” Steph huffed trying to shake her off as you chuckled, just grateful to be rid of her as you hauled yourself to your feet and left the squabbling australians behind you.

“lunch?” lias arm settled across your shoulders with a grin, laughing loudly at the way your stomach grumbled merely at the mention.

“lunch.”

~

you frowned as once again you glanced toward the door, waiting for your girlfriend to come through only she’d still not yet arrived.

“she was just at the physio yeah?” jen clarified as you nodded, glancing down at the plate of food you’d kept her aside, her sessions normally only around an hour and it had easily been two now since the blonde had left.

“kyra!” you smacked away her hand as once again she reached for the plate of food, whining that she was still hungry. “she still hasn’t answered?” steph asked with a frown as you tried to call your girlfriend and it rang out again.

“okay fine! you’re so annoying.” you gave in with a huff, sliding the plate of food over to kyra whose face lit up as you stood from the table. “i think laura and tey had physio too, maybe they’ve seen her.” you shrugged and wandered off to the table where the two younger girls sat.

but unfortunately both of them confirmed leah had left after her session and before their sessions ended so they hadn’t seen her or knew where she went much to your growing concern.

thanking them with a frown you quickly made your way upstairs to the physio’s office, all three of them confirming leah had left over an hour ago intending to come to lunch.

at that information all of your worries increased and suddenly every little ‘what if’ scenario started to creep into the corners of your mind, your chest tightening with anxiety.

you sent a quick text to a few of the girls, sitting down to try and work on your breathing as you muttered to yourself all of the things leah could be doing which weren’t negative.

laura, beth, lia and jen arriving to help the five of you split up and started to search around the centre for leah, beth confirming her car was still in the carpark as the mystery thickened.

as more time passed more of the girls caught on and started to help, searching colney upside down for the blonde defender who’d seemingly disappeared into thin air.

you collapsed onto the sofa in the rec room with your head in your hands, alessia sat beside you and rubbing your back as all of the girls slowly arrived back all shaking their heads to confirm they were unable to find leah.

“i’ve called her mum, alex and holly. no one’s seen or heard from her!” beth frowned as your chest tightened even further and alessia pulled you into a hug.

“baby what’s wrong?” your head snapped up at the sound of her voice, your girlfriend stood hovering in the doorway with her headphones around her neck and concern in her features as she stared around the room.

“who died?” leah joked at the solemn vibe as you launched at her, the blonde grunting and doing her best to stay on her feet as you wrapped your legs around her waist and clung on tightly.

“where the hell have you been!” beth huffed with a glare in leah’s direction as you buried your face in her neck. “yeah! where the hell have you been?” you dropped down to your feet and pushed harshly at the taller girls chest.

“i took a nap! why am i suddenly on trial?” leah frowned in confusion as suddenly all of the girls exploded into chatter and leahs eyes widened in surprise.

“why the worried faces? i was only asleep for an hour.” leah laughed as most of the girls scoffed and started to file out of the room, squeezing you supportively and sending the dumbfounded blonde unimpressed glares.

“dare i ask why all the animosity? god i never knew a nap could be so controversial.” your girlfriend chuckled, looking between you and the other couple of her close friends who were left.

“we thought you’d gone missing! how did you not hear anyone calling out for you the whole team was on the hunt?” you scowled at her as she shrugged.

“had these on.” she tapped the headphones around her neck, whining as you punched her sharply in the arm. “hey baby! ow.” she pouted as you spun around to grab your things and the other girls did the same.

“you are so sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

[zealousllamawolf]

Lost in the Woods (Alastor x Reader) Part 2

!!Minors Please DNI!!

Pairing- Alastor x Reader

Summary- After having a heated moment before someone interrupts Alastor eagerly comes back to show you what you had missed.

Word Count- 1.7K

Warnings- none I think

Tags- SMUT, blood sharing, rough sex, p in v, oral (Alastor receiving) OOC Alastor if you blink.

Part 1

~Alastor’s POV~

  Alastor scuffs as he pulls Nifty out of the ice machine behind that bar sitting her down, wiping the ice flakes off her nose. “There you go dear’ he wipes his hands on his coat, turning to look at Charlie. “Now, was all you need darling,’ a hint of annoyance bubbled over, eager to return to your disheveled body in the bayou.

  “Yes, sorry about that,” Charlie shuffles awkwardly at his impatience.

  ‘’You know how Nifty is, who knows what bug she went after.” Alastor chuckles patting Nifty on the head, lighting up his tone. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I have business to attend to” he smiles mischievously as he disappears back into the shadows moving through them to his room.

  Desire once returning to his crotch stretching the fabric tautly, clearing his throat once he remembers the feeling of your cunt under in fingers, wondering if you were wet below the thin barrier of clothes. Alastor decision to leave his shadow to watch over you paid off; there you were stripping off your clothes down to just your undergarments as he watched though his shadow’s eyes. You make your way over the pond’s dock before sticking your foot in the water seemly to evaluate the temperature.

  Once Alastor reaches his room, he teleported to the edge of the pond near the dock behind you. Taking in your figure though half-lidded eyes his stare trails up and down your body stopping around your plump backside before noticing a large thin scar that trailed around your waist following the curve of your hip before stopping above your lower back. You were perfect, he thought to himself grinning lustfully.

  “My, my dear, it seems you have made yourself quite comfortable” his voice dropping lowly, you jump and lose your balance tipping backwards into the water. Alastor rushes forward, dropping to his knees he peers over the edge waiting for you to break the surface for air, when you didn’t come back up after a long thirty seconds the duckweed blocking his view under the water Alastor quickly stands up and throw off his coat off, kicking off his shoes unbuttoning his shirt before scanning the water’s surface again. He leans down again over the dock’s edge as your faces pops up under a lily pad hiding underneath staring up at Alastor grinning.

“Oh, you checky girl.” Alastor says breathlessly hanging his head lowly in relief, the tension leaving his shoulders. Why did he feel such a need to dive in the water after you? He wanted to protect you, keeping you all to himself, wanted to mark you and show everyone you were his and his only. Anger starter to rise unable to catch his breath, he pants out “Never do that again,’ wincing at his sharp tone he adds, “Please,’ softly.

He watches you swim up to him resting your arms on the dock you grab his arm reassuringly, “Okay, I won’t if you come in here with me” you say pushing yourself up enough out of the water and plant a soft kiss on his cheek before trailing kisses down his jawline, Alastor growls in response hastily shedding his shirt and pants. A night swim is a bad idea anyways, Alastor indulges.

 He sits down with his feet over the edge before slipping in the lukewarm water completely submerging himself even though he can touch the bottom. He feels his shoulder being yanked up by your hands, so he abides rising himself up out the water, directly in front of you. You wrap your hands around his shoulders and link your legs around his waist. Alastor groans at the sudden pressure pressing against his crotch and bring his hands to your hips noticing your panties were no longer on your bottom as well as your bare chest pressing against his, in the distance he sees your undergarments floating at the surface.

 “Ha, ha so eager little doe.” Alastor says as he runs his hands to your ass cheeks gripping them tightly. You throw back your head grinding against his hardening cock. “But patience is a virtue,’ he says teasing.

  Alastor twists around with you still connected at the hips. He pushes further into the water on his back, the movement sliding his length down your uncovered core making you moan at the friction. Resting your hands on his chest you arch your back allowing him to see your breasts peeking up out of the water duckweed sticking to your upper half.

  “But Alastor, I need you,’ you say pleadingly.

  “Oh, forgive me but I thought we were taking a nice night swim?” he cocks an eyebrow at you, making you frown in desperation, Alastor gins enjoying teasing you knowing he will not be able to hold out much longer as his cock twitches with desire.

  You lean down and plant a feverish kiss directly on his, sliding your tongue on his bottom lip tasting a hint a blood from his fresh cut lip. The heat from your kiss snaps something in Alastor and in an instant, he teleports both of you to the closest tree, pushing you against the trunk. He deepens the kiss exploring your mouth feeling one of your sharp canines nick his bottom lip making you kiss him more intensity. Alastor pulls back with a low groan.

  “You know idea what you are doing to me my dear,” Alastor says breathless shuddering when you run your fingers through his hair gripping at the root making him suck in a breath.

  “S-show me, Al” you beg grinding on his cock.

  “It hurts that you assume I would give in that quickly silly girl.” Alastor lies slickly through his teeth, chuckling when you pout at him although it does not last too long before you unwrap your legs from his waist and start to get on your knees running your hands down his chest as you meet the ground stopping when you reach his hips. “So perfect,’ he whispers when you start to pull down his briefs.

  You look up with pleading eyes “May I sir?” his cock twitched at being called ‘sir,’ he runs his thumb on your cheekbone glowing down at you and nods.

  He used his spare arm and rest it against the tree letting out a moan as you free his throbbing cock, the cool air cooling his precum that started to gather at his aching red tip. He watches as you stare hungrily at his length groaning as your mouth encases his tip, sliding down taking him inch by inch till your mouth takes all of him.

  “So sweet of you taking my cock like a good girl.” Alastor gasps as you pull him out of your mouth twirling your tongue around his tip before diving back down again picking up speed, moaning sends vibrations all around his cock, resulting in him thrusting into to your mouth going past the curve of your throat. “Mmh, you make me feel so good darling,” you look up at him unable to say anything as he gently thrusts into your mouth tears forming in your eyes. You slide him out of your mouth with a pop.

 “Are you going to show me now how much I make you feel good now?” you ask cheekily, Alastor respond by picking you back up like you weighed nothing, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist again, teasing you with his tip lined up with your dripping entrance. Aching your back made his tip slip in making you moan at the sensation; you try to lower yourself further on to his cock but his firm hands stops you. You look at him with a crazed face, but he just stares at you grinning maliciously before thrusting into you with such force making you release all the air from your lungs. You gasp unable to catch your breath as he does not stop before pulling out of you, slamming back into your gummy walls. “O-oh God,” you shudder.

  “No dear its only me here and me only making you feel this way.” Alastor starts roughing fucking you into the tree. He does not stop there, forcing your legs higher pressing them against your chest, all that was holding you up now was your back firmly pressed against the tree and the pace he thrusted into you. Every time he pulls out, his tip pressed against your g-spot making waves of pleasure course though your body, he feels your walls clamp around his cock. Alastor changes his angle until he hits the right spot making you moan his name, hearing his name come out of your swollen lip makes him go feral, the coil in his stomach tightens further, he knows your close too when your legs start to push against his hands.

  “Just like that Alastor, please” you beg tears falling down your face, your whole body tightens, and he hears you scream his name as your release floods your body, your walls spasming around his cock.

  “Almost there little doe.” He growls picking up his pace to unnatural pace chasing his own high.

  “C-can I bite you?” you say fixed gaze at his neck.

  “Yes, dear take your fill” you don’t wait till be finished speaking as your bit down hard at the curve of this throat, making his groan in pain, the sensation spread though his body right down to his cock, with one last trust he finishes inside of you panting. You do not stop your assault running your tongue against the wound you created until the blood stopped flowing freely.

  Pulling back both of you panting with his cock still buried deep in your cunt. He pulls out, his seed pouring out of your elevated cunt. You close your eyes as he carries you to his bedroom, he whispers pressing his mouth to your ear, “You did so well, but now it time for you to rest. You have a very busy night ahead of you.” He says softly.

  That was the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms. Alastor sighs contently with you sleeping on his chest, he slowly traced your faded scar wondering what happened.

~~~

A/N

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

____________________________________________________

Tag List

@cutesytwt @opulentshits @elegant-face-tree @walnutnut @lustylita

[serotonins-stuff]

𝐉𝐣𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 °•.•°•.

♥︎Sypnosis: Just a casual day of training with your Jjk boyfriend.

♥︎Featuring: Gojo, nanami, itadori and Megumi

♥︎Warnings: very fluffy and a tiny bit suggestive

"𝙘'𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙫𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙩?" °•.•°

𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤

If you can land a punch I'll reward you" he smirked while getting into position, stretching his neck and arms.

You had been trying to land a hit on him for the past 3 hours, failing every single time as he'd end up pinning you underneath him.

"Oh yeah?" You wheezed "And what would that be?"

"You'll find out soon enough, that's if I allow you to lay a finger on me"

You rolled your eyes with a playful scoff "Cocky bastard"

You were about 3 feet away from each other, staring into his eyes intensely while you waited for the countdown.

"3" he stated, watching as your feet shuffled a bit, spreading them out so you would be able to charge.

"2"

"1"

"Go!" With that, you rushed towards him and he just stood still, smiling as if he was mocking you. Yes you were his girlfriend and he loved you dearly, but he wasn't going to go easy on you. One of the reasons was that you needed the raw experience of what it's like in combat. What it is like to battle a curse.

Just as you reached your hand out to grab him, he disappeared into thin air. Swiftly coming up behind you and holding your arms behind your back. His warm body pressed against your back.

"Gotcha" he husked into your ear while to struggled to free yourself. You weren't ready to give up just yet though, you had a plan in mind that your beloved gojo had no clue about

You thought on your feet and did a half backflip, your legs hooking his head in place as you used all your strength to pull him down to the ground. A surprised yelp came from his lips when the roles were now reversed, You somehow managed to straddle him as you sat on his back, his chest flat against the floor.

He let out o huff of amusement from where his face was smooshed on the floor. He purposefully went easy on you and that pissed you off. You pulled your fist back and collided it on his back with exceptional power, earning a little grunt from him.

"I deserve that"

"Why did you go easy on me that round" you asked crossing your arms.

"We've been going at it for 3 hours sweetheart" he sat up and maneuvered you to sit on his lap, rubbing your arms soothingly "I just figured we call it a day and get some rest"

Your face was still visibly upset, lips pouty, and brows furrowed. After all the time you spent on this, he was just going to stop trying and call it a day?

He kissed your pouty lips and unraveled your crossed arms. "You can't stay mad at me"

You looked away.

"C'mon," he peppered kisses along your face and you tried hard to stifle the smile that so desperately wanted to appear.

You finally cracked when the kisses were targeted toward your neck. "Fine we can go home... that's if you give me a massage before bed"

He smiled and planted a kiss on your lips.

"Deal"

°• .° • . °• . °• .

𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞

"You're behind the oak tree which is 240 degrees to my left," Nanami said blankly, a black blindfold covering his eyes.

He was supposed to be helping you improve your sneaking abilities, and one way you could do that was to try and tackle him while he was blindfolded in a forest.

You weren't going to lie and say it was easy, because so far he's been able to pinpoint your exact location with just his ears.

You changed positions, jumping onto the tree branch directly above him.

"You are currently above-" he stopped, hearing a sound on his left and one in front of him. He knew what you were doing. You were throwing random objects around to try and confuse him.

Now he was alert, standing still so he could catch even the slightest bit of your breathing. A series of rocks fell around him, yet he still couldn't hear where you were.

Nanami knew you were smart, so it would only be fitting to be prepared for anything. You were just that unpredictable.

Just as he thought that you pushed his chest. Sending him a few steps back and he tripped over the wire you had set up behind him. He spun around to stop the fall but another wire had been placed, wrapping around his feet. Leaving him to dangle for the tree branch.

Nanami was officially trapped, and you were the one that trapped him. You couldn't help but smile at your accomplishment.

"Well-" he groaned, taking off the blindfold "This is an unfortunate turn of events"

"Gotcha" you panted from where you stood below him. "You're a pretty tough cookie Kento"

"You flatter me darling"

You seized this moment as an opportunity to catch his lips in yours. Initiating a sweet Spiderman kiss.

You didn't even know how but he somehow managed to break free of the restraints on his legs, breaking from the kiss and landing swiftly on his feet. Clearing his throat as he carried you princess style.

"Nice work today" He kissed your lips once again "Not only did you manage to capture me but you also came up with a master plan which isn't half bad"

"If only it didnt take 3 fricking hours" you groaned into his chest. "Can we go home now please?"

"Of course we can"

°• .° • . °• . °• .

𝙄𝙩𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙞

"You're way too cute yuuji" you giggled, kissing the top of his nose while he lay on the floor. Tangled by the net trap you had set up for him earlier.

You had told him to give it his all but he refused because he was worried he'd hurt you, so instead of fighting back he let you use him to train, allowing himself to be captured and tackled. Which wasn't a problem for him at all, considering his durability.

"Looks like you got me.." he struggled under the net, letting out a sigh of defeat. "again"

"Yuuji are you underestimating me?" You taunted, untying the net to let him out.

He immediately got defensive, flailing his hands frantically "No it's not like that at all I promise!"

"It seems like it to me" you fake pouted, facing your back to him and crossing your arms. "You think I'm weak huh?"

"Baby don't be like that" he called to you but you refused to answer. Not bothering to even listen to what he was saying.

Swiftly he pulled you by the waist from where he sat on the floor and placed you on his lap. His face rested on your shoulder while you struggled in his grasp.

"If you can get yourself free from my cuddles I'll agree to fight back" he mumbled into your neck and closed his eyes.

You smiled to yourself mischievously. Unbeknonks to Yuuji, you had a good idea of how to get yourself free of his grasp.

You stealthily reached your hands towards the sides of his stomach and he thought nothing about it. That was until tickled the spot wildly.

He yelled in surprise and his arms loosened around you. You took that as an opportunity to pin him down and hover above him. His face was one of shock when you were suddenly above him.

You kissed the tip of his nose and giggled.

"Pinned ya"

°• .° • . °• . °• .

𝙈𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙢𝙞

"You're too predictable," Megumi said, swiftly dodging the staff you swung in his direction, and grabbing it. Pulling it towards him till your chest made contact with his.

"You're not helping" you groaned "Can't you like- I dunno give me some specific tips?"

"Well for starters you have to work on being lighter on your feet, your movements are way to predictable and you start off with the same attack, you also aren't utalising the other parts of your body because you put all your focus on the staff"

You huffed out in exhaustion, you would ask him if you could both just go home and cuddle, but you knew very well that your boyfriend was too disciplined to slack off.

"Like this," he said coming up behind you and placing his hands over yours, which had the butterflies in your stomach going wild. He then showed you a better way to start your attacks. It was nothing fancy, just something simple to steer you in the right direction.

He was well aware that you had used up most of your energy for the day, and your movements would most likely be sloppy from now on because of no motivation. He had to find something, anything that would just motivate you for this final 30 minutes.

"If you can get it right I'll give you a kiss"

Your eyes lit up immediately and you straightened up. Looking into his eyes for any hint of dishonesty. A small smile was plastered on his face but you could tell that he was dead serious.

You strengthened the grip on your staff and got into position, determination overcoming you, the reward is the only thing on your mind. Megumi smirked at your sudden change in attitude, realizing that his small stunt had worked.

You charged at him again, this time landing the strike perfectly on the side of his stomach. He didn't feel a thing because the training staff was made from plastic. Yet he couldn't stop the stupid smile from appearing onto his face.

"Did I do it right?" You asked with the cutest face he has ever seen and he nodded causing you to jump around in excitement.

"You saw that right?!" You said to him excitedly "I was like WHOOSH-then I was all like-KAPOW and then I was-"

Megumi cut you off by bringing his lips to yours for a bit before pulling away. This caused you to be a bit flustered as you couldn't utter words anymore,you just stared at him with an expression that made him feel some type of way.

"Im so proud of you" he glowed, caressing your cheek with his hand.

A/n

I am currently overloaded with school work so updates will be kinda slow. Though I will still do my beat to provide you all will quality content.

We are almost to 300 followers!!😆

Thank you to everyone for the love an support. All of you are very kind and motivate me to keep writing. ❤❤

As always requests are open

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Welcome Home | Han Jisung

•Synopsis: While out on a leisurely hike you find yourself drawn away from the path to a beautiful field smack dab in the middle of the forest. It's incredible beautiful is something out of a fairytale and you soon find out why when you're ripped away from where you stood.

•Pairings: fairy Han Jisung x Female Reader

•Content Includes: au fairy realm, fluff, smut, mentions of past lives and soulmates, magic, unprotected sex

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

You're out hiking on a warm spring day, feeling the sun on your skin and the breeze in your hair. The woods around you whisper with life as birds chirp their cheerful songs and small animals skitter away excitedly. As you wander deeper into the forest, you stumble upon a clearing that takes your breath away. The field is a kaleidoscope of colors, with vibrant purple, teal, and blue flowers swaying gently in the breeze. You can't resist the urge to explore further, and before you know it, you're standing in the middle of the field. What you don't realize is that you're surrounded by a ring of white mushrooms with shimmering pearlescent specks until it's too late. You've heard the tales of fairy rings, how you should never disturb them since they're said to be the home of The Fae, but you've never truly believed in the folklore. That is until a sudden gust of wind, not from the trees, but from within the ring of mushrooms, envelops you.

Panic sets in and when you go to step out of the ring, the wind grows stronger, pulling everything around you into a whirlwind. Your hair is flying everywhere, and your backpack gets ripped from your shoulders, disappearing up into the tunnel of air. The circle around you starts to glow with a soft white light, until it's blinding, forcing you to shut your eyes. When the wind finally stops, you cautiously open your eyes only to find yourself at the edge of a magnificent forest, beside a towering waterfall that glistens in the sunlight. It's like something out of a fantasy. Everything around you seems to glow with a soft, celestial light. You can't help but marvel at the breathtaking scenery that surrounds you, wondering just where the hell you are and how you'll get back home.

Tentatively, you poke your foot out of the fairy ring and a sense of relief fills you when nothing happens. The world around you is breathtaking, filled with vibrant colors and ethereal beauty. When you step completely out of the ring, your eyes catch sight of a man emerging from the waterfall. It parts effortlessly for him, like a curtain being drawn aside, leaving him completely dry. His brown hair, slightly past his ears, frames his face in soft loose curls, blowing in the breeze. His chest and abs subtly glisten with the same shimmer as the mushrooms down to his slender waist, blending seamlessly under the waistband of his loose white pants that flow like water as he walks towards you.

You feel a gentle tug in your chest, urging you to move closer to him. It's like your feet have a mind of their own, pulling you towards the mysterious figure. Your whole body relaxes, and your mind clears as if all your worries have vanished into thin air. When he stops in front of you, you notice the delicate points of his ears peeking out from beneath the waves of his hair. And when he speaks, his voice is like a melody, soothing and captivating.

"Hello y/n, I'm Jisung," he says with a smile that lights up the entire forest. "I've been waiting for you. I knew the moment you stepped into that field that you’d finally find your way back to me this time.”

You're taken aback by his beauty and the sense of familiarity, as if you actually know him. He certainly knows who you are though but that doesn't seem to freak you out. Jisung reaches out to you placing a gentle touch on your cheek and you let him. His touch makes you shiver and it sends waves of electricity through your body down to your core, feeling a rush of pleasure that leaves you spellbound. You manage to find your voice, though it sounds a lot softer than you mean to.

"Do I know you?" you ask, "Have you cast some kind of spell on me?” He gives a shake of his head with a small smile and quiet chuckle making your heart stutter inside your chest.

“No spells sweetie, just the bond between soulmates," he reassures you.

You want to interrupt him, call him crazy, but is he the crazy one or are you? Everything around you seems like a scene from a dream. You half expect to jolt awake back in bed at any moment now. Or could you be lying unconscious somewhere after hitting your head on a low hanging branch in the forest? Maybe you got stung by something and an allergic reaction triggered this bizarre hallucination. But if any of that were true, then why does his touch feel so vividly real?

“Y/n, in every life before this one, you've been my love. In each of those lives, you're always drawn to lush green fields but for a long time you've never made it back to me. Until now.” His smile is warm as he gently takes your hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles over your knuckles. “Oh my baby, I've missed you throughout these long centuries. It's been hell having part of my heart missing but you're here with me now and I finally feel complete.”

As his words sink in, he inches closer to you, and you feel oddly calm. Just as his lips are about to touch yours, you hesitate and draw back a bit. His deep, warm eyes meet yours, and a playful pout forms on his lips, tugging at your heartstrings.

"I'm sorry," you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't remember any of this. If all of this is real, I have no memory of any of it." You apologize, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I understand, beautiful. It's a bit unreal, isn't it? You probably don't even remember this place was once an absolute favorite of yours." Jisung tells you, his voice full of affection.

You look around, taking in everything but feel nothing other than the initial wonder at its beauty when you first opened your eyes. You would remember a place that looks this celestial. Jisung nods slowly in understanding as if he can read your mind, looking at you like you are truly his whole world. He looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on and you find that ridiculous considering where you both stand.

"If we kiss, some of your memories will come back. Not all unfortunately, but hopefully the ones that will remind you of me and what we mean to each other." he explains.

He sounds so sincere, it's hard not to trust him. He tells you that it'll just be a featherlight peck and nothing more. There's no harm in a simple kiss right? He's cute, so if he's lying maybe this could be some sort of meet cute like in a movie an you two would laugh about it years later. You inhale deeply and nod giving him the okay to kiss you.

Closing your eyes, you sense Jisung getting closer until you feel his face just inches away from yours. He smells amazing, like fresh flowers, coffee, and sunshine. When he kisses you it's gentle, his lips barely touching yours. You start to feel light-headed, and clear images start to form behind your lids, like watching a movie.

You catch Jisung's eyes, his grin stretching wide as he gently lifts your hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss to the back. With a graceful spin, he twirls you around and your laughter rings out. Behind you, a shimmering light dances, casting hues of iridescence. As the spinning slows, the same radiant colors swirl behind him, framing his form with beautiful radiance. His wings, delicate and transparent like glass, reflect the mesmerizing glow of the fairy realm behind him. The fairy realm, your home, unfolds slowly with sparkling streams winding through lush forests and delicate flowers bloom. Each breath of the wind feels charged with magic. He whispers your name, his voice tender and promises, "Always in this life and the life after, I will love you, I will find you my baby." His words fill the air, swirling around you like fireflies."

You gasp, eyes fluttering open, and see Jisung's warm eyes on you. It feels like you've been lost in a dream for ages, but his voice brings you back to the now. Around you everything feels different somehow. The air is alive with a soft hum of magic that you didn't notice until now and the colorful flowers seem brighter as they blow in a breeze that smells like vanilla and fresh rain.

"Do you see now, y/n?" he asks gently.

Blinking away the remnants of the vision, you nod, feeling your heart swell like a balloon full of helium threatening to float out of your chest, "I see." You whisper, feeling the overwhelming love he has for you and the love you had for him in your past life. You apologize for forgetting, but he reassures you, pulling you into his arms.

“It's understandable, baby. Just… let me hold you.”

You melt into his warm embrace and it feels like home. It's an overwhelming and strange feeling. Finding out that not only do fairies actually exist but that you yourself were one and in love with one in every past life you've had. You feel coolness wrap around you along with the heat of his arms. He's got you wrapped up in his wings and they feel like silk. Just as smooth and fluid. The coolness keeps the heat that suddenly creeps over your entire body at bay. Your body feels tingly all over like all of your limbs have fallen asleep. Every inch of you feels like a single touch will send you tumbling into ecstasy. You're suddenly aroused, more than you've ever been in your life and it's because of the closeness of your body to Jisung's. You want him so bad it feels unbearable, like you'll go insane. You know he can feel your heartbeat.

“Tell me baby.” Jisung whispers holding you tighter, feeling his cock stir under his loose pants.

“I need you Jisung.” You whisper shyly and you feel his body shake when he chuckles.

“I know, my love. I remember the way your heart would flutter faster than your wings ever could when you were needy for my cock.” He murmurs, his hand caressing your back through the simple white fabric of your shirt, reminiscing about the days when your wings matched his.

"Help me remember, please?" you plead, meeting his gaze with eager eyes.

“I thought you'd never ask my love.” He replies before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. A surge of electricity shoots through you, forcing a throaty moan from you as you press against him, feeling the growing hardness in his pants stiffen even more.

He guides you deeper into the shadows of the forest, shedding your clothes as you go. Whenever you stumble over feet, his wings swoop in to steady you, making sure your feet stay planted on the ground. Laying you down onto the plush grass, he kisses you with a fervor that speaks volumes of how much he's missed you, missed your touch. His lips roam from yours to trace the curve of your jaw, down to the hollow of your throat and over the soft mounds of your breasts. Every inch of your skin is worshiped with a devotion that makes you feel hotter than the sun. Each kiss floods your mind with memories, fleeting but the feelings linger, strengthening the bond between you. With every caress, Jisung feels more familiar, and your desire for him intensifies, driving you to crave the feel of your fairy soulmate’s cock.

"Sungie?" You gasp as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He pauses, stunned by a nickname he hasn't heard in centuries, with a surge of affection flooding his heart. It only makes him want you more and without any further hesitation, he plunges into you with a powerful thrust. He buries himself deep inside you in a one single, intense motion and your cries echo throughout the forest, seemingly rustling the leaves overhead.

“Fuck, baby. It's been too long. Far, far too long without you. Forgive me if this is too quick but I can't hold back. Not after hearing my name on your lips like that.” With a swift motion, he pulls out and plunges back in, deep and fast, into your pussy.

“Quick or slow it does not matter when it's you my heart.” You whisper, your voice hitching with each moan.

“There she is. Mm! There's my beautiful fae. Your pussy feels exactly the way I remembered y/n. So wet, so soft.” He grunts, pushing into you deeper and your body arches into the lush grass beneath you. "You are pure fucking magic."

He lets out a soft curse, his movements quickening. The rush of memories flooding back to you turns him on, and he's desperate for more. He needs you to remember more, remember everything. Sunlight filters through his wings, casting rainbows across the enchanting landscape, like light through a crystal. The colors playfully dance on tree trunks, leaves, and flowers, enhancing the beauty around you. The symphony of your bodies coming together, accompanied by your soft moans and the gentle rush of the waterfall, is sweet music to your ears. With your walls snug around his cock Jisung can feel his orgasm quickly building. Countless centuries apart and he's going to blow too quick. He can't have that, not this quick any way. In an attempt to ease the sensation he feels growing in his balls, he wraps you in his wings and arms, rolling both of you over so that now you're on top, straddling him.

“Ride me baby. Just like that. Oh yeah, you remember don't you?“ He says through gritted teeth, moaning when you start to roll your hips grinding your pussy on him.

As you ride him, his cock feels like it's made entirely of magic itself, gliding in and out of you, making you feel weightless, like you're flying. It's like with every movement of your hips you're filled with a sense of purpose you've never known with anyone else. Jisung's breath hitches, his hungry eyes on your breast. Hypnotizing him with each bounce. You wield your own kind of magic casting a spell over Jisung, bringing him closer and closer to his peak. You don't even feel tired, you feel like you could ride him until the sun sets or longer. You can sense his pleasure building, his breath growing ragged as you grind your pussy on him faster. It's intoxicating, the way he responds to you, the way he loses himself in the moment. He won't be able to hold back much longer. His hands roam your body, tracing every curve as if he's rediscovering you all over again.

"You've missed this, haven't you?" you tease, feeling the heat inside of you bubbling.

He lets out a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to hold back, savoring the moment. "More than you can imagine," he murmurs, his voice husky with need.

He has missed this, the beautiful sight of you bouncing on his dick and the way he fits perfectly inside you. Because you were made for him and he was made for you.

With a playful smirk, you lean in closer, feeling the magic and heat radiating between your bodies. "Then let's make up for lost time, baby." you whisper, your lips brushing against his pointed ear, without even realizing that yours are becoming just as sharp. You nibble his ear lobe and his hips instinctively buck up into you with a hiss as he sucks in air through his teeth.

“Y/n, fuck, M’ gonna fill you. Gonna cum so hard. Baby! Shit, I'm cumming baby. Ah!” He grunts, thrusting up into you, his hips coming up off the ground.

You feel his seed hot inside you and your own orgasm is right there beginning to unravel. Suddenly, a cool sensation caresses your back, offering relief to your overheated skin. The skin starts to tingle and the sensation intensifies each time you come crashing down onto Jisung's cock. The feeling, it heightens your pleasure until you're cumming hard, moaning his name loud and speaking a language you had no idea you even knew. He grunts when your walls clench around him sucking him deeper into you. A burst of wind shoots out from behind you, cutting through the forest, making you shiver. You sense them before you see them—your wings. They unfold, spreading wide beside you, gently flapping like a lazy butterfly as Jisung's cock throbs inside you.

“Beautiful just like I remembered.” He says softly staring at you, sitting up and leaning in to kiss you. He gently presses his wings against yours, creating a sensation that you can only describe as blissful. You've never felt so much love in your heart until now.

"I missed you, Jisung," you whisper against his lips, your breath mingling with his. "I tried so hard to find you, but with each passing life, the memories slipped away until I remembered nothing.”

He shakes his head and rests his forehead against yours, "All that matters is that you're here now," he replies, his tone soft and reassuring. "I always knew you'd come back to me.”

He kisses you and lays you back down on the grass, smiling as you instinctively fold your wings and gently pulls out of you. You both lie tangled in each other's arms under the leafy green canopy of the towering trees, feeling a sense of peace washing over you now that you finally remember everything.

With a gentle touch, Jisung raises your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles. His voice, soft against your skin, as he breathes,

"Welcome home, love.”

[achaoticeternal]

the winner takes it all.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: the war had caused you to flee the Red Keep in favor of returning to your mother, Rhaenyra. however, it seems your husband has finally caught up to you.  word count: 5.2k warnings: !!SPOILERS FOR DANCE OF THE DRAGON!! niece!reader, men having the audacity, sexism, canon typical violence, cheating a/n: i spent so long reading and revising this and i really enjoyed it :)

listen to this song to follow

I don't wanna talk/ About things we've gone through/ Though it's hurting me/ Now it's history/ I've played all my cards/ And that's what you've done too/ Nothing more to say/ No more ace to play

The shrieks from Meleys had now vanished, leaving a deafening silence in their place. After Rhaenyra, your mother, forced you to leave Dragonestone with Rhaenys, Rook’s Rest was supposed to be your safe haven. Your beloved mother claimed it to be the one place where the Greens could not reach you besides the Vale.

Yet here you sat in your bedroom, against the advisement of your attendants and guards. They all begged you to either mount your dragon for Winterfell, or hide in the crypts till Aegon and Aemond finished scouring the castle in search of anything they desired. But you were tired of running, of listening to what others thought best for you, rather than trusting your own intuition. Though you were also conflicted at what would be best… should you run or wait for him to find you…?

“It seems the scouts were not lying,” The voice of the blonde-haired prince echoed across the room, signaling that he had discovered your whereabouts, “My wife at Rook’s Rest…”

Tearing your eyes from the window, you turned to look at the man, your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen. He stood tall before you; adorned in all-black armor with a green cape billowing behind him. His signature eye patch still covered his lost eye. Though Aemond had hardly aged since you last saw him, it was clear to see that the Dance of the Dragons was taking much of his strength and energy.

“Aemond…” you whispered, taking in the sight in front of you.

“My wife,” Aemond nodded curtly. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards that were with him, “It has been too many moons since you abandoned me.”

With his words, you stood, looking crossly at him, “I did not abandon you.”

“You left me -- vanished out of thin air.”

“Aegon stole my mother’s throne! What was I supposed to do?”

“Stay with your husband! The man you married and vowed to be obedient too!”

“Obedient?” You repeated with a cold chuckle.

You then silenced yourself, thinking for a moment. It was no good to harp on whether you should or shouldn’t have left King’s Landing. For you already had, and it was impossible to undo the events of Aegon’s coronation and the days following. How Alicent locked you away for hours, Aemond being absent for reasons unknown to you, the way the Conqueror’s crown sat upon Aegon’s head, and how Rhaenys released Meleys into the coronation.

Or how, by your Queen Mother’s orders, Daemon flew to the Red Keep on Caraxes and freed both yourself and your dragon from the Greens to bring you home…

“It will do us no good to quarrel over what happened that day, I made the choice that I thought was best at the moment. If you must blame me for that, so be it…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser's standing small/ Beside the victory/ That's her destiny

Aemond cast his gaze down at your words, mulling over them. Every night since your disappearance, he dreamt of what it would be like when you reunited. When he had first heard word that you had returned to the ancestral home of the Targaryens of Westeros, he had been upset, even spiteful. Though he still longed, day after day, to see you again… to hold you again…

“You’re right,” He spoke with a curt nod, “It does not matter, because you’ll be returning to Harrenhal with me.”

Aemond began to stalk toward you with a determined look upon his cold features. You gave no indication of how you felt, instead just shaking your head, “I will go with you, but allow me to sit for a moment more.”

“You wish to delay me?” His brow furrowed.

“There is always time to spare,” You responded, nonchalantly. A silence fell over both of you. You looked at him -- how his hair was braided back, blood of fallen men splattered in it though his face was clear from it. But his soft violet eye reminded you of your childhood, when Aemond was far softer… far kinder… “Do you ever think back and wonder how this could have been avoided? How silly it is that the House of the Dragon is fighting itself?”

Casting your gaze down, a small smile came across your face as you thought of better days. Sure, there was still tension then, but there was no war at least.

“It does us no good to dwell on the past,” Aemond dismissed your question.

“No, but it does us good to remember.”

I was in your arms/ Thinking I belonged there/ I figured it made sense/ Building me a fence

Your childhood was filled with the most fantastic days in the Red Keep. Though you were naturally close with your brothers, you had also befriended your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aemond.

Helaena and you would spend hours braiding each other’s hair while discussing whatever piqued the princess’ interest. Aemond would often join, making jokes and teasing the two princesses.

However, once Aemond had lost his eye at the hand of your little brother, he grew more silent and observant. When he had first lost the eye, you were certain that he disdained you due to the association of your siblings. It took a great while, but you learned in time and in letters that your uncle did not blame you for his lost eye. You were not even there to defend him, only being awoken by your mother when all convened in the halls of Driftmark.

As you grew into your adolescence, the Queen requested that you serve as her ward -- so while your brothers enjoyed their teenage youth at Dragonstone, you spent your days in the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had also sent you so that you could also assist in the care of your grandsire, the King.

At first, it was strange, being so far from your family but being reunited with your cousins. Mostly you observed how much Aegon tormented every living creature within the Red Keep and would often catch him fleeing to the Street of Silk when you would walk back to your personal chambers after spending late nights in the library.

After the third time of watching Aegon slip out of the castle, you decided it would be in the best interest of your family name that his promiscuity is reported. You could have gone straight to the Queen, and cry to her about how Aegon ran away nightly while poor Helaena had to carry his children. But instead, you found yourself in front of Aemond’s door. At the time, you thought that in telling him, maybe he could tell Alicent and it be more believable.

“Uncle!” You knocked at his door, loud enough to stir him, but not alert the rest of the Red Keep.

Moments later, Aemond opened his door, sleep still in his eye but you could tell that he did throw on his robe and his eye patch. He looked slightly cross and yet his gaze softened when his eye fell upon you, “My lady…?” “I’m sorry to awaken you at this hour… but I think something is… wrong?”

“Wrong?” He replied simply, crossing his arms.

“Yes…” You spoke softly, starting to feel awkward in your day gown, “It's’... it’s Aegon…”

In an instant, Aemond had tugged you fully into his chambers, shutting and locking the great door behind you. You glanced at him in confusion, backing away from the prince. The thought of being caught alone with your uncle, no matter how innocent the conversation, finally occurred to you and how it could affect your honor.  

“What has Aegon done?” Aemond turned to you, stalking rather close, “Did he touch you?”

“What?” The breath trapped itself in your throat.  His hands went to your shoulders, keeping you still before his eye.

“Did he touch you, my sweet niece?” His words were accusatory and yet soft as he spoke to you.

“I— no… he did not touch me.”

A sigh of relief came over him as he finally let you go from his grip. The relief confused you, but you did not press him on the matter.

“Aemond, he’s gone. For the past three nights when I am returning to my chambers from the library, I see Aegon sneak out of his room and flee toward the city… I believe he has been going to see…” The last word did not escape your lips, but Aemond fully understood what you meant.

“He’s going to seek the affection of whores…”

“So you know?” You asked innocently.

“My brother has his vices…” Aemond spoke incredulously, “And it is no secret that he is going to seek comfort on the Street of Silk… But, dear niece, why are you spending late nights in the library unattended?”

The way Aemond had turned it around on you was surprising for you, “I spend most of my time during the day with either the Queen or the Princess, so I thought that spending some time in the evening would be fine.”

Aemond nodded and thought for a moment before responding, “I will join you from now on. Even though the Keep is the safest place in King’s Landing, it is still unwise to be alone. So I shall be your chaperon…”

All you could do was nod in agreement, there was no reason to fight against your uncle. He was just trying to keep you safe.

Soon, your time in the library with Aemond became more regular. It was like clockwork. After supper, Aemond would escort you to the library and then back to your room. Some nights, he would read you the histories, other nights you would read him poetry, and on the occasion, he would take it upon himself to further advance your High Valyrian.

“Dārys” Aemond spoke first, the words always falling from his lips so eloquently.

“Dārys,” You would repeat, trying to replicate each syllable perfectly, “King.”

“Dāria”

“Dāria — Queen.”

Aemond smiled, proud of your improved pronunciations, “Gevie mēre.”

“Gevie mēre,” you repeated after him once more. Except you were not as familiar with this term…

“Gevie mēre…?” You repeated once more, picking your brain for what the words could mean.

Looking to Aemond, you hoped he would answer for you, the words simply lost on you. Instead, he chuckled and began to walk toward the couch. He ushered you to sit next to him, picking up one of the books he placed on the desk, “Come, ñuha riña, allow me to read to you before you must return to your chambers for the evening.”

At his words, you joined him, sitting comfortably by his side. From when he had originally decided to start joining you, it became a far more open space for the two of you, bonding you closer to each other. That’s why you tucked yourself into his side and he rested his arm around your shoulder while he began reading. The nightly company of your uncle was now one of the simplest pleasures in your life that you deeply cherished.

It was an honor to be the cupbearer for the Queen and her father, the Hand. Yet being in the small council room had its own frightening things as well with Jason Lannister often jesting that he would bribe the Queen to end your wardship and allow you to marry him. His disregard for your own mother disgusted you, as well as the fact that the Lannister man was already betrothed to the daughters of one of his bannermen. Instead of reacting to his advances, Alicent or Otto would dismiss his words with a glare or small correction for you.

However one day, Otto ordered for Aegon and Aemond to join the Small Council since they would one day sit in the room quite regularly. While Aegon would doze off and consistently ask you to fill his cup, Aemond would be fully attentive, paying you little attention. You didn’t mind, since you understood how seriously he took his duty.

But when Jason Lannister once again began his verbal torment against you, it shifted something in Aemond.

“My lady,” the Lannister Lord purred, “You are growing into quite a fine, young woman.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” you nodded but offered nothing else to him.

With a smirk, he continued his flirtation, “Your mother or grandsire will soon have to marry you off. I can imagine there are many men that would enjoy taking you as their little wife.”

“My mother nor grandsire are considering any proposals currently, or while I serve as the Queen’s ward,” You spoke quickly, eager to get away from the man.

Before you could leave his side, Jason grabbed your wrist, “That is a shame. It would be a pleasure to have you myself, and watch your belly grow with Lannister children…”

Aemond’s voice soon interrupted the crude words, “Lord Lannister, unhand my niece.”

Aemond's voice was firm and his jaw remained clenched. There was a fire in his eyes that you did not recognize. However, the fingers around your wrist were soon gone and you escaped to stand between the Queen’s and Aemond’s chairs. You offered thankful glances to the prince, but he did not show you the same warmth.

That same night, instead of taking you to the library after dinner, Aemond sent you off to your chambers. Helaena attempted to reassure you, but you could not help but think about what you could have possibly done to upset him.

Soon enough, a knock was upon your door, your maid announcing that Aemond had come to fetch you.

Together, the pair of you walked silently and side-by-side toward the library. Once you arrived, Aemond went to sit by the fireplace while you would peruse the shelves for you favorite books of poems. The room remained quiet besides the shuffles of books and pages as you searched for your beloved texts. You finally found it on a shelf with some of the common histories of Westeros.

As you reached for it, the small book was just beyond your reach. Not even your outstretched fingers could close the distance to the binding. The footstep you would typically use was missing, so your struggle continued. It continued until a hand outstretched itself to retrieve it off the shelf before you. You turned around to face Aemond, who looked down at you while offering the book to you.

“Thank you.”

Aemond nodded but did not retreat. He looked into your eyes a moment more before he finally spoke, “Lord Lannister has requested your hand.”

“My mother would never allow it,” You replied simply, reaffirming your clear disgust with the Lord. Aemond chuckled at this, unsurprised.

“That is true…” Aemond nodded, “True since she has betrothed you to someone else…”

The book slipped from your fingers at his words. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself, “Betrothed? To whom?”

Aemond bent down to pick up the book. Instead of standing back up, he dropped to one knee and looked up at you, offering the book to you once more, “To me…”

Building me a home/ Thinking I'd be strong there/ But I was a fool/ Playing by the rules

The day you married Aemond was a beautiful one. A singular moment where the full House was together and a fight did not ensue. Originally, you knew that Rhaenyra and Alicent had agreed to the betrothal so that old wounds could finally heal. Though the marriage would not see such hopes through, it was still a blessing enough to marry your sweet Aemond.

Days earlier, Lucerys had been reaffirmed of his position as heir of Driftmark which resulted in the death of your great-uncle Vaemond. Though the events had caused high tension in the court and at dinner that night, all members of the House of the Dragon attempted to be on their best behavior. Both you and Aemond had requested an intimate ceremony with just the family, and that the nobles of the realm could participate in the feasting instead.

Between dances with your husband, your brothers, and even your grandsire, there was a great joy that filled your heart. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had smiled for the first time since arriving from Dragonstone, and even Daemon and Otto did their absolute best to get along… which mainly meant not speaking to one another.

Yet as to be expected, Aegon had consumed too much wine, rendering him a drunken fool. No matter Alicent’s best attempts to refuse the wine bearers from filling his cup, Aegon had managed to come by enough wine to make him confident enough to instigate a quarrel.

Jacerys was twirling you while you laughed at a joke he had made. The strong bond between the pair of you was similar to Helaena’s and Aemond’s — a closeness that Aegon despised on all accounts. But while Aegon could not torture his brother this evening, he could torture his wife…

Aegon cut through dancing couples with stumbling feet as he approached the eldest Velaryon siblings. His hand rested itself on your shoulder to announce his presence.

“May I have this dance with the lovely bride?” He had phrased it like a question, though it was more of a demand.

Before Jace could respond, Aegon had tugged you away and attempted to join in the dance of the couples among the pair of you.

“My dear niece is now my brother’s little lady wife,” Aegon chuckled, tripping you with each misstep he took in the dance, “It is improper to dance with other men on your wedding night.”

“I have only danced with family,” You attempted to defend yourself, wishing to leave his hold.

At your words, Aegon released a great chuckle that echoed in the hall, “You say that as if our family does not regularly bed each other.”

An evil smile came to Aegon's face as the thought provoked him further, “In fact, I wouldn’t put it beside Jacerys for taking your maidenhood…Did he spoil you?”

Instantly, you let go of any hold you had on your eldest uncle, disgusted by such words.

“Your accusations are not only unjust, but they are disgraceful. I have not seen my brother for years,” Your jaw clenched.

“It does not matter to me in the slightest, for if you are still pure, Aemond will take it from you tonight,” Aegon’s eye raked over your body, “If he does not satisfy you, rest assure I can…” Before another word could be uttered, Aemond was at your side, tugging your frame into his safe arms. His glare was spiteful, a sneer growing on his lips, “Brother…”

“Brother,” Aegon nodded with a smirk, before scampering off.

Aemond turned you to face him, his hands instantly moving to cup your face. His eye shifted across your face as his hands soothed the sides of your head, “Are you alright, ñuha ābrazȳrys?”

“Mirre iksis sȳrī hae iksan lēda ao” ‘All is well while I’m with you’

The gods may throw a dice/ Their minds as cold as ice/ And someone way down here/ Loses someone dear

After your wedding festivities ended, your mother and brothers returned back to Dragonstone. The Stranger had paid a visit to the Red Keep, reaping your grandsire and King. Immediately, Rhaenys had beckoned you to her chambers so that you may see his body together. However, countless guards stood outside the door, trapping you inside. An archer was also posted outside the window so that no word could escape the Red Keep.

The Queen would arrive shortly and have you escorted back to your husband’s apartments. Thus secluding you from the outside world, except for Aemond. But soon, he too would leave on dragon's back to do the bidding of Alicent and the Hand.

The bedroom door opening with a creak easily woke you. You never slept well when your husband was not sharing the bed after your wedding night. He had been gone, off at Storm’s End for the last three days, negotiating with the Lord Baratheon so that he would support Aegon’s claim to the throne.

The past week had been a tempest between the death of your grandsire, the coronation of Aegon II and thus usurping the crown from your mother, and the escape of Rhaenys from the Red Keep. Sleep would not come easily to you.

You sat up in the bed, quietly observing him preparing to join you in the bed. He stripped himself of his outerwear and changed into his night shift. As the clothes hit the floor, you noticed the great thud in which they made, signaling how soaked they were. But why would your husband rush back to the Red Keep in a storm?

Finally, he joined you in the bed, tucking himself close to you. But his back was facing you, rather than his sharp face. You did not push him, but instead began to detangle his wet hair with your fingers, being as gentle as you could, “Welcome home, ñuha valzȳrys…”

Aemond gave no response.

“I missed you dearly…”

Still, silence.

“Is everything well, ñuha jorrāelagon?”

Aemond sat up fiercely and turned to you. His eye patch had been discarded and his face was mixed with a sense of great sadness and anger.

Instead of answering your question, Aemond began to cry — softly, quietly at first, before escalating to sobs that shook him. All you could do was wrap your arms around him, and whisper kind words to him.

“Shhh…” You stroked his hair softly. It was all you could do to comfort him without knowing what made him so upset.

Once his cries began to subside, Aemond lifted his head, but could not look you in the eye, “Aegon used to talk about running away from his duty… I didn’t understand why, but I think I do now…”

“Aemond, what has happened? What has upset you so deeply?” You attempted to cup his face, but he tore himself away from you.

He continued to look anywhere else but at you. The silence began to creep in and eat away at both of you. Unease washed over you.

Aemond cleared his throat before speaking once more, “Lucerys is dead…”

“What?”

“I killed him…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser has to fall/ It's simple and it's plain / Why should I complain?

“How is Aegon?”

“It is King Aegon, you should address him properly…” Aemond glared down at you.

A small, sad smile crept onto your face at his correction, “I remember you saying that Aegon would never be a proper King.”

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eyes, but did not negate your claim. Even now, parts of your Aemond were still there — the war hadn’t taken that away yet.

“Will Aegon recover?” You asked though you knew the answer. The King would never be the same again. His cries of agony could be heard throughout the halls until he had been sedated with milk of the poppy.

“I will be serving as Prince Regent until my brother is well enough.”

You nodded, looking down at your fidgeting fingers. Taking a deep breath, you rubbed your palms over the skirt of your dress before looking back to him. Aemond was looking right back at you as if he were closely observing you. It wasn’t the first time he had done such, often intimately observing you for as long as you could remember. But it always made a warmth wash over your face.

“You are coming home with me,” Aemond spoke once more as he moved to stand closer to you, “This is not a request, but a command.”

“A command of my captor?”

“A command of your husband, the man you vowed loyalty to,” Aemond’s voice was stern, but his eyes were longing, full of affection.

But tell me, does she kiss/ Like I used to kiss you?/ Does it feel the same/ When she calls your name?

“Loyalty?” You repeated, shaking your head.

Aemond took the closed distance between you to bring a hand to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed over the soft flesh of your cheek as he admired your features.

“I’ve heard about the witch woman,” You spoke with a sigh.

“Then you understand how desperate my search for you has been…”

“Aemond…” You looked at him more intently. Would he make you truly say it? “I know about Alys…”

There was a pause in the air. Aemond understood the infliction in your tone, the hurt hidden behind your calm demeanor. He went to speak, to apologize maybe, but no words came out. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed whatever he was originally going to say.  

“Do you expect me to apologize?”

“Not really,” You chuckled to yourself, “King Aegon I took two wives, so why shouldn’t you? I believe Daemon had the same logic during his whoring days. And your brother too”

“Do not compare me to them,” His words were harsh as he gripped your chin between his fingers, “You made me desperate to find you. I sought the means I deemed fit.”

“The means of sleeping with a bastard and a witch?”

“You had left me!” his voice was firm as he strained himself from committing any action to harm you, “Left me desperate, left me thinking you had been killed!”

Jaw clenched and the skirt of your dress fisted between your fingers, you snapped back at him, “So you turned to an old wives tale of sex magic?”

Aemond retracted his hand, “I killed for you. I burned down villages for you. I have violently searched for you. Are you so envious of some woman that you would be blind to how much I have suffered to have you back? To be by your side once more?”

“You are a fool,” You spat, “A fool and an adulterer. Why would you allow some minx to convince of such things? Why would my own mother have me killed? Did you ever truly consider that before you—”

“They killed Jaeherys! Our nephew, sweet Helaena’s baby boy, the boy that you played with at dinner despite my mother’s harsh looks—”

“I know! You think I didn’t weep for him!” You finally stood, allowing the emotions to now freely flow through you.

“What right do you have to weep and mourn him when Daemon had made the order? Were you with him when he commanded such?”

Aemond’s words cut into your heart deeper than expected. That he thought you just as heartless as the other tyrants in your family shattered something within you.

Somewhere deep inside/ You must know I miss you/ But what can I say?/ Rules must be obeyed…

“You don’t believe that…”

Aemond stood silent… His brooding demeanor began to shift

A shaky breath escaped your lips as tears began to billow over. What caused the tears? His words… his presence…

At your tears, Aemond raised a hand to cup your cheek. His thumb delicately began to wipe away the fallen tears. Even in his anger, Aemond hated to see you cry, especially if the tears were caused by him.

When you didn’t reject such actions, Aemond softly pulled you into his arms. Both his hand now rested under your jaw, causing your gaze to remain fixated on his face, looking deep into his violet eye. Your own hands rested on the dark metal of his breastplate, tracing over the embedded dragon sigil.

“I didn’t want to leave you…” you finally confided in him, “But I could no longer tolerate the looks of the Queen and the Lord Hand, the whispers of the nobles, or the guards constantly at my side… I was a hostage in the place I had grown into a woman.”

Aemond sighed, “Alicent was concerned that you would be a spy for your mother…”

“I had not seen my mother for six years until our wedding day and once she returned to Dragonstone, I did not see her until Daemon fetched me. I could never even read a letter from my mother unless the Queen was at my side, and she would even read them before I had the chance to break the seal myself — so how could I? How could I have ever been a threat?”

“These were necessary precautions. Are you still such a child that you can not understand this?”

“Were you so blinded by loyalty that you slaughtered my brother who was hardly yet a man grown?” You questioned while pushing out of his hold, “Are you so clouded by the judgment of your mother that you forced your wife to run away?”

I don't wanna talk/ If it makes you feel sad/ And I understand/ You've come to shake my hand

“So now you admit to not only fleeing but running away…”

“Aemond, you have to understand that I wasn’t running from you—”

Aemond chuckled in disbelief at the notion, “Did you see the opportunity to escape your one-eyed husband and take it? Run away from the Kinslayer?”

Your jaw clenched at the harsh words that even he knew were untrue, “I was a hostage under a usurper! Despite all my tears and promises that I was a faithful wife, you still allowed me to be tormented and disgraced!”

“I was protecting you!” Aemond grabbed your wrist with quick ferocity. You had only seen such aggression from him in training yards or battlefields.

With eyes wide, you looked from his violet eye to the pale hand squeezing around your wrist. His eye trailed to follow your own gaze. When the realization washed over him, Aemond was just as quick to let go, even stepping away from you. Clearly, he was disgusted by his thoughtless action.

I apologize/ If it makes you feel bad/ Seeing me so tense/ No self-confidence

Gingerly, you brushed your fingers over your wrist. Though it was sore, you were sure that it would not bruise. In all your time with Aemond, he had never once acted so violently toward you. Your heart felt paralyzed by all that had transpired just today.

“My love,” Aemond finally broke the silence, “Please…”

In an instant, your mind thought back to many, many moons ago. Days of your adolescence that were now long past resurfaced with a small glimpse from Aemond. How he looked at youon your name day when you became a young woman of five and ten… The elegant dress you wore as he asked for a dance and the way it flowed when he would twirl you. Or the look in his eye as both of you sliced open each other’s lip to mix blood in custom with the Targaryen traditions of old Valyria. Or how he looked to you now…

His gaze caught your eyes as he stood far less confident than mere moments ago. His demeanor had rapidly changed — the Aemond of the battlefield softly replaced by your Aemond.

“Forgive me, I— this day…” Aemond sighed in defeat, tears threatening to spill, “Please come home with me…”

Following his words, Aemond stretched out his hand to you - the illusion of choice. It looked like he was giving you the option to remain at Rook’s Rest, but you knew that choice did not truly exist. Either way, you would be leaving with Aemond, willingly or not.

You released the breath you had been holding as you approached him. Gently, you rested your palm atop his own…

“You must know that Rhaenyra shall send Daemon to fetch me once more…” You swallowed, concerned for your family, relieved to be with your husband once more.

“Hmm…” He lift a brow as he began to escort you out of the tower, “I’m counting on it… but no one shall take you from me ever again…”

But you see/ The winner takes it all…

[ddejavvu]

Pizza Box Puzzle Pieces - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake is a responsible drinker, he swears. But when you're stuck being responsible for the night, a very drunk Jake gives you all but one piece to a puzzle you don't complete until the morning after.

Contents/Warnings: drinking, fem!reader, typical hangman behavior, enemies to lovers (really more like rivals to lovers)

Requested: A thousand times congratulations on such an amazing milestone! Could I please have an espresso w. enemies to lovers with Jake ‘hangman’ Seresin? ☀️ - @saintlike78 THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS SINCE SEPTEMBER I AM SO SORRY MY LOVE i hope you still like hangman <3

WC: 5.3K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Jake Seresin is a responsible drinker. He keeps a rideshare app on his phone, he tells Bob (the permanent sober babysitter) that he needs to be cut off after 10:00 PM, and he gives Penny his keys before he even orders his first drink.

Tonight, though, she'd left them unattended. There they were, shiny and appealing, sitting on the bar. She had left to get a clean dishrag, he could just take them! Driving sounded fun now, less of a chore and more of an adventure now that his brain was blurry.

You watch Jake's eyes widen as he catches sight of his keys, and your hand darts out to snag them before he can. His reflexes are slow, and when he reaches for them, his hand hits empty counter space.

He looks around, bewildered. They'd just disappeared.

"Here, Bagman." You jingle the keys in your hand, and he catches the sound from the few seats down where he's sitting. His eyes drift aimlessly over to your hand, and brighten at the sight of his keys.

"Thanks," He drawls, his southern lilt far more noticeable now that he's running on autopilot, "I'm gonna-" he hiccups hard, his chest bouncing, "Head home."

He stands, wobbly on his feet, and treads forwards to take the keys from you. You raise them above your head, but he doesn't follow, instead slumping forwards as his hand grasps at thin air. His head hits your chest and Coyote catches your eye from over Jake's shoulder. You widen your eyes, flaunting the keys you'd managed to snatch from him.

All the pilot does is laugh, and then his attention is shifted back to the dartboard. Typical.

"Jesus," You grunt, pushing at Jake's chest. He straightens up again, eyes blinking open from where they'd been shut, "What did you drink?"

"I don't remember," He admits, and that's all the explanation you need.

"Come on," You reach for his pocket, his phone sticking out, "Let's call you a ride."

"Nooo," He darts away, almost too late to evade you, "That's my phone."

"Yes Hangman," You smirk, "I think you're smarter drunk than you are sober."

"But that's-" He fumbles with his cell, "You can't touch my phone."

"I want to get you home," You urge, once more reaching for the device in his hands, "Don't you want to go to sleep?"

"You can't have it," He insists, yanking the waistband of his khakis off of his stomach and slipping his phone dangerously close to his crotch, "Unless you-" Another hiccup that flutters his eyelashes, "-wanna take it."

The smirk he shoots you after shoving his phone down his pants contains lethal cockiness. You're surprised the sheer size of his ego doesn't knock you down, you're not sure how you're standing so close to him without running into it.

You glance down at his phone. It's protruding just enough from his waistband for it to be quick and easy to grab. But your hand has never been that close to Jake's dick before, and you're hoping it never will be.

"Fuck," You deflate, shoulders slumping as your fingers curl tighter around his keys, "Come on, I'm driving you."

"Take my car," He insists, as if he's forgotten you have his keys, "It's.. It's really cool."

"Can't wait," You  gripe, slinging his arm around your shoulders, "Come on, one foot in front of the other, Seresin."

The cold night air hits you like a tsunami. It floods your thin shirt and seeps into your bones, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. You've never known it to get this cold here, and the skin-to-skin that Jake's shoulder provides against your own is your only warmth.

You prop him up against his car while you fumble with the keys, but before you can click the 'unlock' button, he's snatching them from you.

"I wanna- I wanna do it," He insists, gripping the pointed end and bumping it up against the panel on the outside of the keyhole, "It's my car, I wanna.. do it."

You give him a minute to figure out the key. After it passes you yank it from where he's been pathetically butting it up against the hole, still confused about how to slot it inside.

"Gimme," You grumble, sliding the key into the hole with barely a second's delay, "You're too drunk for this."

"I'm not drunk." He scoffs. He says it with so much sincerity, with so much raw belief, that you're surprised that it doesn't come into existence. You're surprised the alcohol doesn't drain from his system completely, and leave him his usual coordinated, upright self. But he's still leaning against his car, half-coherent and dizzy.

"Right." You chuckle, throwing open the driver's side door and unlocking the rest of the car, "Get in, Hangman."

He starts for your seat and you shove him away, "No, not the driver's seat," You groan, "Other side."

He starts for the backseat.

"For fuck's sake," You exclaim, grabbing his bicep to lead him around the car, "The passenger's side!"

You get him wrestled into his seat with no further drunken antics, and you relish the fact that you've gotten him calm for the night. He's anything but when you finally glance up at his face, though, great big tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"You're mean." He whispers, his voice shaky. You've never seen such a pitiful sight, his big green eyes brimming with anguish that seeps down his cheeks in rivers of tears. "You grabbed me, and-" He waves his bicep at you, "And you manhandled me," He gushes, angst-stricken, "You're mean!"

"I'm sorry," You sigh, playing into his inebriated sorrow, "Are you okay, Hangman?"

He doesn't note the sarcasm in your voice, sniffling pathetically, "No. It hurts."

You offer a quick pat to the affected area, but he shakes his head.

"Kiss." He offers in explanation, 'Kiss it better."

"I am not going to-" You begin, rage evident in your voice. Then you glance back up at his eyes, filled with new tears.

It's a staring contest for a moment, but you break first. You hunch, bracing yourself for the most humiliating thing you've ever had to do when you pucker your lips and press them into his bicep.

It's firm. Fuck, you wish it wasn't, it holds up under your lips and warms them. It's intoxicating, your lips on his skin, so close to his chest. It's exhilarating. You have to get away.

"There." You grouse, practically glaring at him despite the blush at your cheeks as you straighten, "Better?"

"Yes," He whimpers, and it's small, broken, pathetic, "Thank you."

You shut the door without another word, letting him wipe his own tears.

His car is surprisingly nice. Where you'd expect fast food wrappers and condoms, you find an air freshener.

He grabs it excitedly, shoving it into your face as you start down the road, "Darlin' you gotta- gotta smell! It smells like ocean breeze."

It slips over your eyes and you strain to get away from it, "Okay, Hangman, okay! It smells very nice," You gush, giving him the attention he's seeking. He preens proudly as he hooks it around his mirror once more, but he doesn't settle into his seat.

"Those are cool jeans," He prods a finger at your thigh, and even though you know it's drunken rather than lustful, his touch makes you shiver.

"They were five dollars," You humor him, feeling him fiddle carefully with the ripped strands of fraying string showcasing your skin.

"Cheap." He murmurs, concentration far too heavy on rearranging the strings. Half of them have ripped beyond repair from where they were stretched over your thigh, but he seems to be playing with them like they're yarn to a housecat. You have the sudden urge to run a hand through his hair and see if he purrs.

"My house is that way," Jake points blearily through the windshield down a one-way street, "It's the big blue one."

"You live in an apartment," You turn the wheel in the opposite direction, "And it's not blue, and it's not that way."

"Oh so you-" He hiccups, "-know where I live?"

"I do," You nod, keeping your eyes on the road even when his fingers keep pawing at your jeans, "I've been there before. Remember? We had a movie night."

"Oh yeah," He nods, brow furrowed, "Payback spilled his water on my carpet."

"Not water," You snort, remembering the cheap liquor spilled over the shag, "But yeah, he did."

There's a bout of silence that follows your words, shadows ripping through the car as you pass beneath trees. The road is paved unevenly in a few spots, and Jake's car bounces on its tires.

"Woah," He grumbles, head bumping your shoulder after a particularly raucous pothole, "Look! Look they're in a- a heart."

You slow to a stop in front of his apartment and glance down to where his finger is digging into your thigh. The loose strings on your jeans have all been twisted and tied into a heart that overlays the rip, puffy and frayed where it rests against your leg.

"Oh," You let the sincerity of the gesture steal the breath from your lungs, even if it does come out of a drunk man, "That's pretty, Hangman. Thanks."

You unlatch your seatbelt, breaking his trance. The heart, tied at the bottom and woven through other strands at its apexes, stays tightly knotted into your jeans, and you wonder if you'll ever be able to get it out. It's the last of your concerns, though, as Jake fumbles with his own seatbelt.

He finally jabs just right at the button, though it's after a string of mumbled frustrations. You swear you hear something along the lines of "You're pretty." thrown into the mix, but you choose to ignore it so that your hands don't get sweaty. You probably misheard.

It's a wonder that he's able to get himself out of the car. He lands with a crunch of gravel onto the driveway of his apartment, feet planted firmly beneath him. You suppose he might have sobered slightly during the long, quiet drive, and you're just glad you don't have to press him to yourself anymore to keep him upright.

Thankfully, he knows which door is his, but he forgets that you have his keys. You keep a hand stuffed into your pocket, curled around them, while he fumbles in his pocket for them.

“Damn,” He hisses, patting his pockets and coming up empty, “My- my keys are gone. I think someone took them, we have to-”

“I have your keys,” You’re far too smug as you hold them up, the ring hooked over your middle finger, “Remember? That’s why I drove?”

“Oh.” His brows furrow, and the word adorable flashes through your head before you can stop it. As soon as you acknowledge it, though, it’s gone in a puff of smoke.

“I’ll do it.” You carefully shoo his hands away from the door, slipping the key in and turning it. His apartment is neat, you’ll give him that, but you suppose it’s because he doesn’t have time to mess it up. You toe off your shoes in the doorway, leaving them in a heap which he contributes to. His boots are going to muck up your white wedges, but you can’t care about that right now. What’s more important is making sure Hangman doesn’t head straight for his own liquor stash, which of course, he does.

“No,” You rush for the bottle he’s about to grab, “You’re cut off for the night. Remember?”

“No,” His brow furrows, and he stares at your fingers wrapped around his own against the neck of the bottle, “I don’t.”

At least you know he’s being honest. You pry his hand off of the bottle, setting it back on the counter and letting go of his fingers. You expect them to drop but they don’t, they curl around your own and slot your palms together.

You stiffen but he doesn’t seem to notice, his hand still enveloping yours in a gesture that sends heat rushing up from your fingertips and straight to your heart. You glance down first, then up at him, finding a gooey, lovesick smile on his face paired with empty eyes.

“Hi, darlin’.” He gushes, and squeezes your hand.

Fuck.

“Okay, bedtime.” You decide, trying to pry your hand out of his grip. He won’t let you, though, the more you pull the closer he gets. Until he’s pressed to you, his right thigh to your left, chest-to-chest, smiling contently at you. 

If you can’t make him let go, you suppose you can move. So you do, you lead him through the short hallway, and flick the light on in his bedroom. His room is.. less neat. There’s clothes on the floor, and what looks dangerously like an old pizza box sticking out from under the bed. You decide to ignore it for time’s sake, your main goal is to get Jake into bed before he tips over.

He looks close to it now, stumbling towards his nightstand to snatch a necklace off of it. It’s a delicate silver chain, and there’s a pretty heart pendant on it.

“Look,” He shows it off, “‘S my mom’s. She gave it to me before I came down here.”

“That’s very sweet,” You croon, and all of a sudden you want to know more about Mama Seresin, “I think I’d like to see you wear that someday, Hangman.”

“That’d look silly.” He muses, eyes shiny as they rove over the charm, finally putting it down to look back at you, “But if you’d really like it I’ll do it.”

You suppose that if anything comes out of his drunken stupor, it’ll be a hell of a lot of blackmail material. Apparently he’s blabby when drunk, and you’ll definitely ask why he’s not wearing his mom’s necklace tomorrow when you meet for breakfast.

“Okay, Jake, let’s get you changed.” You hum, glancing around his room and peering apprehensively at his dresser. You turn back, intent on asking him which drawers you should avoid opening, and are met with-

“Jake! Put- put your pants back on!”

Your hands fly to your eyes to shield yourself from the sight of Jake Seresin’s Uncovered Crotch, but you forget that he’s still clinging tight to you, and he stumbles along with you. All you can do is let out a strangled cry as his outer thigh presses against yours, praying nothing else will.

“Put your boxers back on,” You beg, “And- and get into pajamas! Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Jake giggles, far too inebriated to read the room, “That’s what they all say.”

“I hate you,” You groan, and finally, he lets go of your hand.

There’s absolute silence for too long, but just before you can urge him to hurry up and get dressed, he speaks.

“You do?”

HIs voice is unlike you’ve ever heard it. Jake has a particular talent for boasting, and his voice often bleeds confidence, loud and strong and clear. Now it’s small, unsure and weak.

“Get dressed,” You huff, “With pants, please.”

You’re not eager to admit it, but you don’t hate him. Not at all. Sure, he annoys you, but he annoys everyone. He shoves confetti through the slats in your locker so that opening it triggers a snowstorm, he steals food from your plate when his own is nearly full, and he always, always knocks his knuckles against your helmet. But he’s never mean, he’s never insulted you or pushed you or demeaned you. So you can’t find it in yourself to hate him, even if you don’t always like him.

Or maybe you do. Maybe you bite back a smile when you find confetti on the ground, and maybe you bend over with your back to him just in case he likes what he sees. Maybe you steal his food right back, and maybe the best part of your day is when you make it a competition, and he practically crawls over Fanboy to try to nab a piece of your orange chicken. Maybe the rapping of his knuckles on your helmet makes you want to respond by bumping it against his chest, an urge you’ve never dared to act on.

Feigning hatred is much easier, you’ve found, than admitting love.

His voice cuts through your thoughts, still devoid of its usual enthusiasm, “I’m dressed.”

You let your hands fall to your sides with a relieved sigh, and though your vision is somewhat bleary from being covered for so long, you work with it, blinking until you can see his form, already under the covers on his bed and facing away from you.

“Okay,” You hum awkwardly, glancing around the room, “You’re gonna need medicine in the morning. And water, so-”

“Pills are in the bathroom cabinet, there’s a cup on the counter.” He drawls, voice muffled by his pillow.

You bustle off to gather those, and when you reenter his bedroom you find him staring at the wall. It’s a sad expression, an empty one, but you suppose that’s what binge drinking does to a man.

“I’m gonna head out,” You speak to his back, setting the pills and glass down on his nightstand, “Are you.. gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” He hums, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” You mumble, more than ready to flee the awkward scene, “Bye, Jake.”

“Do you really hate me?”

You freeze in the doorway, heart thudding in your chest. You turn slow, your eyes meeting Jake’s before your body faces him, giving you enough time to figure out a response.

“No,” You speak carefully, “I- I was just teasing, Jake. I don’t hate you.”

“You’re sure?” He peers up anxiously at you, looking more like a scared child than a naval aviator, “You really don’t?”

“I’m sure,” You nod, gracing him with a soft smile to soothe his nerves, “I don’t hate you, Jake.” “Okay,” He breathes, his frown flattening out into a neutral expression as his eyes drink you in, “Thanks, Y/N. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime,” You promise, and you mean it more than you’ll let on, “Get some rest, Jake, we’re meeting for breakfast at nine tomorrow.”

He nods, and that’s your cue to leave. Your shoes are still by the door, and you slip them on, fiddling with the straps. When you straighten up from where you’d hunched over you spot Jake’s keys where you’d left them on his entryway table, and realize he won’t know where they are in the morning. You don’t want him to panic, so you scoop them up, knowing that his door auto-locks behind him as a part of the apartment’s security features. You’ll be able to leave without the keys, and he won’t be at risk overnight.

You pad quietly back into his room, intent on setting the keys by the glass of water and leaving. But you realize that he’s already asleep, the magic of booze eliciting soft, even breaths from him that ricochet off of the pillow he’s smushed against and blow his hair back. You stifle a giggle at the sight, and pride yourself for how much self control it takes not to record it.

You set the keys down, and your heel catches on the pizza box beneath his bed. Your nose wrinkles, and you decide there’s no good reason for Jake to be keeping old food under his bed, of all places.

You pick it up and it feels nearly empty, prompting confusion on your part. Pizza is not weightless. 

Maybe you should, maybe you shouldn’t, but you decide to flip the lid open. You brace the box on his nightstand and pop the top, your eyes landing on a collection of memorabilia inside, not cheese and bread.

You recognize a chubby baby as Jake himself, a slightly aged photo that looks delicate. You bite back a soft smile, but decide that his baby pictures are none of your business, fingers ghosting over the lid to shut it once more now that you know he’s not hoarding Papa John’s beneath his mattress.

Just before the lid closes, your heart stops. Your eyes catch a picture of just about the last face you’d ever expect to see in a pizza box under Jake Seresin’s bed: your own. It’s a picture of you talking to Payback, eyes shut and crinkled at the corners, mouth open in a laugh you’re sure was less-than-graceful at whatever the other aviator had said. You pick the photo up, pushing away a jewelry box that’s lying on top of its corner, and finding dozens more of your squadron beneath it. There’s one flipped on its front, and Jake’s scrawled sharpie over it, ‘Rooster being dumb. 6-07-2022.’

Upon inspection, the photo is of Bradley making a fool of himself. He’s halfway to the ground, foot caught in the sand as he topples over. You remember that day, you’d all laughed when he’d emerged with a mustache-full of sand.

You flip the photo of yourself, brows furrowing when the description is less-than-understandable.

‘Third time. 5-03-2021.’

Third time.. Third time you’d… laughed at Payback’s jokes? Definitely not, he’s quick on his toes and surprisingly witty.

Thumbing through each photo of you and your friends, the descriptions are all simple. ‘Natasha losing a bet’ showcases her rare defeated look, and of course Jake would have that documented. ‘Fanboy exhaling lemonade’ is self-explanatory, the substance shooting out of his nose in response to the Bradley-Sand-Mustache incident. The only ones you can’t figure out are your own, ‘First time. 4-25-2020’, ‘Second time. 10-10-2020’, and even, ‘Relapse. 9-14-2022;.

For the life of you, you can’t figure them out. You realize that you’ve been sifting through Hangman’s personal possessions far longer than you should have been, stuffing them all back inside the pizza box and sliding it beneath his bed. Something strange and confusing clouds your brain as you make your way to the front door, and you barely remember to listen for the click of the automatic lock when you leave.

Your apartment isn’t far from Jake’s, it’s only a few streets down, and you’d hitched a ride with Omaha to the Hard Deck anyways. You won’t make him pick you up to drive you three blocks.

There’s something infuriating about knowing that Jake writes about you in code. It’s like a mental game, and you’re losing. You ponder it all the way back to your apartment, and you dig your own keys out of your pocket to get yourself inside.

Your determination to figure Jake’s code out only transforms into insomnia, and you fall asleep at nearly three in the morning, alarms set for five hours ahead, wondering if you’ll ever find out what they mean.

--

Surprisingly, for how you’d left him last night, Jake is the first one to show up to Team Breakfast. Your typical spot at the local cafe is inhabited by none other than Hangman, checking his watch to see how late everyone was running so far.

“You’re here early,” You marvel, and his head shoots up to meet your gaze. He grins sheepishly, nodding, “I had too much of a headache to go back to sleep.”

“Oooh,” You laugh, “Tough luck.”

“Yeah. Reckon’ I drank a lot last night?” He asks, already grimacing in expectation of your response. 

You take a particular pleasure in nodding, “You tried kissing Bradley.”

He hadn’t, at least, not on this particular occasion. Rooster has gotten his fair share of Drunk Hangman Love, as have you all, but this time he’d stayed away from anything too intimate.

“Shit,” Hangman grimaces, screwing his eyes up and plunking his chin to his chest, “I thought you said Bob was gonna start watching out for that?”

“He did,” You snort, “He saw it about to happen, and left before you could do it to him. He watched out for himself.”

Jake mumbles something, probably along the lines of ‘typical’, but it’s as he raises his head again, and the glint of something silver at his neck catches your eye. You squint, hard, glimpsing a familiar heart-shaped pendant pressed to his chest and outlined beneath his shirt.

“Oh my god,” You laugh, “The necklace! You’re really wearing it.”

He bites back a smirk and fits his lips to the rim of his water glass instead, “I told you I’d wear it. I’m no chicken.”

“Send a picture to your mom,” You suggest, “Tell her you’ve got her heart with you.”

His smile dims, something apprehensive in his eyes.

“You went through the box under my bed last night, didn’t you?”

You still at the question, your eyes wide, “What?”

“I heard you,” He admits, “I’m- I’m not mad, or anything. I just.. I know you did.”

“I’m sorry,” Even if he’s not upset, you feel awkward, like a kid caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar, “It was none of my business, I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” He shakes his head, reaching back for the clasp on the necklace, “It was your business. Is, if..” He hesitates, face screwed up in concentration.

“Y/N,” He finally continues, necklace now pinched between his fingers, “This isn’t my mom’s.”

“Oh?” You pry cautiously, “Who’s is it, then?”

“Yours.” He admits, and your brows furrow.

“It’s not mine, I’ve never had one like that. I- I guess someone must have left it at your apartment or something, maybe Phoenix?”

“No,” He sighs, eyes screwed shut, “I mean- I mean I bought it for you.”

“You,, you bought that necklace.. for me?”

“Yeah,” He nods, “Did you see the box in there?”

You nod, recalling the teal case.

“I bought it for you for your birthday last year. Chickened out before I could give it to you, though. That’s why I had to give you half a bottle of whiskey.”

His lackluster birthday present made a lot more sense now.

“I know you saw the pictures I’ve got of you,” He continues, keeping his eyes on the pendant of the necklace that he’s pressing against his thumb, “I just thought.. I’d get everything off my chest.”

“First time..” You recall, and he raises his eyes to you questioningly.

“The pictures of me,” You prompt him, “On the back, you had little.. notes? Captions? Whatever, they said first time, second time, third time, relapse. What did those mean?”

He stares at you, the prolonged eye contact making you squirm.

“You sure you don’t hate me?” He asks, just as timid as he had the night before.

“Jake- of course I don’t hate you!” You promise, “Just- tell me, please?”

“They’re every time I fell in love with you.” He murmurs, and your entire world stops spinning. You’ve built it carefully on a foundation of Jake-directed sarcasm and a healthy distance away from your fellow aviator, and when the word ‘love’ slips from his lips the foundation crumbles. You feel everything collapse, every witty comeback, every dramatic eye-roll, every logical pushback. Nothing remains, except love. The word, the feeling, the sound of it coming from his mouth. 

Apparently the demolition of your entire world takes too much time. Jake cringes, tucking the necklace into his fist and going to pocket it, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- fuck, I should have just shut my mouth. I won’t bring it up again, we can just forget this, and-”

“Stop,” You reach for his hand, covering his closed fist with your open palm, “Give me the necklace.”

He unfurls his hand, slowly, unsurely. His eyes linger on you, and he watches as you carefully scoop the jewelry from his palm, your fingers delicately brushing over the heart.

“You really love me?” You verify, keeping your eyes on the silver charm so that if this is some sick joke, you won’t see him break the facade. You won’t see the adoration in his eyes turn to mockery, the love to hatred.

“I really do,” He promises, “And I know that I’m not the best at communicating that…”

“What with the constant teasing and badgering?” You glance up at him for the first time since his confession, your view of his face obscured by your lashes.

“Yeah,” He grimaces, “That.”

“Can I be honest with you, Jake?” You bite the inside of your cheek, regretting admitting what you’re about to say before you’ve even said it.

“Yeah,” He breathes, and you think he expects the worst.

“I kind of like it,” You admit, and his frown breaks. 

“I knew it,” He gloats, his grin wide and bright, “I knew there was a reason you never say anywhere I couldn’t steal your food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You groan, closing your fist around the necklace, “I haven’t responded to your confession yet, have I, Seresin? Don’t get too cocky.”

As much as you’re teasing him, he takes it seriously. His grin dims, and his eyes soften, worry pooling in his irises.

“I..” You start, eyes on the heart that still lies in the rips of your jeans instead of his own gaze, “I love you, too.”

“You do?” You think you’re starting to like his voice when it’s not brash and cocky, instead sincere and a little timid.

“I do,” You nod, glancing back up at him, “And.. I don’t really know what to do about that. I tried to ignore it, because we work together, and because I wasn’t sure you liked me back, but.. I do love you, Jake.”

“That,” He smiles, real and genuine, “Is something I’ve wanted to hear you say for years, darlin;.”

“Well. you should thank your inebriated self last night,” You laugh, letting him take the necklace from your fist and unclasp it, “You’re very touchy when you’re drunk, and I may or may not have seen your penis.”

“That’s.. not something I remember.” Jake grimaces, pausing with the necklace open in his hands, “Was it.. I mean- did you.. like it?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” You advise Jake, leaning forwards so that he can wrap his arms around your neck, “I’m not talking about your dick at brunch with our friends.”

“They’re not here yet,” He murmurs, and when you lock eyes, you take in the fact that he’s only inches from your face.

There’s a soft click as he clasps the necklace against the base of your hairline, then he drops it to your neck. The chain is cold, but Jake’s hands are warm where they smooth over your cheeks. You let your lashes flutter shut, lips already slightly puckered, waiting for the press of his own over them. You can’t be but a hair’s breadth away from kissing Jake when a shrill scream comes from the parking lot, and your eyes snap open with a start.

You turn, but he doesn’t release your face, instead pressing his cheek to yours as you both look for the culprit. It’s not Natasha you find with her hands clamped over her mouth, but Rooster, though the former is smirking.

“We carpooled,” She informs you, elbowing Bradley in the side, “We were only five minutes late, and you guys have already sucked face?”

“I gave her the necklace,” Hangman reaches over to show off the charm around your neck, “I, uh- asked for Phoenix’s help buying it. I didn’t know what you’d like.”

“Thanks,” You laugh sheepishly, though you’re not sure who you’re talking to. Maybe both of them, “Uh, is that Fanboy’s car?”

It is, tires crunching against spare bits of asphalt as he turns into the parking lot.

“Coyote’s in there, too,” Hangman groans, pulling back from where you’d been smushed together, “Let’s hope they didn’t see.”

“Oh, we’ll tell them,” Natasha promises, and her laugh can only be described as maniacal, “They each owe me $20, they thought she’d say no.”

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[whynotshaveme]

The Treatment

By whynotshaveme

Margaret stared at the imposing stone Victorian structure before her, her long red cascading down her back. The St. Dymphna Asylum promised "old-fashioned treatment for female lunatics", and she was about to enter there willingly. She had been warned about the staff, all older, cruel women who took pleasure in their work, but that only fueled her desire to enter their care. Margaret was here to submit.

The heavy iron gates closed behind her with a loud, echoing clang. Inside, the asylum was as grim as she had imagined with its dimly lit hallways and the faint scent of antiseptic in the air. She was greeted by a stern matron named Nurse Agnes, her gray hair tied in a tight bun, eyes cold and unfeeling.

"I see that you're here for the two month treatment plan," said the nurse coldly.

Margaret nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Nurse Agnes slapped her. "I wasn't asking you. I was telling you." Then she looked at Margaret's hair. “Shame about that pretty hair. Follow me. We'll take care of it."

Without another word, Nurse Agnes lead her down a hallway until they reached a small, windowless room with a single metal chair bolted to the floor.

“Strip,” she commanded.

Margaret’s hands shook as she removed her clothes. She soon stood naked, except for her hair. Nurse Agnes pulled out a pair of clippers, and motioned for her to sit in the chair. She did as she was told, her breath quickening as she felt the cold metal press against her bare skin.

Nurse Agnes said, gripping a fistful of Margaret’s hair. “No turning back now.”

The clippers buzzed to life. Margaret teared up as they began their work. She kept silent though. This was what she wanted—no, needed. The clippers did not stop until her scalp was stubble. Her eyebrows were next, the thin lines disappearing under the merciless blades. But they weren’t finished. Two other older nurses entered the room, equally cold and severe, one of them holding a straight razor and a bowl of water. They lathered up Marget's scalp and eyebrows and shaved her smooth.

Then Nurse Agnes ordered Margaret to stand with her legs spread wide. She stood up, trembling as they lathered her privates and began shaving her bare, removing the last traces of her womanhood. The humiliation was thorough.

When they were done, Nurse Agnes inspected Margaret's body, nodding approvingly. “You're now ready to begin treatment,” she said, smacking her bald head.

For the next two months, Margaret was subjected to a brutal regimen of treatments. Each morning began with an ice bath that sent shockwaves through her body. They would keep her there until her mind went blank from the shock.

Afterward came the "treatment" for hysteria, vibrator sessions meant to "calm her". Nurse Agnes and her team would strap her down on a table, spread her legs, and insert the vibrating machine inside her. They laughed as they watched her writhe.

In the seventh week, the final phase of her treatment was revealed.

Nurse Agnes approached Margaret one morning. “It’s time to make sure you don’t breed. Can’t have lunatics like you spreading your defects.”

Margaret’s stomach churned. She knew what this meant. Sterilization. Still, she allowed the nurses to bring her to the operating theater and strap her to the table. She stared at the cold, flickering light above her as the doctor, the first man that she's seen in weeks, cut into her. She would never bear children. That choice was taken from her as one final humiliation.

When the final day of her stay arrived, Margaret was shaved from head to toe one last time by the nurses. They called it her "goodbye present". Then they escorted her to the gates.

“Any return visitors are automatic candidates for lobotomization,” said Nurse Agnes, her tone implying that she'd expected to see Margaret again.

Margaret didn’t reply. Instead, she sat down on the bench in front of the asylum. As she waited for her cab, a mere shell of her former self, she thought how wonderful the sun felt on her skin. It was the only thought in her head.

[peacheeeliz]

006. DAY SEIZED (wc: 821)

You let out the umpteenth sigh of the hour, staring blankly at the disinterested boy that sat across from you in the library. He types away endlessly at his phone, not even sparing you one glance. You could disappear out of thin air right in front of him, and he would have no idea. How he was able to drown you out so easily was beyond you.

You're about to say something to him before a figure standing at the study room door catches your attention. Mark stands on the other side of the glass, smiling kindly as he waves at you. He raises his other arm, brandishing a plastic bag that you could only assume held the sweet, sweet dinner you had been craving for all day. You're positive Jaemin wouldn't mind, so you motion for him to come in.

Mark enters the study room, soaking in the bright smile that overtook your face; of course, it was for the tacos and not him. But, a man can dream. He places the bag down in front of you, “some refreshments, milady.”

You choke out a laugh, finally catching the attention of your unresponsive student. Jaemin stares up at Mark, finally showing some kind of reaction as a smile grows on his face. “Yooo, Mark Lee?” He starts, standing up to dap up the Canadian man. “Didn't expect to see you of all people here, man.”

“Haha, yeah,” Mark replies, eyeing the boy. As friendly as he usually was with the freshman, he couldn't help but feel disdain as he looked at his playful smile. He was sure that this was the first word he had said all night, and boy, was he correct. “So, Y/N here is tutoring you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's a great teacher,” Jaemin answers, although he had to be honest; he didn't even know your name. You scoff, but he ignores it and continues. “I'm learning so much from her.”

“I could tell, you know, with the lack of notebooks you have out right now,” Mark notes, glancing over how bare his side of the table was. “You must be more of an auditory learner then?”

Jaemin hesitates before nodding slowly. “Yeah, totally,” he breathes out a laugh. “One hundred percent auditory learner.”

“Well, I'm glad you have Y/N as a teacher,” Mark continues, resting his hand on your shoulder. “I mean, she learned from the best. Her older brother, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaemin's eyes go wide, and for the first time in three days, they finally turn to look at you. “Your brother… is Jung Jaehyun?”

“The one and only,” you answer, sending Mark a questioning glance before looking back at Jaemin. “He, uh, taught me everything I needed to know.”

“Wow,” he breathes out, eyes sparkling. “You've got to keep tutoring me, then.”

“I'd be glad to,” you reply, smiling at the boy's starstruck daze. You slam your textbook shut, bringing the boy back down to Earth. “But, looks like that's time. See you next time, Jaemin.”

The boy nods quickly, almost skipping out of the room in excitement. You struggle to hold in your laughter at the sight, shaking your head as you begin to pack up your things. “Thanks for that,” you tell Mark. “Don't think I would've gotten anything out of that kid if it weren't for you.”

“Oh, it's nothing,” he says, shrugging. “You know, you always complain about the attention you get because of your brother. But I think it can be a gift too.”

“I guess I'll take that into consideration next time,” you nod slowly, throwing your backpack over your shoulders. “And, I guess I also owe you one.”

“Oh, big time,” he responds. “I should be asking you to like, shine my shoes or something.”

You roll your eyes, and as you do so, your eyes flicker to the door behind Mark. You meet his eyes again, smiling at the cheeky smile that plays on his lips. “You should really kiss me right now,” you tell him, watching his mouth go slack.

He wants to question your words, but before he can, you're leaning in. Your lips meet his, and he instantly melts into the kiss. As cheesy as it sounds, fireworks are going off in his head as he reaches up to cup your cheek. But, just as soon as it happened, you pull away with a soft smile.

From behind Mark, Lee Taeyong appears on the other side of the glass door. “Day seized!” He shouts, quickly getting shushed by a nearby librarian.

“We're even,” you tell him, patting his chest before you go to leave.

“A plus, Mark,” Taeyong continues, laughing. “I know a life-changing kiss when I see one.”

Mark continues to stand there in shock, paying no mind to his instructor that dances away. “Yeah, fooled you,” he says to himself, as you were now halfway out of the library.

synopsis ⤏ mark, desperate to talk to the cute girl in his japanese class, forms a study group. who knew that other struggling college students might want to join a study group?

a/n: first kiss only six chapters in let's goooo 🥴🥴

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[innerwriterwonderland]

My girl only breaks her favorite toys ☆

Avox!Coryo x Reader

Summary: Just as you're about to give up on finding Coriolanus Snow, your school nemesis, he falls right in your lap, in quite the condition.

Warnings: Canon level violence, threats, non sexual choking, attempted drowning, mention of bruises, cuts and other injuries, mentions of masturbation, the reader exhibits predatory behaviors, mentions of past bullying, homophobia and prostitution (pls feel free to tell me if i missed anything).

Author's note: this is a based on this small headcanon i made some time ago, but it can be read alone. It isn't meant to be a series, but i'm thinking of a part 2 in the future.

Word count: 2843 words.

It was your 18th birthday. A weird thing if you were asked. You got the prize, a way to University, all the honors of top student, despite not being picked as a mentor for the games, and still it didn't sit right with you. All these things were never yours, at least you never thought they would be.

They were Coriolanus Snow propriety. He set his claim on it all a long time ago, maybe even before he was conscious of it. But weirdly, the Snow heir had vanished into thin air after the 10th Hunger Games. Disappeared from the Capital's streets completely. No one knew where he went, or why he went, or even when exactly he left.

All that was said was that one day Coriolanus was celebrating his tributee's victory, and then the next one, he just couldn't be found anywhere. And the strangest thing was the lack of cover up story. How no one bothered masquerading his absence.

But, alas, here you were. Exhausted from the longest, fanciest, loudest party your parents could throw. Feet sore from the high heels you wore all night, and head buzzing from all the noise. It was nice how happy they were for you, but sadly, you felt too lost in your party to enjoy it.

There was one more gift according to your parents, waiting in your room. "To end the night on a high note!" your mother said, "It must be expensive!" you replied. Your mother had certainly acquired a taste for Capital opulence, and so had you. The heels, and clothes, and jewels in your bedroom accounted for that.

The double doors opened silently, and you went through in a mess stumbling feet, and energetic laughter. You might also be a bit tipsy, too much champagne for a night.

Then your body turned cold and rigid, eyes wild like you'd seen a ghost. Well, maybe you did.

Coriolanus Snow stood not a meter away from you, with sunken cheeks, and dirty platinum curls, and eyes too blue to be real. And, strangest of all, in a rose Avox tunic, looking sick and beaten.

Most certainly this was some illusion, you were hallucinating!

Coriolanus Snow, who – despite not having a coin to his name – walked through the Academy halls like he owned the place, and everyone inside it, was standing in front of your very eyes in a servant's clothing. Not any servant, an Avox, a criminal without his tongue, forced to do labor to atone for his crimes.

You were clearly losing your marbles! That's the only logical conclusion.

Yet, a gargled sound came out of the Coriolanus shaped thing in your bedroom, and it's eyes were the very blue you couldn't erase from your mind. It was him! By some heavenly miracle, of whatever this was, that was him.

"Snow?" You whispered almost scared as you reach your hand to him. Months of gathering whatever littlest information you could find on him, of using every last favor you had to look for clues on where the hell he was – just for Coriolanus to fall right into your lap.

He shrinks away from you, one step after another as you get closer. Now you could smell the foul scent that glued itsetf to him, disgust!

His back hit you vanity as your hand connects itself to his swollen cheek. Had they hit him before bringing him here? You doubted the Snow heir would come quietly to serve you, what he called "a district whore". Well, not like he had any choice now. A mean smile painted your lips at that.

"Snow, dear" You purred, getting closer to him, something he clearly didn't enjoy. "Looks like you were roughed up!" Sharp manicured nail traced the purple bruise close to his eye, and you watched as his eyebrows drew in on pain. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you now!"

It was twisted, what you felt for him. You couldn't hate him more, yet he was your longer lasting obsession. Maybe it was some underdog complex, as a born district girl, envying the Capital pure breed boy might be natural. But in your opinion it was more than that.

Coriolanus had chosen to haunt your life for as long as you've known him, no mercy to spare after letting the Plinth boy walk free of judgment it seemed. His insults and acid jokes echoing behind your back anywhere you went.

But now he seemed so weak, and fragile.

Snow had always been a bit short for his age, too skinny, pale and underdeveloped, but all the boys in his generation were. But he had a regal posture to compensate, as graceful as a lynx, Snow was quite easy on the eye, if you were honest. Attractive, but intimidating, in equal parts.

Your nails graze the recent cut on his forehead as you brushed his curls away from it.

"Poor, poor Snow" Soft as feathers, your hands trailed down his temple, and came down to hold his face between your palms "Let's get you bathed, huh? Wash all this dirt away?" You talked to him like a child, condescending.

With his wrist tightly enveloped by your hand, you pulled him into your bathroom. A spacious and luxurious room, with a delicate porcelain tub in the middle. "Undress" You ordered, with a stern voice Snow had never heard, before leaving him there and going to change yourself.

Snow thought for a moment after undressing that he should thank you for giving him such privacy, but only lasted 'till you came back into the room. In a short baby pink slip dress and a silk robe on top, hands working on tying up a bow to close it. Your eyes ran over his body, taking notice of the many bruises.

"They really hurted you, didn't they?" You asked, putting your hair up with a claw clip, and opening the faucet to fill the tub "But the real question should be why? What did you do to deserve this, huh?" Snow fumed at that, knowing he could not answer "Cat got your tongue? Oh, no, the peacekeepers did!" Your laughter echoed in the ample space.

Once the tub was full, you mentioned for him to get in and he obeyed. Just that simple act of submission made your skin tiggle. The Snow you knew would rather die than follow your command, he couldn't even handle to be beneath you in anything. Once, at the Academy he had choked and threatened you after you got a grade higher than his.

You never forgot the feeling of his cold fingers on your skin, his blue eyes looking right into yours, his breath fanning over your face. You went back to that moment many, many times, late at night, when you were alone and needy. As said before, your feelings around him were never so simple.

Snow sinked down slowly into the warm waters, humiliated to be following your commands. How ironic that he's pride was to blame for this. If he hadn't cheated for Lucy Gray to win, he wouldn't be at your mercy, if you had any. His eyes burned you as you knelt down beside the tub and began to bathe him.

Smiling up at him, all sickly sweetness, you brought the sponge up to rub his back "You know, I used to watch you, back at the Academy. So smart and bright, always around those rich, influential friends of yours. Always leaving me behind, look where that got you" The faux pity in your voice made his skin crawl, the rough sponge brushing against his bruises making him wince in discomfort "But it's okay, I'll take care of you now, as long as you obey me."

Your hands let go of the sponge to grab the shampoo and scrub it into his dirty platinum curls. Fingers trailing down to hold his shoulders, so he couldn't move away, as you nuzzled into his neck.

"Your skin's still soft, smells like lavender" You whispered into his neck, then pulled away to look into his baby blue eyes "I know you prefer roses, but all I have right now are my own products. We'll buy you some rose scented ones soon. You will smell like a girl, Snow!" You couldn't help but giggle girlishly at your own teasing.

Snow stiffen under your hold, as the insinuation sank in. Oh, how hated you. And the feel of your warm breath on his neck, and your hand moving down his body, across his chest, towards his stomach, and your soft voice as your said:

"You know I like those, right? Girls. 'Course you do! Used to tease me about it. Call me dyke. Say I ogle at the girls in the changing rooms." You sank your nails into his bruised skin, scratching bright red lines across his blue and purple belly. Despite the pain, he couldn't say he regretted the words now, if he could, he would do it all again. "But I like boys too, Snow, I'll prove you that in time." The smile showed him now was all teeth.

Snow's blood ran cold at the threat in your words. He wanted to curse you. Tell you what a disgusting whore you were, but his lack of vocal chords stopped him. Only a grunted sound of protest left his plump lips. He'd never been touched like that, all his romantic experience resumed to the quick kiss Lucy Gray gave him before the games.

As horror took over him, your hand went back to his shoulders. "Underwater, go, need to rinse your hair." Before he could even process the words you pushed him into the water, holding him down for the pleasure of watching him squirm.

His eyes went wide as he sank. Hands gripping the edges of the tub to try to pull himself back up. His mouth opened and you watched as the water filled and he grew panicked with his lack of breath, as air in his chest was being sucked away in the water, frantically trying to push your hands away. You wait until he begins to lose his energy to bring him up, with a hand on his throat and the other on his forehead.

"Shh, shh, calm down" You said in a soothing tone. Keeping him pressed to your chest as he coughed out water, breath heavy and labored as the panic slowly went away. Fucking psycho, Snow thought you were. "You're okay, just let me wash your hair." You brushed the damped curl away from his forehead before letting go get the conditioner to finish washing him.

Disregarding the horror of his situation, it almost felt nice to have your soft hand run through his hair to apply the other products. He barely had anyone take care of him these days. It made him miss Tigris, she always cared for him, despite all her own pains.

"Okay, go down again" You lightly patted him, but that was enough to bring the fear back, and Snow tense as he waited for another drowning.

But it never came, so he went down, quickly, coming back soon before you tried to suffocate him again. The smirk in your face made him want to choke you.

You stood up after that, telling him to finish his bath as you went to grab him a change of clothes. Snow almost felt grateful as you left. He washed his body and grabbed one of the soft white towels of the rack to dry himself, pleased with it's texture against his bruised skin. Looking in one of the many mirrors, he found himself unrecognizable, thin and frail like a ghost. A twisted reflection of who he used to be.

"Still so pretty" He heard your breathy voice before he saw through the mirror.

You had a piled of male clothing in your hands - a white formal shirt, a pair of crimson pants and some underwear - that you extended to him. "Here. These are my boyfriend's, not sure if they'll fit, but try it."

With a small nod he took the clothes from you and began changing. Uncomfortable with how you stared at him, eyes trailing his body as he got dressed. The clothes' fit was barely good, the pants' legs were too short, and so were the cuffs of the shirt. This was just another way of humiliating him, as if he wasn't degraded enough already.

You thought it was good enough. "That's enough for now, I'll buy you some more fitted ones in the future."

Snow kept his eyes downcasted as he left the bathroom behind you. The new clothes felt nicer on his skin, expensive and softer, and he felt clean for the first time in a while. Yet, Snow never felt more dirty and loathsome. Even the size of clothes seemed to mock him. Dean Highbottom was right, snow was falling, and now he felt like he'd hitted rock bottom.

But you? You have never been happier! Snow was all yours, and he was broken down enough to follow your every word. Enough to be your own little toy to play with however you wanted. You couldn't help but appreciate his new state. Delicate little thing was he, ghastly almost. Yet those blue eyes and blond hair could never be anything but beautiful.

"Think I'll ask for some cake to celebrate! It's my birthday, you know?" You looked at him with too bright a smile and sparkling eyes, that wided as you heard his stomach groan "You hungry, Snow?" Even with his hunger you played.

What pitiful excuse of a life Snow had now. You toyed with his needs, but made sure he was always dolled up before. He only nodded before you called the maid to bring you something from the party buffet.

"You're used to it, aren't you? The hunger" You mused quietly watching as he sat down on the floor, head bowed "Heard your cousin used to sell her body to feed you, so you must be used to going hungry longer than most." He contemplated ripping your neck to shreds at that.

How dare you insult Tigris like that, even if it was true. You found out about that when you were searching for him. It seemed the Snow's had quite a few secrets since the war ended. He only hummed in response, not even looking at you.

"The Snow household was left in shambles after your disappearance, you know?" You prod hoping for a reaction from him "Your cousin, Tigris, became a stylist for the next hunger games - they are trying to follow your legacy of creating a show it seems - but cutted all her connection to the Snow name. And that old woman in your house, no one has seen her since, the penthouse is completely abandoned." You let the poison drip from your tongues and analyzed how his jaw clenched "It's for sale now. Maybe I'll buy it for you."

You knelt down beside him and took his face in your hands "But you don't have to worry about any of it anymore! Now, you have me to take care of you." As soon as you finished talking his hand wrapped around your throat.

Snow pushed you down on the ground, choking you as his weight caged you. You had to concentrate to not moan. His baby blue eyes now burned with pure unfiltered hatred, just as you remembered. Slender fingers gripping tightly, knuckles white. You hoped it would leave a mark.

Your hands held onto his wrists. He wouldn't kill you, Snow didn't have it in him to be a murderer. Or at least, that's what you thought.

Snow, on the other hand, was ready to end this here. To end your spoiled bratty ass and his humiliation. He sank his fingers into your flesh and watched you turn purple. Disgusted by the glint in your eyes and the smirk in your lips. Your lack of fight was weird, but he blamed it on you trusting the security of your home.

Vision blurred from the lack of oxygen, you forced a laughter out of your swollen lips, but no words came out thanks to his grip. You let go of his hands, wondering if Snow really thought he could kill you in own house. Poor foolish Snow. Your hands pushed at his waist to get his body off the top of yours. And when you failed you sank your nails into his bruises.

He winces in pain and falters his hold on your neck, letting you get away from under him. Bending over coughing. "Oh, that was fun!" You giggled between heaving breaths "That was really fun!"

The look of shock in his face was priceless. You prayed for more chances of seeing it again. Little did Snow know the game he had just got into with you. It would be so fun to break and build him up, again and again and again. Snow was now your new favorite toy to break.

[bzurk]

ghost x selkie!reader

cw: abduction

Until the day she came to land and shed her skin lying in the sand, He stole what he believed he earned and took her by the hand, And he said: "Selkie, now you belong to me!"

“Please,” the soldier's mind was abruptly yanked from his thoughts as a soft, pleading voice pierced through the air. Neutral brown eyes met the sight of a young woman, standing bare and vulnerable, her eyes flitting from the coat in his hands to the pod of seals retreating from the sand into the ocean. “Would you kindly return my pelt?”

Ghost had, unwittingly, heard tales of Selkies, whispered amongst the elderly of the coastal town, all rumour and gossip he had overheard - bewitchingly beautiful beings who slipped between seal and human forms, wild and untamed like the sea itself. They were rare, elusive, creatures of legend. He often wondered where the stories came from. Now, faced with the reality, he stared at you, his gaze roving over your naked body, lingering on the enticing swell of your hips and thighs, as if tracing the curves of a precious sculpture.

"Please," you repeated, your voice trembling as you took a hesitant step towards him. "I need it back."

Ghost's mind raced as he tried to make sense of everything. He had always been a practical man, relying on logic and reason rather than tales and legends. But here in front of him stood a woman who seemed to defy all rational explanation. But the urgency in your voice, accompanied by your constant watch over the disappearing seals, is what made it click firmly into place in his mind.

Distantly, he recalled the belief that keeping a Selkie's pelt would bind them to the owner. His grip tightened around the warm, velvety fur in his hands. Sand fell from its surface effortlessly, the thin layer of fur slightly damp and slick. Despite being buried in the cold sand, it remained warm to the touch.

His initial curiosity and scepticism had transformed into a deep, burning fascination as he watched you squirm before him. You were ethereal, smooth swathes of bare skin glistening with drops of water that shone like the faces of a crystal, backlit by the glow of the moon over the ocean. He wondered if your skin would be as soft, as warm, as the pelt clutched between his brutish, calloused hands. He found himself imagining your touch, what it would be like to have you draped around him, to feel the softness of your skin against his, the soft caress of your hands over his body, touching him, teasing him, loving him.

And yet you still stood before him, pleading for the return of your pelt. But Ghost couldn't bring himself to let you go that easily. The thought of possessing you sent shivers down his spine, igniting a burning fire inside him that refused to be tamed. He could feel himself losing control as he watched you tremble before him, torn between staying with your pod or escaping with your precious pelt. He knew if he gave it back to you, you would flee. You’d rush off without a backward glance, vanishing like a wisp of fog in the morning sun, never to be seen again.

He couldn't let you go. He was captivated, already imagining what it would be like to possess you completely, undoubtedly high off the promise of complete power over somebody, to own them, to control them, bound to his side for as long as he held your prized coat.

“No,” he found himself saying, his voice a low rumble, slowly standing up. He carefully tucked your pelt into his bag, watching the colour drain from your face as you trembled in the cool night air. “I don’t think I will,” Ghost murmured, his presence looming over you like a gathering storm. He reached out, his grip gentle yet unyielding on your arm as you instinctively flinched and stepped back. “It’s quite soft, innit? Real nice. You mustn’t treasure it much if you left it out in the open like you did.”

You tried to pull away from his hold, desperation flashing in your eyes as you glanced at the ocean's promise of safety and freedom. But without your pelt, you were helpless, shore-bound.

You stumbled back, heart racing like a caged bird. Turning to call for help from your pod, you saw only the distant specks of their forms against the horizon. A leaden weight settled in your chest, and your resistance waned. You tried to run, but Ghost's grip on your arm was unyielding. He reached for you with his other hand, his touch meant to soothe but only further incited fear inside you.

His tugging was insistent, inescapable, shushing your noisy protests as he removed his coat and draped you in it. Ghost felt a smug satisfaction curl through him at the sight of you, drowning in the black cloth, a stark contrast to your ethereal beauty. Your feeble attempts to escape were in vain, your pleas swallowed by the night's indifferent silence.

With a heavy heart, you finally resigned yourself to your fate as a captive, knowing that your pod would never return for you, not after being spotted. With each step towards the unknown, the weight on your shoulders grew heavier, knowing that you would never be truly free again, not unless this monster of a man deemed it so.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Only For You

Thorn x female!reader

Summary: Thorn hides a huge part of his life from you and he's constantly leaving for long periods of time. You're not sure you'll ever know all of his secrets, but you know you're tired of saying goodbye.

Notes/warnings: angsty/fluffy, but nothing else really. mistakes, I'm sure. I did my best.

Words: 1354

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“Going where?” you ask, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to shield your bare skin from the cold. He shrugs out of his nylon, sorry-excuse-for-a-coat and wraps it around your shoulders, but it’s a useless effort. In a thin t-shirt, he’ll be frozen in no time and you’ll be left to trade the coat back and forth as he stands on your front porch in the winter’s stinging air. 

His hands slide into his jeans front pockets. “I can’t tell you.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

With a huff, you ask, “What do you know, Thorn?”

He flinches. A hand comes out of his pocket to run over his buzzed hair. You can’t count how many times you’ve asked him these questions, and you kick yourself for bothering when the answers have not once strayed from their cookie-cutter precision. He never knows. Or he does and refuses to tell you. Wherever the truth lies, it doesn’t make its way to you. But the hurt in his mossy-green eyes is not for the secrets. It’s not for the disappearing act he forces you through. It’s reserved solely for the brand new weariness in your tone. 

This is not what you do. Your pattern with him has been consistent from the beginning. A month after he first kissed you, three weeks after you first slept together, you received the same pieced-together speech: ‘I have to leave. I can’t tell you why. I don’t know for how long.’ And you provided the same response you always do; a response you weren’t aware at the time would be commonly leaving your mouth; a response he’s not once requested, but with every feature of his face, pleads for: ‘I’ll be here when you get back’. Then he smiles, as always, and kisses you, and you pull him into your bed only for him to be gone by the time you wake. 

But you just broke the pattern with that tone of yours. It’s less welcoming, offering inadequate reassurance that when he knocks on your door in one or two or three months it’ll open. 

Thorn swallows hard as he fidgets in place, and you feel tendrils of guilt spread throughout your system. Thorn doesn’t fidget. Fidgeting means nerves. Nerves mean anxiety. And anxiety is not a well-worn jacket on the man who weaseled his way into your heart. It doesn’t fit. That jacket isn’t made in his size and it feels no different than when a toddler is squeezed into an outfit their parents refuse to accept they’ve grown out of. 

“What I know is that I want to come back to you,��� he says. A beat passes and the cloud of nervous energy is shoved aside, likely a required skill for whatever the hell he does when he leaves you. He steps closer. Your heart beats harder. “I will walk up here and knock on this door and wait for you to let me in. Like I always do.”

Lips parting, you sink further into the scent of cologne that long ago seeped into the interior fibers of his coat. It’s an instinctual comfort while everything inside of your body fights your mind.

Fingers twitch to reach out and jerk him inside, but if you do that there’s no chance you’ll resist him; no chance you will even make it to your bed. With one foot through the door, he’ll have you against the wall or on the floor with the hallway runner serving as the only barrier between your back and the chill of the hardwood. With his tongue on your neck, you will forget how tired you are of his rollercoastering in and out of your life. His fingers digging into your flesh will crack your icy determination to no longer miss him until it’s a melted puddle beneath you. His cock deep inside of you will demand you let go of letting him go. 

Well, it’ll demand you let go of considering letting him go. It’s not what you want. If you had your pick of clichéd happy endings, your wicked-smart, tattooed-up, former—you question—criminal would settle in with you. But, no matter how hard you try, you can’t form that image in your mind. Thorn with a ring on his finger, you with his baby growing in your belly, a house you can share—if that exists somewhere, you’re losing hope that it’s on your timeline. 

“Thorn, how long is this going to last?”

“I told you, I don’t—”

“No,” you interrupt with a shake of your head. “Not just this time. All of it. When does it stop? When do you stay?”

His shoulders slump the slightest with his heavy sigh. “Sweetness, I made promises. I’ve got people relying on me.”

“And what about me? What am I supposed to do?” you ask, praying the struggle of holding back your tears has slipped under his radar despite that not being a possibility before. The only tears Thorn doesn’t catch are the ones he isn’t around to witness. “What if I left you all the time for reasons I refused to tell you about? You couldn’t find me, you couldn’t contact me, you didn’t know if I was safe, you wouldn’t be able to sleep wondering if I might be dea—”

“Stop!” he snaps, then quieter, repeats, “Stop.” His eyes fall from yours to the stone of your porch and enough seconds pass that there’s an awkwardness to the silence. “I would lose my mind if it was you, Ok?” he says, connecting to your stare. “I’d go fucking crazy.”

“And somehow you expect me not to.”

His hands move to cup your face, thumbs stroking back and forth over your cheekbones. “I don’t expect anything of you, sweetness. I can't, because it wouldn't be fair. But it doesn't change the truth that you don’t leave my thoughts. When I'm gone, every free second I have is spent thinking about coming home to you.”

Except coming home often means adding to your worries. There’s not one instance in the time you’ve known him that he has returned to you without bruises at every stage of healing scattered across his body. But you don’t speak of them. Neither do you speak of the split lip, cut eyebrow, sliced skin, and the worst of them: the hole in his arm that was shoddily stitched up, leaving a permanent reminder of the secret life he keeps from you. 

Often, when he is asleep, you run your finger over the raised skin, simultaneously thankful that he made it back from such an ordeal and cursing that he left to begin with. Then, from the twisted mess those feelings cause in your head, you find that your pain at seeing him hurt always develops a branch of anger.

Despite all of the blows you know he takes, you're not quick enough to stop yourself from throwing one of your own. “Assuming you’ll be able to come home at all…right?” 

His eyes widen before they squeeze shut. Sharp jawline sharpens more as teeth clench. Thorn takes a deep breath, then proves that his forehead resting against yours is all it takes for your anger to fizzle. 

Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you finally allow the tears to spill. They pour with abandon, overwhelming you the way a tidal wave might overtake a small ship in its ocean.

“I know whatever you do is stupidly dangerous,” pushes through your sudden sobs and sniffles. 

“That’s why I don’t tell you what it is,” he whispers as his nose nudges yours. “But I’m careful, sweetness. I’m careful because of you.”

Your lips freeze from the tears that reach them. The salty liquid under the chilled air bleeds away all moisture until his mouth claims a kiss. Not soft, not sweet, but beautifully burning. And from that burn, you find your calm. From familiarity, you find peace. From him, you find home. 

When you separate, your breaths form a puff of heat that shoves away the cold. “I won’t let you down,” he promises. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

---

A/N: there is very likely going to be a part 2 to this, assuming people would want to read it.

tags: @wkndwlff @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @mamachasesmayhem @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl