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anaconamor · 1 year ago

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just friends? or more? - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: interviews and late night talks. but it’s always hard to see your best friend leave for his away games. no matter the distance or duration.

wc: 3k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa🗣️: happy new year everyone, hope everyone is doing okay! 🤍 mixed a request with my own imagination. this was supposed to be a small blurb but I ended up writing more. best friends to lover trope 🫂 🧟‍♀️ hope you enjoy! 🤍

“it must be an excitement to see him play at this level and talent?” the journalist asked you, to which you nodded and smiled. “it’s quite a pleasure honestly. it’s what he’s always wanted and we couldn’t be more proud,” you replied calmly not knowing where exactly to look at.

your eyes glanced from her, to the camera and then jude who was walking back from the tunnels. “recalling all his goals from this current season, which one has been your favorite? could there be a sort of muse to inspire and motivate him to this level?” she asked curiously, leaving you thinking.

��my favorite probably, okay wait actually i don’t know if i wanna say because i don’t want to get dragged, but it was special to see him win his debut here in the bernabeu, even if it was a tap in,” you laugh, “his goal against napoli and barcelona are one for the books as well.” you kept glancing behind her to see jude standing there cockily, arms crossed with a smirk plastered on his face.

“as for a muse, i’d say himself and the people around him whether it’s friends or family even the fans. with the constant support and wins, seeing how the team reflects, how he can do more. overall i think it’s just him and the healthy mentality he has,” you say shyly, nodding your head as you spoke, jude then decided to intervene.

“erm excuse me? this is my interview,” you say in a teasing manner, stepping on your tiptoes to reach his hug. “i apologize. just wanted to come over and say hi,” jude says playfully making everyone smile. “we were just asking y/n about if there could be a certain muse to make you perform at this level. is there anything you would like to say about that?” the journalist asks.

jude scratches his brow and looks down smiling, “well to be honest there is someone…but for privacy reasons or maybe to not jinx it, i’ll keep it hidden… they’re truly wonderful and inspire me to do my best every time,” he says with a huge grin looking down to you where you stand. your eyes connected and for a second maybe he was dedicating this to you? you thought.

as the journalist wrapped up her interview the two of you teased and joked around, answering her questions politely and respectfully, making sure to wish her the best of luck and a small be careful. the thoughts of him having a ‘muse’ still didn’t go away from your head. if he was referring to you or if there was someone he had yet to tell you about.

jude was always private with his life, but around you he couldn’t stop yapping, always with a smile in his face when he spoke about him. but this had you questioning just a bit, if there was more to your close friendship. to his longer and more intense stares towards you, his touch on your waist when out together, always asking to stay longer and cuddle.

it wasn’t just you who had noticed it, his teammates as well, often teasing both of you especially jude as you would hear it when he called you after training. don't even get started on the media, replays, and many comments on the two of you when together, always asking if you were dating, or saying they lived for your friendship.

there was something different and you couldn’t avoid it any longer, being left confused with your feelings. it began to feel like love. you can’t love your best friend, you couldn’t take a risk like that.

“you’re awfully quiet? something in your mind? i know something’s up so don’t say it’s anything,” jude remarked, squinting his eyes. you let a soft chuckle out and turned to face him, “i’m just tired… also i was reading some of the comments from our interview,” you lied offering a quick smile and showing him your open instagram page. he raised his brow and got out the car.

you trailed behind him to where you were greeted to a quiet home. jude quickly slipped on some slides and dropped his bag in the mud room. you took of your shoes and walked into the kitchen to prepare some dinner for the two of you. as you glanced around you felt jude hug you from behind, his face leveled next to yours making you jump. “fridge is full?” he asked.

“oh yeah. i went grocery shopping and brought the necessities! refilled the fridge, got toothpaste, and i also got you those scooby doo cookies you love so much,” your hand interlocked with his that was around your waist as you pointed to the cabinet above you. just then you realized how close the two of you were.

it felt like you had moved in, and shared a house together. you never ever had shared a bed, but for the past month you had, waking up with jude on top of you or your back next to his chest. having breakfast daily together and him waiting for you to come back from uni or work. hanging out more than usual, cuddling more than usual. the his and hers titles applying to the two of you, when brushing your teeth, your mugs, sharing clothes, having your shoes aligned by the door.

jude felt you tense asking what was wrong but you shook your head, “after dinner, i might go home,” you tell him watching the smile disappear from his face. “what? why? do you want me to go with you? you should just stay it's already late, i want to you to stay” jude insisted, making up different reasons as to why you should stay the night.

it’s not that you didn't want to be with jude tonight, you did, to feel him hold you and kiss your head at night. but the thought of acting like a couple, with no label, with your best friend made you freakout, because what if how you felt wasn't how he did? what if you read the cards wrong and it was only you who fell over heels for your best friend? what if he didn't love you like you did?

“i’ll think about it, i said i might go, still debating, i haven't seen the roomies in a while and we want to have a girls night,” you said trying to calm the panic that overtook his body. “i don’t mind joining, you guys just do spa night, drink wine, and talk, i’ll be like one of the girls…” jude shrugged jokingly, making your eyes roll playfully.

“okay decide what you want to eat so we can start cooking,” you recalled, grabbing a pan and heating up some oil. jude played his old songs playlist, singing along to the songs you remembered, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he led you to dance in the middle of the kitchen, his soft brown eyes never leaving yours as he sang happily. would this be what it felt like to be a couple?

the tv show played softly on the background, jude fast asleep on your chest letting out small snores. he refused to let you leave as the time you had finished eating and talking was super late, leaving with no choice but to stay once again. it felt like home, jude felt like your home, they way you fit perfectly in each other's arms. you turn the tv off, squinting your eyes in confusion as you saw his phone ping.

jocelyn:

thanks for the other day! hope we can see each other again, had so much fun!

your heart sank looking back at jude who was still sound asleep on your chest, feeling your eyes burn with tears and your stomach sink further down. you controlled your breathing, feeling stupid and naive for actually believing and falling for him. it wasn't his fault, it was you for letting yourself believe there could be something. you would never be his, there was already someone else in his life to fill your spot.

you were able to manage to sneak off the next morning without a word or budge from jude, feeling trapped and claustrophobic around him when he hugged you from behind. you couldn't stop thinking about his words from yesterday's interview and his ‘muse’, the way his touch still burned on your skin, the way he hid a girl from you. it felt like you were the other woman even though you had no clue who she was.

you fiddled with your keys, opening the door to a silent home once again, darting straight to your room where you fell onto your beg with small whimpers and sobs, crying over a boy. you weren't able to sleep last night, so you didn't even feel when you fell asleep, forgetting about reality for the day.

jude was left confused and curious as to why you weren't there, next to him. he called and called, texting you over and over again, becoming worried when there was no response from you. he was unable to focus during recovery and training session, thinking of how you suddenly left, and how distant and tense you were yesterday. he wondered if you had school, or if you something came up with your roommates.

jude wanted to hang out before he had to travel away for the weekend. spend as much time with you. his head should be focused on winning and on the team to advance in the ‘copa del rey’ but he couldn't when he hadn't heard from you.

jude was deep in. as every day went by his love for you grew more and more, knowing it could be risk for your friendship. he had the urge to just yell out how much he loved you, how badly he wanted to call you his, to finally stop playing around and put a label. it was hard to read you and that killed him more. feeling hopeless and desperate, he called again quickly listening to your voicemail.

you had jude’s head spinning, heart skipping beats at the thought of you, and he was left with no choice but to show up the day before he left at your doorstep. your eyes frantically roamed jude who stood with a serious look on his face, almost shutting the door at him out of nervousness. jude let himself in, turning to you quickly brows drawn in. “is there a reason why you are not answering your phone?” he asked seriously, no taint of playing around.

“i needed to catch up on some uni work. i have so much to do still, and i wanted to focus on getting the hard part out first,” you say unsure, as his brows draw in with bewilderment.

“but yet couldn't answer one phone call from me?”

“jude-”

“i’ve been left worried, thinking if you were okay after you randomly left without saying anything? i don't like you shutting me out y/n, i understand you were busy but a text even would’ve taken me out of my misery,” jude huffed letting out a sign of disappointment, walking to the couch and staring at your study layout. books and books, open pages of your notes, and your laptop that sounded louder than usual.

“i just wanted to give you space and time for yourself. i don't wanna seem clingy or attached because all we've done for the past month is be together at house. i just thought you might’ve wanted to do something else with your teammates or other people,” you say embarrassed, daring to spill the girls name from the other night.

“well you thought wrong, the only person i want to be with is you. i wanted to see you before i left tomorrow,” jude said with a small frown, hands digging into his hands. ‘the only person i want to be with is you’ should have not stung like it did, the ache in your chest as you heard him say that, bitting your lip to hold back the tears that wanted to build up. though you were stronger than that.

“what about jocelyn?” you asked carefully being met with a quiet jude, giving you a questioning look. “what about her?” maybe it was the way he had said it or the fact he was upset but you now regretted bringing her up knowing it had triggered something. “didn’t she mention-” you were cut off by jude.

“jocelyn is my stylist when i’m here in madrid. she invited me to have brunch with her and her girlfriend when you were taking a midterm this week. I didnt mention it because it was a fast meal, just food and talking,” jude said. you felt utterly stupid and left more embarrassed than before, wanting to punch yourself for quickly making up assumptions instead of asking for clarification.

“oh.”

“wait.. how do you know about jocelyn? did you think something else?” jude asked, lifting his head from his hands. you rubbed your shoulder anxiously not knowing how exactly to respond, “you mentioned her the other day, i just assumed,” you lied quickly, “also i saw her message the other night i stayed over.” jude had caught you, and now he wasn't going to let the opportunity to go to waste. “

“so that's what this is about?”

“i don't know what you're talking about…” you shrugged quickly, dismissing his tone.

jude ushered you to come over, and like a puppet you quickly followed his request. you stood in the middle on his legs that were spread, shifting your weight from one foot to another, contemplating what to say or where to look. “you thought jocelyn meant something else to me didn't you…” jude asked to which you nodded slowly.

“would have it bothered you if it did? if she did mean something to me?” he asked softly, watching as your eyes looked around and landed on his, you let out a small “yes” in a quiet tone, jude smirking.

“well, it’s a good thing you don't have to worry about that. jocelyn doesn't mean anything, and the only person who does to me is you,” jude spoke softly, you shuddered a breath as you felt his fingertips trace from your calves all the way up behind your thighs, making you lose balance and grip his shoulder to regain it. “jude-” you warn again, but quickly gulp as he repeated his actions.

“the way you smile, the way you hold my hand, the way your eyes glimmer when you let me rant about anything. i love it all. the only person who makes me feel like that is you… all i want is you, y/n. to have and to hold, to love and cherish, to protect and kept by my side forever,” jude gripped your thighs and pulled you onto his lap where you gasped.

“can’t you see that? hmm? can't you see how much i love you? how badly i want to make you mine and call you my girlfriend officially? they say it's forbidden to fall for your best friend, but who cares about those rules when what we have is real. a genuine love.”

your lips pursed open, letting out a shaky breath before speaking again. he had that effect, leaving you breathless even if it was a small action. “this whole time i thought i had it wrong, and that it was just me who saw the sudden shift in our friendship. who felt the feelings. i know it was wrong from me to have assumed that when i have no right, but i thought there was someone else,” you reply.

jude’s hands roamed your thighs, making you relax to his touch, “it drove me crazy two nights ago as i rethought our whole friendship. it felt not weird but it felt like we were living a life with no label placed, acting like a couple because we just felt the need to or we had just gotten that close. not only did it confuse me but also scared me, and it made me distant,” you continued.

“what you feel here,” you pointed and touched his heart, “is what i feel here,” you then pointed to your heart, which was beating like crazy not only at revealed feelings but also the proximity you two were. “i want you to know that i can't stop thinking about you no matter where i am or if i’m this close to you,” you reassured him and yourself. that this was reality.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited to hear you say that… to say that you love me. everyone could see it, everyone teased us for it, but we were scared. but i’m not scared to take this risk, because it means i get to have you here and forever. to love you,” jude said making your eyes go glossy.

“is this actually happening?” you laughed and sniffled, “because if it's not and i’m dreaming i’m going to be mad,” you say. “it's all real, i could pinch you if you want, to make you believe it? or i could kiss you to seal our relationship?” jude offered with a huge grin, making you raise your eyebrow. “you haven't even asked me to be your girlfriend yet,” you remark.

“my beautiful y/n… do you want to be my girlfriend?” instead of replying, you sealed your answer with a kiss. a kiss that sealed also promises and your love forever. jude’s lips molded into yours, tugging him closer by his broad shoulders as his hands delicately rubbed along your thighs. he tasted like honey, not having enough by how gentle and passionate he was being with you. “my jude. my jude forever,” you say still kissing his lips as he smiled into it.

“i love you princess.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader #football x y/n #football imagine #football one shot

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lfcgirlie866 · 2 months ago

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The Girl Who Broke A Million Hearts ~ Jude Bellingham x oc

Ok so you guys really surprised me by voting for this fic the most in the poll! I was expecting this to be the least popular option tbh, and I feel like it's really badly written 😭 I apologise in advance if it is!

Summary: 'I know the baby in your belly isn't mine, but if you let me, then I'll love her like she is'

Tropes: Childhood friends, not realising their feelings until it's (maybe) too late, pregnancy, found family

Warnings: fmc mentions death of a parent, there may be smut eventually in the story but idk yet

Prologue

As I sit outside in the mild Spanish night air, looking out across the horizon, I simultaneously wish for the darkness to end and also for the day to never come. The light means I won't be left alone with my thoughts anymore, but it also means that I have to leave Madrid behind and book a flight back to England. It means I have to leave Jude and face up to what a disaster my life has become in the last week.

How could it have all gone so wrong so quickly?

Last week, I was engaged to the man I thought I would be with forever, six months pregnant with his baby, too. I thought I knew where my life was going.

Now I'm just pregnant and alone. I don't have a home to go back to. No family. Nothing. No one.

I'm slowly spiralling, worrying about what the hell I'm supposed to do next and regretting almost every decision I've ever made.

You're a failure, Sapphy. Your mum would be so disappointed in you, I think to myself, trying to hold back a sob. You're a loser. You're too weak to do what she did and raise a baby alone.

Maybe I should just suck it up and go back to my ex, Aiden. Give in and do what he wanted me to; Move halfway across the world with him. At least then I'd have a home again

But you wouldn't be happy, Saph. Not there, and not with him. Not after everything that's happened. After what he said...

'You'd do it for him, though. Wouldn't you?'

And the answer has been plaguing my thoughts ever since.

"Jeeze, Saph. It's almost 4AM. What 'er you doing out here?"

Jude's familiar voice startles me out of my thoughts, almost like I'd summoned him here with them. I turn around and drink him in. Lit only by the lights in the pool beside me, he looks just as beautiful as he always does as he walks over to where I'm sitting, and my stomach twists and turns at the mix of emotions he churns up.

Jude Bellingham. The boy I've known since he was eight, the one I grew up alongside of, the one who I watched become a world-class footballer right before my eyes. He is quite possibly the sweetest human on this planet, and I'll never, ever forget the truly heartfelt words he spoke at my mum's funeral. He means everything to me, but he's always just been a friend. Always. There was never a time when it could have been more. At least, it never crossed my mind at the time anyway.

But since Aiden said those words to me, I can't help looking at Jude differently. I wish I could stop, but now that I've seen the light, I don't think I can ever go back.

When his brother called me and asked if I wanted to fly out and watch Jude's game yesterday, I didn't hesitate. I jumped on that plane and then screamed my heart out watching him play. I forgot all the bad stuff for a while, but being in his home just brought it all back and I started drowning in my thoughts again.

"Jobe said he was worried about you yesterday. Now I am too, Saph." He says quietly, his fingers lightly stroking down my back, making me shiver.

I should tell him what's happened. I know I should, but at the same time, how can I?

He's THE Jude Bellingham. He's on top of the fucking world right now. I can't drag him down from that. I can't burden him with my own issues. These are my problems, I'm the one who has to deal with them. And, if I tell him I left my fiancé then he's going to want to know why. I'd have to tell him that I've become one of those girls, someone I never ever wanted to be; Just one of the millions who've fallen for him.

Some kind of dam shatters inside of me and as hard as I try, I can't hold it all back any longer. The story comes pouring out with a mixture of sobs and tears as he holds me tightly in his arms.

But there's one thing I don't mention: the fact that I might now have feelings for him, and maybe I always have done.

~~~~♡♡♡♡~~~~☆☆☆☆~~~~♡♡♡♡~~~~

A/n: Ahhh I'm so scared to see what you guys think of this 🫣 This is definitely just an introduction and the story will go back and explain how they met/ became friends etc etc.

If you're interested in reading more then please let me know ❤️

#jude bellingham #football fanfic #football rpf #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x oc #jobe bellingham #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham fic #real madrid #england nt #jb5 #jb22 #football imagine #football fic

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paulyenvol6 · 3 months ago

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Byka Atroksia (Chapter 19)

Contains: no warnings really, just some angst and unhinged behaviour

Wordcount: ~3.83k

Masterlist of this story

You inhaled deeply. You wished you could take Rhaenyra's hand but knew she wouldn't let you.

It was 4 days since your father had announced the punishment for Daemon and you and you hadn't spoken one nice word with your sister. She gave you short answers and her face got cold every time she saw you. Daemon was still in the city but wasn't allowed to come near your chambers. He would leave the capital in 5 days and the closer you came to that day the worse you felt. The weight that laid on your heart became heavier and less and less air could enter your lungs.

Now you were standing in the throne room next to your father and your sister. The Starks would arrive in a matter of seconds to stay in King's Landing for a fortnight. At the end of the two weeks the wedding would take place and then they would leave again. With you. You didn't even want to think about it so you tried not to. It was just something that you couldn't get inside your head. That you would leave your home in only a fortnight and say goodbye to your family.

You were torn from your thoughts when the door opened and the whole Stark clan walked in. Lord Cordin led the group of people and you spotted his eldest son, Jordan.

He was 23 years old, had thick black hair and freckles on his nose. He walked confidently behind his father and smiled when your eyes met. He looked kind and had dimples so you smiled back.

"Your Grace.", Cordin spoke loudly and the group of people got down to their knees. Your father took a step down and smiled friendly.

"Rise, Lord Cordin."

In one movement the Starks got up again and Cordin stepped aside.

"My son, Jorlan. The heir to Winterfell."

Jorlan took a few steps towards the King. "Your Grace. It is an honour to be welcomed in your halls."

From the look on your father's face you knew that he liked the young confident and yet humble man.

"We're very delighted to welcome you here, my Lord."

You knew that it was now your turn so you walked forwards. "My daughter, the Princess."

You tried to look as friendly as possible and from the reaction of your father and the Starks you knew that you did a good job.

"It is truly an honour.", said Jorlan and took your hand to kiss its back.

"Let us eat together. Let us celebrate this union with a feast.", your father said and seemed happy with how things were going so far.

And they continued to go well. In the evening both your families dined together and everyone seemed to be quite satisfied. You obviously weren't, but you still had to admit that Jorlan was a good and decent man. For a moment you could actually enjoy yourself and your cheeks didn't have to unnaturally be drawn into a smile on your face. You could sense that your father was relieved by the fact that you were behaving well because after all this chaos he just wanted things to finally go the way he wanted them to so he toasted to you and didn't seem that angry anymore.

Laena next to him held his hand and you knew that she was faciliated as well. It was late at night when the Starks one by one excused themselves and then there were only your father, Laena, Rhaenyra and you in the room. Viserys sighed satisfied and leaned back in his chair. He chuckled and kissed his wife's hand.

"Who would have thought that Cordin has such a good sense of humour?"

Laena smiled softly. "I'm glad it went well, Viserys."

Her words made you realise how nervous and tense your father probably had been before their arrival. He had probably feared that Cordin would hear the scandalous rumours about you and disagree to a marriage between you and his son. Or that you would cause chaos. But now he just chuckled to himself until Rhaenyra stood up. She hadn't said or done a lot tonight but seemed 'normal', if something like that existed in your family. She hadn't looked angry but still treated you indifferently.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go to my chambers. I'm very tired."

"Of course, of course. Go to bed, daughter."

Rhaenyra smiled and then walked to the door. You watched her leave and then turned to your father, who caught your gaze and smiled.

"As I've told you, Jorlan is a fine match."

You nodded. "Yes. Yes, he will make a good husband." You lowered your head and your father sensed that something was bothering you.

"What is it, Vhaela?"

You shook your head. "No, it's not… You don't wish to hear it."

But Viserys was determined and encouragely looked at you. "Speak, daughter. I want to know what upset you."

"I just… I know I've said it before, but please don't exile Daemon."

You knew that you were playing with fire bringing this topic up again but you just had to do something. Only two days ago you had come to your father once again and tried to convince him not to do it, but he had been stubborn and threw you out of his room. But you didn't want to give up, couldn't give up. You couldn't watch him leave for Essos and knowing that he wouldn't return.

"Not this again, Vhaela.", he hissed and his expression changed.

"I know. Forgive me father, but… I don't think you should do it."

He scoffed. "Of course you don't want it. Your filthly self-interests are guiding your wants and wishes."

But you quickly shook your head. "I'll go to Winterfell, father. Daemon will be miles away if he stays in the capital."

"No, Vhaela. My brother has betrayed me and defiled you. He deserves to be exiled."

You gulped loudly and looked your father in his eyes. "But he's your brother. The King's brother."

"I know. And that's what makes this so terrible. He has responsibilities, which he just threw away like a dirty cloth."

Viserys had raised his hands but Laena gently grabbed them.

"Husband.", she spoke softly and both you and your father turned to look at her.

"Wait with your judgement, please."

Viserys frowned. "What are you speaking of, love?" His wife caressed the side of his face and then looked at you.

"I know that Vhaela and Daemon have acted with a great lack of responsibility these last weeks."

Your father exhaled sarcastically.

"But", she continued and turned to her husband. "I do believe that your daughter has a point. He should not be near Vhaela and preferably not be near King's Landing, but I do not believe that he should be exiled."

He shook his head. "Laena. How can you side with her?"

"Please Viserys. Listen to what I have to say. He is your only brother. What message would this send to the people? The King is sending his only brother away to live in Essos? Most of them don't even know what he gets punished for, which is good, and yet it would bring confusion and uncertainty. And he is your brother after all. He is supposed to take part in the crown's politics and bring House Targaryen to further glory."

Your father pressed his lips together and by now you felt like they had forgotten your presence.

"Well, Daemon is not doing such thing. Instead he is only weakening my reign."

But Laena shook her head. "Send him to Dragonstone instead, Viserys. Vhaela will go North to Winterfell, Rhaenyra will marry one day and then reign after you, living in the Capital. Dragonstone is your ancestral seat, it should be held by a Targaryen. Daemon can go there, perhaps take a wife and Dragonstone will stand in its proper glory. He will be far away from Vhaela and he won't even bother you, if that is what you fear."

There was a heavy silence in the room and you felt your heart beating faster. You didn't really know why Laena was taking your side and whether she merely did it out of kindness but you just wanted to hug her right now. Her words had given you hope and for the first time you felt as if your father was actually questioning his decision. You grabbed the table tightly and watched your father for a reaction. He had his head lowered but was turned towards Laena.

"You're… I can't do this, Laena."

She sighed. "Why not? I know how you feel about your brother at this moment, but it will not last forever, Viserys. Your anger will fade over time because he is your brother and deep down you love him. You know that. Send him to Dragonstone, avoid his presence for as long as you wish to but at some point in your life you will want to have him by your side again. And when that happens, he won't be far away in Essos, rotting away where you wouldn't find him. He will be at your ancestral seat and be a friend to the crown. Daemon will want to be the crown's friend because he will want you in his life as well."

Your father chuckled loudly. "You're speaking as if you were a prophet."

She smiled. "Perhaps I am."

You glared from Laena to your father and tried not to look too hopeful. Then the King sighed deeply and still looked a little unconvinced.

"It could be a risk.", he whispered and then turned his gaze to you. "Is that what you would want, Vhaela?", he asked coldly.

You gulped and nodded slightly. "I think the Queen speaks with reason.", you breathed.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed once again. "I will think about it.", your father said and it was enough for you to break into an honest smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

Later you laid in your bed and stared at the ceiling. The window of your chambers was open to beat the oppressive heat in your room and you could hear the crickets chirping. Obviously you didn't know yet how your father would decide but for the first time since Rhaenyra had seen Daemon and you together you felt a little hopeful.

Yes, you would still go to Winterfell and would rarely see your uncle and yet it gave you comfort. You just thought that you would feel better knowing that he remained in Dragonstone instead of a city far away in Essos. He wouldn't be gone. He would still be allowed to come to the Red Keep and maybe even to Winterfell one day…? Even though you wouldn't be able to be with him again, you still wanted to see him, talk to him and wished that Daemon would visit you now and then up in the cold North.

You turned to your other side and stared at the wall. Suddenly you felt very lonely and wished that Daemon laid next to you. You could wrap your arm around him, lay your head on his chest and smell him. You wanted to feel the warmth of his body and feel safe in his arms. He would kiss your hair and press you close to his body. And thinking that you would never experience this position again gave you anxiety and made you want to bury your head in your pillow until you suffocated.

~~~~~~~~~~

You had to wait for two more days until you heard news about your father's decision. It happened when you sat by the table eating breakfast with Rhaenyra next to you. She was talking to your cousin and only briefly looked up when Laena walked in and took her seat next to you and soothingly squeezed your hand when you looked at her. You thought that something might have happened but her eyes were calm and kind.

"It's fine.", she whispered. "He's not gonna exile him."

You widened your eyes and felt a warm feeling floating your veins. "Really?", you breathed.

Laena nodded. "Don't worry, little girl."

You smiled widely and felt such a gratitude towards your step mother. "Thank you.", you whispered with teary eyes.

But Laena simply lifted her eyebrows.

"I didn't do it for you, Vhaela. You have made more than one mistake these past weeks. I did it because I genuinely think it's the best for the crown. And I most definitely didn't do it so you can continue these inappropriate behaviours with him."

You swiftly nodded. "Yes. I know."

You bit your lip and for a moment thought that everything was going to be fine. Well, you were still going north but Daemon could live in Dragonstone and wouldn't be gone for good. Maybe one day when your father would forgive him you could visit him there. He wouldn't be out of the world.

"Does he know yet?", you asked Laena quietly.

"No I don't think so. But you're most definitely not gonna be the person to tell him, do you understand me?"

You gulped and nodded.

"Viserys is gonna tell him, I assume. And you'll keep your head down. You'll do as your father says, alright?"

You nodded again and Laena seemed to be satisfied. "Then all of this is for everyone's good, isn't it?"

"Yes. And I really appreciate what you did."

She smiled softly. "It's the best for the King and his reputation."

A few minutes later the Queen left the room again and when Rhaenyra saw it she immediately interrupted her cousin.

"Aegon. Leave us."

The little boy looked confused from your sister to you but got up. He stumbled out of the room and when the door was closed Rhaenyra turned to you.

"What were the two of you talking about?"

You were a little scared of your sister's reaction when you would tell her the news but knew that it was unavoidable. She would find out soon or later and would probably even angrier if you denied her now.

"Father is not going to exile Daemon. He'll go to Dragonstone instead."

"What?" She watched you with small eyes quickly walked towards you. "Is this your plotting?"

Your sister tightly took hold of your shoulders and her nails painfully dug into your skin.

"Ow. You're hurting me." But she didn't care and shook you.

"Did you manipulate father into believing it would be wiser not to exile him?"

"I-I told him I believed so. And Laena supported me and just told me that she was able to convince him."

She let go of you at once and you soothingly rubbed over your arm.

"You don't even see it, do you?", Rhaenyra hissed, her face distorted with anger. "Oh seven hells, Vhaela."

"What are you speaking of?", you said confused.

"No, no. I can't do this anymore. You don't listen to me anyway."

You frowned deeply as you watched her stand up. "Rhaenyra. What do you mean?"

But she didn't turn around again and just left the room shaking her head over and over again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day you didn't see Daemon again and you wondered if the news had already reached him. You overhead Niclas talking to a king's guard and found out that your uncle would leave in three days time and you asked yourself whether there would be a goodbye feast or something like this. But honestly, you didn't think so.

In the afternoon you had tea with Jorlan in the gardens. He was kind and turned out to be good company but you couldn't help but let your thoughts fade to Daemon all the time. Jorlan simply didn't sweep you off your feet. You noticed that he was a bit nervous all the time and the conversation was fine but a bit faltering. That's why you were quite reliefed when the Stark Prince excused himself and you could go back inside. Deep down you knew that you were a little unfair. Jorlan really was a fine match and would make a good husband. You should call yourself lucky. But you didn't feel lucky.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later you laid in your bed. For some reason you felt exhausted which was odd because you hadn't done a lot of exhausting things today. You had only spent time with your family and dined with the Starks. And yet it didn't take long for the sleep to overcome you and soon your thoughts flew away.

But your sleep was interrupted. You woke up because something was touching your face. You widened your eyes in panic and wanted to pull away but the hand on your mouth didn't pull away.

"Shh.", someone made and your eyes started to perceive your surroundings better. You knew that voice. Of course you knew it.

Daemon sat by your bed with a hood covering his hair and smirked slightly. When he saw that you had noticed him he slowly lifted his hand from your mouth and put a finger to his lips.

"Shh.", he whispered again and you nodded.

"What are you doing here?", you said as quiet as possible.

"I came to say goodbye, niece.", he answered equally quiet.

"But you're only leaving in two days, I thought."

Daemon shrugged his shoulders. "I decided to leave now." His eyes were a little darkened and you wondered if it meant that he was sad. You definitely were.

"I don't want you to leave.", you breathed. These words were only meant for Daemon and they were almost inaudible.

"I know.", he whispered and caressed your messy hair out of your face.

He was looking at you as if he was trying to memorize everything. Your eyes, your lips, your hair and you felt butterflies in your stomach. And yet he didn't look entirely sad. He still had this little smug look on his face that seemingly never left no matter the situation.

"What do you think of Jorlan?", he asked and your eyes fluttered.

"I don't wish to talk about him now."

"But I want to know. Does he treat you well?"

You nodded. "Yes. He is kind."

Daemon's thumb reached under your eye and he gently caressed your skin. "I will miss you, little owl. Very much."

Why did he smirk? Why didn't he look sad? His words were kind and indicated that you meant something to him, but why did he look so smug? Daemon attempted to pull his hand away from your cheek but you stopped him by putting your hand on his'. His smirk intensed and you enjoyed his touch on your skin.

"I have to go soon.", he spoke in a whisper and you shook your head. "I'm sorry, little one."

You gulped loudly and closed your eyes but then opened them to fiercefully stare into his eyes.

"Take me with you.", the words left your mouth and your uncle lifted his eyebrows.

"I don't care. I don't care about my father, about Rhaenyra. I want to be with you."

Daemon smiled softly and his eyes glared at you. "You'll marry in a few days, byka riña." (little girl)

"I know. But I don't care about the Starks either. I want you, Daemon."

His hand pulled away from you face and this time you let him. "You want me to take you to Dragonstone."

You nodded and meant it. "Please. I just want to get away from all of this. I don't want to think about marriage anymore I only want to be with you."

He chuckled quietly and then stood up. "Come on then."

Your jaw dropped but a smile appeared on your face. You hadn't expected him to agree that quickly. So you jumped up and quickly put a gown on. Daemon watched you doing it and then stepped towards you. He put his hands on your waist and his mouth brushed over your ear.

"Mine.", he said and you felt goosebumps on your neck.

You quickly kissed him and then looked at him daringly. "Let's go."

The two of you were quietly walking through the corridor. Daemon had grabbed your hand and pulled you through the darkness. There were some guards but you managed to avoid them until you were breathing the cold air outside.

"We'll go through the back gate. And then down to the beach. We'll go on Caraxes' back to Dragonstone.", Daemon whispered in your ear and you nodded.

You felt the adrenaline in your veins, you felt dangerous, brave and happy. All of this didn't matter anymore. Who cared about Jorlan Stark or the King of your sister? All you needed was right next to you and he would protect you. You would go to Dragonstone where you wouldn't need to hide. You could do whatever you wanted to. There were servants at Dragonstone who kept the castle in good shape and now they would look after you as you were Targaryens and meant to be in this place. Daemon and you wouldn't need to hide anymore. You could have his children maybe, provide him an heir and be his loyal wife. You turned and looked up to him, your eyes full of joy and excitement. Daemon smirked and watched you from the corner of his eyes.

Then you walked down to the beach where Caraxes rested but rose when he heard you coming. You smelled the salty air and wondered when was the last time you had been down here. It was so dark you almost couldn't see what was in front of you but you heard the waves softly crashing of the sand.

Daemo guided you to his dragon. Caraxes knew you of course and so there wouldn't be any complications riding on him. Your uncle stroke him and laid his forehead against him.

"Eman māzigon sīr kostā maghagon īlva naejot Zaldrīzesdōron" (I have come so you can bring us to Dragonstone), he spoke and Caraxes howled quietly. Then Daemon turned around and gestured you to come closer.

"Don't be afraid, byka atroksia.", he whispered and then grabbed your waist to help you get on his dragon. Once you sat comfortably there, your uncle climbed on Caraxes' back as well and you were sat behind him.

"Hold on to me tightly, alright?", he said and you wrapped your arms around his waist. It was a little windier now and your hair blew in the wind.

"Sōvegon, caraxes." (Fly, Caraxes), Daemon shouted and the dragon started to move. You pressed your face in Daemon's neck when Caraxes lifted himself and got off the ground.

You giggled and your uncle could feel the vibration and smirked as well.

"What is it?"

"I don't know.", you shouted and laughed against the heavy wind and pressed yourself closer to him.

You felt incredible. Light. Like you were not only physically but also spiritually flying. The air felt so good against your skin and the water and sky looked magically in the night.

'That's it.', you thought and soon your cheeks hurt from all the smiling.

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mschievousx · 8 months ago

Text

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she love her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

ii. two: you felt so happy

the first ball, certainly one of the highlights of the season. it is indeed as grand as people have talked about. the lights, the decorations, the flowers, the performances—they were perfect. on top of that, loraine is a night person, which is why the ton should prepare for a doubled exuberance.

arriving a bit late than most other families who were so eager to catch a match for their offsprings, the silvas entered the hall together as raine compliments with awe.

"lady danbury's balls are always extraordinary, truly worthy of hosting the first of every season."

armand turned to her with an incredulous look, "agatha does not have balls."

she deadpanned at her father and discreetly whisper-yelled, "oh, heavens! stop trying to get us beheaded all the time!"

"it do makes me wonder why i haven't told the queen to behead you yet, armand." the host's voice engulfed them from behind. they both turned to her with a sheepish grin.

"lady danbury, it's a wonderful... ball." raine applaused after letting go of her father, "i must go and greet the queen."

she walked straight away, looking at armand one last time as she put both her fists up in shoulder level as if to cheer him on. the man could do nothing but offer a death smile to his daughter.

as rebellious as she is, raine is still of noble and respectful upbringing. we will not reveal that she did think twice if she should greet the queen or she can just go straight to the drinks. she did end up choosing to greet her. that is what matters, right?

and so she bowed gracefully to her. duty done. as she stood back up, with an utter pretentious smile, she was more than excited to make her way to the beverages.

"loraine," the queen called with familiarity and her steps halted, turning to her majesty once again. ah, so she's speaking as a family friend and not the queen.

"whatever is that sparkling on your leg?"

raine was confused for a moment, before she remembered what she could have possibly put their that was shiny. she turned back to her with a mischievous smirk.

"just an accessory, aunt lottie. it's a must-have."

she replied with full confidence, despite the fact that it is quite clearly shaped like a dagger. of course, it is an accessory. it can be considered as one, moreso that it is quite strapped on her.

she smiled dearly once again before curtsying to leave. as she was out on earshot, the queen turned to brimsley.

"i wish i had done that when i was young."

now that all is done, she cannot wait to taste what kind of drinks they serve during balls as she eagerly continues on her path to the beverages. she swiftly took a glass and sipped it with delight.

"you took the wrong glass. lemonade is here."

her eyes narrowed at that, hinting the arrival of a not-so-welcomed presence. the viscount bridgerton, with his wife and younger brother, joined her after spotting the young lady across the room.

"i can outdrink you."

"i'd like to see you try." kate slapped her husband's arm at the unnecessary challenge. kate is reasonably competitive. anthony? he's the most competitive at wrong times.

raine smirked at kate as the latter winked at her. she turns to the viscount, "i did not take you as someone who loves balls."

before he could answer, benedict interjected after taking a glass of his own, "he has two of them."

the eldest closed his eyes and sighed at the immature comment, "say that in front of her father if you think it's funny."

"oh, please don't. they'll both laugh for hours." she shuddered at the thought, just as the current dance ended.

anthony finished his glass as he looked at his wife for a while before turning to the two, "well, excuse us. i must take my wife to the dance floor."

he lead her to the dance floor without even waiting for their reply. raine scrunched her nose as benedict continues to sip on his own, leaning on the standing round table.

"anthony dances in these events?"

"only since last year, when he decided to actively participate in balls."

she immediately turned to him, mirroring the incredulous look her father had earlier, "why are you saying it like that?"

"why am i saying what like?" benedict turned to her as well, tilting his head and propping it on his palm.

"stop."

"balls?"

raine gave out a grumble, turning her attention back to her drink as the bridgerton laughed at her reaction. they both observed the ball with a comforting silence before benedict saw an interesting sight.

"your father is laughing. i must say, lord silva is really paradoxical."

her brow raised at the mention, "he always does. he just hates you, and don't say that word to him. he'll think it's a compliment."

"it is a compliment."

"it's not."

"wait, lord silva hates me?" upon realising the previous statement, he straightened his back.

the girl simply nodded as a grin made its way on her lips, "he thinks you put a love curse on me."

he dramatically placed a hand on his chest, "you are more likely to do that to me than i to you."

"you know me so well." she laughed as she raised her glass to him which he followed. upon the cue of the music ending once again, he gulped his drink, moving to her other side.

"i do hope you have not given away your very first dance to some other man."

she screamed, internally screamed, and she could almost not hold the grin that was aching to escape her lips, "hm? what ever do you mean to say?"

benedict chuckled, completely seeing through her. he moved to block her view of the dance floor, his left hand manly placed on the lumbar of his back as he offered the other in between them.

"loraine silva, may i be your first dance?"

she beamed at him, drinking the rest of her glass at once as she placed her own hand at the care of his.

"i thought you'd never ask."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

raine, as talkative as she is, could not find the confidence to do so at the moment. all she could think of was his hands, smell, and body. yes, she grew up with them, but she had never danced with this man in front of her before.

anthony, yes, when he did a poor attempt to cheer her up—which ended up successful because he looked ridiculous. colin, yes, when he offered to be her dance partner as she was practicing after classes. but benedict? she has never even saw the man dance.

so, currently in their second dance, she finally found her voice, "can i just say, i feel so happy i could die."

he laughed as he twirled her, "you have said that a thousand times before."

"genuinely this time." raine intimately uttered as she looked at him in the eye.

"also," she added, continuing with a charming smirk after another twirl, "ever thought of marrying me?"

he narrowed his eyes with a smirk of his own at her, "oh, you opportunistic minx."

"that one i'll gladly take as a compliment." raine proudly grinned, pushing further, "so?"

"let me think," he acted as if he was thinking deeply on the answer before turning back to her, "no."

raine gave a mocked sigh, chuckling right after, "a girl can only try."

the pair continued to dance, sneaking chats and gossips with laughter as they do so. with the music ending, he leads her off of the dance floor.

"well, what must i do now?" she said, now back with the beverages.

"dance, drink, have fun! just as there's no shortage of ladies, men too."

raine groaned at the mention of other bachelors, "ugh, i don't want to dance with other men."

benedict smiled at her adamant refusal of them, "darling, a ball is thrown to socialise."

"i'll socialise with you then."

"we have, for fourteen years already."

she smiled mischievously again, "are you counting?"

he pinched her right cheek as he proceeded to make faces, as if talking to a child, "it's simple mathematics." he laughed as she swatted his hand, standing straight up again.

"for one, you could save your father from lady townbridge. i doubt you'd like her for a mother."

raine groaned once again as the bridgerton boy bid his farewell, "ugh, i don't even like her as a person."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

the young silva wandered around the ball, trying to find another source of fun. for some time, she stood near lady blackstow and lady vaughan, eavesdropping for a juicy gossip, but all she learned was their husbands' unhygienic activities. she tried to engage with others, hopping from person to person, but could not find them entertaining.

so, when she heard quite the laughter and cheers from the opposite side of a door, she did not even think twice to open it.

"well, what do we have here?" raine, with the largest grin ever, whispered to herself in joy.

the room was a heaven for her. it was full of things she finally deem as fun. there were people playing billiards on her left, cards on the other, drinking at the front, and—that's a familiar face.

"raphael! i didn't know you came back from duty." she greeted as she walked towards the man playing cards, tipping her head to the others surrounding the table as greetings.

the said man turned to the her with a surprised look, "lor—what are you doing here?"

"i'm a debutante?"

"no—" he paused at the misunderstanding, "like here."

"oh, i'm..." she began with a smile before turning to look around the place with more attention, "oh."

there were no women present. not a single strand of lengthy hair. nevertheless, she believe it was not a problem at all, turning back to the table with an excited smile.

"and she pulled up a seat." raphael muttered as the girl inserts a chair in between.

"how come no one told me there's a place like this in a ball?!"

the man placed his palms on his face, whisper-yelling right after, "general's going to kill me!"

"enjoy your remaining time then." raine laughed at his exaggeration as the other men began a new round, "now, watch me beat you all."

and she did! they've been at it now for four rounds. the men, varying in ages, wondered if they should be amazed or insulted by her.

"suck it up, boys." she whispered mockingly to raphael with a teasing smile.

however, her smile and his annoyance were quickly changed with a panic look as he noticed the clock hitting ten. he immediately rushed for raine to took cover on the opposite end of the table, a blind spot from the door.

"general." he greeted with a salute as the said man did arrive on the dot.

"raphael, it's a ball." he reminded, easing the younger one from the salute, "have you seen loraine?"

"loraine?" he awkwardly laughs, which is not helping the situation at all, "no, sir."

"notify leo and—" her father's voice was fading away as he and raphael walked outdoor.

as she stayed still and kept her gaze in front of her, she noticed a familiar head across the room, staring at her with a dumbfounded look. anthony mouthed at her, "what in the hell are you doing?"

on the other hand, as raphael has led the higher-ranking officer in a private corner, he spoke in a hushed voice, "loraine is inside, sir."

the general closed his eyes to compose himself, the activities of his daughter can be quite infuriating at times, "i suppose that's better, isn't it?" he asked as he puff on his cigar before continuing, "keep an eye on her. ford and smith will keep me updated."

raphael nodded, taking in the order as armand exhaled the smoke before walking away,

"and stop playing cards. she'll beat you all."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"is father away?" raine asked, raphael affirming. she moved her seat to make room for the latter.

"come, the viscount is betting."

the table has gotten bigger in his return, with the bridgerton son joining them. he offered a hand to shake which the viscount took firmly. he greeted, "raphael montague, pleased to be of acquaintance."

anthony's brows raised at that inquiringly, "you don't happen to be the raphael, do you?"

"how do you mean?"

"oh, lan—" he held his tongue, just realising what he was about to say. he regained his composure with a light cough, "you were mentioned a couple of times in passing."

raine rolled her eyes, "you can say his name, you know. it's not a curse."

raphael replied to the other man with a chuckle, "i hope only the good things."

anthony laughed, remembering a story, "the grenade?"

"oh, please no." he held his head down with a short laugh.

the young silva clapped as another round was about to start, "less talking, more playing, gentlemen."

the round started fiercely, but luck seemed to be on raine's side for the night as she has been getting a good hand. as the rest revealed their set of cards, a cheering and smug raine and an annoyed raphael and anthony are what's left of the round. a tap on the viscount's shoulder distracted him.

"anthony, here you are. mother is—what are you doing here?"

"why is everyone asking that?" raine crossed her brows in annoyance, "you said i should have fun."

benedict turned to her completely from his brother, "this is not what i meant."

"i am having fun."

he laughed mockingly, "do you even play well?"

at the question, groans can be heard as the men were reminded of themselves losing. raine, however, was as pleased as she can be.

"anyone you see here has lost to me."

he rolled his eyes as he shrugged it off, "that's because they've had a drink."

"try it yourself, bridgerton." a man chuckled and voiced it out as a challenge.

the younger bridgerton turned to him smoothly, "you're not going to manipulate me into—"

"scared?"

raine taunted, she knew benedict so well.

"never."

he stated as the older bridgerton stood up and patted his brother's shoulders before leaving for their mother's call.

"what should we wager?" she asked, leaning back on the seat.

"if i win, you won't go into gentlemen's clubs anymore."

her lips formed a thin line at that, yet she slowly nodded, "agreeable."

"inside or outside of the balls."

raine jerked from her seat at once, "that's too much."

now, it's benedicts turn to lean back with a smirk, "i'm going to tell your father."

she likes him dearly, really. but, an irritated look manifested on her features, "alright, you're going to play like this, benedict?"

always with a flair for theatrics, she acted as if rolling her invisible sleeves before placing her wager on the table.

"if i win, you're going to marry me."

his eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing again, seemingly finding the words to say, "that is what's too much."

"these gentlemen are witnesses, ben." she gestured with ease to the men now surrounding their table.

"you are insane."

"only for the things i love, darling."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"lady silva lost."

a man declared as the rest are still in silence. the game was close, so utterly close that they were about to get their wives or inform their mothers of a wedding happening soon. however, as they were nearing the end, the silva girl made a huge error, costing her the chance to marry the object of her affections and the object of her fun.

"okay, but including within balls like this is too much, ben. this is the only entertaining thing in these events!" the gradual change of her tone from acceptance to whining in just two sentences was astounding.

"these gentlemen are witnesses, raine."

she blew out an exasperated breath at the smugness of the man sitting opposite her. she was about to retort when a voice from a man near the door announced.

"lord silva is coming!"

she hurriedly stood up, aiming for the door that would lead directly outside the mansion, to the gardens. raine turned back to them with a grin, saluting to them all with a hint.

"boys, i'll put in a good word to the ladies."

she departed the room just before her father's imposing figure arrived from the other door with a curious brow raised.

"why are you all so tense?"

outside, raine put a hand on a pillar to support herself as she catch her breath. her father's giving her so much exercise these days that she cannot wait for him to return to duty.

"we always seem to be escaping from your father." the young lady jumped in surprise with a hand on her chest at the voice, calming as she saw who it was.

"ben? what are you doing here?"

"well, what was i supposed to do? let you run off on your own? this late at night?" he lightly rubbed her back and asked in a mocking tone, as if pointing out the obvious.

"you know what, you are paradoxical." she stood straight again, lifting her hand from the pillar as she's getting her breath back, "you do things like this but you will not marry me."

benedict raised both his arms as if in surrender, "i am simply caring for you, like anthony and colin do. they would have done the same had they been in my position now. that does not equate to marriage."

"we're unchaperoned." she easily pointed out again, looking at him directly now.

"well—" the bridgerton began, racking his brain on what to say in his defense. he turned to raine yieldingly.

"it really is not a compliment."

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #father daughter tandem is fire here because we cant have it in real life #benedict is a fox #benedict bridgerton x oc #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x oc

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ficsilike-reblogged · 2 years ago

Text

Invisible Smoke - Two

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he continues to pry. Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 9.7k A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter, I truly wasn’t expecting it. I apologize for the wait, but hopefully the length will make up for it! Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, themes of stalking, cursing, mentions of terminal and life-threatening illnesses, and combative fluff :)

The ceremony was wonderful if not a little long winded but you hardly cared as you stood with the rest of the crowd to cheer as Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson presented the Daggers, officially a squadron of Lieutenant Commanders. You caught Rooster’s eye, having watched Captain Mitchell pin the leaves to his uniform, and saw that he still had tears lining his lower lashes. You winked at him, earning a small smile and a bit of pink in his cheeks. You were so proud.

“I’m so happy for him!” Came a warbled voice and you held the phone in your hand a little higher. This wasn’t exactly how you thought you’d meet Jake’s family (not that you had ever given it much thought, really) but when he’d explained that his family couldn’t make it out to the ceremony for one reason or another, you had volunteered to make sure their FaceTime was at the right angle so they could see everything. There were four of them all crammed together—his mother, Sandra, and three sisters, Mia, Kelly, and Alex—staring at what you assumed was an iPad with how Sandra was holding it; blonde heads swiveling together to track Jake’s movements on the stage had been quite the spectacle but when you had glanced up to see Jake looking at you with the biggest, brightest smile you had ever seen it had nearly made you drop the phone.

Embarrassing.

As the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd started to disperse, you lingered near your chair and watched as everyone else reunited with the family that came to watch the ceremony, shook hands with the brass, or hurried off to the Hard Deck to celebrate because Captain Mitchell had, unsurprisingly, sweet talked Penny into letting them take over (again). You waved Tasha on when she went to wait for you and she frowned but did eventually leave, looping her arm through her older sister’s before disappearing out into the parking lot.

“Is my son making you wait?”

You glanced down at the phone with a smile. “He’s schmoozing with some of the big wigs. I’m in no rush to go anywhere.”

Sandra hummed, green eyes narrowing behind her glasses as she paused. It was almost comical how much the expression reminded you of Jake when he was thinking of something. “Well, sugar, I hate to ask this, but could you remind me of your name?”

You gave it readily but added, “most call me Punch.”

Mia once again appeared on screen, leaning down with a matching squint. “Punch?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story but-”

“Oh, we’ve heard of you.”

That had your brow pinching and you fought the urge to bring the phone closer to your face as if that would help you decipher the look on Jake’s sister’s face. All you managed to say was, “oh?”

A smile started to stretch across Mia’s face. “Don’t worry. All good things.”

The phone was snatched out of your hands before you could ask just what the hell that meant and you turned to see Jake smiling at his family on the little screen. “Hi, mama.”

“Jacob Seresin!” Sandra started. “Did you make Punch wait when she was doing you a favor?”

If possible, Jake’s smile widened and his sea glass gaze shifted to you. “Already ganging up on me with my mom?”

“Your family is a delight,” you drawled. “You must be adopted.”

There was an answering laugh that had Jake’s cheeks turning a light shade of pink before he nudged at your arm with the flat of his palm. “Get out of here.”

“It was nice to meet you, Sandra!” You hollered, already turned toward the door.

Sandra’s laugh rang out again and you walked out to the car, thankful to see a few small groups of people still milling about in the warm San Diego sun. You were quick to get into your car and lock the door behind you before curling your hands over the steering wheel. Your next breath was a slow, stuttering sigh. It had only been four days since you had seen him in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Lurking.

Smirking.

And it had been four days since you felt like you could actually breathe. A familiar pressure on your chest had been your constant companion. You knew it was part of your anxiety, a physical manifestation of your fear. You were still on that metaphorical cliff, waiting to fall. You leaned back against the seat and tried to drag in another breath but it was like your lungs couldn’t expand. Pressing your hands over your stomach you tried again and again and again until the ache lessened enough for you to continue to pretend.

Pretend to be normal.

Pretend to be okay.

You’d nearly blown it when Jake had walked you out of the Hard Deck. But maybe he just thought you really wanted to get away from him and brushed it off, thinking you were in a mood. He had only texted to make sure you made it home okay and you’d spent the rest of the night on the couch with a baseball bat clutched in a shaking grip. But you had continued on. Going to work. Putting on a smile and a brave face. Keeping your mouth shut. It was better this way.

With another stilted breath, you grabbed your bag from your backseat and changed out of your uniform and into the dress you’d picked for the night before driving off base. The Hard Deck’s parking lot was already starting to reach capacity so you took the first space you could find and smoothed out your dress as your car beeped, letting you know the doors were locked. The inside of the naval bar was just as busy as the parking lot and you dodged an elbow of someone playing darts not two steps in. Weaving through the crowd, you waved at a few familiar faces—mostly other ADs grouped near one of the windows—and waited to finally make it up to the bar. Jimmy and Penny were both fixing drinks and a few other employees were picking up empty glasses left abandoned on high tops and booths. It might be a minute.

“Hey.”

You looked to the side with a smile and pulled Bob into a hug which he quickly reciprocated. “Hey yourself, Lieutenant Commander Floyd.”

Bob’s cheeks flushed a tiny bit and he adjusted his grip on the hat beneath his arm as you stepped back. “You’ve got to meet my brother before he flies out.”

“Of course. But first, let me buy you a drink.” And as he opened his mouth to protest, you shook your head. “You wouldn’t let me do anything else so I’m buying you a drink.” Bob sighed but dutifully followed you up to the bar and let you pay for his ginger ale but grumbled when you insisted on buying his brother’s drink, too. You also had Penny put together a round for the Daggers you knew would be circling the pool tables soon enough. Bob helped you carry everything toward the table where his brother was waiting. You’d ‘met’ Bob’s brother, Harrison, a few times when you accidentally barged in on Bob FaceTiming his family but it was nice to finally meet him in person. He was just as charming as Bob but had a few more extroverted tendencies and regaled you with stories about the year he took off before medical school to ‘visit’ Bob who was stationed in Hawaii and spent the entire time learning to surf and trying to teach Bob, too.

“I never quite got the hang of it,” Bob admitted, still sipping on his ginger ale.

“You tried your best!” Harrison said with a kind smile. But soon his phone was beeping and he grimaced before standing from the table. “All right. I’ve gotta catch my flight back to New York.”

“Let me know when you land,” Bob murmured as he stood and wrapped him in a hug.

You might have heard a muffled ‘of course,’ before they separated but you definitely heard Harrison say, “I’m so proud of you.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder again before turning to you with a smile and he surprised you with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“That’s mostly Phoenix,” you said with a smile.

But Harrison shook his head. “I’m sure it is a team effort. Now, keep in touch, okay?” And then he breezed away, disappearing into the crowd and probably into a waiting taxi outside.

You spoke for a little longer, mostly about the ceremony and how Cyclone actually seemed like a human instead of a robot the last handful of days but Admiral Cain still seemed like a douchebag of the highest order. By now the rest of the Daggers had arrived, to much fanfare in the bar, and would sometimes filter by the table to grab a beer and chat for a bit—Natasha’s sister was a riot and had Tasha’s blushing a surprising shade of scarlet after telling you and Bob a particularly embarrassing story about “baby Tash” trying to jump off the roof with a bedsheet cape before she, too, had to leave to catch a flight back home. And you almost hated that you knew the exact moment Jake entered the bar, like you couldn’t help but turn toward him whenever he appeared, like a sunflower facing the sun. Again…embarrassing. However, you noticed Bob kept looking at the group of women circled around one of the high tops and you nudged his shoulder with your own. “Don’t,” he muttered.

“What?” You asked, fighting a smile.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He took another sip of his ginger ale and shook his head. “It isn’t happening.”

“And why not? You deserve someone nice. They look nice…for the most part,” you added with a scrunch of your nose. “Maybe the blonde in the red dress looks a bit mean, but the rest of them look nice. Want me to go over there and test the waters? I can see which ones would be down to handle that sword-”

“Punch!” It was honestly impressive how quickly Bob’s face went a violent shade of scarlet and he nearly dropped his pop.

“You got a sword with your promotion. I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I am a lady, Bobert.”

He snorted and knuckled at his glasses to push them up again. “Sure. Sure you are, Punch.”

Then you laughed. You laughed and that weight in your chest cracked and fizzled out. For now, you could breathe again. Bob eventually got you up and away from the table with the promise to take it easy on you with a game of pool—he lied. The WSO absolutely demolished you in an embarrassingly quick game.

“That was brutal,” Tasha said as she grabbed a beer.

“It was.” You handed her the cue with a wince. “But, to make it up to me, Bob now has to let me test the waters with the ladies he’s been eyeing all night.”

Tasha glanced over at the group when you tilted your head in their direction and hummed. “Not the blonde in the red dress. She looks mean.”

Bob just groaned. “Please keep the sword innuendos to a minimum.”

“Why? You need someone who knows how to handle that ceremonial saber-”

The sound of someone choking on their beer had you all turning to see Jake wiping at his face. Tasha, smirking, smacked him on the back a few times to ‘help.’ He nudged her away with a halfhearted scowl as he licked the last few drops from his lips. “Jesus.”

“What?”

Jake’s smirk vanished but you could tell he was fighting to keep it down as his brows furrowed in an echo of a certain Admiral’s disappointed frown. “So crass-”

“Oh, blow me, Ken. It isn’t like you don’t have a list of sword-related pickup lines or nicknames at the ready.”

Tasha laughed into her beer and you felt a little zing of pride—you always did when you made her laugh.

“You did call that one barracks bunny a sword swallower,” Rooster said, cutting into conversation with ease. And it was then that the party really seemed to start and you let Tasha pull you into a game of darts (you lost) before you did actually try to get a read on the group of women and deciding that, actually, they all seemed a little mean and they were more interested in Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson anyway, if their drunken whispers were anything to go by.

You’d find a lady for Bob. One day.

After watching Bradley and Tasha beat Billy and Neil at pool and finally finishing your drink, you remembered Sarah’s invitation and stepped to Bradley’s side again as he went to grab another beer from the table. As soon as you were within reach, he slung an arm over your shoulders and hauled you closer. “You doing okay?” He asked, voice low.

You sagged in his grip, a reaction you couldn’t fight. He made you feel safe. He always did. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

You winced at the tone. He had an innate way of knowing you were feeling off. And you hadn’t been exactly subtle in how you were acting lately. But you didn’t want to put more on Bradley’s plate, not now. Not when he was high on the new hardware on his collar. “Yeah,” you said, trying to sound convincing before changing the subject. “Sarah’s throwing an engagement party for Junior. She said I could bring someone and I thought you’d like to go? I know it’s been a minute since you’ve seen them all.”

Bradley set down his beer with a nod, licking the droplets from his lips. “When is it?”

“Friday.” And your heart plummeted as Bradley’s face crumpled and his arm slipped from your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Punch, but I promised Mav I’d help him haul in a part for his plane—we’re leaving at like five in the morning on Saturday.”

You nodded as you pinched your lower lip between your fingers until Bradley swatted it away with a knowing look. “I can ask Bob-”

“Bob and Phoenix have been asked to speak in Annapolis this weekend.”

Fuck. Fuck! You knew that. How could you forget? He’d been so excited when he got the call to lead a few classes back at his alma mater. “This is fine. I can just go by my-”

“I’ll go with you.”

Jake heard something in your neck pop with how quickly you turned your head to look at him. “What?”

And Jake almost recoiled at the amount of shock in your tone. “I mean, if you need someone to go with you.” Then, when neither you or Bradley said anything, Jake was about to retract his offer, already feeling stupid for opening his mouth in the first place. Usually he’d be more conscious to not let anyone know he was eavesdropping but the four beers he’d had probably loosened his tongue and he’d pounced at the opportunity to take you anywhere before he could stop himself with thoughts of repercussions. “I-”

“You’d do that?” And Jake hated how small your voice was, barely heard over the noise of the bar.

“Yeah. ‘Course.” And your smile was near blinding, twisting at something Jake didn’t want to acknowledge behind his ribs.

He listened intently to what the party was about—engagement for your not-actual-little brother, and when you’d pick him up—“I’m driving, you’re going to have to deal with it,” and what was expected—“just have a good time. And sign the card I’m buying, you can take half the credit for the gift I’m bringing, too.”

It sounded like it could be a good time. But if you smiled at him like that again, he’d probably agree to anything. You also told Jake to be ready by 18:20 next Friday so you’d be on time for the party and then Jake tried to ignore how that familiar feeling came roaring back in the confines of his chest as he watched you walk back toward the bar.

A hand clapping on his shoulder pulled Jake from admiring how your hips swayed with each step and he turned to see Rooster still standing beside him. His hazel eyes went from Jake to you and then back to Jake. “Let’s have a chat, Bagman.”

Fuck.

By the time you swiped a bit of tinted balm over your lips, you’d told yourself sixteen times that you were making a mistake but, “it would be fine.” You checked your watch and nodded: you were still on time. Early, actually. Jake would meet you at the Hard Deck and then you’d drive you both over to the Kazansky home to save room on the driveway—knowing Sarah, she’d probably invited half the people in her contacts and would still consider it a small party.

And you were contemplating texting Jake and telling him to forget it and that you’d go by yourself. It was too risky. Too intimate. Accepting his offer to go with you had been stupid. And choosing a dress that you knew made your tits look good because you’d caught Jake looking at you the last time you wore a dress like this was also very, very stupid. But when your phone chirped and Jake’s text lit up the screen—“Ready when you are, Punch!”—you knew it was too late.

And really…didn’t you deserve to have a good night?

He had robbed you of enough, hadn’t he? You could have one night. And there was a small bit of you that hoped he was satisfied with just scaring you once.

When you pulled into the Hard Deck’s parking lot, you were barely stopped before the passenger side door opened and Jake slid in with a bright smile and filled your car with the scent of his cologne—leather and oak moss and something distinctly Jake. “Ready?”

“Do you usually hurl yourself into moving vehicles or is that a recent addition to your lengthy list of ways you are a man-child?”

Jake’s smile widened. “You keeping lists about me?”

You resisted the urge to smack his arm and scowled instead as you reached into the backseat to grab the card you’d picked and made sure to hit him in the chest with it and the pen you wrestled from the bottom of your purse. “Sign that.”

Jake clicked the pen several times as he read over the mushy words Hallmark had written for a recently engaged couple and you drummed your fingers against the steering wheel as you slowed to a stop at a red light. If he said anything about the paragraph you wrote you might just-

“This is a nice card.” He then signed his name with a flourish and tucked it into the envelope. “What gift did you get them?”

“We got them an engagement photo shoot with a photographer who I may or may not have bombarded with emails and bribed after realizing Taylor follows her on instagram.” Were you proud of that? Not really. But you had felt extraordinarily bad after realizing that Junior had texted you after he proposed and you hadn’t responded until two weeks later. You knew he’d say there was nothing to apologize for but you still felt the need to make up for it.

“No, Punch,” he started. “My mama told me to never take credit for something I didn’t do. That gift is from you. I got them this.” He held up a bottle of champagne that you knew cost a few hundred dollars with a little silver bow taped to the neck. How you managed to miss that when he basically threw himself into your car, you’d never know (you were probably distracted by the way his thighs flexed beneath his nice trousers).

But it didn’t matter. You sealed the card after slipping the photographer’s business card inside. “It would’ve been fine, you know. But I’m sure they’ll love the champagne, too.”

Jake’s chest puffed a bit at that and you tried to not look too much at the tan skin that was revealed with the movement nor the silver links of his dog tags you knew were hiding beneath his obscenely tight shirt. You failed. And when he caught you looking, his smirk returned.

You couldn’t have that. “Careful, Ken. If you pop a button I’ll have to drop you on the nearest street corner.”

And then the asshole actually unbuttoned the next button. “I like to think I’d be a high-end escort. Like for senators.”

The answering laugh punched out of you before you could even pretend to not find him funny.

The rest of the drive was spent slapping his hand away from the radio when he said your taste in music was terrible—even when you caught him singing along with Stevie on your preferred classic rock station. It was good and easy and you almost hated it by the time you parked outside Sarah’s house, managing to snag a place beside the mailbox.

Jake was at your side before you reached the front door and knocked his foot into yours when you sucked in a breath before knocking at the front door. Yeah. Coming with him was a mistake. A beautiful, terrible mistake.

Jake had never been to the Kazansky home. On the ride over, you gave him a rundown on who he needed to know—Missus Kazansky, Junior and his fiancée Taylor, and younger sister Lily—and how to behave. It was mostly good natured ribbing and an actual threat to push him out a window if he hit on Lily.

“Okay, no Lily, but Missus Kazansky is free game?” That quip had earned him a glare so intense he would swear he saw his life flash before his eyes.

Worth it.

After all, it wasn’t all that often that Jake got to see you like this. Sure, he saw you in uniform on base and you had the innate ability to have a spare change of clothes wherever you went so you were never in uniform when you didn’t need to be so he got to see you in civvies often. But that was usually jeans and t-shirts. Maybe that one pair of shorts he thought about when he couldn’t sleep, if he was lucky.

But right now you were in another dress and he could see the thighs that he definitely didn’t dream about peeking out from the skirt as you shifted your weight from foot to foot. You were…

He couldn’t say gorgeous.

He couldn’t say beautiful.

He couldn’t say stunning.

So, you were special. And right now, as you waited at his side for the door to open, he could smell your perfume. Gardenias and sunshine.

His grandmother had special flower beds just for her gardenias—she once said that the soil in southern Texas was too acidic for her favorite flower but she was determined to have them near the ranch and had planter boxes filled with specialty soil and heaps of the flowers. All of his favorite memories of home were filled with the scent of the small white blooms.

And then there was you. You smelled like home.

The door opened and a petite blonde smiled at you before wrapping you in a quick hug. “Oh, sweetheart, you know you don’t need to knock.”

“Old habits,” you murmured as you returned the hug. When you stepped back, you gestured to Jake. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He’s part of the Dagger Squadron with Bradley. Jake, this is Sarah Kazansky.”

After shaking her hand and murmuring his thanks for letting him tag along, Jake stood a little straighter as Missus Kazansky’s eyes looked him over. “You’re Hangman, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you from Pete.” Then, without giving any indication as to what that meant, she waved you in and Jake followed suit. The inside of the large house was filled with people with champagne flutes in their hands as soft pop ballads from decades ago filtered through a hidden sound system, crooning about love.

You complimented Sarah on the tasteful decorations and earned yourself a motherly pat to your cheek before she called out for someone. There was an answering squeal and you shoved the card in your hand to Jake just in time to brace as a younger woman wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!”

You laughed and returned the hug before holding her at arm's length with a smile. “Pasadena looks good on you! And you’re so close to graduating!”

This must be Lily, then. Jake watched you talk with her for a moment, seeing you smile as you traded a few short stories and Lily tugged at the skirt of your dress with a mischievous look in her eye. “You’ve gotta tell me where you bought this. You’re a bombshell.”

You waved away the compliment—as Jake knew you often did—and rattled off some store name as Lily shook her head.

“No, no. Take the compliment. You look gorgeous.” Then Lily’s sharp eyes moved to Jake. Jesus Christ. She was Ice Man’s daughter—that look was cold and calculating. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

And Jake’s mouth opened-

“Lily, c’mon. Stop it.” Your voice was nearly a whine. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He is one of the Daggers with me at Top Gun. Jake, this is Lily Kazansky. She’s about to graduate from Cal Tech with her degree in Engineering and applied science.”

A matching smile pushed at Lily’s mouth as her eyes raked over him. While Jake usually preened over such an obvious once-over, there was absolutely nothing wanting in her gaze. And maybe having you standing beside him helped…but he wasn’t going to address that. “Hangman. Yeah. I’ve heard of you.” Then Lily’s gaze flickered to you. “Enjoy the party. I think Mom needs my help in the kitchen.” And then she flounced away as you sighed.

“She’s…”

“Don’t say it,” you griped, pulling the envelope out of his grasp again.

“I was going to say intense.”

You nodded as you gnawed on your bottom lip before grabbing the champagne Jake was still holding and setting it on the gift table behind you. “She’s all Tom. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s running the Pacific Fleet by the time she’s forty.” But you waved that away, too, and tugged at his arm, leading him toward the exorbitant spread of finger foods on another table a few paces away. You snagged him a flute of champagne as you handed him a plate and then Jake let you wrangle you both onto a pair of the few remaining empty seats near the kitchen bar.

“Not going to mingle?”

“God, no. I hate mingling. You are free to go off and schmooze, if you want. There are a few people here you may know—probably shook hands with them at your ceremony.” You waved your flute toward a group of middle aged men near the fireplace and, yes, Jake knew them. All of them were upper echelons of the Navy brass and had congratulated him on the promotion. “I won’t hold your seat though.”

Jake laughed and shook his head. “I think I’m good right where I am, Punch. But thank you.” He glanced over at the men to see them already looking in your direction. They each raised their highball glasses with practiced smiles which you and Jake reciprocated with a tip of your champagne flutes. “You sure you don’t want to talk to them?”

You shrugged as you turned back to your food, plucking a small cube of cheese from the assortment and eating it quickly. “If I wanted to talk to them, I could’ve done it at barbecues or one of Sarah’s soirées that she liked to host. I just…don’t care enough. I climbed up the ranks by accident mostly. I like where I am.”

Jake frowned at that. “What do you mean?” You were headstrong and tenacious. Not having drive or ambition just didn’t line up with what he knew about you, with how you presented yourself.

You popped a cherry tomato into your mouth and chewed and swallowed before answering, almost like you were stalling for time. “I’m not a lifer like you, Jake. I didn’t dream of joining the navy as a kid or anything like that. You probably had a vision board or something, right? Asked for model planes since you could talk. You look the type. Probably ate some of the pieces, too.”

But Jake didn’t take the bait and he’d never admit that he did swallow lego when he was seven. “Then why did you enlist? You could go anywhere.”

You were quiet again and that familiar twist in his chest returned as your lips pushed up in a small smile. Then your eyes searched his face, visibly debating something, and you must have found what you were looking for because you nodded, just once, unknowingly twisting the knife you didn’t know you held. “You caught me in a good mood. I’ll tell you. No one will believe you, but I’ll tell you.”

He resisted the urge to grab at your hand and just hold it as he said, “try me.”

“Sparknotes version?”

Jake wanted to know everything. Wanted to ask you to tell him every little detail so he could know you better than anyone else. But he could wait. Maybe. “Sure.”

“My little brother, Danny, got sick his first year of high school. Really sick. Expensive sick. I was in my last year of school and had the choice to either go to university or find a job that could help with the bills.” Your next breath had your shoulders sagging. “The Navy was the only recruitment office that wasn’t on lunch when I walked in. Four days after graduating high school, I was shipping off for training. Then I was volunteering for any deployment that my commanding officers even hinted at because I knew that deployment meant more pay. So, I was accidentally a decorated AD because I was desperate.”

Jake felt you jump when his hand landed on yours as it rested on the table beside him but you didn’t pull away so he selfishly curled his fingers over your wrist, content to feel the warmth you exuded. He remembered the photo on your desk and the soft look you’d been giving him—that was your baby brother. “Is he-”

“Oh, he’s fine now. Finishing up his doctorate at MIT.” Another smile pushed at your lips as you shook your head before your other hand settled over Jake’s. “Healthy as can be. Lily actually reminds me a lot of Danny. Both of them hated their English classes in high school. They’d prefer to have a root canal than write a book report. I probably did too much to actually have them learn anything about The Catcher in the Rye or Persuasion, but I just wanted to see them succeed.”

Jake’s heart leapt when he felt your thumb sweep over his knuckles as you kept looking out over the crowd. It was just a little touch. A little brush of your skin on his. And it was…special.

But as soon as it started, it stopped as you pulled your hands away from him and waved at someone in the crowd. “There’s the couple of the hour.”

Jake turned to see a younger blond guy with his arm wrapped around a smiling brunette. She’d reached up to tangle her fingers with his, showing off the massive rock on her finger. They must be Junior and Taylor—the pair certainly had that look about them that all newly engaged couples had. Well, almost all couples. Jake knew some weren’t so fortunate.

You hopped off the seat and dragged Junior and Taylor into quick hugs as Jake followed suit and stood, shaking both their hands as you introduced him. You oohed and ahhhed over the engagement ring and poked at Junior’s cheek when he blushed as Taylor recounted the story of the proposal. You handed over the card and Jake saw you curl your hands into fists behind your back as Junior opened it almost immediately.

Just as she finished reading, Taylor all but launched herself at you and Jake had to keep you upright by catching you at the hips when you started to teeter backward. And, only for a moment, Jake thought about doing this with you all the time. Thought about showing you off at parties, watching you smile, keeping you upright with a laugh on your tongue. The invisible knife twisted again as Junior caught his eye and arched a brow after glancing at his hands on your hips.

“Oh! I can’t believe it! This is so kind!” Taylor turned to Junior with a beaming smile, waving the business card like a flag, and explained that she actually followed the photographer on Instagram and loved her work, just as you’d said in the car.

Jake felt you relax in his grip at that, a relief to know your gift was well received. “I’ve made a list of all the weekends she has available for the next six weeks. She said you two would have first dibs—you just need to call her and tell her what date and time works for you.” You’d off-handedly mentioned that both Taylor and Junior were in the middle of their medical school residencies and were rarely free for more than a few hours at a time every other week.

You spoke a little longer and Jake earned a bright smile from Taylor when he said that she and Junior would probably be the photographer’s most liked post on her page—he also earned an elbow to the gut from you, too. Jake didn’t care, not when he heard you laugh.

“But we’ll let you get back to your other guests. Thanks for letting me hold you up for a little.”

Junior frowned and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You’re never holding us up.”

“You’re always welcome,” Taylor said with another brilliant smile.

You nodded with a matching smile and mentioned that Jake had brought a bottle of champagne and Junior was the one to smile this time. “That’s my favorite bottle, man, thanks!”

Then you spun in Jake’s hold and all but shoved him backward toward your abandoned seats and the smile you gave him had his entire chest aching. “They’re so happy. Don’t they look happy?”

And he had to smile, too. “They do, Punch.”

But your eyes tracked to something over his shoulder and Jake turned to see you looking at that same group of men from earlier and you rolled your spine, straightening your posture. “I’m going to introduce you.”

“I thought you said you didn’t talk to them.”

“I don’t. Not as Naval officers, anyway. They think I’m like a very distantly related and adopted niece or something. They know me but don’t…know me, you know?”

Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes but simply said, “no.”

“Doesn’t matter. C’mon, let me get you promoted again.” You were then a flurry of demure smiles and careful introductions that seemed to instantly endear you to the group of brass and Jake was readily folded into their conversations as you slipped away from his side with a wink and a mouthed “you owe me!” after being talked over twice—maybe they really didn’t have any clue that you were in the Navy as well. It almost made Jake want to excuse himself, too. But he knew you’d probably chew him out for that. Rooster’s ‘talk’ from the other night on the Hard Deck came ringing through his mind: “There’s another reason we call her punch. She can roll with the punches. But that doesn’t mean she should have to. If she comes to me on Monday and says anything about you ruining her night, I’ll shoot you out of the sky.”

You knew that officer promotions were always a game of politics and who you know so getting Jake on a friendly basis with men like this was invaluable. So, yes, Jake did owe you. But he was having a hard time fully investing in the ham-handed conversations and when he was halfheartedly listening to Rear Admiral Cunningham speak about his latest secretary snafu, Jake caught you moving through the crowd with Lily hot on your heels and a laugh on your tongue. He could hear it over the din of the party and he felt himself smiling despite knowing he shouldn’t in the present company. You and Lily were soon joined by Sarah and three of you danced around a little, sipping on canned sparkling waters. When Taylor and Junior joined in the impromptu dance party, he could hear your excited laughter.

Jake remembered that you sat with the Kazansky family during the funeral, holding Lily’s hand as she sobbed. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now he could see it. You were one of them, unofficially of course. An older sister to the kids. Another daughter to Sarah and Admiral Kazansky, if he was willing to bet.

You were special.

The party had continued on. The dancing you and Lily had started had somehow sprouted to most of Junior and Taylor’s friends and the living room had transformed into a dance floor. You noticed Jake stepped out onto the back porch with the group of brass and tried to tell yourself that the pride you felt was purely coincidental. That you would have introduced any of the Daggers to them and wished them the best. Really. The warmth you felt wasn’t anything other than friendly. Really. But by 10, the party was wrapping up—Lily needed to drive back to Pasadena and Junior was murmuring with a few of his friends about an “after party”—and you’d started helping Sarah clean up as people filtered out. The kids had each given you a squeeze before leaving and promised to text you when they got home.

As you tugged a trash bag around the living room and tossed the paper plates into it, you glanced up to see Jake taking a handful of half-filled champagne flutes into the kitchen. The few sentences you’d exchanged with Missus Seresin during the promotion ceremony did give you a bit of insight into Jake’s upbringing—you could see a little Jake helping in the kitchen, being told how to properly wash pans and how to keep an eye on a boiling pot under the watchful eye of his mother or older sisters.

But you weren’t supposed be thinking about that and shook it away with a grimace as you yawned. You grabbed another stack of discarded plates and pushed them into the bag with a little more force than what was necessary as Jake circled back into the living room.

Sarah stepped to your side with a tired smile of her own. “You can stay here, sweetheart. We still have your room upstairs.” She then turned to Jake with a smile. “The bed is big enough.”

You choked on your next breath and Jake patted your back as he fought a smile. “We-” you wheezed the word.

“We’re not together, but you’re kind to offer.”

Pink flooded Sarah’s cheeks and she pressed a hand over her mouth for a moment. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought…” She waved it away. “Either way, both of you are welcome to stay the night.”

“I think we’re actually going to head out as soon as everything’s cleaned up. Thank you again for inviting me and letting me bring a friend along.”

Sarah hummed as she tried to nudge the couch back into its usual position and watched as Jake quickly took over the task without issue before once again starting to grab the remaining flutes left by the window sill and take them to the kitchen—you heard him carefully putting them into the dishwasher. “Yes, a friend.”

Embarrassment burned and clawed at your throat and you turned away to see if there were any other plates for you to throw away. “Barely a friend.”

“Sure, sweetheart. I definitely can see where I got confused with the way you were smiling at him and the way he looks at you like you hung the stars. My mistake.”

“He doesn’t.” The words were barely more than squeaks. “And…and I don’t smile at him like anything.”

Sarah hummed, again. “Whatever you say.”

You tried not to think about Sarah’s words as you settled back into your car a few minutes later. Jake let out a sigh as he buckled in and you tried to ignore how his cologne once again filled the small space. And it was so strange that your body seemed to seize and relax at the same time because of it. Like you were fighting two separate and equal instincts.

“Thanks for coming tonight. I hope you had fun,” you said as you pulled away from the curb, waving at Sarah through the windshield.

“They certainly know how to throw a party.”

“This was tame. One time Junior threw a rager when his parents were out of town and his entire fraternity swarmed the house.” You smiled at the memory, remembering ordering a group of frat boys around at the crack of dawn to clean the house before his parents got home. Junior baked you a cake in thanks after learning you’d been the one to stall Tom and Sarah for a few extra hours by suggesting they stop for brunch on their way back. Lily had done the same after you’d helped her get all the bubbles out of the hot tub after she and her friends had filled it with something you’d rather not mention.

Jake was quiet for a moment as you turned down the street, heading toward the highway. “How do you know them? I mean, you seem pretty close.”

Your tongue pressed against your cheek as you thought about how to phrase your answer. Had to be careful. Had to make sure you didn’t reveal something you shouldn’t. “Bradley introduced us.” There, that was vague enough. “Admiral Kazansky was good to me. His family looked after me during a really weird time in my life and I tried to repay that kindness, in any way I could. After all, I did have some experience with what they needed.” You sighed and scraped the edge of your thumbnail against your lip. You’d been the one to deal with the home care nurses when Sarah needed a break. You knew a few ways to help Tom be comfortable through his treatments and he seemed to be grateful that he didn’t need to ask for them, keeping a little bit of his pride. You’d been so hopeful when he’d gone into remission but tried to keep it together when it had come back. You were happy to play the part of stalwart supporter when the prognosis came back grim. “They’re good people.”

Your stomach churned when you thought of why you’d met the Kazansky family but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. But you changed the subject, asking about the surely-dull conversations Jake had with the brass as you merged onto the highway.

“…if I ever get that boring, you have my permission to smack me,” he finished with a grimace.

“You’d probably like that too much. You’re just going to have to be boring and live with the consequences.” Proving your point, Jake smiled when you smacked his hand away from your radio again. There was no way you were changing the station when David Bowie was singing. Absolutely not. And then when “Rhiannon” came on next, you made sure to crank the volume as Jake pretended to not know the words.

You were having a great time. Really. And it was a little terrifying how easily he made you laugh when he finally gave in and started to croon (a little off key) alongside your pitchy warbling. But it petered out as Jake looked back with a squint but turned forward with a frown. When he turned to look back again you turned down the radio with a frown of your own and glanced in your rear view mirror. “What is it?”

“The car behind you keeps speeding up and slowing down.”

While keeping an eye on the traffic in front of you, you looked at the car Jake pointed out and your stomach sunk to your feet as you watched it drive under the next streetlight.

It was a black ‘67 Dodge Charger with a distinctive sword charm hanging from the rear view mirror.

You knew that car. You knew that charm.

And despite the shadows of the car hiding the driver’s face, you knew who was behind the wheel.

And just as that realization dawned on you, the charger’s brights flashed and you winced as the lights flooded your car.

“What is this guy’s problem?” Jake grumbled, turning back around to stare.

“I…” What could you possibly say? You couldn’t tell Jake. Wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever. But it didn’t matter because the next time you glanced in the rear view you realized the charger was about to ram into the back of your car. You stomped on the gas and the engine roared as you tried to avoid the collision.

But he kept coming.

Your heart clawed its way up behind your teeth as you merged into the next lane over, earning an angry honk from a Jeep for not using your turn signal, and the charger sped past and you almost thought you were in the clear but then he was merging too, slamming on his brakes and you had to swerve back into the other lane to avoid crashing into his trunk.

“Jesus!” Jake yelled.

“I-I’m sorry!” The words were torn from your throat but you doubted Jake heard them over the barrages of angry honks and the thundering of your car’s engine, nearly drowned out by the growl of the charger’s overpowered mechanics.

The charger moved, keeping pace with your car and you were only given a warning in the form of Jake yelling before you realized that the car was coming into your lane. You yanked the wheel, nearly hitting the dividing wall as you avoided it and pressed the accelerator to the floor. You weaved around two cars, earning more honks as you used the shoulder to gain distance, and then noticed the next exit was only half a mile away. You needed to get off the highway.

“Fuck!”

The charger followed you onto the shoulder and you knew you had to move. Now or never. You moved across the highway and nearly clipped the barrier as you shot onto the off-ramp, a cacophony of squealing brakes and horns providing a terrible soundtrack to your horrendous driving. But it worked. You saw the charger try to get to the exit, too, and miss. He had to drive on. Away from you.

You hardly remember driving the rest of the way back to the Hard Deck in silence, your heart still stuck behind your teeth. Every few seconds, you’d check your rear view mirror but you didn’t see that car again. When you parked in the Hard Deck’s lot, you finally peeled your hands away from the steering wheel and your fingers shook and ached.

“What the fuck was that?” Jake asked after a stretch of silence.

You tried to suck in a breath and only managed to make your lungs burn. You needed to calm down. Needed it. Needed… “I-I have to call Bradley,” you muttered, shaking hand scrambling through the contents of your purse to grab at your phone. “I have to-”

“What’s Bradshaw going to do? He’s out in the desert with Mav. I’m right here, Punch. Tell me.”

But you only shook your head and had your phone dialing Bradley’s number before it even reached your ear. But it rang. And rang. And rang.

“This is Bradshaw. Can’t come to the phone right now-”

Fuck. You killed the call with an unsteady breath and none too gently shoved your phone back into your purse before pressing your nails into your thighs, needing to feel something other than your racing heart. Tiny pinpricks of pain zipped up your leg and you let your head fall back against the headrest before uncurling your hands. This was better. This was okay. You’d made it. For now, you were okay. “I…need a drink.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

You turned to the side and felt just a smidge of mortification wash over you as you realized Jake was still sitting there, waiting for you. Fuck. “I’ll get you one, too.” Then you were up and out of your car, hitting the lock button four times just to make sure, and all but stomping into the Hard Deck with Jake on your heels.

It was either a blessing or a curse that none of the other Daggers were at the bar tonight as Jake followed you up to the mostly un-busy bar and rattled off your usual order. “And please get Jake whatever he wants,” you said, handing over your card to Jimmy.

Jake slipped into the barstool at your side and studied you for a moment. It was almost like you hadn’t nearly crashed your car three times or run off the road by a charger with a vendetta. If he didn’t know you better—and Jake tried to ignore that it was becoming clearer by the day that maybe he didn’t know you as well as he thought—he might think you were just out for a nightcap. But the vacancy of your expression was too…careful. Too practiced. It looked like there was a concentrated effort to keep your brow from pinching.

“You wanna tell me what that was back there?” He asked, almost tentative. He just…wanted to make sure you were okay, but he wanted answers, too. The way you were reacting wasn’t normal. The complete shut down of your previous panic wasn’t right.

Your next breath was slow, measured. “I must’ve cut him off or something. Road rage is a hell of a thing.”

Jake bit back the disbelieving comment and thanked Jimmy as he set the drinks down with a small smile and handed back your card. Fine. “So you needed to call Rooster after all that but can’t tell me what you really think happened?” Jake had seen all the close contact between you and Rooster. He’d seen how you’d whisper in the other man’s ear. He had seen how Rooster was always ready for you with a hug or an arm around your shoulder. And no, Jake didn’t hate that. Didn’t hate that you seemed to trust Rooster more than him and he had been the one to be in the car with you tonight. “Is he your boyfriend or something? Fuck buddy?”

Your unamused stare over the edge of your glass had Jake sitting a little straighter. “He’s not my type,” you said with a shrug before downing the rest of the small drink.

“You sure? ‘Cause it sure as hell seems like-”

Your glass hitting the bar top stifled any other words Jake might have said. “Look, I’ve been trying for eighteen months to get Bradley to admit he’s in love with redacted.” You flagged down Jimmy and asked for a refill with an easy smile that evaporated the second you looked back at Jake. Your arched eyebrow had his stomach clenching for several different reasons he didn’t have the time to address. “Any other slightly invasive questions you want to ask? Want to know my social security number? What color of underwear I’m wearing?”

Jake could feel the tips of his ears burning. You were relentless. But good. At least he was getting some sort of reaction out of you. “Those are two wildly different questions, you know.”

“I do know. So, hurry up and ask. I’m giving you until my drink arrives.”

He had a million more questions but he really did need a straight answer. He could be relentless, too. But first: “You literally said redacted.”

“So smart, Ken! Look at you go!”

“Who is redacted?”

The next smile you gave him was all teeth and your tone was as condescending as Cyclone on a bad day, “well, now, Ken, when someone says ‘redacted,’ it means-”

Jake’s hand pressed over your mouth, and he sighed as he felt you frown beneath his palm. Fine. He could switch tactics. He could get one real answer out of you tonight. “You can’t blame me for thinking that something else is going on. Do you love him?”

You peeled his hand away from your face as your new drink was quickly placed in front of you and you drained it as if you needed it to deal with him. “You know, there is a Greek word,Philia. It’s one of the different types of love from Greek Philosophy-”

“Punch-”

“And it’s a brotherly love. But since I know you won’t take that as an answer, no. I don’t love him in the way you’re insinuating. And he doesn’t love me that way, either.” The look in your eyes reminded Jake of someone having just come down after g-loc as your fingernail tapped against the glass’ base. Click. Click. Click. “Bradley has seen me at my lowest. Bob, too. Sometimes I think they only keep me around so I don't do something stupid.” Your mouth rolled to the side as the tapping stopped and you pushed the glass away before reaching for your purse.

“That’s not true-”

“Look, tonight has been weird. Okay? Can’t deny that. I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.” You shook your head as you pulled out a few bills for a tip and the second drink and set them under your empty glass. And you wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t even turn toward him again. Jake’s hands curled into fists at his sides to fight the urge to reach out to you, to try to let you know that he would do it all again. All of it. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I owe you.” And then you turned and left.

Driving home shouldn’t be a problem, right? You just needed to put the key in the ignition, shift into drive, and go home. But you just couldn’t move. Couldn’t pull your eyes away from the dark dashboard.

He had found you while you were on the road. He had tried to crash your car. He had tried to run you off the road. He had tried to kill you.

While Jake was in the car with you.

Tears burned your eyes and you limply let them fall, your hands not moving from your lap. A familiar, dull ringing settled over your ears and you slumped further into your seat, only to feel your entire body go rigid as you heard someone stepping up to your car, sand sliding beneath their shoes on the pavement.

You swung around as the door opened, ready to fight, ready to scream, but felt yourself deflate as Jake leaned down, shoving his way into the car to haul you closer, warm, muscular arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. And that just about broke you. The first sob was ripped out of your throat and the next followed in rapid succession as you grasped loosely at the front of his shirt. The scent of his expensive cologne was almost calming. Almost comforting.

His hands moved up and down, up and down, along your spine and you vaguely heard him whispering something to you. Something like, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” But it was barely more than white noise to your ears as your body shook. But soon you were pulling back, eyes bleary and itchy. God. You were a mess. There was an apology on the tip of your tongue that died as soon as Jake’s large hand gently, carefully cupped your cheek and his calloused thumb swiped against the delicate half moon of skin beneath your eye.

“Let me drive you home.”

Your chin wobbled with new tears and a fresh wave of self-loathing washed over you but you still nodded. It was a moment of weakness. A moment you were sure you’d regret but you just needed help. Just a little. Just for now. But still, you let Jake help you over the center console and into the passenger seat. Before you had the chance to move, Jake reached over and buckled you in and moved to do the same for himself before he frowned, looking at something on the hood of your car. He stepped out and grabbed something from underneath your windshield wiper.

You frowned as he sat back down. “What is it?”

But Jake didn’t answer, mouth set in a thin line and eyes trained on the thing in his grasp.

Leaning over, your heart almost stopped. It was a Polaroid of you and Jake at the engagement party. It was obviously shot through the window, a glare taking up half the photo. But still, anyone who looked at the picture would see you and Jake, his hands on your hips and smiles on your faces.

Did you have fun at the party? He doesn’t look like your type

“Jake, I…” Your throat was scratchy. Arid.

“What does this mean, Punch?”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think! I’d love to hear your theories. Also, as an aside, I do not keep a tag list. I’m sorry!

#Jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #tgm #top gun maverick #female reader

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anchoeritic · 2 years ago

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— PREACHER & THE PEW.

pairing: dbf!joel miller + fem!reader

synopsis: excusing yourself from sunday service, you find yourself being followed out by your dad’s best friend: joel miller, waiting to give you something real to believe in.

warnings: eighteen plus only content, minors do not interact or you will be blocked. slight age gap (reader is in her 20s), allusions to secretive relationship. talks of religion, sins, etc. use of cigarette. sexual content: vaginal intercourse, clit play, fingering, handjob, nipple play, breeding kink.

WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED, you quietly prayed with the rest of your family, listening to the lines being recited in front of you.

sunday church service was a regular event, you’ve been attending for as long as you remember.

you never really looked forward to it; as your beliefs were much more forced on you than you’d liked. yours were much different than theirs but they still pushed you to go for your own good.

being the child of a great man was something you had to keep up with, as well as your reputation as the golden one.

your father was a hero and he stuck to his beliefs, promising a good future for him and his children.

you never blamed him for it though, times were different back then. it’s all he’s ever known in his life.

sunday services were… something to say the least. if you were being honest, your goal was to make your father happy, and to see one of his friends; joel.

he was one of your dad’s older friends. he used to come over for dinner from time to time during your breaks between semesters, but he’s gotten busy since then so you haven’t been seeing him much anymore.

but when you do, it’s usually at church. he began coming after your father invited him to, you never thought much of it until you and joel started to send each other sneaky glances across the room.

it would be a quick look between verses, just to see if your eyes would connect, and they always would. every time you’d look over, you’d already catch him staring right into your soul.

with all those people in the room, you’d expect him to catch a glimpse of everyone, but it was just you he wanted to look at.

whether you were in the middle of your prayers; eyes closed, hands clamped together, or sitting with your family hand-in-hand, he could never stop looking at you. you were truly beautiful.

it was like he was picking you apart and reading you piece by piece, studying you, instead of devoting his time to worship the grounds of his very god.

“father?” you called out, squeezing his hand in signal. looking over, you watched his head nod, silently excusing you. “i-i need a breath of air, excuse me,” letting go of him to take a step outside.

walking yourself out the building quickly, joel watched you with confusion distorted on his face. it wasn’t ordinary for you to just step out during a read, and especially in front of steve.

he let out a low huff, turning his head back around to look back at the front, just to get up from his seat instead.

“fuck it,” he mumbled under his breath, taking one last glance at the exit before leaving through it, following behind you shortly.

where he found you wasn’t a surprise; leaning against the wall behind the church with a cigarette between your lips, waiting to be lit.

you sent him a tight-lipped smile, showing off your dimples. “nice to see you attending sunday services, joel.” you teased, taking the cig out of your mouth, and putting it back in your pocket.

he walked closer to you, standing right beside you now. “isn’t nice to see that you’re not,” he shot back at you, smirking. “what’s goin’ on, sweetheart? what’s got you leaving during it?”

you shook your head, confused, “just needed some air, nothing’s wrong.” some truth was behind your words, but you’d be lying if you said it took up the entirety of it.

you turned to him, looking up. “why’d you follow me out here, joel?” you asked him, squinting your eyes. the answer was known but you wanted to hear it, hear it come out of his mouth.

“was worried ‘bout you, peach.” he leaned closer to you, looking down at you with furrow brows. “— doesn’t hurt to check up on my favourite girl.”

his finger slipped into your back pocket, sneaking out that cig you had tried to hide from him earlier.

“didn’t see you as the smoker type, but i’ll admit, i’m not surprised.” joel twirled the cigarette between his fingers before stashing it back where it rightfully came from.

“not surprised?” your fingers found their away around his cold metal ones, barely touching them. “answer the question, joel.”

he laughed, shaking his head at you. “why don’t you answer mine, peach?” with his face already close by yours, he leaned even closer, making you back up into the hard wall behind you.

“what’s with those fuckin’ looks you keep givin’ me, hm, sweetheart? you thought i wouldn’t notice the way you look back at me?” joel’s words seethed through his gritted teeth like venom.

you felt small under him as his body towered over yours entirely, engulfing you under his dark shadow. this side of joel was new to you.

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about… you’re always looking at me.” you replied back naively.

you knew what you were doing and you absolutely loved how much of an impact you had on the man. “i don’t understand, joel.”

his arm quickly rose up from his side, setting itself right behind your head, trapping you from leaving.

“i know how to handle little things like you, cupcake. this ain’t my first fuckin’ rodeo.” his breath fanned over your face, heating up your cheeks.

“now quit actin’ stupid and put that brain to use.” he spat. your eyes widened at his sudden change in tone, the heat between your legs growing warmer each second.

you stayed quiet, not wanting to give in, but apparently that provoked him even more. “you still wanna act dumb?”

next thing you know, his hand was wrapped around your throat tightly. that’s going to leave a mark. “fine, i’ll just fuck it outta you.”

and with that, he smashed his lips onto yours. surprised at first, you gradually grew into the sweet kiss, devouring him.

you were a flustered mess, this wasn’t something that was on your bucket list this year but you certainly weren’t complaining.

his kisses were nothing but the best. hands roaming your body, lips showering you in hot kisses, how could he worship a god when you were right there. beautiful like aphrodite, words as venomous as a serpent, everything about you resembled his superior.

he believed in you. you were his religion. there was nothing better than his peach being the silver lining to his destroyed painting.

“fuck, cupcake.” he mumbled against your lips, the feeling of your arousal rubbing onto his dress pants. panties soaked, you bucked your hips against his thigh, trying to create friction between the two of you.

your head was thrown back in pleasure, joel’s lips filling in the empty spaces on your neck with his small love bites. “joel, please.”

his hands held onto your waist tightly, keeping you in place as you bucked your hips. “god, you’re going to be the death of me.” he nibbled your jaw softly, earning a pornographic moan from you.

“i can’t take it anymore, turn around.” joel let out a breath, tightening his grip on your waist.

he pulled down your pants hastily, leaving your panties on while you tried to undress him as well. both your hands were flimsy, you were in a rush to get what you wanted, what you craved.

if it wasn’t for joel running after you, you wouldn’t be in this position right now; getting ready to be fucked by him behind your local church.

the sun shined down on his body beautifully, showing off the old scarring on his skin. he was glowing under the light, he looked something straight out of those romance novels you read.

“you look better than my imagination, peach… fuck, what am i going to do with you.” he bit his lip, running his hands down your thighs, one sliding down low enough to tease your pussy.

his finger slipped through your folds like nothing, your own wetness acting as a lube for him as he slipped a digit in slowly.

he watched as your face scrunched up in pure pleasure, smiling at you. “oh, my peach, if only you could see how good you look for me right now.”

“that’s a face of an angel right there and it’s all for me, ain’t it, baby?” he slipped another finger in, thrusting them faster into you.

whimpers escaped from you, hips buckling for some sort of release. “it’s all for you, joel— mhmm.. s’all yours.” you moaned, feeding into his ego.

before you could reach your final release, joel pulls out his fingers from you, leaving you begging for more. “not so fast,” he mumbled, licking your juices off his fingers.

“the only way you’re cumming is in on my cock,” he whispered seductively, kissing the edge of your jaw. “now, wouldn’t you want that, peach?” his hands toyed with your erect nipples, twisting and turning them.

you could only respond with a whine loud enough for his cock to twitch. he no longer just wanted you, he needed you.

his large hand wrapped around his cock, listening to your pornographic moans of pleasure. “tell me you want this too, y/n. tell me to fuck you,” he practically begged you, his pre-cum leaking from the tip.

reaching down, you placed your hand on the head of his cock, rubbing your thumb over the small slit to collect the pre-cum. “shut up and fuck me, miller.”

in less than a second, his tip was already lining up to your entrance, ready to push into you. he wasn’t playing around, he knew what he needed, what you needed, and he’s going to fuck you stupid.

with a swift thrust of his hips, his cock slid into your pussy perfectly, stretching you our wider than you expected.

“joel!” you cried out, digging your nails into his back. you nestled your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your louder moans from the public. you wouldn’t want your father finding out about this.

his thrusts were restless, the rhythm never slowing down. he was like a sex machine, ready to be operated. sweat beaded off his forehead as he fucked into your hole mercilessly.

he didn’t care for the marks you were going to leave on him, he wanted them. it would remind him of his greatest memory with you; fucking you behind a church.

“you feel fuckin’ amazing, peach— shit.” he cursed at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him tightly, pushing him closer to his release.

you were on the brink of yours; eyes rolled back, thighs shaking from the sudden stimulation, it was coming and you knew it.

“‘m gonna cum..” at this point, you were drawing blood on his back from how hard you were scratching your nails, the pleasure was too good.

he groaned, somehow quickening his thrusts. “cum on me, sugar, cum on my cock.” his arms tightened around your waist, squeezing you.

that was your final push towards the edge as you came all over his cock with a cry. you were trembling in his arms; overwhelmed.

he used the opportunity to finish inside of you, filling your pussy up with his hot cum.

both your chests heaved up and down, trying to catch a breath and process what had just happened. no words were said, just the sound of your heavy breaths being collected.

it was silent for a couple more seconds before you calmed down; your head rose from his neck, looking back up at him. “joel,” you whispered.

he looked down, replying with a soft nod. “y-you can’t tell my dad that we did this,” you asked of him. your father would kill you if he found out.

it was one thing to have a silly little crush on your dad’s best friend to actually screwing him.

“don’t worry about it, cupcake.” he pressed a warm kiss to your forehead, tucking a strand behind your ear.

“this’ll just be our little secret.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

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mytheoristavenue · 8 months ago

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MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader - Make Believe - VI

Summary: You ask Shoji to pretend to be your boyfriend for a dinner with your parents.

Warnings: slow burn, multi-parted, fake dating trope, fem!reader, suggestive

"What time does our train home leave?" He asked, pulling out his phone in preparation for your response.

"10:15, why?" you replied, slightly annoyed that he'd interupted your conversation with your family, still feeling raw from earlier.

He then clicked on the screen of his phone, showing it to you, displaying '10:35'. Your heart dropped and you gasped, jumping up from the table. "We gotta go!" you exclaimed, realizing that the slight rumble you'd felt minutes earlier was the train passing by. You weren't kidding when you said you didn't even notice the noise anymore, Shoji thought.

"Go where, honey?" your mom frantically asked, jumping up with you and following you as your searched for your bag.

"The station, we missed our train!" you shout, irrationally thinking if you just ran really fast, you could catch up to it.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry." Your mom soothed, patting your back as reality set in and you began to slow. "You don't really think you could catch it now, do you?"

"No, Mom, you don't understand!" you panicked feeling incredibly overwhelmed. "Aizawa's gonna kill us if we're not back, it's already way past curfew!"

"When does the next train leave?" Shoji asked, ever the cool head.

"I'm sorry, kids, but that was the last train of the night. Next one won't be 'til morning." Your mother answered, her lips flattening into a sympathetic crease.

"No worries," he said, taking out his wallet and counting what little cash he'd brought. "I think I have enough for a room for the night. Are there any cheap hotels around here?"

"Hotel?" she asked dumbfounded. "Why would you do that?" The hero was also dumbfounded, unsure of what to say. "Sweetie, you can just stay with us for the night, I promise we don't bite!"

"I wouldn't want to put you out, Mrs. (L/N), you've been so kinda already." Shoji returned, bowing his head slightly. "I truly don't mind finding soemwhere else for the night."

"Nonesense, I insist!" She persisted, patting his shoulder. "You can both just sleep in (Y/N)'s old room for the night!" You suddenly stopped your panic to slowly turn to your mother.

"N-No!" you blurted in protest before slapping your hand over your mouth. "I-I mean..." you thought, trying to come up with a lie. "There's only one bed." Surely, your mother wouldn't be comfortable with her daughter sharing a bed with her boyfriend under her own roof. To both of your surprise, her eyes softened and she quirked a brow.

"Oh don't try and fool me now," she laughed, standing up and collecting empty dishes from the table. "You've been together for six months, living an hour away from home in a shared building with little supervision. I'm not naive enough to believe the two of you haven't shared a bed before." She said, tossing you a wink. "Besides, you're both eighteen, it's going to happen someway, I just ask that you be safe about it."

"Mom!"

"I-It's not like that!" you both protested, flustered to bits.

"Alright, alright," she said, chuckling at your reactions. "I believe you. But still, I'm afraid your out of options, kids. Shoji's too big for the couch."

"It's fine," he finally said, regaining his composure. "I can sleep on the floor in your room, I don't mind."

Something about the resolution tugged on your heartstrings. Was it guilt for his situation, or disappointment that a consensus had been reached? You rejected both ideas, telling yourself that you were happy with what was decided.

-----

The hallway to your room felt like it extended indefinitely, growing longer the nearer you got. Remembering what your room looked like brought you, even more, dread as he followed closely behind you. "J-Just keep in mind, I designed my room when I was like ten," you warned as you finally gripped the halndle, pausing.

"Can't be that bad," he reassured with a hand on your shoulder.

"Considering your dorm hardly has anything in it, I'm sure it won't be your cup of tea," you said, twisting the knob and letting him in. The interior of your room was entirely pink. The rug, bedding, and even the shelving on your walls were all varying degrees of pink. You hung your head in shame and embarrassment. "I planned on updating it but then we got moved to the dorms and..." You trailed as his gaze scanned the room.

"I see," he simply said, observing everything with expertise. "A little more maximalist for my tastes but it looks pretty cozy." he offered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I appreciate that," you sighed, dropping your bag onto the bed and walking over to the dresser. "I don't think I'll have many clothes that fit you but I do have these," I say, rummaging around in the back of my bottom drawer, pulling out a pair of old, blue plaid pajama pants before tossing them to him. "They used to be my brothers. Don't think I have a shirt for you, though."

Shoji held the pants up to himself, examining the expected fit. A little tight, but most likely okay. "That's fine, I'm just happy I won't have to sleep in these slacks." He joked, looking up to see you piling clothes into your arms. "Want me to step out?"

"No, you're fine, I'm going to take a bath." you answered, kicking into a pair of rubber slippers. "You're welcome to go after me, but the hot water doesn't last long so we usually share water..." you trail, setting your clothes on the bed to pick out a towel for your hair.

Shoji could feel heat building under his mask as he weighed the options. On one hand, even though sharing bathwater is normal in Japan between family members, this case felt incredibly intimate in a way that made his stomach churn. On the other hand, the sports coat and turtleneck combo he'd worn all night did little to cool him down, and the collective body heat in the small apartment helped even less. "Uhm, sure." he finally answered, just in time to watch you slip out of the room, towels in hand.

Sitting on your bed, he continued to study your room. There was a shelf decorated with medals and trinkets, a desk with a chair that had a frilly cushion, and a net that hung from the ceiling, holding a mass of stuffed toys captive. He felt almost perverted sitting there amongst ruffled, blush-colored sheets. This was truly a girl's room, and he was an eighteen-year-old man inside it. It felt taboo for him to be there.

Just then, as his eyes continued to scan your room, they fell on a pile of clothes on the bed- the same one you'd collected earlier. You must have forgotten them when you got your towels, he thought, pondering what to do. He couldn't just leave you with nothing to change into. As embarrassing as it was, bring them to you in the bathroom would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

Gathering them up, he had the idea to fold them, thinking it'd be a nice gesture, but when he found a pair of plain white panties, he froze, dropping them back into the pile. Flustered, he scrapped the idea and simply bunched the outfit up into his arms and stepped out.

Quietly, he inched towards the bathroom door, knocking on it softly, before calling out to you in a hushed tone. He was afraid he'd be caught by one of your parents who might misread the situation. "(Y/N)? You forgot your clothes..." He trailed, knocking again, a bit harder this time. The door cracked open, the sliver of view revealing you, facing away from him. Your hair was shiny and stuck to your back and nape. You hummed quietly, raising your toes to the air to drag a washcloth over the length of your leg. You failed to notice the intrusion, which relieved Shoji as he silently leaned into the room, tossed the pile on the sink, and dipped back out, shutting the door behind him, making sure it clicked shut this time.

Trembling, he slipped back into your room, hand on his peck as if waiting for his heart to beat out of his chest. Part of him wrestled with the other, calling himself a pervert for looking, while also rationalizing that it was a necessary evil- and most importantly an accident.

Mid panic, he froze, hearing the door open, finding you standing in the doorway in button-up pajamas, none the wiser. He was a deer in headlights, waiting for you to scold him for peeping on you and preparing a rebuttal that mainly consisted of timid 'I didn't mean to!'s. Instead, you tilted your head, stepping towards him and setting the back of your hand on his forehead, pushing his bangs to the side.

"Shoji, you don't look so good..." you worried. "You're burning up, are you okay?"

"Yes!" he squeaked, a bit too eagerly before grabbing a fistful of blue plaid and slipping out the door from around you. "J-Just kinda hot in this sweater is all, I better go bathe, I don't wanna get all smelly in your room-" He continued to ramble until the bathroom door shut behind him.

"Well, okay.." you breathed, cocking a brow at his suspiciously. "I left you a towel in there!" you called out to him. It was so odd, you'd never seen him so anxious. He typically kept a cool head about everything.

In the bathroom, Shoji hyperventilated, still wired from the last few minutes as he eyed the tub of water nervously. Slowly, he began stripping, trying to ground himself into a calmer state of mind. "It's fine, it's just water," he reassured himself. "It was an accident and she doesn't know, it's okay."

Bashfully sinking into the water, he could immediately feel the tension release from his body, relaxing with a sigh, trying to ignore the fact that your naked body sat where his does now, just minutes ago. The water was still mostly hot, and he could smell your shampoo in the air, resolving to use it himself for lack of options.

-----

You were currently lying on your tummy on your bed, scrolling through your favorite app, giggling at the funny posts when you heard the door click open again. Rolling over, you smiled, expecting to see Shoji, but you immediately froze. It was indeed Shoji who had entered but you didn't expect him to be shirtless.

Your eyes blew wide and your face grew hot, unabashedly examining him. It wasn't uncommon for you to see him in sleeveless shirts due to his quirk. Seeing his toned arms were normal- it was his chest and stomach that caught you off guard. His hair was wet, sticking to his face and dripping at the ends, mask securely covering his lips. The towel you'd left for him was wrapped around his neck, framing his pectorals, luckily covering his nipples. His stomach was even more built than you'd imagined, tan skin stretched taught over rippling muscle. The pajama pants hung low on his hips, almost too small to fit comfortably, and leaving little to the imagination, while the slightest hint of silver hair peaked out over the hem.

"Sorry..." he muttered, scratching the back of his head, unintentionally exacerbating your discomfort. "My back's still a little wet and I couldn't get my sweater back on." he explains shyly, stepping in and shutting the door behind you. "I hope this doesn't bother you too much..."

"N-Not at all, I-I barely even noticed!"

#mha fanfic #mha #mha x reader #mezo shoji #mezo shoji x reader #mezo shoji x y/n #mezo x reader #mezo x y/n #shoji #shoji x reader #shoji x y/n

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worseforwords · 2 years ago

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Barcelona Beginnings (Ona Batlle x Reader)

So, I decided to write a sequel to the Manchester Meet-cute/ Memories story after all. However, it takes place 4 years after the initial encounter. I recommend you read the other parts first. You can find them here: part 1, part 2

“Y/N/N!” A familiar voice called from behind you. You quickly turned around “Ames!” You screamed as your best friend practically jumped into your arms, almost making you fall over. “I am loving the Barcelona weather already!” She exclaimed as she pulled away. “Better than Paris?” You asked. “Yeah it’s been cloudy for weeks. That’s not what they told us when we decided to move there you know. City of light my ass.” She scoffed as you chuckled at her. “Still the city of love though I hope. How’s Lewis?” “Great, I have some news actually.” She looked at you excitedly. “We’re going to try to make a baby!”

How did this happen? How was Amy suddenly becoming the adult between the two of you? Somehow, the random fling your friend ditched you for 4 years ago, was now her husband, and they were ever so happy, living together in Paris. You actually liked Lewis a lot, and you were happy for them, but damn, how did this happen?

“Oh my god, Ames, that’s amazing! I’m sure you’ll be great parents.” “And think about how hot our children will be!” She said, referring to the fact that they were both absolute 10s, which you could not disagree with. “Okay so enough about me. How’ve you been? I’ve received significantly less midnight anxiety calls, so I assume you’re doing slightly better?” “Yeah, I am. I’ve made some friends, work has been better. I feel like I’m finally starting to fit in.”

Contrary to Amy, you hadn’t particularly been thriving, but you were certain it was for the best. You had moved to Barcelona about 2 months ago, completely leaving behind the life you had built, for a career opportunity. You left your job, your house, your family, but the worst part was ending your relationship of 3 years. Your first two weeks in Barcelona you had been miserable. You were heartbroken and all on your own in a new city where you barely spoke the language. The only thing getting you through your sorrow, were your daily FaceTime calls with Amy. You had slowly built yourself back up, forcing yourself to go out and enjoy the Catalan sun, and all the city had to offer. So you were truly doing better, day by day.

“That’s good to hear Y/N/N. Now, where can we get some of that delicious Spanish wine around here?” “Jesus Ames, it’s 10 in the morning, how about a coffee first?” You giggled, happy she was still the Amy you knew and loved.

After dropping Amy’s stuff off at your place, you walked into a nearby coffeeshop where you had become a regular these past months. “Hola Martí” “Y/N! Bon dia, the usual?” The barista asked. “Sí, and a cappuccino for my friend, please.” You answered. These past months, Martí had been a ray of sunshine in your life, even when your head was too cloudy to enjoy the actual Barcelona sunshine. “Here you go, princesa.” He said as he handed you your coffees. “Merci”

Amy had already claimed the loungeset in the corner. You started walking over there, when you realised you forgot to grab a cookie. As you turned around, you saw some people coming through the door from the corner of your eye, one of whom was approaching the bar at a dangerous pace. Time stood still for a moment as you couldn’t help but flash back to a very similar moment 4 years ago in a coffeeshop in Manchester. You knew better this time, so you swiftly moved your arms out of the way, spilling only a little coffee on yourself. The speedy individual could only just dodge you, causing a quick breeze in your face, lightly fluttering your hair. You stood there for a second, catching your breath, looking at the fresh coffee stain on your white shoe. You thought everything was supposed to be tranquilo in Spain, but apparently not for everyone. “You should watch where y-” “Y/N!?” There was no way, it couldn’t be her. You immediately looked up, to be met with the same gorgeous pair of hazel eyes you just saw in your flashback, 4 years and they hadn’t changed one bit. “No way, Ona!?” You both stood there for a minute, looking at each other in total awe, before falling into a tight embrace. “We have to stop meeting like this.” You joked, to which Ona giggled. “Are you stalking me now, Y/N?” She chuckled, to which your face instantaneously turned red, as you knew exactly what she was referring to.

When you first got to Barcelona, you spend a lot of time on social media, in search of some kind of distraction. One day, whilst mindlessly scrolling through instagram, you came across photo of Ona holding some kind of trophy with some of her FC Barcelona teammates. She had transferred to Barcelona not long after you left Manchester, which you knew, but you never made an effort to meet up with her since you had moved. You slightly frowned when you recognised the girl to her right: her girlfriend, hence your decision not to contact her. A mixture of curiosity and boredom caused you to go to her profile and scroll down to 4 years ago, around the time the two of you met. Oh how you cursed at instagram for still not having changed the double tap feature, when your thumb accidentally slipped and you unintentionally liked a photo from 4 years ago. You immediately undid your action and contemplated just deleting your account all together. But then you realised she had half a million followers, so you prayed your blunder would just go unnoticed. But it didn’t, apparently.

“I live right around the corner actually.” You said quickly, hoping to avoid having to explain your instagram antics. “Wait, you live here?In Barcelona?” She asked, her face expressing both excitement and confusion. “Yeah, I do. Just moved here two months ago.” An awkward silence ensued as you started feeling guilty for not contacting her. “Y/N/N, who’s this?” Amy, who apparently left the loungeset, interrupted the somewhat painful stares between the two of you. “Hi, I’m Ona” Ona smiled. Amy seemed to recognise that name, because she waited a while before responding, looking at the both of you with narrowed eyes as if investigating. “Hold up,” she finally spoke “are you THE Ona, from the magical Manchester lovestory!?” The both of you turned red at her loud outcry, immediately looking at anything but each other. “I’m Amy, by the way.” She said, slightly smirking. “Nice to meet you Amy.” Ona said as a slight smile reappeared on her face. “Oh wait.” The smile quickly turned in to a look of pure shame. “Yes, I’m that Amy, creditcard Amy.” Amy laughed out loud at the furious glances you sent her way. “Yeah, sorry about that” Ona giggled awkwardly. “Alright, I’ll just be over there.” Amy walked back to the loungeset, still audibly giggling about the whole situation.

“Sorry about her.” You said when she was far enough away. “That’s okay,” Ona smiled “after all, I did convince you to steal her money.” Both of you chuckled at the memory. “I’m actually kind of in a hurry though, so I have to run now.” She said, apologetically. “But let’s hang out sometime, to properly catch up.” She quickly hugged you again before grabbing a coffee to go and heading out again. You highly suspected that she just said that last part as a courtesy, so you chose not to contact her and instead wait for her to reach out.

You spend the rest of the day showing Amy around your new neighbourhood. It felt great to have your best friend by your side again, and the two of you truly had a blast, even though she repeatedly teased you about the uncomfortable interaction from earlier that day. You hardly touched your phone all day, so when you got home at the end of the day, you had a few notifications.

Mom❤️: How are you dear? Remember to wish uncle Dan a happy birthday. Also tell Amy I said hi. Call soon?

Martí☕: Tomorrow we have your favourite carrot cake again!

Loser bro💩: Hey sis, mom told me to tell you to wish uncle Dan a happy birthday. Also you stink, I can smell you from here. Kinda miss u tho lil bit, BUT U STINK🤢

You chuckled at your screen. When you scrolled down you saw an instagram notification from Ona. You opened it right away, thinking she might want to meet up after all, but it wasn’t a message.

[ona.batlle has liked your photo]

You were a little confused, because you hadn’t posted anything recently, but when you clicked on it you saw that it was a photo from 4 years ago. You quietly chuckled to yourself at her teasing. You saw she was online, so you decided to message her about it, to which she immediately replied.

You: Who’s stalking who exactly? 😏

Ona: Guess were even now 🙃

Ona: Although you did move to my city..

You: Fair enough

Even though the conversation was very short, it still made up for some of the awkwardness from earlier, and it brought a wide smile to your face. The latter dit not go unnoticed by Amy, who discreetly approached you from behind to then snatch your phone out of your hand and see what made you grin like that. “AMES! Give that back!” “Oooo, sliding into her DMs now are we?” You chased her trough your apartment until she finally had to catch a breath and you took the opportunity to grab your phone out of her hands. You both sat back down on the couch as Amy looked at you expectantly. “Sooooo-” “Shut up.” You cut her off. “What? The stars have finally aligned for you two! You live in the same city with neither of you planning to move and you both clearly like each other. Like come on, Y/N/N, let romance win for once!” “Except they haven’t.” you mumbled. “Sorry?” “The stars, they haven’t aligned. She has a girlfriend.” You said sharply, your voice cracking. “Oh. I’m sorry Y/N/N.” She said softly, pulling you into a tight hug.

The next day Amy cooled it significantly with the Ona teasing. She had clearly already moved on as she tried to set you up with every random person you met during the day. It led to some rather humiliating interactions, but you had fun nonetheless, and you had to admit it was nice to take your mind of things. Towards the end of the day however, you received a message that brought your mind right back to were it had been most of yesterday. It was from Ona. She forwarded you a post, with a smirk face next to it. You clicked on it to find a promo for a Lion King musical revival. You felt your heart rate accelerate slightly. You didn’t know how to respond, so you chose to go with a safe option and just replied with the same smirk emoji.

Ona: Sooo is that a yes?

You: Was there a question?

Ona: You are impossible.

Ona: Do you want to go?

You: Sorry :)

You: It sounds amazing, I would love to go.

Ona: Are you free tonight?

“Ames?” You called out. “What’s up?” She came running from the kitchen. “Would it be okay if I left you alone for a bit tonight?” She audibly gasped. “Depends, why?” She asked, a smirk started to grow on her face as she had a hunch what this could be about. “Ona may have asked me to go see the Lion King revival.” You mumbled. “Yes, YES, a thousand times YES! Romance is in the air! I’ll book a hotel so you can have this place all to yourself and you know, bring her home afterwards.” The smirk on her face grew even wider. “She still has a girlfriend Ames. This is just a friend thing.” “Are you sure about that? Maybe you should actually ask her. I mean it’s the Lion King for fucks sake, the LION KING Y/N/N. Can you feel the love tonight, because I can!” As she kept on rambling for a while, your focus went back to your phone.

You: Tonight it is :)

Ona: Great, it’s a date ;)

“Y/N? What’s up?” Amy said, noticing your flustered expression and the blush spreading across your face. “She said, and I quote: it’s a date.” “IT’S A DATE!” Amy exclaimed, as she pulled you off the couch to dance around the room, sending kissy faces your way and you couldn’t help but giggle at her antics. “Wait. We have to get you ready! What to wear, what to wear!?” She started running around frantically, like the true drama queen she is.

You met up with Ona at the theater about an hour later. “Hi.” she said, with a shy smile on her face. “Hi.” You replied. “Sorry again about yesterday. It was all just a little weird.” “So you felt that too huh?” She said, looking slightly relieved. “I guess it had just been a while.” “Yeah, I guess.” The conversation fell quiet as you stood in line waiting to get your tickets scanned. “It’s still a little awkward isn’t it?” She finally asked. “Yes it is.” You admitted, and you both chuckled quietly. The truth was, you weren’t quite sure how to act around her. You had only ever been flirty with her, but now she had a girlfriend, so you tried your very best to just be friendly. The fact that she (presumably jokingly) called it a date however, did not make acting platonic any easier.

“Do you want to get a drink first?” She asked once you were both inside. “Yes please.” You answered, hoping it might take the edge off things. Ona ordered two glasses of wine and then sat down on a bench, waiting for you to join her. You sat down next to her, and immediately noticed her eying the obvious gap you left between the two of you. Everything you seemed to do in an attempt to not make her uncomfortable, seemed to make things so much more awkward and therefore make her even more uncomfortable. Maybe going out with her was a mistake. Even though it had been 4 years, there was just something about her that made you want to jump her bones right then and there. That could never happen though, so here you were, repressing everything you felt for her. Ona seemed to have noticed your mind had started to spiral, as she carefully put her hand on your shoulder to make you look at her instead of your feet. “Hey, Y/N, remember: Hakuna Matata.” Butterflies crept up your stomach as you let her words sink in. Thankfully the theater bell went, signalling that the show was about to start, because you must have been staring at her with obvious heart eyes for way too long.

The musical was incredible. The music, the costumes, the decor, everything was executed to perfection. At one point Ona put her hand on the armrest in between you, ever so slightly caressing your hand that had already been on there. You had been tempted to move your hand closer to hers, but instead you pulled it away. Apart from that moment the musical had been a welcome distraction. When the curtain closed, you both remained in your seat for a bit, recovering from the spectacle you had just witnessed. “Want to take a walk so we can properly catch up?” She finally asked.

As you walked the beautiful streets of Barcelona by night together, you successfully made small talk, catching up on each others lives. You were proud of the comfortable platonic atmosphere you finally seemed to have created, when she suddenly stopped in her tracks. “I need to show you something.” She said. You turned around to look at her and she pulled out something from under the collar of her shirt. It was the golden necklace with the little lion on it you had left her back in Manchester. She still had it. You just looked at her, too stunned to speak. All your efforts to keep things friendly and suppress your feelings and here you were, heart beating like a maniac. “You still have that?” You asked quietly, taking a step forward to take the little lion in your hand and have a closer look at it. You looked back up and there was a moment when your noses almost touched. You looked into her eyes and you were sure you caught her looking at your lips for a second. You immediately realised you were standing way to close, and quickly backed away heart still racing uncontrollably. “Ona, I erm- I think I should go home.” You said. “Oh, okay.” She said, suddenly staring at the pavement, disappointment clear in her voice. You went in to give her a quick hug when she looked at you and asked softly: “Did I do something wrong?” “No, no, of course not. I’m just not feeling very well, sorry.” You hastily hugged her goodbye and turned around to walk away, not wanting her to spot your eyes tearing up.

“Oh no, you’re back way too soon.” Amy said from the couch when she heard you enter your apartment. “Y/N/N, you okay?” She asked when you didn’t respond. You still didn’t answer, instead you just plopped down next to her as she opened up her arms for you to cuddle up against her. “That bad huh?” You nodded. You enjoyed the comfort of your best friends arms for a while before she sat you up straight. “Want to tell me what happened?”

You recounted all the events of the night as you sniffled softly in between sentences. “Y/N/N,” Amy said when you were done “she was very clearly coming on to you. This is in no way platonic.” “Well I don’t know what to tell you Ames, she has a girlfr-” “Does she? Doesn’t sound like it. And if she does I’m not sure they are in a good place right now.”

A couple of days went by without any form of contact between you and Ona. Luckily you had Amy by your side the whole time to distract you from spiralling about the whole situation you brought onto yourself. Unfortunately, she eventually had to go back to her life in Paris, to make a family or whatever, so you dropped her off at the airport and hour before her flight. “Damn it.” She said as you walked into the airport together. “3 hour delay.” “That means I get to spend 3 more hours with you!” You cheered. “What do you want to do first? People-watching? Eat a whole Toblerone? Go plane spotting?” You suggested. “You don’t have to stay you know.” She giggled. “No I want to. It’ll be fun!” “Alright then, I’m going to find a toilet. You find us a nice people-watching spot.” You sat down at the bench with the best view of the airport hallway and pulled out your phone to scroll through instagram. You came across a picture of Ona at a restaurant with her teammates. Without thinking too much about it you liked the post. Hardly ten seconds past before you got a notification. A message from Ona.

Ona: Hey

You: Hi

Ona: Can we maybe talk?

You: Sure

Ona: Like in person

You: When?

Ona: Now?

You were too busy staring at your phone when Amy suddenly hit your shoulders from behind, making you jump in your seat. “Your doing people-watching all wrong.” She joked. You hastily put your phone away. “What was that?” Amy asked, upon noticing your secretive behaviour. “Nothing.” “Y/N/N, don’t do this again. What’s going on?” “She asked if we can talk, like now.” You admitted. “Just go.” Amy said. “No, no, I can’t just leave you alone here, I-” “Y/N. Y/M/N. Y/L/N. I refuse to stand in the way of true love. Please go talk to her.” She said dramatically. “You sure?” “Yes! Now go!” You pulled Amy into a tight embrace and thanked her for everything. After a while she pulled away and pushed you towards the exit. “Stop wasting time, go get your girl!”

You sat at the edge of your couch, fidgeting with your bracelet when the ringing of the doorbell had you suddenly shoot straight up. Upon opening your front door you saw Ona, but you weren’t met with the usual cute smile. Instead her face portrayed a both nervous and somber expression.

“Hi”

Part 4 out now!

#ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #muwfc x reader #espwnt x reader

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marlsswrites · 7 months ago

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June 27th

“Leave him.” - @pandalilymicrofics - words: 698

Lily has been on her fair share of bad dates in her life, but this had to be the absolute worst.

His name was Severus Snape, really? That’s the most stuck up, trust fund baby, prick name ever. He even lived up to all three of those insults.

He was slimy, disgusting, dry, and a certified douche bag.

She scooted her chair away from the table with a squeak on the restaurants wooden floor, claiming she had to use the restroom.

After locking the door, she pulled out her phone and dialled the one person she knew she could count on.

Pandora Rosier.

The truth about her and Lily’s relationship was a mystery, she was one of Lily’s best friends, also the girl she’s been in love with since she was 17.

Now, at 23 years old, Lily goes on date after date trying to find someone who could compare to Pandora, but no one ever did. The beauty and perfection of Pandora Rosier was unmatchable.

“Dora.” Lily sighed into the phone as Pandora answered.

“Lils?” She asked in a worried tone.

“You know that date I had going on tonight?”

Pandora didn’t respond straight away, Lily swore she could hear the deep breath the blonde girl took before talking in a slightly less steady voice. “Yeah?”

“You have to help me love, he’s disgusting.” She spoke out, gagging at the end of her sentence to prove a point. “What do I do?” She whined.

“Just leave him, flower.” Pandora suggested with an even softer tone. “Tell him it’s a family emergency and run away.” She laughed that beautiful laugh behind the phone. “I’ve pulled that stunt multiple times.”

“Yeah-“ Lily was cut off by the rustling of keys and the click of a door lock. “Where are you going?”

Lily swore she could feel Pandora’s smile through the phone. “Picking you up of course, silly. Send me the location.”

It was such a small gesture, the two did things like this for each other all the time, yet it still made Lily flush up to the tips of her ears. “Right- sent!I’ll see you in five?”

“See you soon, flower.”

“Are you sure you’re fine letting me stay here?” Lily said warily.

Pandora had offered Lily a place to stay at her house tonight, due to Lily’s total fed up mood and an obvious bad date. Pandora just wanted to make her friend happy, make sure her friend was okay.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Friend.

If only they were more, Pandora constantly thought.

Admittedly, it was rather painful to watch Lily go on date after date, every time was spent with Pandora wishing she was in whoever the lucky and unworthy man or woman it was who went out with the Lily Evans. Pandora could treat her so much better than them, if only Lily knew that.

“Of course.” She replied casually, throwing on another few pillows onto her double bed for Lily. “Remember those sleepovers we used to have as teenagers?”

She heard Lily’s sweet laugh from behind her. “Those were good times.”

Five minutes later both girls were changed into something to sleep in, Pandora in green silk pyjamas and Lily in one of Pandoras oversized t shirt and a pair of fluffy pj bottoms.

The image of Lily with her red messy hair pinned up into a bun, her body covered up to her thighs with Pandora’s massive t shirt and a shy smile on her face made Pandora feel slightly faint. Only slightly.

“Goodnight Dora.” Lily sighed as she sunk into the soft mattress of Pandoras bed.

“Goodnight flower.” Pandora whispered as she watched her flower drift off to sleep. “My flower.” She corrected when she thought Lily was fast asleep.

Lily, in fact, was not asleep.

That is how she woke up with her limbs tangled with Pandora’s, her shirt wonky and her shorts completely discarded on the floor. Her messy bun half fallen out, and last nights makeup smeared.

Pandora was a mess too, not really though. She looked perfect, ethereal, magical. Like she always does, now Lily can truly admire her like she was born to do.

#pandalily #pandora rosier #lily evans #pandora x lily #lily x pandora #pandalily microfic #pandalily fic #marauders #writing #writers on tumblr #harry potter

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the-al-chemist · 1 year ago

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Jitters

So, it’s almost a week late, but I was told that Weasley Week is more about vibes than punctuality. Here’s the final contribution, and this one’s all about Ginny. Thank you @thethreebroomsticksfic for organising such a fun event!

Warnings: mentions of past trauma.

September 2003

Ginny Weasley prided herself on being fiercely independent. Being the only girl in a family of boys, she had learnt to take care of herself and others in a way that her brothers had never been encouraged to. And being the youngest, she had watched each of her older siblings leave home, go to school, and embark on careers, leaving her behind, a little more alone every time.

There was, of course, one time she had allowed herself to become truly vulnerable, to rely on someone else. It had backfired terribly. Ginny had been eleven years old when she had first opened Tom Riddle’s diary. She had been eleven years old when she had stopped trusting anyone, even herself.

That trust had come back, bit by bit. She had made friends, eventually. She had gone on dates, had been heartbroken, had battled, had grieved. She had carved out a career for herself, made a name for herself, had finally gotten to know herself and trust herself again.

So why, on what should have been the happiest day of her life, was she doubting herself?

She loved Harry. She had always loved Harry, even when her definition of love had been a schoolgirl’s infatuation. He made her happy, understood her in a way few others did, and loved her in spite of that. When he had asked her to marry him, her answer had come as swift and as sure as she was on a broomstick.

Right now, she was less sure. Which was unfortunate, because right now, there were only minutes to go before she was supposed to walk down the aisle and marry the wizard.

In moments like this, Ginny preferred to be alone. Declining her bridesmaids’ offers to help her with her dress, she backed out of the vestry and headed for the bathroom, where she stood facing a mirror and holding on to the edges of a sink. Her head was spinning, her heart racing, and her stomach churning. She felt unbearably hot, though the room was cold. She took several breaths, annoyed by how shallow each one was, and found that this was useless. In a final desperate attempt to cool herself down, she turned on the tap and let the water run over her hands before splashing it onto her face.

That was a mistake. Now she had yet another thing to worry about. Her make-up, which she had painstakingly spent the morning doing — she hadn’t permitted anyone else to do it for her — was now entirely ruined. And, even worse, she had left all of her belongings back at the Burrow, not thinking that she would need them over the course of the ceremony. All she could do was try to clean up the mess she had made of her own face.

As she used her wand to remove the smudges from her cheeks, a toilet flushed behind her and a beautiful woman and small girl, both with the same shade of silvery-blonde hair, emerged from a cubicle. Ginny forced a smile as the woman helped the little girl to wash her hands in another of the sinks. Her niece looked particularly cute in her bridesmaid dress, but there was no one she wanted to speak to less at this moment in time than her sister-in-law.

Fleur Delacour-Weasley eyed Ginny over the top of her daughter's blonde head for a few moments before telling her, “I ‘ave makeup in my bag, if you would like some.”

Ginny couldn’t see that she had much choice but to take Fleur up on her offer, so she nodded. Her sister-in-law passed her a dainty clutch bag, which on opening, Ginny found to be far bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside.

“Va chercher ton grand-père, Victoire.” Fleur placed one hand on the back of her daughter’s head and stroked her hair gently as she spoke, and Ginny’s niece skipped out of the bathroom with her clean hands. Ginny expected Fleur to follow Victoire, but instead she turned back towards her and asked, “Would you like some ‘elp with zat?”

“I can do it myself, thanks,” Ginny replied, but her hands were shaking so badly that she was struggling to do anything by herself.

Fleur stood stock still, watching her as she tried and failed to wield mascara with any form of precision. Ginny was growing increasingly impatient and frustrated with herself, with Fleur, with everything. Eventually, she held out Fleur’s bag at arm length and snapped:

“Fine, you do it then, if you think you can do better than me!” Her sister-in-law blinked at her slowly, her lips pursed, and Ginny sighed. “I mean, yes, I’d like some help. Please can you help me?”

Her tone hadn’t been friendly in the slightest. Fleur shrugged and took back her bag.

“Close your eyes,” she told Ginny, who did as she instructed. A soft brush swept over Ginny’s cheeks, and Fleur’s voice spoke to her. “Victoire ‘as freckles like you now. ‘Ave you noticed?”

“No.”

“Zey look quite cute, I zink. A proper Weasley, no? It is a shame zat I’m covering yours up.”

“Yeah, well.” Ginny swallowed. “I’m not going to be a Weasley for much longer. Might as well get rid of the freckles while I’m at it.”

She sounded far more bitter than she intended. She could not see Fleur’s face, but by the way her sister-in-law continued to work on her face, she supposed that she might not have noticed.

“And ‘ow are you feeling about today?”

“Great, obviously. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it is a big change,” Fleur said. “And because you are in ‘ere splashing water on your face when you should be about to walk down the aisle.” Ginny opened her mouth to argue, but before she could say anything, Fleur instructed, “Open your eyes and look up at the ceiling.”

It was hard to focus her eyes. Ginny could almost feel them filling with tears as Fleur applied mascara to her lashes.

“How did you feel on your wedding day?” Ginny asked Fleur, trying her hardest not to either cry or blink.

“Probably the same as you. ‘Appy, but also a little nervous.”

Ginny looked down from the ceiling and at her sister-in-law. “Really?”

“Yes. I wanted ze day to be perfect, and zere was a war going on, so…”

“So, you weren’t nervous about actually getting married? You didn’t have any… second thoughts or anything?”

Fleur seemed to consider Ginny’s question. When she answered, she did so with a small and almost secretive looking smile:

“Yes.”

“You did?” Ginny was relieved, for some reason. “What about?”

“What are your second thoughts about?” Fleur asked. Ginny sighed.

“I dunno, I just… I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am, Quidditch-wise. I’m worried that once I’m married, no one will care that I’ve done that, they’ll just think of me as Harry’s wife and not my own person, because I won’t be, will I? I’ll be Mrs Potter, not Ginny Weasley, not… Not me.”

Ginny cast a look at herself in the mirror. She never usually wore white, it was too easily dirtied, and she couldn’t remember the last time her hair had been restrained in such an intricate up-do. Even her freckles had been covered with makeup. She scowled at her own reflection.

“I already don’t look like me,” she muttered. “What’s to stop me from just slowly disappearing altogether?”

“I cannot imagine zat will ever ‘appen.”

“It almost did, once,” said Ginny. Fleur was looking at her, and she avoided meeting her eye. “Back when I was younger, that year… That diary, his diary… I put so much of myself into it, I poured myself into it, and before I knew it, there was almost none of me left. I was nearly lost forever, and I…” Her voice tailed off. “I don’t want to lose myself, not ever, not to anyone or for anything.”

Fleur put one hand to Ginny’s hair. For a moment, Ginny thought she might stroke it, the way she had Victoire’s, but instead, she reached back and undid one of the clips. A strand of Ginny’s hair came loose.

“I can see zis,” Fleur said, reaching for another hairclip, “but I don’t zink it is something you need to worry about. Zat diary, it was evil. It wanted you to lose yourself. ‘Arry would never want zat for you, ‘e just wants you, as you are. It is all ‘e ever wanted.”

Ginny took a deep breath. Yet more locks of her hair tumbled around her shoulders as more clips were removed, and Fleur continued:

“Getting married, it does not mean zat you are losing yourself. You are gaining another piece for yourself, making a family zat is yours and someone else’s. It means you ‘ave to share, but you must be used to sharing, with all those brothers you ‘ave.” She chuckled softly, and Ginny felt her own lips twitch. It was true, she was used to sharing. “The only piece of yourself you are giving up is your name, which you don’t ‘ave to do. And zat was ever really your name, either. It is all your family’s name, no? And even if you don’t have zeir name, you are not going to lose your family. Especially your family. You are all very stubborn.”

In spite of everything, in spite of herself, Ginny laughed out loud. Fleur smiled triumphantly and nodded her head at the mirror.

“See? You look more like yourself now.”

Fleur was right. Ginny’s hair was now almost entirely loose, a mane of red curls framing her face. Her freckles were still invisible, but her laugh had caused her cheeks to dimple and her brown eyes to shine with mirth.

Thinking about it, Fleur was right about a lot of things. Harry was not Tom Riddle. He had nothing of Tom Riddle about him, not anymore. And even when he had, he had never once allowed it to consume him, not the way the diary had consumed her. He had never wanted anything from Ginny, except for her to be… well, Ginny. Not Ginny Weasley, not Ginny Potter, just Ginny. In all the time she had been making a name for herself, Harry had accepted her and loved her for herself.

And she loved him. Had accepted him, the way her family had accepted him as one of their own. He might not have their name, but he was still a part of them. She would still be a part of them, even if she didn’t have their name anymore. She wouldn’t lose them.

Harry had lost his family. All he had left of them was their name, the one that was written on a pair of tombstones in the graveyard behind the church in which she stood, where he was standing at the altar waiting for her. Waiting to begin their life together, to share that life together.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, and Ginny’s father’s voice sounded from the other side of it.

“It’s eleven, Ginny. Are you ready?”

Ginny glanced at Fleur, and again at the bathroom mirror, where her own face stared back at her, defiant and stubborn and entirely her own.

“I’m ready.”

#weasley week #ttb #ginny weasley #fleur delacour #weasley family #hinny wedding

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happyk44 · 1 year ago

Text

Here's how it goes. You are five children in tight quarters. Four of you have never known life without another person by your side. The oldest of you remembers and hates it. It is hot and humid. There's a rock. The rock is pretty nice. You were expecting a sixth kid.

Good to see your mom finally learned something.

You play games together. You have dreams about the world outside the darkness and the tiny light of flame from your oldest sister's fingertip. Then you go up and out. Splattered on the ground in ickiness. Your father is is throwing up and some boy holding a gold plate is standing in front of you with wide eyes. Your youngest sister punches him out the way and you run.

You run and run and run and run until there's nowhere left to go. You get clean from a river. The youngest boy soaks in it deliriously. You are all happy for him. He's found what he dreams of - even if only a small version of it. You pull clothes from a clothesline and get dressed. You cut your long messy hair with knives instead of lowering your head into stomach acid and it is quicker than you've ever known.

It is blisteringly bright outside. You are unfamiliar with light, and distrusting of heat, but it's still pleasant. You can see the trees and the sky and the grass.

The light gives proof you are free.

You hide when the darkness comes. The moon is bright, but you are haunted by years of sitting in pitch black. Is he swallowing you up again? Is the darkness his threat? Your oldest brother doesn't mind the darkness, has never truly been bothered by it, and watches you while you sleep. Your oldest sister builds a fire from branches and leave and the flame on her hand.

You know they will protect you. They are more a mother and father than you have ever known.

You awake and regroup. The boy comes back. His hands are raised above his head and he tells you what he knows. He is your brother, the youngest of you all. He was hidden by your mother. Replaced with a rock so he was not swallowed whole. He is the one that freed you from your father's belly. He wants you to join him, to battle your father, your family, to win and truly be free.

Disbelief hits you first. Then jealousy. Why did he get freedom, and you did not? It does not much approach the older two - your mother could not have known. Swallowed one, but surely he wouldn't swallow two. Swallowed two and set a pattern.

He never should've swallowed three.

It takes a while but you agree, following tensely behind this boy. Your mother sees you and cries. She is so happy. You are not. You do not know this woman. The oldest two do not have parents. The younger three only know the oldest girl and the oldest boy. But you all smile and tell her that you missed her too. You did not. You never knew her. All you know is that she handed you over and let him swallow you, one, two, three, four, five.

Still you stay and prepare to fight.

---

You are the oldest of six teens. Your life did not begin with kindness, but still you are kind. You clean your siblings' wounds from battles fought, and make dinner for them. You listen to their fears and pains and hold them close when they are scared. You fight with fire-laden hands meant for warmth and cooking good soup. You yearn for the day you can run across plains, barefoot and happy, to discover new places, instead of to fight.

Loneliness was a bitter thing when you were born. Alone you sat in darkness until the first boy fell. He was tall for his age, and unnaturally quiet. You found solace in him. A companion. He is your closest friend, the first you seek out.

But now he sits in shadows and sinks into dirt. He hears whispers that no one else can, and brings home pulsing orbs he leaves in his room. None of you can touch them. They pass right through your fingers when you try. When you ask, he tells you that they have been calling to him, asking him to take them home. He tells you that they are still asking for home.

"Where is home?" you ask, afraid of the answer.

"Not here," he says. He looks down to his bare feet and curls his toes into the stone floor. "But I think it's down. Deep down."

The deep down is dark and frightening. You remember it, walking to find allies in your imprisoned uncles. It is different from your father's belly, but encompassing all the same. It is not warm. It is not soft. It is not comforting. It is not home.

But you hold back your protests and squeeze his hand. You are scared of loneliness. It is a cold and empty thing. But you love your brother, and he desires the dark. Your middle brother desires the wet of the ocean, which you cannot stand, and the littlest one wants power and a throne. Your youngest sister will stand by him, creating structure and order and perfectly positioned paintings in the aftermath of this war.

Maybe Demeter, the middle sister who digs her hands deep into dirt and talks to trees and dandelions, will come with you. Surely she will want to travel across plains. Discover new nature. Discover new worlds. Meet new people.

Never to be alone again.

You are the oldest boy, the second born of six children. You have never known loneliness. Not physically. You have always had someone by your side. But they do not understand you. Even in the darkness you knew you were strange. Your dreams did not line up with theirs, covered in shadows and whispers and confinement.

Your older sister holds your hand and you smile, thinking of how she will not come with you to where you must go. It calls to you. It always has. These people that roam may not know about you yet, still worshipping the old gods, the ones who have faded away, but when they fall, it is you they call to. Of course they do. Your predecessor isn't around to take them in anymore.

You have not know quiet in all your years. The sounds of dying and dead never ends. In the night, you go and find them. You bring them back to a quiet hutch and set them down. You are not ready for your post yet - the battle has not been won. But it sits waiting, far beneath your feet.

It is a secret you will tell no one, save for a young girl with flowers in her hair and smile brighter than the stars. You will tell her because she will understand what it meant to be given a name that is not yours. Your mother named you in hope and awe, yet when your sister whispered, "Who are you?", you did not answer. You waited in silence.

And quietly and suddenly, you knew. With brilliant clarity, you knew.

"Hades," you said, and years later, people, both the ones who worship the old gods and the ones who your youngest brother has made out of dirt and clay to know nothing but the six of you and your victories - they will confess to one another, "I am scared of Hades", and they will mean both man and home.

Your family fears the darkness. You oldest sister and the following three knew nothing but the pitch black. They still do not trust it. And your youngest brother shines brightly static yellow light. He gazes upwards to the sky. You gaze down to the depths.

They will not follow you.

But you have a duty to follow, the calls to answer. You are not afraid of the dark, and when the war is over, you will descend and finally feel alive.

You are the third-born of six children, the second girl, the one who should never have been swallowed. You remember the pity on your older siblings' faces when they held you close in the darkness, only illuminated by the flames of your oldest sister's fingertips. The pretty light calmed your crying and fear.

You remember how it felt to escape the castle. To feel the earth beneath your sticky feet. It swells with you. Everything breaths. You talk to plants and they do not answer, although your family thinks they do. But you talk because they are alive. Because they respond. You can feel it in your veins.

Your oldest brother understands. Your second brother does too. But they are so different from you. You don't know how, but you can just tell. Something is different.

People call you Gaea, the earth, and you think, No, that's wrong. You are the earth, but you are not the earth. You are Demeter.

And you are unsure.

You fight militantly. Distance is your friend. You can feel the enemy patter against the ground, feel the way the trees sway and move. When you pull back your bow, your uncle isn't even in your sight. But the arrow lands dead center and he falls.

The arrow splits and wood crests and grows. Roots drag him down. Spilt blood is drank, water consumed. The very air in his lungs his stolen from his chest as he is devoured by your nature. Every nutrient in his body is taken as the roots spread within him and the tree grows.

You are not the earth. No, the earth fuels itself. You are a separate creation. Like your sisters, you think. Your brothers are different. They are limitless. But you, your sisters - you follow rules. A plant needs water and air to grow. You could not force it to grow without it.

It is in your victory do you consider what you will be. Your garden is not pretty. It is practical, important. Each row of plant exists within structure. Too close and one may steal from the other. Too far and they cannot share. Include certain herbs to deter bugs. Till the soil to renew the earth. Do not overwater.

Bury your uncle and let the grain feast.

You are the fourth of six kids. The second boy. The middle child.

Like the ocean, your moods are everchanging. Your oldest brother is the only one who can always quell them. Your youngest brother riles you up too much. It's his fault, you think, when they yell about your fighting. Look at the wind on the sea, how it builds the waves to fight.

You love your oldest sister. Of all your sisters, she is your favourite. She opposes you, warm and calm to your wet and wild, but still she sits with you and soothes your wounds.

Sometimes you worry something is wrong with you. You do not feel pain the way they do. And you are needy. Even more so than the oldest, who was alone for so long until your brother came along. You have known people all your life. Even freed of your father's belly, they have not left your side. And yet you cling. You hold on. They struggle to escape, but you hold them tighter and tighter.

Your older sisters are tactile, but they do not cling the way you do. They do not pull the others in and demand they stay.

Years later you will sit on the rocks and watch as a riptide drags a poor child down and you will understand why you cling.

Your siblings are more elegant than you, more firm, and steady. You run across the earth and struggle to stay upright. It's like your feet were not made for the ground. They fight sharp and deliberate. Each strike is pointed.

You do not fight.

You play.

It's all a game, the whim of the tides. Despite your stocky shape, you are fluid and flexible. Let them run then drag them back. Let them breathe then let them drown. Or spear them viciously. Rip them to shreds. Make them watch the others die in terror, knowing their time will soon come and you do not care how much they beg.

It's your laughter they hear last, booming loud like the crash of the waves in a storm. It's not your fault. You don't know what pity is. You cannot understand it. The ocean does not give life to those who live outside of it. The ocean is salty impure heaviness. Survival must be fought for in the cold and wet.

In the time that comes, when the war is over, you will feel languid and calm for the first time in your life. You all have won. There is no pious uncles, no bitter father to destroy. But soon your oldest brother, the only one who can calm your destructive moods, disappears into shadows and darkness. It appears open and endless to the eye, but you felt the confining walls the day you stepped in.

You do not like confinement.

But the others are still here in the house you've made a home, so you remain a lapping tide. But your littlest brother and sister leave to the mountains and the skies and you cannot follow them that high. Your earthern sister who came just before you leaves for the inland. For pure water wells and settled dirt and people willing to learn. You try to follow but she bats you away in horror and disgust.

You don't know how to handle this. This isn't what is supposed to happen. They are not supposed to leave. You cling to them, and they stay. Their skin grows heavy with your weight and they stop fighting.

They don't leave.

All you have left is the oldest of you all, and you follow her diligently. She tries to still your shifting moods, but it's hard. People get hurt and you cannot care. But she does. She cares so much and you do not understand why. One day you wake up and she is gone. The fire is out, and the people you were with have vanished too. You call out for her and she does not respond.

You scream, angered, that those who were yours have left. They have escaped your wet hands and dried your dew off their skin. They have vanished to places you cannot follow.

They have abandoned you.

You sink into the deep and dark and free and build a new life. Your uncle, a crochety man who did not fight on his brother's side, will tell you it is your time, that the age of Titans has ended, long live the age of the Gods. He will crown you king. The kingdom stands before you, a rule you have never wanted, but now crave. These people belong to the ocean, to you. The water holds them down, gives them life.

They can never leave.

You are the youngest sister, the fifth born. People call you strict and cruel. However, your oceanic brother adores your vengeful nature and watches eagerly as you fight. Blood hits your clothes and you grimace. You prefer when things are clean and neat. Tidiness is important.

Your siblings are all entrenched in nature - fire, death, earth, ocean and sky. But you do not see nature. It is a pretty thing in the background of the picture. Today you are violent, but in the future, you will have more meaning.

Women are not well seen in this world, often ignored unless desired, dismissed and put to the side, unless important. Your brothers stand out too much, and your sisters are too entranced by their nature - the oldest to comfort and give warmth, the second to nature and grain. So you are the one who ventures out to the villages that your enemies peruse. You are the one who blends in with the castle staff, who listens in on war plans, and steals secrets.

You are the one who leads your brother to your father.

You are the one who watches him die.

You know that when the war is over and your time has come, you will be much more than a quiet face ducked down and scurrying across halls. You will do much more than drag men to their knees in the thick of night and make them bleed across your knuckles for disgracing the name of family with their lecherous ways.

In the years that come, you will have a warring son and people will laugh at his bloody ways, assuming he comes from his father, the man who won the war. But you know that he comes from you, blood across your knuckles and carrying battered women safely home.

You are the youngest of six. When you are but a babe, your mother holds you on her knee and tells you of your siblings. In the darkness of your father's belly, you know that they wait for you to rescue you them. You think of them often. You wonder if they know of you. You imagine how grateful they will when you save them.

When you take your first steps your mother hands you a sword. It is bigger than you are and your fist is small and chubby. Still you learn. You train every day. You learn every weapon you can. Your mother visits and reminds you of your duty - save your siblings, destroy your father, inherit the world.

You rarely leave home. It's dangerous, the nymphs say. Be careful, your mother whispers. Tell no one of your truth, the Kouretes demand.

Fear comes crawling in swift and unbearable. Your mother leaves you with texts for your future, so you may be a good and honorable king. The nymphs tell you of your father's nature, so you will not make his mistakes. Every day you train, every day you learn, and every night you stare empty at the cavern ceiling, terror building a home in your head.

What if you fail? What if you cannot win? What if your siblings do not think you should be king? What if you do something wrong and you are overpowered like your father? You reassure yourself every morning. Of course, you will win. Of course, your siblings will believe you to be king. You will be a good and honorable king. Your people will love you. No one will wish to knock you off your throne.

But still every night you fear.

You meet your father in person for the first time, dressed as a lowly cupbearer. He is not as fearsome as you once imagined. He looks normal. Part of you is distressed by this. Your fear eats it up.

Still, confident and sure, you hold out his goblet and watch as he drinks. Your siblings come up, unclothed and covered in grime. They are all pale and horribly thin. Their hair is matted and unclean, chopped strangely at the ends, as if burnt instead of cut.

You prepare to speak, to usher them to safety as your father still vomits behind them. But the tallest girl, taller than you, throws a fist you were not suspecting, and down you go, and off they run.

Chaos ensues. Evasion is easy but still takes time. By the time you are free of the castle and your father's roaring rage, the sun has set. You climb to the top of the mountain you've lived your entire life under and call out to Selene. She rides her chariot across the sky and returns with helpful news.

Your siblings do not trust you. You don't understand. This is nothing like how you planned it to be. The plan was simple: you tell them of yourself, they are grateful and come with you, you prepare them as you have been prepared, and the battle commences. They obey your every word and listen thoughtfully to your plans.

They understand that you are a great leader, and will be a good and honourable king.

But they are not doing what they are supposed to. They are whispering amongst themselves, while the shortest girl hold fire in her hands and the tallest boy keeps a steady eye on you. They are not coming with you. They are not following the plan.

They are not listening.

It takes too much time for them to agree. They meet your mother and seem... strange. Surely, they should be more excited. She has told you about them in deep detail, from every hair on their head to the specific colour of their eyes, to the way they looked when they fell, and the horror she felt for being unable to protect them. She loves them dearly. Why are they standing so stiff in her hold?

Your siblings are nothing like you expected. Every day they continue to ruin the carefully crafted dream you put together. Your brothers are strange and different from you. They don't feel the sky in their lungs, or appreciate the birds. The oldest is too silent and unsettling. He is stronger than you expected, and makes enemies fall to dust beneath his fingertips.

His capabilities terrify you. Your fear eats it up. What if he desires the throne? it whispers. He is the eldest.

I will be the one to kill our father, you argue. I will inherit the throne.

Surely he would be more fit to kill your father, your fear laughs. He is entrenched in death and darkness. You are bright and loud. He will see you coming, but your bother will be a surprise.

Luckily, the oldest seems uninterested in ruling. But the others listen to him in a way they do not listen to you, and it angers you. What if they tell him to take the throne? Would he do it? Would he demand it?

Would he kill you for it?

Your other brother is a nuisance. He doesn't stay within the lines. He is wild and wicked and never listens. You repeat your plans over and over again. Everyone agrees. Then he runs forward, laughing loud and giving away your position each time.

He is vicious and angers easily. A simple disagreement turns into a bloody fight in a minute. Then he laughs it off, easygoing and calm, before clinging to your back like an octopus. It is baffling and bizarre. The others shrug and tell you he has always been like this. You cannot understand.

Your sisters are better. Although the youngest argues with you on everything. When your plans fail, she cuts in and creates a new one. Days pass, plans fail, and suddenly she stands tall and demanding, telling you that you are wrong. Her plans work. It makes you bitter.

You have planned and plotted for this war since the day you could walk. You know that your plans can win this battle. It is not your fault that your siblings do not listen.

But you grit your teeth and accept her assistance. She's rigid and off-putting sometimes. But she's pretty in the early moonlight. Fascinating when she's focused. Sometimes you feel you are the same - order, neatness, structure.

Justice.

You follow her once and watch her threaten a wealthy man for forcing his young wife to acknowledge his concubine's children as proper heirs and care for them as her own. You do not know which upsets her more - the concubine or the husband's actions. But you feel warm when she drops him to his knees and threatens to return if he does not make it right.

Truthfully you don't understand what she sees so wrong about the situation. But the fire in her voice and the fearful trembling of her victim invigorates you nonetheless.

The second-born sister is better behaved, albeit more stubborn. Still you get along fairly well. You do not understand her fascination with bread. You understand she starved for many years, but... it's just bread.

The oldest of you all is most soothing. But when she stills the fights that break out, she does not default to your opinion. She wants to hear everyone, both sides of the argument and witnesses. Even when the nautical one is involved, despite the fight nearly always being his fault. It is not your fault he doesn't listen and must be corrected every time.

She tries to relax you in your frustrations, but you do not understand her conviction to hear everyone out. And you do not understand it when she tells you you were wrong.

You do not understand many things about your siblings.

You begin to fear you do not understand many things about the world.

Still you win. Your father is defeated by your very hands. You cut him into pieces and box them up to bury across the plains of Tartarus. Even if he escapes, he will have many long years to piece himself back together. And even if he manages that, he will have no chance of escaping Tartarus.

You retire to the home you have made with your siblings in these last few years of war and it is strange. There is nothing on the horizon, no impeding responsibility to look towards. Your destiny has ended. The crown on your head feels too heavy. You hold it in your hands and stare at the glistening metal. Your reflection is warped and distorted.

You don't know what to think.

Is this how your father felt, you wonder. Did he destroy his father and take his crown only to find it felt too heavy and he could not see his face in the glistening metal? Did he feel hollow and strange inside? Did he not understand the world either? Is that what made him cruel?

You place the crown aside and dispell those thoughts. You are not your father. You are better than him, greater than him. His defeat by your hand proves that.

Careful, your fear laughs at the back of your mind. Your father likely thought that too.

#did i spend approximately 3 and a half hours writing this?? yes #am i super tired?? yes #have i forgotten to feed the cats and turtles bc i was hell bent on getting this out?? yes #am i gonna go back and check for errors?? NO FUCKING WAY IM DONE #anyway #happy talks greek mythos #my writing #my fanfic #zeus #hades #demeter #hera #hestia #poseidon #kisses kisses kisses #my original work

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