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mydearlybeloathed · 4 months

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𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ¹

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: once upon a time, you weaseled your way into the demon pirate hunter's confidance, and maybe even his heart too. but one bounty gone wrong leads to you being left behind, and you just can't understand why. now, zoro's departure draws near, and your tolerance of his bullshit has run thin. it's time to face this, or risk losing him forever.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!zoro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, angst with a happy ending (sort of), mention of alcohol, an oc i really like :), reader has a backstory, takes place three years before Zoro meets Luffy

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: lost at sea

The breeze washed in from the sea, brushing your hair away from your face so you couldn't hide behind it any longer.

The stitched up slash across your back throbbed with every breath you took, and honestly, you were shocked you were even standing this long. But you’d spent three days lying in a stupid bed, arguing with your green-haired companion to no avail. You couldn't stand to lay down any longer.

He was leaving you on this stupid fucking island, and there was nothing you could say to dissuade him.

So now, standing on the docks of Syrup Village, you tried to ignore how your heart ached watching Zoro make arrangements with the captain of a nearby supply ship. Despite every hardship you’d known in your life, never had you felt so helpless. And that was saying something.

It felt like just yesterday you’d been an apprentice under a skilled apothecary, studying chemistry and botany day in and day out, displaying prowess in the field. You were on your way to opening your own apothecary one day. Until the pirates attacked.

For years after they sieged your village, you were the decorated captive of cruel pirates, forced to use your knowledge and skill to craft poisons that would end hundreds of lives over the course of your imprisonment. The fates of your faceless victims haunted you by night, even now.

But then, after so long of that neglect and servitude, you were freed. It was just over a year ago the pirate crew was torn apart by a single boy with green hair and three swords. His intention hadn't been to rescue you, of course, that was clear by the bounty he took on the captain of the ship. But he didn’t leave you there, and to you, that meant everything.

Zoro found you annoying to no end, what with your insistence that you repay your debt to him despite his insistence that he wanted nothing to do with you. Still, he never truly forced you away, not finding it in himself to do so.

So leads the tale of how you forced your company upon the notorious Demon Pirate Hunter, becoming his life’s greatest annoyance, and consequently, his only friend.

Zoro had never been too socially inclined, always managing to say the wrong thing. He felt glaring was the extent of communication he needed—and you never minded. You let him have his silence and made a little game out of trying to make him be the first to break it.

When he glared, you glared right back, keeping his stare with twitchy eyes and silly expressions until he had to break the contact, lest you discover the smile hidden on his face.

Eventually, he stopped trying to ditch you at every port, opting to feign sleep and curl into your side atop a musty inn mattress, shared to “save beri” as he put it. You knew it was more than that, of course, but you let him keep the pretense that he wasn’t fond of you for at least a little while more.

The pair of you fought side by side, tracking down pirates by day and whispering in low-lit corners by night. The happiest you’d ever been was by Zoro’s side, but all happy things end.

Zoro’s most recent bounty had gone very, very south.

One moment you were in the middle of following Zoro’s lead, taking out the sparse crew with your dagger. It was supposed to be a simple job, with you covering Zoro as he went for the captain of the crew. Key word being supposed.

The motions leading up to the fatal moment were still a blur, but you would never forget the cold terror that rushed through you as sharp steel slashed the skin of your back. You collapsed immediately, the pain so great that your body chose to go numb to protect you from the intensity.

And though now you swore you were fine, Zoro saw every paranoid glance you cast over your shoulder, as though afraid it would happen again. Suddenly you felt thrown back in time, meek and terrified in the face of cruel pirates, crafting whatever poison they required.

You weren’t very surprised when Zoro told you he wanted you to remain in Syrup Village, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

The village doctor, a woman called Vee, didn’t hesitate to agree to letting you room with her. She had been looking for someone to split rent with anyway. Vee said she could always pay you to deliver medicine, and after hearing of your background in apothecary, she was very excited to expand on your teaching through an apprenticeship. (You hated to admit you were excited to learn how to cure people, not kill them).

It was all so sudden and unreal. Zoro seemed so eager to leave you behind. He hadn't met your eyes since you’d regained consciousness and your entire being ached from the absence of his ever faint smile.

You didn’t know how much more of this you could take.

Zoro's eyes remained on the ground as he approached you, and only when he stood right in front of you did he raise his gaze scan over your body. Still, he never looked you in your eyes. “Are you sure—”

“I’m fine, Zoro,” you cut him off, saying his name sharply, coldly even. In all honesty, you were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep away the pain in your body as well as in your heart. “When do you leave?”

“Sunrise.” So soon. The words left his lips like they had no significance at all. Like this wouldn't be the last time he ever saw you. You’d always known Zoro would put his dream above you… but it was very different to experience it in real time.

It seemed he finally realized what a burden you were. It was only a matter of time, really. You cleared your throat, feeling a burn rise from your neck to your tongue as words begged to be let loose.

Not seeing much point in holding back anymore, you let them.

Your gaze flicked back to his face as got right in his line of sight, catching his eyes and locking him in place. The air felt heavy. “I’ll be better in a week at best. I—”

“No.”

It was like getting smacked in the face all over again. To save you the shame of having him see you cry, you turned your face away, a new wash of anger coming over you. “Fine. Fuck, see if I care… You snore anyway.”

Your voice broke off into a weak crack, and you were turning on your heel to leave him on the pier before he could say anything. With tears rolling down your cheeks, you walked into Vee’s little home, sat on the cot she’d given you, and took off your boots. It didn’t feel like home when you slept your sorrows away. There was no warm body at your back, no arm slipped around your waist that would be gone in the morning, off getting a lead on the next bounty.

Sleep found you, somehow, and your dreams were filled with memories of days much better than this.

જ⁀➴

Zoro hated this. Every emotion he was feeling was another dagger to his lungs. Every break of your heart was a scorch on his chest.

He downed another drink, tossing it back in one motion. You’ll be safe here. Syrup Village was… quaint. Free of any action, free of any danger. Though, the more he looked around, the more he thought that this was not your type of scene. He couldn’t explain why, he just knew: you were going to hate this place.

But you were safe. That was all that mattered.

Zoro called the bartender over for yet another drink, not keeping a tally of how many he’d downed that night. Swirling the alcohol around the glass, he forced away every feeling and every doubt. In Syrup Village, you would recover, away from the danger his line of work required.

Never again would he hold your dying body in his arms.

A figure sidled up to him at the bar. He glanced over. There was Vee, the village doctor, and your new housemate. She looked less than pleased as she snapped for the bartender. Receiving a glass of vodka, she turned to Zoro with steely eyes. “She’s beside herself, you know.”

He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this. “What do you know?”

Vee’s brows drew with the challenge. “I know that poor girl is lying in my house crying over you, asshole.” She tipped her drink back and slammed it back down. “Let me tell you somethin’, Pirate Hunter.”

Zoro waited, eyes locked on the counter. “The moment she woke up, you know what she said?” Vee let out a weary sigh. “She said where’s Zoro? Is Zoro okay? I need to see Zoro.”

“Your point?”

“My point,” Vee nearly snarled. “Is that I’ve known her what, two days? And it’s already plain to me. If your plan is to make her care for you turn into loathing, you’re on the right track, pal.”

Gripping his empty glass, Zoro was at a loss. He knew you cared for him. Hell, he cared for you just as much, if not more. Which is why he had to do this. You could barely even stand—he saw through your act in seconds—and it’d be much longer than a week for you to entirely recover from your injuries. He felt like clawing out his hair, like screaming even. Why did the right thing feel so very wrong?

Vee leaned on the counter, kissing her teeth. “My advice? Don’t leave with her thinking this is on her.”

“Why would she—”

“Trust me.” Vee settled him with a glare. “She thinks this is her fault.”

Vee knew nothing, Zoro told himself. Vee had no right to step in on his relationship with you, or lack thereof. There was no way in hell Zoro would let Vee’s words get to him.

Which is why he was sitting on the curb across from Vee’s house, trying to figure out what to say to you that would salvage the only friendship he’d had since Kuina.

His head in his arms, Zoro tapped his toe on the cobblestones, and closed his eyes. What would Kuina think of him, so frazzled over a girl like he was a kid again. Not just any girl, though. This was you, so it mattered more than he was ready to admit.

A little grin worked its way up his face. Kuina would call him a coward. She’d punch his arm and tell him to just lay it all out.

“She hates me,” he whispered to no one. “I’m making her hate me.”

Like a ghost, he swore he heard the smug voice of his sparring partner at his side, a ghost's words burning into his brain: What are you gonna do about it, Roronoa?

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, pathetically regretting every choice that led him to this moment, but it had been long enough for the street lamps to shut off, casting the road in a dull darkness enough to make him start creating figures in the shadows.

Rubbing at his eyes, Zoro decided he needed some sleep. He left early in the morning, after all. But you, his heart screamed, in direct contrast with his head.

You had completely infiltrated Zoro’s life. You were brash and defiant, insisting on following him around the East Blue until you could repay him for freeing you from your bastard captors. You stayed even after your life debt was paid, your hurricane person sticking to his side. You were like a bruise he discovered one day, unsure where it’d come from and at a loss as to when it would go.

Even now, you were a sore on his heart, working your way into his very soul.

His every blink was haunted by your smile. His every move was watched by your admiring gaze. These days he couldn’t even breathe without knowing you’re safe.

Zoro knew that even if he left and never turned back, he’d never get rid of you. There was too much of you wrapped up in him, and it was terrifying.

He raised his eyes to the house across from him, and glanced over the hand painted sign reading Healing Remedies and Modern Medicines swinging in the midnight breeze. The light in the top window taunted him, the draping curtains daring him to walk in and reconcile.

But what if you didn’t want to? Your temper had always been reliable, never failing to rain upon those who wronged you. Zoro had never had the privilege of being on the receiving end of your wrath, and he was in no mood to start.

A sigh forced its way out of him, heart thundering for reasons beyond him, and Zoro had to wonder why exactly he cared so much.

He was the Demon of the East Blue. The most feared pirate hunter this side of the Grand Line. He wielded Wado Ichimonji. And yet, Roronoa Zoro was crippled by the thought of how crestfallen you had looked that evening. When he’d told you no, something he rarely ever did. If only he could just tell you…

The light in the window went off, and he was really, truly, completely in the dark.

His head hit his knees, one hand going to rest on his sword. Zoro had no clue what to do. Perhaps… Perhaps it would be best to leave it all at this. You would grow to hate him, eventually, but you would never be hurt because of him ever again.

“You’re gonna catch a cold.”

Zoro just about unsheathed his sword, halfway standing by the time his eyes readjusted to the dark, and the outline of you settled in his head. You stood there in a nightgown with your arms crossed, expression unreadable.

He relaxed, sitting back on the curb and averting his eyes. He heard you scoff, the fabric of your dress rustling as you moved to sit beside him. “Idiot,” you murmured, and he had to agree.

Instead of saying what he wanted to, Zoro demanded, “What’re you doing?”

Your eyes burned into the side of his skull, unrelenting in your blatant scorn. Sucking in a breath and letting it out, you felt your tolerance for bullshit meet its end. “I'm sitting. Zoro?”

When he barely even hummed in reply, face turned away from you, you rolled your eyes and grabbed his chin, jerking him around to look you in the eyes. The surprise on his face would’ve been funny had you not been pissed. “Zoro, grow up.”

Zoro would’ve given you the world. He would’ve killed anyone, stolen anything; all you had to do was ask. Yet, he couldn’t seem to find the words, no matter how he tried to force them. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to…” As the sentence faltered on your tongue, Zoro saw that same starvation for the right thing to say in your eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know!”

Releasing his chin, you shifted to face Vee’s house, hugging your knees to your chest and allowing the silence to swallow the conversation whole. Your frustration was palpable, radiating off your skin and latching onto Zoro, till the both of you were simply sitting on the curb amidst the complexity of emotions in the air.

It was infuriating.

You raked your hands through your hair and whirled on him suddenly. “I want to know why you’re abandoning me.”

“You’re injured,” he deadpanned, prompting a hefty sigh from you.

“Wounds heal. I’ll heal.” You searched his face, finding he betrayed absolutely nothing, per usual. “Do you think I’m weak?”

His rebuttal was immediate, and quick to be cut off. “I—”

“Because in case you don’t remember, I was on a pirate ship for years before I met you.”

“Y/N—”

“And I know I’m not easy.” Suddenly out of breath, you expelled all your thoughts. “I know I’m annoying and I probably do more harm than good and trust me, I know I’m a burden but I thought maybe… I thought maybe we were friends. I thought that maybe…”

Faltering, you forced yourself to face him, if only to see how much damage you’d done. Imagine your surprise when you found his gaze already zeroed in on you.

His eyes had always been beautiful, always so deep that it felt like you could drown in them if you let yourself. And now they bore into you with an intensity you were unaccustomed to.

“You’ve never been a burden,” he told you.

Raising a brow, “Never?”

You swore you could practically see the memories replayed in his eyes as a little smirk pulled at his lips. “Maybe at first.”

As quickly as it’d formed, your grin slid away, replaced by that same hopeless frown.

You felt it like cupping water in your hands; Zoro was slipping through your fingers with every second that passed. “I just don’t understand. I mean, I get that you liked the lone bounty hunter life but—”

Zoro shook his head. “That’s not it.”

At a loss, you looked at him with a pleading sort of gaze, glassy eyes nearly driving him over the edge. “Then tell me what is. Because I’m just gonna keep spitting out words and we both know that won’t end well.”

For a long time, he didn’t say a word. Maybe he couldn’t, you thought. Was it unfair to demand explanations from him? You were on the brink of telling him to forget everything and wishing him a safe journey, when he spoke, a quake in the usual even tone of his voice.

“Do you even remember what happened?”

It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, and then the bandages wrapping from your back to your chest became all the more tangible, and your throat went dry. “I… Of course I do,” you said, not entirely sure it was true.

Zoro passed a hand over his face, fidgeting. “Do you remember how much blood you lost? How deep that wound is?” He could barely meet your eyes now, every ounce of the confidence you knew and loved gone missing. “Do you remember that your heart stopped beating?”

You hadn’t known. You hadn’t known any of that… but Zoro did, you realized, aching as he seemed to glare at the space ahead of him. “If I hadn’t gotten you here in time, you would have died.” His jaw set, tight fists rested on his knees. “You nearly died because of me.”

You reacted instantly—you couldn’t stand that look on his face—swiftly reaching for his hand and taking it in yours. “I didn’t die,” you insisted, “because of you. It is not your fault.”

He squeezed your hand. He didn’t really believe you, and you weren’t sure you could say anything to convince him. And when he met your gaze, you swore your heart swelled as realization set in.

You’d always had a hunch that your feelings were reciprocated—you’d always felt that he loved you too. Yet now, as you stared into his pretty eyes, it became a truth settled into the depths of your longing heart. So that’s what this is all about, you thought.

This all felt so wrong. How could he be leaving in the morning, with so many things left unsaid? And if you finally put these emotions to words now, what good would it do?

The prospect of never seeing him again was worse than death itself. There was no way you’d let this be goodbye forever.

“Zoro,” you whispered, tugging on his hand to draw his attention. “Sleep with me?”

His eyes slowly raised to your own, soft despite their cold, and he stood, taking you along with him. You led him into Vee’s house and up to the room she’d supplied you with. Zoro’s hand never once left yours, his thumb running circles on your skin.

When you grimaced as you tried to lay back on the bed, Zoro was there in an instant, letting you squeeze the life out of his hand as he settled down beside you.

He couldn’t help it: ”What was that about being fine?”

It dragged a laugh out of you, and you gazed over at him with your adoration wrapped up in your face. Zoro had never done anything wrong in your eyes—well, except leaving you behind, that is.

You brushed his hair off his forehead, your fingers drifting down to graze his cheek. At long last, the little smile was back on his face, though a bit sadder than usual. You’re sure your own grin looked the same. “You’re pretty when you smile.”

Zoro half rolled his eyes, shifting so he was lying on his side as you laid on your back. “Yeah, you’ve told me.”

“I wanna tell you again,” you shrugged. There was so much you needed to say, but the air was already so full of words, and you were tired. Tonight, you could lay by his side once more, and pretend watching a random barge take him away wouldn't tear your heart in two.

જ⁀➴

Zoro’s spot on the bed was cold when Vee came storming into the room the next morning.

Bleary eyed, you blinked sleep away as her frantic words left you confused to no end. You sat up only to have a dress thrown in your face. Looking it over, you questioned, “What?”

“Get up!” Vee ordered, her tan face a furious shade of red. “Up! Up!”

Your mind wasn’t catching up to your body. Your gaze fell to the bed, and the place where Zoro should have been. The sheets were tossed aside and his boots were gone. A cold pit formed in your gut. “Where’s Zoro?”

Vee exasperated, “The pier!”

In an instant your feet hit the floor, eyes blown wide, all air seized from your lungs. “No! He can’t—”

“Well, he is.” Without warning she spun you around and started to unbutton your night dress. “Put this on. His ship is almost set to leave.”

You’d never dressed so fast in your life, though you lacked shoes and the dress was only halfway tied in the back. You were decent, and that was enough. Bounding out of Vee’s house and through the streets, not one apology left your lips as you dodged in and out of people and carts, set on a desperate sprint to reach the docks.

“I’ll kill him,” you heaved. “I’ll chase him and find him and kill him, dammit.”

Your back ached and your limbs felt weak and you really needed a glass of water, but none of it mattered. If you didn’t make it, none of this mattered.

The flag of the merchant’s ship came into view. The sailors only had a few more crates to load, and then they’d be off. You couldn’t see Zoro anywhere, so there was only one thing left to do: you invaded the ship.

Running up the gangway and ignoring the shouts of the crew on the dock, you stood at the center of the ship’s deck and rounded in a circle, eyes scouring for that green-haired little bitch.

Chest heaving, you nearly whimpered when you still couldn’t see him. Would you have to search the whole ship, turning everything upside down?

You jumped when a hand clamped down on your arm, and you whirled around to find not Zoro, but a very tall, very surly man with a single scar running from his left eye to his jaw. His grip on you was enough to send a shock of fear through you.

“I don’t take kindly to stowaways,” he barked. “And really, you’re not even trying to hide. At least commit to it if you’re thinkin’ of hitchin’ a ride on my ship.”

As you gulped and stared up into his darkly narrowed eyes, there was really only one thing on your mind. “Where is Roronoa Zoro?”

The captain of the ship gaped, and before he could get out another word, a very familiar man rushed down from the helm, a frustrated set in his brow.

You were in no mood for his temper. In a swift motion you broke away from the captain and stormed over to meet Zoro halfway. “There you are, son of a bitch.”

Zoro’s heart was in his head, worried about the deathly glare you now gave him. He steeled himself and started, “I told you—”

“How dare you!” You shoved at his chest, barely knocking him back as crimson tendrils creeped in your vision. “Is this really how you want to leave things?”

He stood solemn, eyes almost sad as they met with yours. “I thought it would be best.”

“For who?” You couldn’t deny the break of your heart, the pieces of it under the sole of his boot. You hoped he saw it on your face. You hoped he acknowledged the damage he’s doing.

The captain awkwardly came up behind you. “Your lass is gonna have to pay for passage, Roronoa.”

“I’m not coming.” “She’s not staying.”

The pair of you kept in a dangerous staring match, your words overlapping.

Still, the captain shuffled on his feet, saying, “Listen, we have a schedule—”

You whirled on him, locking him in place with a single glare. “Give us a minute.” Then, with more sympathy, “Please.”

The captain sighed, rolling his eyes and waving it off as he continued to prepare to depart.

There was little ignoring the curious stares from the ship’s crew as you slowly turned back to Zoro. “You’re a coward.”

“I know.”

“I’m not done,” you said, holding up a hand to stop him. Zoro’s lips snapped shut, his gaze lowering for a moment before he brought it back up, waiting for the blows of your anger.

You took a breath, and finally, “I get why I can’t go with you. I’m a liability. You can’t become the world’s greatest swordsman if you’re busy keeping me alive.” You took a step closer, partially because of the eavesdroppers all around and partially because you wanted to be near him as long as you could.

“So I’ll stay. I'll live and train with Vee and become the greatest healer Syrup Village has ever seen. And maybe I’ll even forgive you for trying to leave without a goodbye, if you can tell me why.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Why what?”

You could have screamed at this man you had the displeasing pleasure of falling in love with. “Why do you care so much?”

“You know why,” he said, stubborn as always. Only, maybe he wasn’t being stubborn, you considered as something like hesitation hovered in his gaze.

Still, you persisted. “No, I wanna hear you say it.” You reached out for him, gently setting a hand on his arm to ease some of his tension. “I wanna hear the words come out of your mouth before you sail away from me.”

“You make it sound so definite,” he said, huffing a laugh as he forced a pained smile.

“Zoro.”

His deep eyes burned into you as his hands rose to softly caress your jaw, his hold featherlight. The spinning of the world began to still, the earth on its axis slowing to allow you just enough time. He got impossibly closer, breaking your anger down to a soft annoyance. You really couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“Not like this,” Zoro murmured. “When I tell you how I feel, it’s gonna be when I have the time to show you.”

You rested your palms on the hands that cradled your face. “I’m impatient.”

He only grinned, though it barely reached his eyes. “I know.”

You couldn’t bear to waste this precious time crying, choking down the fire in your throat. You teased, “So what I’m hearing is that you like me too much to leave me stranded forever?”

“Something like that,” he said, hands drifting to your waist.

From somewhere behind him, the captain bellowed, “Roronoa!”

“I know!” Zoro called back, never removing himself from you. He pursed his lips before enveloping you in a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of you. “I’m… I’m sorry. For everything.”

Your fingers carded through his hair. You hid your face in his neck. Anything to relish the feeling of his arms around you. “I suppose I forgive you.” Squeezing him closer, “Just promise to write.”

Pulling away, he pressed his forehead to yours. “I promise.”

You cupped his jaw in your hands and locked with his eyes. “I'll get stronger. I'll come find you someday, or you'll come back, or—something. But we’ll sail together again. Swear it to me.”

He couldn’t help the smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. Then, Zoro did as you asked. “I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”

“Good,” you said, voice finally cracking under the pressure building in your chest.

Somewhere in the village, the morning bell rang true. The sun was fully up over the horizon line. Not a cloud disturbed the bluer-by-the-second sky. A perfect day for sailing, you mused.

You stepped away, swiping at your eyes, and smiled as best you could. It was watery, most likely, and conveyed every bit of your melancholy. Casting a look over his shoulder you saw the captain standing there, ticked and holding up his wristwatch. The breath you let out was shaky as you turned back to Zoro.

“Goodbye,” you said, as if that word did this feeling any justice. Before he could say a word in return, you’d lunged forward to press your lips to his cheek, your hands steadying yourself on his biceps. It was quick, nothing but a peck, and enough to make you lose your nerve instantly.

Skin warm and grinning like a fool, you pivoted in a whirl and made for a quick escape, only getting two steps away when an arm hooked around your middle and pulled you back into a broad chest. Zoro’s breath was loud in your ear, so loud you could hear his goofy smile before you saw it.

Your back still hurt like hell, yet nothing could sway the stretch of your lips as you swiveled in his embrace, finding yourself once again in between his arms. In an instant, memories of months gone by haunted your eyes; memories of nights spent sleepless, only filled with the soft graze of his fingers against your arm; of nights in hasty argument over trivial things such as money or fleeting jealousy; and of moments so dear they nearly felt domestic.

And when he drew you into a feverish kiss, his hands clawing at your shirt to just get a grip of you, the sensation of lips on lips made it feel as though he truly was breathing in your soul and giving you his own in turn, the two energies intermingling in a promise sealed with love and lust and labor.

Your ears were ringing when you registered the morning bells had stopped, and you retreated from the moment. Zoro squeezed your hips, eyes shut as he sightlessly pecked your lips again, then pressed a kiss to your forehead. You leaned up and peppered a few kisses to his jaw.

Finally, time had had its fill of freezing, and commands to depart from port were barked out.

Meeting your eyes, Zoro sighed out another apology before tugging you in one last time, his arms wrapping you up in a warm embrace that had your stitches crying out again. You grimaced despite yourself. “Injured. Still injured.”

He laughed, and you swore you’d get drunk on the sound if you weren’t too careful.

"I'll come back," he whispered in your ear. "I'll be the greatest swordsman and you'll be the greatest apothecary in the world."

"That's quite the duo."

“Lass!” called the captain, standing next to the gangway, preparing to pull it in. “You goin’?”

“Yes,” you said, breathless as you took Zoro’s hand, kissed his palm, and turned away before it was too late. You ran off the ship, down the gangway, and far off into the docks. Your head wanted to run back to Vee’s little house and woe around the rest of the day. Your heart wanted something else entirely.

Like you’d been caught in the gut, you froze, instantaneously backtracking in a sprint to the edge of the docks. The ship taking Zoro away was a good way out, but not far enough to block your voice.

Cupping your hands around your mouth: “Zoro! Roronoa Zoro!”

That mop of moss green hair appeared at the ship’s railing. You grinned from ear to ear and bellowed, “I’m impatient! I love you, Zoro! I love you!”

At such a distance, you couldn’t see his exact reaction, and he couldn’t hear the whispers of the passersby that broke out at such a confession. But he’d heard your every word, his hands gripping the railing like he thought he might slip through the wood of the deck and fall right into the belly of the ocean.

A few sailors whooped and hollered and one dared to clap him on the shoulder, and he would have severed that hand from the man had it not been for the red hot affection coursing through his veins. You were waving, and so he raised his hand and limply waved back.

He would be writing to you the moment he got a hold of some paper, Zoro decided. Until then, he stood at the edge of the ship, watching Syrup Village and Gecko Island and you grow smaller and smaller, and then gone.

There was a tightening around his lungs, and as he retreated into the depths of the ship, he knew his heart had remained on land with you. One day, when you were healed and he was strong enough to make sure you never got injured again, he’d have his heart back, and you along with it.

Until then, your paths diverged, to be met once again some years later.

જ⁀➴

Nami’s little ship taking on water was the least ideal occurrence possible. Yet, deep inside, Zoro found it incredibly funny to watch the orange haired girl scramble around all frustrated like this.

“Gecko Islands,” said Nami, drawing Zoro out of his thoughts. She was hunched over her map with Luffy over her shoulder, per usual. “I think we’ll be able to make it before the ship sinks.”

Those words took longer to process than they should’ve, but Zoro couldn’t help it. Gecko Islands? How long had it been, three years maybe? No longer than that, he was sure. His eyes went unfocused at the memory of a laugh that could easily end him and bring him back to life all at once.

“Swear it to me.”

“I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”

Nami nodded to herself, saying, “Syrup Village is known for its ships. I say we dock there and ditch this junk.”

He couldn’t believe that luck. Zoro’s lips threatened to quirk into a grin before he got a hold of himself. He rested his hand on his swords and snuffed. “I’ve got a friend in Syrup Village who could help us.”

Nami took off her readers and rolled up her map. “You have friends?”

He shot her a tight smirk. “Just one.”

“And he can help us?” asked Luffy as he took to the ship’s helm.

“She might.” Zoro checked on a knot here and a rope there. With his back to his temporary crew, he let out a small smile. “If she’s happy to see me.”

A surprised grin took Nami's face. “And if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” he assured, only half certain, if he was being honest.

It'd been three years since his promise, after all. Whatever happened next, Zoro could only be certain of one thing: oh, how he missed you.

#zoro #zoro x reader #opla!zoro x reader #opla #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece #one piece live action sanji #one piece x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader

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blue-slxt · 4 months

Text

The Game

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: So this was inspired by crazy, horny ramblings from discord. I just love my man and threesomes are pretty fun (even if they are a monster to actually write lol). All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Na'vi!Reader x Fem!Na'vi!OC

Warnings: Smut, P in V, Threesome, Oral (M and F receiving), Face Riding, Sapphic Kissing/Touching, Creampie

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Neteyam gets caught up in you and your friend's "game".

Everything about this whole situation was just so unusual. Neteyam couldn't believe he found himself in this scenario. It was so unlike him to get caught up. But he had been distracted. It was supposed to be another regular trip through the forest. But something was different tonight. He got careless; he got distracted. He smelled a scent he wasn't familiar with. As many times as he's walked through this forest, he knew it inside and out and he knew that whatever this scent was, it didn't belong here.

He hushed his own breath and lightened his footsteps as he moved closer to the unfamiliar smell. It was floral, but with a hint of some type of fruit that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Peeking through the bushes, he noticed your crouched form next to the river. Your back was turned towards him and it seemed you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

He almost called out to you, but when he saw your face, his voice was lost to him. To say he thought you were beautiful was an understatement. Your features were soft and round, but there was a hardened edge to your expression. Clearly a gentle and nurturing soul, but a heart made of steel and no fear.

That's where he fucked up. He got so lost in his musings about you that he let his guard down and didn't notice the second presence coming up behind him until a strong hand grabbed ahold of his kuru and a cool blade was pressed against his throat.

"Move slowly..." the second voice speaks lowly to him.

She stands to her feet and brings Neteyam with her and moves both of them through the bushes into the clearing. "Who did you find this time, Ìze?" you say brushing your braids out of your face.

With a sly grin, she walks him closer to you, "We got a big catch this time. None other than the prince of the Omatikaya himself."

"What is this?" Neteyam asks, trying to piece together the unfolding situation.

"Why don't you tell us? You were the one watching me, weren't you?" you say walking up to him and trailing your fingers over his broad chest.

His ears pin themselves to his head feeling embarrassed at being caught and called out. "Fine. So what do you want?"

Ìze chuckles behind him, "Same thing that you want, pretty boy." Her hand on his kuru eases its grip and starts to lightly stroke the base making Neteyam's breath grow heavy.

"It's okay, Nete~..." you say his name with a sweet tease. "We just want to play with you a little bit..."

"How do you know my name?" he asks, trying to not let the quiver in his voice show.

"Oh, you are famous even among other clans, Mr. future olo'eyktan." Ìze answers finally lowering her knife from his throat. And yet, Neteyam still makes no attempt to escape.

"I've been dying to find out if the Omatikaya prince tastes as good as he looks", you continue letting your fingers dance along the waist of his tewng.

Ìze slowly circles around to his front letting his kuru slide sensually through her hand before letting it fall. Now that Neteyam could clearly see her face, he could see that she was beautiful too, but in an entirely different way. Where your beauty radiated nurturing warmth and hidden power, Ìze was beautiful in an intimidating way. She was clearly the hunter type and everything from her posture to her voice commanded respect.

"So take your pick, Nete~" Ìze teases the nickname.

Neteyam tries desperately to quickly rework his malfunctioning brain to come up with some kind of a response. But any words that come to mind, die in his throat before they ever make it to his lips. His eyes just flicker back and forth between the two of you trying to make sense of at least some part of this.

"What's the matter?" you ask, stepping closer and running your hand along his perfectly chiseled jaw. "Yerik got your tongue?"

Neteyam's not sure why he did what he did next. Maybe it was how sweet you smelled or the shiver he felt all the way down to his tail when you touched him. Regardless of why, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in close against him.

Your eyes go wide with excitement and a devilish grin plasters itself on your face. Ìze's expression mimics your own at the unfolding situation in front of you both. You're not quite done having your fun yet, though. You lift up on your toes and press light kisses to his cheeks, his nose, the corners of his mouth, his chin, everywhere except where he really wants you. When his patience runs thin, Neteyam uses two fingers to hold your chin and keep you in place so that he can properly place a firm kiss on your lips.

His lips are in perfect sync moving against yours, but before you can fully comprehend anything, his tongue is swiping at your lower lip begging to be let in. You eagerly grant him entrance just as you feel another set of hands wrap around you and cup your breasts. Neteyam’s tongue dances with yours where he clearly sets the tone and takes the lead and you’re more than happy to submit to him. You sigh into the kiss feeling Ìze give your earlobe a playful nip. You finally pull back from the kiss leaving a thin string of saliva connecting your lips together.

“My turn” Ìze says still groping at your body that was thoroughly trapped between the two of them.

She leans in over your shoulder pressing her lips to Neteyam’s and the kiss is a fierce battle of wills between the two of them. Their tongues fight for dominance as you let your hands trail lower down his toned body and you feel the outline of his dick through his tewng. Feeling how big and stiff he is right now has your breath growing heavy with anticipation. Your eagerness clearly overtakes you when your fingers get busy untying his loincloth.

When they finally break their kiss, both of their chests are heaving for air. Neteyam locks eyes with you and his blown pupils and half lidded eyes match your own. He lets you continue on your mission to rid him of the offensive cloth until it falls while he licks and nips at your neck. He breathes in deep, heady breaths of your intoxicating scent and you make no attempt to stop him from scenting you. Ìze says in your ear, “looks like the prince has taken a liking to you” with a giggle in her voice.

“It would seem so. I’ll take the first round and then we’ll switch?” you suggest with a slight moan escaping when his tongue glides just below your ear.

“Sounds good to me.”

Neteyam is so lost in leaving little marks on your otherwise perfect skin that he doesn’t even hear the two of you scheming. It’s not until you push him away by his chest that he finally breaks out of his trance. Neteyam focuses on the two pairs of eyes trained on him. More specifically, on his thick cock standing tall and proud in front of him.

“Lay down” Ìze instructs.

His ears twitch back and forth signaling that he heard her, but his tail sways in hesitation.

“Relax, your highness. Let us take care of everything.” you say tail practically thrashing behind you with excitement.

Neteyam feels like he’s having an out of body experience, watching himself follow your instructions as he lays down on the soft, glowy moss.

He watches on in curiosity and amazement when you and Ìze strip off your own tewngs in front of him leaving the three of you bare together. You approach him from the bottom while Ìze walks around to the top of Neteyam’s head. Getting down on your hands and knees, you crawl over to him and settle yourself between his thighs that twitch and jump under the gentle caress of your fingertips. It feels like you could start drooling when you finally hold him in your hand. He’s so thick and heavy in your grasp, your fingers can just barely fit all the way around.

Dragging the flat of your tongue up his length, you can see Neteyam’s abs tremble with the shuddering breath he releases. Your tongue travels up his whole length and then you take his tip into your mouth. Beads of tangy precum coat your tongue and you hum around him in satisfaction at the flavor.

The beads in his braids clink together as Neteyam’s head falls back to the ground. When he looks up, Ìze is crouched over him grinning like a devil at him.

“Ah ah ah, eyes forward, pretty boy.” She says, grabbing his face and pointing his eyes back at you. You hold searing eye contact with him while you slide him all the way into your mouth, making small gagging sounds when he brushes the back of your tongue.

“She’s doing such a good job for you, isn’t she? Doesn’t she just look so gorgeous swallowing your cock?”

If your lips weren’t currently occupied, they would be tugging into a smirk watching the prince’s composure crumble. Ìze always loved taking the lead in these situations. Meanwhile, you were more of a pleaser. Nothing compared to the rush you felt when you would watch a strong warrior or proficient hunter melt under you.

Neteyam finally can’t hold your gaze any more when you shoot a wink his way. It’s more than he can handle. His eyes squeeze close while you continue to bob your head up and down on his length. Ìze takes the opportunity to turn his face back to her and capture his lips in another heated kiss.

Neteyam moans into her mouth when you hollow out your cheeks and he swallows the small chuckles she lets out.

When you and Ìze lock eyes, a silent understanding is shared between you. You pull off of Neteyam with an audible ‘pop’ and Ìze pulls back from their kiss and Neteyam is left with his head still spinning figuring out what’s happening.

“Time to see if the prince lives up to his reputation. What do you think?” Ìze teases.

“Oh, I’m sure that he won’t disappoint us” you muse, stalking closer to him and stealing a quick kiss. His lips try to chase after you when you pull away. He watches you intensely when you straddle his hips and hover right above when he really wants you to be. His hips buck beneath you trying to chase your heat. Every time he comes close, you lift your hips a little higher, keeping him from fully getting what he wants out of you just yet. He lets out a low growl of frustration, but it only amuses the two of you.

“Now, now, don’t be such a tease. I think we’ve made him wait long enough, don’t you?”, Ìze purrs walking behind you and placing her hands on your hips.You let her help guide you to finally sit down on Neteyam’s stiff cock. The stretch is even better than you imagined.

“Mmf!”

Every curve and ridge seems to fit perfectly inside of you. Neteyam can’t help but watch you sit down on it and watching the way his jaw falls to his chest is the exact sight that you love to see every time.

You move your hips up and down at a steady pace, coaxing small groans of pleasure from the man under you. Ìze takes her hands off you and makes her way to Neteyam’s face.

“Don’t forget about me just yet, prince.”

She uses two fingers on Neteyam’s forehead to gently push his head down for her to straddle his face. Neteyam wastes no time having his fill of her.

“Ahh…”

Both of you roll your hips in perfect time with each other on top of him. Your walls clench and hug around his thick cock while Ìze covers his face in her slick that he’s steadily lapping at.

“Ahn~! Nete!” you cry out when his hips snap up to meet yours. One of his hands holds on to your hip for more leverage to rut up into you. His other hand holds Ìze in place for his tongue to reach all the right spots.

“Haah…ah, right there!” she croons.

“Ìze…” you breathe out, reaching your hand towards her. A smirk crosses her lips already knowing what you wanted. She leans forward towards you and uses her fingers under your chin to tilt your face up to hers and press her lips to yours. Her tongue invades your mouth, muffling the sweet moans you make from every buck of Neteyam’s hips.

The night air is filled with the various sounds of wet skin slapping against skin and muffled sounds of pleasure from all three of you.

Your head is swirling with all the stimulation that almost borders on being too much. The smell of arousal thick in your noose, Neteyam’s tip knocking against your cervix, and Ìze playfully licking into your mouth has you quickly approaching your peak.

You finally break the kiss to catch your breath and notice Ìze’s glazed over eyes. It’s a look you’re all too familiar with from having done this so many times. It’s the look she gets when she’s close. She pants against your lips; the two of you practically sharing the breath. Below her, Neteyam attaches his lips around her clit and sucks on it lightly sending shock waves through her body. Her normally hardened, confident expression has melted away into something needy and wanting. Thankfully, you knew exactly what she needed.

Your hand reaches around the back of her head and grabs ahold of her kuru. Gently stroking the base of it, you lightly purr to her “let go for us, Ìze”.

As if you had directly spoken to oher core, her hips twitch and her thighs shake with her release that coats Neteyam’s face and runs down the sides of his mouth. Her pussy desperately clenches around nothing as she continues to ride out her high until she can come down.

Watching her like this always riled you up more. Made you go harder, faster, deeper. It was beautiful to watch every time. She was beautiful.

Her body relaxes and she drops her full weight down. Neteyam lightly taps her thigh to signal to her that he finally needs to come up for a breath and she climbs off of his face.

“Have fun~” she says with a slightly tired lilt to her voice, leaving the two of you to finish.

In one fluid motion, Neteyam sits up and lays you on your back on the ground. He throws your legs over his shoulders and ruts into you with more force than before. Lightning flashes through your body. Without even realizing it, your tail coils around his bicep in a subconscious attempt to help keep your mind grounded.

“Ah! Mm! Haah…Nete!”

“Cum for me, tanhì” he quietly commands you, knowing that he’s probably just as close as you are.

Your toes curl and your nails dig into his skin when your release rips through you.Your walls vice grip around him and Neteyam can’t hold back anymore. His hips stutter and lose their previously steady pace as thick ropes of white spill into you making warmth spread in your lower belly.

His lips crash into yours, still fresh with the taste of Ìze on them. It’s disorienting and addicting in the way it seems to drag out your high and make you see stars. When he breaks the kiss, you’re both trying to catch your breath.

“So?” Ìze inquires from somewhere behind you.

A smile spreads on your lips and you simply respond, “I told you he wouldn’t disappoint us”.

Taglist: @soleilmoon @netemoon @fifia-writes @strangersav11

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#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar fic #awow #neteyam x na'vi!reader #atwow #atwow neteyam #avatar twow #avatar neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam smut #avatar smut

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hangmanssunnies · 2 years

Text

Double Tap

House We Share: Double Tap, Sfumato, Good Comes In 3

Summary: You were hesitant when your friends told you about their other friend who needed a roommate. Living with a man, let alone a Naval aviator, isn't your ideal living situation. However, you are desperate to get out of your current house. So, you will have to suck it up and make a deal with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Now you just wish he would stop doing things that make you fall in love with him.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman Seresin x Fem! Civilian! Reader, minor Javy "Coyote" Machado x OC

Word count: 19k

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Abuse (Implied and mentioned), confrontation with Abuser, Child abuse (mentioned), Slow burn, Implied calorie counting, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles, taxes, Neurodivergent coded! Hangman, Fiscally responsible!Hangman, Protective!Hangman. Please let me know if I missed any for this part, I know it is a long one.

Authors Note: This got so completely out of hand. It started as one scene and then grew a mind of its own. Part two is written, just not edited, I'm planning on having that done later this week. Hangman Coyote BFF supremacy. I apologize for writing the most hyper-specific!Jake you have probably ever read. 85% of his personality is just things I find attractive in men.

Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had been at your friend Marlee's house for almost an hour before she couldn't stop herself from confronting you. She had at least let you get settled and offered you a drink while pretending to be distracted by the lasagna she was making. She had spun towards you expectantly when it was in the oven, having reached her limit on waiting.

"What happened?" Marlee asks.

"It's nothing." You respond.

"It is something. I don't want to reread your texts back to you, babes."

"Marls," you sigh, briefly closing your eyes, trying to fight the exhaustion you feel.

"You can't live there anymore. We need to get you out."

"Yeah, let me just move and find a place to live. It's not that easy, Marlee."

She sighs heavily. "I know, babes, but at least stay here with Javy and me. If he touches you like that again."

"It was just a one-time thing," you quickly cut her off. But, from the pitying look in her eyes, she knows it hasn't been just this one time.

"If something happened."

"Nothing is going to happen." Marlee was too bright and too good of a friend. She knew something had already happened, and she knew things had been happening. Her frown and eyebrow raise say it all.

"I can't just crash here," you say.

"You are always, always welcome."

"You are," a voice pops up, and you both look over to the couch. You thought Marlee's husband, Javy, was thoroughly invested in the game he was playing on his Xbox, but it turns out he had an ear on your conversation.

It wasn't something that bothered you. You loved Javy, he had been an excellent partner to Marlee, and you considered him a friend. He was fun and easygoing, something you hadn't expected from a Navy man. You also weren't bothered because everyone knew they were the type of couple that told each other absolutely everything. So, Javy would have found out one way or another.

"I know that. Thanks, you two." You tell them, trying to get them off your back.

"Marlee is right. We can't have anything happening to you."

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Javy," you say, now trying to reassure them and stop this unnecessary worrying.

"You know. I have a friend who has actually been looking for a roommate." Javy says.

"You do?" you ask, surprised you hadn't heard about this sooner.

"Yeah, I mean, he can be a lot. But he is a good guy and a great roommate."

"Who ?" Marlee cuts in.

"Jake."

"Hangman?"

"Yeah, Hangman." The two of them stare at each other, and you can see that they are having one of those conversations of glances and small expressions you weren't entirely privy to understanding.

Marlee then shrugs, nodding, and looks back at you, "It would be a nice safe place."

"I mean, it's an option and would be a nicer place to stay than anything else you'll find. Plus, someone who is not a total stranger as a roommate." Javy tells you. He pulls off his headset and makes his way to the kitchen. He sets his hand on your shoulder and gives you a kind smile.

"I'm not sure about living with a man."

"If you don't want to live with Jake or you aren't interested, we will find somewhere else. Or you stay here with us, but you can't stay there anymore." The seriousness behind Javy's smile isn't lost on you. So you start to slowly nod.

"I guess I could at least chat with your friend if y'all think it's a decent option."

"Yeah, for sure," Javy said with a grin. "I'll ask him about it, then maybe y'all can meet this weekend. We are still having a big bonfire on the beach. I'm sure he will be there."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on going to the bonfire." You start to say, which makes both Javy and Marlee frown.

"Why aren't you coming to the bonfire?"

You tried to think of a valid excuse beyond that being in open public spaces was terrifying to you right now. An excuse past the fact that you knew your bruises wouldn't be gone by Saturday.

"I've just been stressed about finding a place to live, you know." You gave them both a weak smile, but neither of your friends seemed appeased.

"Well, now you have a reason to come," Marlee says.

"Yeah, exactly, and I'll talk to Jake." Javy presses a kiss to your forehead and then a lingering one to Marlee's lips. He returns to the couch, but not before looking at you seriously. "You know if you ever need anything, you call us?"

"Sir, yes sir," you tell him with a laugh, making Marlee giggle too.

Even with Javy's reassurances, you are unsure about this whole idea. However, whoever this friend Jake is, you know he had to be better than your current living situation. After dinner, Marlee and Javy both reiterate their feelings on the whole issue before you leave their house. You did your best to wave them off and tell them you would see them in a few days.

When Saturday rolls around, you head to the pin Marlee sent you for the bonfire. You are thankful it is a cooler day and will only be colder once the sun sets. It allows you to not look so out of place in your conservative clothes, ensuring all your bruises are covered.

You arrive purposefully late and park far from the beach. By the time you make it to the group of people, you have sufficiently hyped yourself up to interact with the others. You decide to ease yourself into the party. You walk around the different coolers, opening them and investigating the available drink options.

You are in the middle of shuffling through one when you hear a voice behind you.

"Anything specific I can help you find, sweetheart?" You turn around and are met with one of the most attractive men you have ever met. He is tall, with dirty blonde hair and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose.

"I'm just browsing," You tell the man with a shrug, proud of yourself for being able to put together a sentence.

"I think I know what would be perfect for you, sweetheart.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He says, flashing you a grin. His smile makes something in your stomach swoop a tiny bit.

"And, what would that be?" you say, raising an eyebrow.

"Me, of course."

You can't help the shocked laugh that falls out of your throat. Which just makes his handsome smile widen.

"I was thinking something a bit stronger, actually."

"I know I look like a tall glass of water but let me tell you, I won't disappoint you."

"Well, looks certainly can be deceptive."

"That's true. Are you really as sweet as you look?"

Before you can answer, you hear Javy's voice to your right. "Oh good, you two already met."

You turn your head to see Javy jogging over. He stops next to you with a smile on his face. You process his words and feel your stomach drop. The incredibly handsome man you were trying to flirt with was Javy's friend. Javy's friend he thought you could live with.

"There haven't been any formal introductions," you say.

"Jake Seresin," he says. He sticks out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. You take his hand, give it a firm shake, and share your name. He repeated it softly, giving your hand an extra squeeze before letting go.

"Javy said you are looking to move," Jake says casually. Your voice seems stuck in your throat. You examine Jake's handsome face again and know you can't do this.

"Yeah, she is. Soon, too." Javy says after you haven't said anything leaving an awkward pause.

"I have lots of space."

"Oh well, you know." You say, trying to figure out what to say by saying nothing at all. Jake nods along with you, but his eyebrows pull close together while his eyes narrow.

"Plus, Jake is really clean," Javy adds.

"That is good to know. Maybe Jake and I can talk about it later?" You say, giving both of them a smile. You turn back to the coolers and grab the first drink you see.

"Yeah, we can talk about it later. Javy owes me a spike ball game anyways," Jake says. He flashes you another smile while grabbing a High Noon out of the cooler, gesturing for Javy to do the same. You leave them to find Marlee and chat with some other people at the party.

You are considering how to best say goodbye and leave the party while sitting next to the fire later. You stare into the flames hoping they might provide you answers.

"You would actually be doing me a huge favor by moving in, "Jake says to you casually. You are startled by his sudden presence, and you look over at him, quirking an eyebrow in response.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I haven't had a roommate for a while, and I would prefer someone who isn't in the military. I don't want to bring work and ranks home. You know?"

"Oh yeah, sure, that makes sense," you say, following his line of logic.

"Also, rent these days is," Jake doesn't finish the sentence, instead just whistling quietly.

"Yeah, rent is expensive," you laugh. You find it much easier to talk to Jake if you don't have to look directly out at him.

"You don't have to let me know right now, but I don't have any issues with it."

"We haven't talked about it much," you tell him, surprised he had decided so quickly.

"There is this saying that beggars can't be choosers."

"I would want a roommate contract. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that would be fine by me, Sugar."

"Okay, cool, but we should think about it."

"Tonight is a party, and we are supposed to be having fun. Not doing business. So, why don't you text me, and we will hash out the details this week. Plus you can see the place, which you would probably want. Maybe you could move in next weekend if we can work it all out?"

Part of you thought you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, so you decided to text Jake throughout the week to hash out the details. And the next thing you know, Javy, Marlee, and Jake are helping you move your stuff.

Living with Jake wasn't as hard as you worried it would be. In fact, it was much easier than you were anticipating. Jake led his life with strict regiment and routine. It was something that stretched beyond that he was in the military.

Jake would wake up in the mornings and go on a run before coming home, making breakfast, showering, and going to work. Then he would come home, change and go to the gym, come home, shower again because he needed to, and then eat dinner. Every night if you were home while he was cooking, Jake would always offer you some. That leads you to find out he is a phenomenal chef.

Then Jake would read in the large armchair in the living room and half-watch whatever you put on the TV to watch yourself. He only requested to use the TV when one of his sports teams was playing or on Wednesday nights, where he would spend an hour and a half playing Animal Crossing with his niece while they facetime.

You had told Jake that the TV was his, and he didn't have to ask you to use it. Jake just laughed and shrugged before telling you he wasn't the biggest TV guy. Jake had been telling the truth when he said that. You realized that Jake was more interested in his books. If he wasn't reading a book, he sat silently with one of his sudoku puzzles and country music playing on vinyl. Then Jake would go to bed after whatever chores he deemed he should do.

It was a strictly followed pattern, only differing on Fridays when he would sometimes go out to a bar with the guys or sometimes Saturdays. However, even on the weekends, he would follow the schedule closely. Regardless if he had gone to the bar, he would still wake up outrageously early in the morning, work out, do chores, and then go to the gym again. Sometimes Jake would venture out of the house to see his friends, but more often than not, he was reading or in the workshop in the garage with some project.

Marlee had not prepared you for how amazingly hot Jake was. When you moved in, he had been very polite, if a bit curt. Never venturing to flirt with you again like when you first met. As the weeks living with Jake passed, though, he definitely warmed up to you. But still never pushed the roommate line between you.

You worked hard to push your attraction for Jake to the side or shove it into a safe in the back of your mind. That was a challenging task to accomplish because, just like Javy said, Jake was very clean. It wasn't that he was a clean freak per se, but he was definitely an orderly and well-kept person. Everything in the house had a place it belonged.

Jake always did his dishes and tidied up after himself in your common areas. He also never leaves any of his laundry waiting around. You had watched in a mix of awe and horror the first time he pulled out clothes from the dryer within five minutes of the machine going off. Then Jake started folding, halfway through the laundry, stoping to pull out an iron and ironing board.

The sight was all so attractive that you had to excuse yourself upstairs. That was something that you often had to do. Anytime you felt heat build in you towards your roommate, you would quickly excuse yourself. You knew giving into your attraction for Jake in any shape or form would not lead anywhere good. You needed a place to live, and this place you had with Jake was way too good to risk anything.

Given his career choice, it was not entirely surprising how regimented Jake is. However, what did surprise you was when he started to incorporate you into his routines in small ways. Jake would automatically set out an extra plate for you when cooking, and picks up snacks you like from the store. One day you come home and find a second shoe rack by the door just for you. On the days you had to be up for work, you would find that Jake had already put your morning drink together for you when he returned from the gym and was making his own breakfast. You like the steady rhythm and consistency that living with Hangman provides you. It's seamless and easy to fall into step with him.

You had been living with Jake for a few months, and things were going really well, almost too well you sometimes felt like it was too good to be true. Your nightmares weren't as frequent. You get full nights sleep and feel comfortable here with Jake. The only times you don't feel content are the times that you think about how hot Jake is. Or when Jake does something that makes it hard not to try and smash your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss.

Then one day, you get home from work, and worry suddenly sweeps over you as you glance at your phone and realize what time it is. The house is completely dark and quiet. Jake should have been home several hours ago and on his way to the gym already. In fact, right about now was when he should have been getting home from the gym.

You resist the urge to call Jake and check that he is okay. You know that action would be overstepping the roommate boundaries that exist clearly between you. You tell yourself it's silly to worry all because he wasn't following the schedule you made up for him in your head. It's not like Jake had ever written down his routine and given it to you. Maybe today was a special anniversary, or maybe he had after-work plans you didn't know about.

Your worry is eased about twenty minutes later when you hear Jake's truck pull into the driveway, followed by the garage door rumbling open. You find yourself easing further into the couch, some of the tension you weren't wholly conscious of easing out of your body.

Jake comes in, and you cut your eyes over to see him still in his flight suit. He doesn't say anything to you as he unlaces and kicks off his shoes. He passes you while walking to the stairs and manages a short but gruff hello. Then, without another word, he is gone. You stare after his back in shock. Something is definitely not right with Jake.

He left his shoes sprawled on the ground by the door. It was not a sight you had ever seen in the house, not even the times Jake had stumbled home drunk and giggly. Jake always pulled off his boots, neatly tucking the laces in and then setting them up on his small shoe rack by the door.

You get up from the couch and walk over to fix his shoes, tucking in the laces. You tell yourself it is so no one will trip over them, not for any other reason. Then you hear Jake's shower turn on, and the water runs much longer than the twenty-minute showers you are used to him taking. It all feels so odd and out of place. You decide to make some pasta for dinner, convinced Jake is planning on not eating at all with how far he is off his schedule.

You are just finishing dinner when the water in his bathroom finally shuts off. Then fifteen more minutes later, Jake comes downstairs in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a thread-bare Annapolis shirt. He appears to be looking around downstairs, almost a bit dazed and lost.

"I made dinner. How about you have some?" You call out to him from the kitchen. Jake follows your voice to the kitchen and looks at the food you have made and dishes up. Hesitantly he sits down at the table.

"If you don't mind."

"Of course not. I know this may shock you since you normally cook, but I can do it too."

"I've never thought that you couldn't cook." Jake quickly responds.

"I know, Jake. I'm just teasing you. Now eat up."

Jake follows orders and takes a bite of the pasta, letting out a small groan. "So good," he mumbles before taking another bite.

"Do you want the macros?" You ask him conversationally after eating in silence for a few minutes.

"Oh. No, thank you. I appreciate you making something and sharing. No need for you to put in extra work. I will be fine not tracking my macros for one meal," Jake says.

"Okay," you say and give him the kindest smile you can think of. You don't want to push him on why he isn't okay. However, you can't stop yourself from sliding the piece of paper you wrote the macros on across the table to him anyways.

Jake stares at the note card for a long moment and then looks up at you. It's not a look you have ever seen on your roommate's face before. You aren't entirely sure how to decipher the way his green sea-glass eyes are gleaming back at you. He folds the paper once before putting it in his pocket.

Jake clears his throat, and the edges of his lips quirk up. "Thank you."

"Of course, anytime, Jake," you say back. He puts away his plate a few minutes later after finishing his food. Then packs up the leftovers into some tupperware.

"I'm going to bed," Jake tells you. Jake doesn't even stop to grab the current book he is in the middle of from where it is placed next to his chair in the living room.

The moment Jake disappears up the stairs, you are frowning again, considering his behavior. It bugged you, something clearly was off, but you weren't in the position to ask him what it was. As you start to settle down for the evening, you notice that Jake had put it in the laundry basket next to the washer that morning. Seeing that you knew he originally had every intention of starting it before going to the gym that night something that never happened.

You briefly considered that maybe it isn't normal how you have memorized his routine, but also maybe that was just part of living with Jake. You didn't even think before you were throwing his laundry in the washer for him. You stay up to put the clothes in the dryer. Then you find yourself folding items and hanging some of them, not confident that you could iron them correctly. About halfway through the chore, you stop realizing just what you are doing but finish it out, imagining the look on Jake's face when he sees his laundry done. You are in too deep to back out at this point.

🏡🧩🏡

You knew it wasn't the best idea that morning when you had left to go pick up some of your remaining stuff and random mail from where you used to live. However, you didn't expect it to go as badly as it had. You were still shaking from the interaction you had when you got home. Every moment of the interaction repeats over and over in your head. You hazardously throw your keys into your little key bowl, not caring to notice Jake's there as well.

You were still trying to take calming breaths and push away the tears streaming down your face. Standing at the entrance to the living room frozen, you aren't sure if you are actually at home or back there with him.

You startle and jump, letting out a small shriek, hearing a sound in the kitchen. You turn slowly, shocked to see Jake staring at you dressed in his NWUs instead of his flight suit. You are equally surprised by the sight of him home in the middle of the day, in a uniform you rarely see him wear.

The adrenaline of being scared forces your brain into letting go of the nerves and panic you had barely been keeping in check. Tears spring freely from your eyes as you take gasping breaths. J ake sets down the knife he is holding and takes long strides across the room to quickly reach your side. His hands hover near you but don't actually touch.

"What's wrong?" Jake asks in a deep voice.

You just shake your head at him, unable to respond, instead focusing on getting air into your lungs.

"Can I touch you?" Jake asks then, and that does seem okay, so you jerkily nod your head yes.

First, his hands settle lightly on your shoulders. Once it seems like you are okay and comfortable with that. Jake goes a step further and wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You press your face into the material of his shirt. Your hands come up to bunch it slightly on his chest as you find purchase to clutch him closer.

He makes gentle shushing noises but otherwise doesn't say anything while holding you. He is so warm, and his arms feel strong around you. Jake's hold on you doesn't waiver once while you cry. Only relaxing slightly when your sniffles and crying start to level out and you let go of his shirt.

You take one more deep breath of him. Jake smells of a pleasant mix of his body wash, y'all's fabric softener, and his cologne. Letting the calming effect of the smell flood your system before letting go of your hold on him completely, only then does Jake let his arms slip away.

Pulling away from the hug, you shyly look to see Jake's face. You find that he is already looking at you. For one of the first times since you met him, you don't like how Jake's face looks. There is a soft and sad demeanor that you see in his eyes. His eyebrows crease and his lips are pressed into a flat line. You feel embarrassment and shame flood you. The way that you just broke down and cried on your roommate, fully processing in your muddled tired head.

"You're home," you eventually say, trying to break the ice and put a brave face back on.

"Yeah, I'm not flying today. So, I had the time to come home for lunch."

"Sorry to interrupt." You say, looking down to examine your feet.

"You didn't interrupt anything," Jake reassures you. He goes back to the kitchen, and you watch as he continues to cut ingredients for his salad.

"Do you want me to make you anything?" He asks.

"No, thank you. "You say not feeling even a little hungry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jake asks next.

"No, thank you," you say again and settle at the kitchen island to watch Jake cut the veggies and toss them in a big bowl.

"Okay," he says. You like that Jake doesn't push you for things. He respects the boundaries you set and doesn't even try to toe up against them.

"Am I allowed to know why you aren't flying today? I thought someone had broken in. Plus, I hardly recognize you out of a flight suit."

"You don't like these?" Jake asks, looking at the Navy camo print he is wearing as if this uniform suddenly offended him.

"I didn't say that," you tell him, giving a small laugh. Obviously, Jake could make anything look good, even things that shouldn't.

"Can't fly every day." He says with a shrug. "Also, I'm going through some maintenance stuff and checks with my sailors."

You hum, but otherwise, don't comment watching Jake wash the knife and cutting board he had been using then. Then, after he drys them and puts them away, he turns back to you.

"There isn't anything to be embarrassed about," he tries to venture lightly.

"You don't come home and cry on me," you say, frowning.

"You sure about that one?" He asks, shoving a mouthful of salad into his mouth.

"Pretty sure that I would remember such an occasion."

Jake just hums. One of those sounds that makes you feel like he doesn't actually agree. A few bites of his food later, he sets his bowl down. His green gaze is trialed on you, but then he glances at his watch, huffing in annoyance.

There is a slight caving feeling inside you. You feel bad. How much of Jake's lunch have you taken up? You had never actually seen him come home for lunch before, so he must not get a long time.

"I do all the time. Maybe just a bit less of the wet physical crying." Jake tells you, putting a container lid on his bowl.

"You could," you utter to him, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, wouldn't bother me if you ever needed to. You know. I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Darlin," Jake says. Then glances at his watch again. "I got ten minutes before I have to go. What would you like to do?"

"I'm fine," you tell him. "You should use that time to eat."

"I'll munch while I'm doing some paperwork later."

That was a lie. You knew that Jake would never eat around paperwork. However, it was the kind of lie that settles warmly. It was one of those lies born with good intentions and made to be soothing. You could never be upset that he is even trying to comfort you at his own expense.

"I don't want to talk about it, Jake." You reiterate again.

"I know, and you don't have to. I won't ask again. However, if you ever decide that you do. I'm here for you too. Always."

"Thank you, Jake. You're a really good roommate."

"I hope you can consider me a friend too?"

"Of course, we are friends too," you reassure him. Jake's lips quirk upwards, his dimples flashing upon hearing that.

"Now, I can't go back to work without seeing at least one smile."

"That's a pretty tall order."

"Well, they don't call me the best for nothing."

"Do they really call you the best or is that something you just tell people?" You ask him, mostly joking. Jake pretends to take offense, pressing his hand dramatically to his chest.

"Ma'am, you wound me," Jake says, pouting.

"I don't know. I think it is a pretty legitimate question."

"I am the best."

"And how do they determine that exactly? Who the best is."

"Well, there are a lot of ways. Many different factors to consider."

"Oh really?"

"Yup. Also sorts of stuff, but they get us all together once a year, and we have a competition."

"What kind of competition?"

"Only the elite members of the Navy participate. We all take turns sliding."

"Sliding?"

"Yup," Jake confirms, sounding one hundred percent serious. "We set up a huge slip and slide on the carrier runway. You only get three tries, and then we add them for scoring. I may have ripped off all the skin on my chest last year, but it was worth it to win."

You can't help but let out a laugh. You picture Hangman competitively sliding down a yellow tarp that doesn't have enough water on it. It's such a silly concept you aren't sure where he came up with it.

"Ahh there she is," Jake says with a broad smile.

"I never would have thought that was a skill the Navy values."

"Yes, Ma'am. It's actually the second part of the Naval academy mission," Jake tells you, still maintaining a serious tone despite his smile. Then Jake stands up straight to his full height in parade rest.

"To develop Midshipmen morally, mentally and physically and to imbue them with the highest ideals of duty, honor and loyalty in order to graduate leaders who are dedicated to a career of naval service and have potential for future development in mind and character to assume the highest responsibilities of command, citizenship and government." Jake repeats dutifully and then adds. "In addition to putting these ideals to the test by hosting the world's most competitive slip and slide competition. Weirdly, people don't talk about that second part much."

You only laugh harder, shaking your head at him. "Yeah, an absolute mystery. I can't believe that isn't common knowledge."

Jake chuckles along with you. Then you two are interrupted by a timer going off from Jake's phone. He sighs and silents it.

"I'm sorry. I've got to go, sugar. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. I promise I'm okay. Thank you, Jake."

He bites his lip and nods at you going to put in his shoes and lace them back up. "Are you going to be home later?"

"Yeah, I'll be home."

"We could do something if you're feeling up for it. Or I can pick up takeout."

"That's sweet, Jake, but you really don't have to."

"I want to," he says with a shrug. Then checks his reflection in the mirror, making sure he is presentable to go back to work. After that, he turns back to you.

"I'll think about it." You tell him before playfully shoving him out the door so he isn't late. You try not to melt when Jake gives you another hug. You catch his hand just before he is too out of reach.

"Thank you, Jake. For making me smile."

"It's the prettiest thing I've seen all day," Jake says, squeezing your hand with his own. His words muddle your brain a little bit. You don't get to say anything else before he heads off to his truck, waving at you one more time and driving off.

You also pretend you aren't screaming on the inside when Jake comes home from work that night with your favorite food and ice cream. The night feels easy and warm, sitting and eating with Jake. The events of that morning can't cross your mind while Jake tells you all about some of the weird contraband he found in the junior sailors' barracks that day. He is no less than spellbinding.

🏡🧩🏡

Jake is sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work. He is surrounded by neatly organized papers spread all along the table in various piles. Jake is wearing a button-down, tie, and slacks that make you do a triple-take on him.

"Welcome home," he says, glancing up from his laptop that is open in front of him. That's when you see he also has a pair of glasses on.

"Thank you," you say, slowly making your way to the kitchen but still looking at him.

"What are you working on there?" You ask.

"Oh, I'm doing my taxes," Jake says while giving you one of his winning smiles.

"Taxes?"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"I guess that makes sense," you say while looking around the kitchen for a snack.

After a few minutes of silence, you decide to ask another question. "Do you have a date later?"

You knew Jake dated. A man who looks like that has to date. However, you had yet to see him ever bring someone home, which felt odd considering everything about Jake, and the persona he liked to put on as Hangman.

"No. What makes you ask that?" Jake asks you.

"Oh. I don't know. You're dressed like you are going on a date."

"No, I'm not," he says, looking down at himself.

You laugh at him and shrug. "If you say so."

"I would never wear this on a date," Jake mutters, clearly offended.

"Well, then, why are you wearing it?"

"I'm doing taxes," he says again.

"Yeah, we have covered that. What does that have to do with your clothes?"

"I'm dressed like an accountant," Jake tells you. You can't hold back your giggles at his phrasing and bring a hand up to your mouth to try and stifle them before giving up entirely.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Two things," you say, holding up two fingers, finally biting back your giggles.

"One, the fact that you got dressed up to do your taxes. The second is that being an accountant is a euphemism for being a sex worker." Jake chuckles at your explanation but shrugs.

"Well, Mrs. Celeste said I should always dress for the day. It helps you present your best self. If you dress the part, it helps you act that part." Jake says that like a well memorized and treasured quote. A saying he clearly remembered with much fondness.

"And today is my tax day, so I am dressing like a tax professional. I will have you know. Since I started doing them myself, I have never had one problem with my taxes."

You couldn't help but chuckle more at his explanation and give him a fond smile. Sometimes the way Jake was so perfectly built and attuned for the military was endearing. Of course, a career Naval man would think a uniform was essential for each different activity.

"So, are the glasses part of your tax uniform too?"

He made a show of pushing the said glasses further up his nose. "Yes, Ma'am. They also are blue light blocking, which helps prevent migraines."

You nod along to his explanation. You finish putting together your snack and lean against the kitchen counter while munching on it. "Who is Mrs. Celeste? A teacher?"

Jake's lips flatten slightly before the expression relaxes just as quickly. "No, Mrs. Celeste is my Babula."

"Your Grandmother?" You guess.

"Yeah, sorry. My grandma, but she was strictly Mrs. Celeste growing up, only Babula occasionally."

"I don't think I've met someone who calls their grandparent by their first name."

"Well, not really her first name. You have to be respectful and throw the Miss in there with it. She is a very particular lady."

"Is it a southern thing?"

"Yeah, maybe," he says with a small laugh. The edges of his lips quirk up, and you have to look away from Jake to distract yourself. It is easy to fall into the trap of how beautiful he is, with the sparkle he can get in his eyes. Or how even the smallest of his smiles makes you want to grin back.

"So, how are the taxes?"

"Oh, it's good. I'm almost finished up."

"Awesome, congrats Jake."

"Have you done yours?" He asks you.

You shake your head and roll your eyes at the idea. "No, I definitely haven't."

"But you got your W2s in the mail last week."

"Jake, are you snooping through my mail?"

He raises both his hands up in defense. "No, I'm not! W2s just have a very particular look."

"I'm just kidding. I know you wouldn't snoop through my mail. Yeah, I got them, but I've been busy. I guess I should make a Tax Masters appointment or something."

That crease in between Jake's eyebrows appears, the one that haunts you, that you pretend you don't obsess over. Followed by a small frown.

"Tax Master?" He asks, clearly appalled. You shrug back at him, not entirely seeing the issue.

"I could do them for you," Jake says, then quickly adds on. "I mean, I can help you do them. If you have the time. I'm already dressed for it, and I won't charge you or anything."

"Oh no, Jake, that is so sweet, but I can't ask you to do that."

"No, really, I wouldn't mind. I think it would be fun. Plus, then you will have it done, and you won't have to worry about it."

"Really, thank you so much, but it's fine."

Jake's frown deepens at your answer, and he seems almost genuinely upset at your denial of his help. The warm feeling in your chest likes to flip over and grow a little bit more each time he is too sweet in moments like these.

"You know Javy warned me that you were an asshole when I was going to move in. However, you have not once lived up to that. You could stand to be less nice to me, Jake." You tell him. You mean it to come off as almost flirty and a bit of a joke. However, it doesn't seem to land with him that way.

The change that comes over Jake isn't something entirely tangible. It is almost like a shift in the air around him rather than anything physical. The way Jake looks at you just feels heavier and more charged. The confidence he always exudes seems to double with how he sits up just the smallest bit straighter but then leans back against his chair casually.

"Go get your W2s." He tells you in a perfectly level tone, but it has a demanding edge.

"Jake," you start to say and roll your eyes at him.

"Nope," Jake says, popping the p. His voice takes on a lower candace, leaving no room for arguments. "I'm not giving you a choice. We are going to do your taxes."

"No, we aren't doing my taxes."

"Yes, I am. I can't be caught not living up to my reputation. So, I'm not going to be nice and accept that you don't want to. This is one of the few situations I won't take no for an answer."

"It was just a joke."

"No, it wasn't," Jake says, giving you a small shrug. You can't tell if he is actually hurt by how he is acting, but you suspect some part of him was twinged at his best friend's description.

"It really was, Jake. Javy adores and trusts you. I'm sure he never would have suggested me moving in with you if he actually thought you were an asshole."

"I know I'm an asshole. It's fine, sugar, don't worry. I'm not going to tattle on you telling me that to Coyote."

"You aren't an ass, though. That was my whole point."

Jake just shook his head at your answer. "I am one, and I don't want that to be a surprise when you inevitably witness it."

You aren't sure how to respond to that, so you are relieved when Jake changes the topic. "Now, get your tax stuff, so it doesn't take us all night."

"Okay," you sigh, giving in to defeat. Jake gives you a mega-watt smile, and looks back at his computer screen.

As you are walking up the stairs, you hear him yell across the house. "Dress like your best accountant self!"

"I won't be doing that," you yell back.

"Please! It's important." Jake yells back.

When you are in your room getting all your stuff and paperwork pilled together. You find yourself opening your closet and pulling out an outfit that you could imagine wearing if you were an accountant.

You also spend several minutes too long wondering what would happen if you went back downstairs in the most provocative lingerie you own. After all, Jake didn't specify which type of accountant to dress up as. You wondered if it would be tempting to Jake. Could you provoke him into falling into lust with you? Tempt him enough that he took you on the dining room table on top of all the Tax paperwork? Jake has expressed attraction to women before, so there must be at least some part of him that is at least a little attracted to you.

You smash down your thirsty thoughts and try to screw your head back on straight before it can drift too much off on track. When you get back downstairs, Jake is still at the table. You dump all your stuff on an empty spot there.

Jake looks up from his computer and smiles at you, quirking an eyebrow. Then, Jake speaks to you teasingly, "And here I thought you might dress up as the other type of accountant you were telling me about."

Your brain has no choice but to start short-circuiting, and you open and close your mouth twice. Jake starts shuffling through your paperwork, looking at what you have brought him.

"I ordered us some pizza too," he says before you get out a proper response or say anything teasing back to him.

"Yum. I'm excited," you tell him sliding into a seat and opening up your own laptop.

He stops his shuffling and examination of the papers to level you with a serious look. "Thank you for indulging me, by the way."

"Anything for you, Jake," you tell him and mean it. Unfortunately, the way you feel about your roommate is rapidly spiraling out of the tight control you tried to keep it in.

"I like when we do fun things like this together," Jake says to you, grinning.

"Me too," you tell him. Then add, "Only you would find taxes fun, though, Hangman."

"I am about to show you just how fun taxes can be and how you can get a great return," Jake says, taking your words in stride.

Jake does your taxes almost entirely by himself, only asking occasional questions. He also then organizes all of your paperwork in an extra accordion binder he has. The taxes aren't fun, but spending time with Jake is.

"Thank you," you say to Jake daring to press a soft, affectionate kiss to his cheek. You linger for a moment, the prickle of his end-of-day stubble ticking your lips, but you don't mind it. When you pull back to gauge his reaction, Jake looks almost pained and upset. You worry for a moment that even just a cheek kiss could make him react this way. You briefly thank god you didn't actually try to seduce him earlier.

"Always, anytime." He finally says. However, Jake is now glaring down at his keyboard and not looking at you.

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble," you venture, confused by this mood shift.

"Sugar?"

"Yes, Jake?"

"I don't think you should pay so much rent."

"What?"

"Listen," he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it all out of sorts. "I just don't think it's fair for you to pay so much."

"Of course, it's fair. I live here," you explain.

"Yeah, but no. I get BAH, and I don't have any student loans from school. Plus, the Navy pays me plenty as an officer. I was paying for this place all alone before you moved in anyways."

"I'm not going to pay less rent because you saw my financials and feel bad." You tell Jake quietly, trying not to actively become upset.

"Please don't be so stubborn," he pleads with you.

You cross your arms over your chest, "Take your own advice."

"I'm the one being stubborn?"

"Yes! You are. You are the most stubborn man I have ever met."

Jake's frown deepens, and that sad look in his eyes at your words starts to break through to you. Then he responds, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll try and work on that."

Jake starts meticulously putting things away into different folders. He moves through each of his piles on the table and doesn't spare you a second glance. It leaves a crushing feeling in your chest.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"There is no need to apologize. I'm the one who is sorry." Jake says, shrugging off your apology.

"No, you don't need to apologize. I understand why you said what you did. I know you were trying to be sweet." You start to say but are cut off.

"I wasn't trying to be sweet."

"Oh my god. Okay, fine, trying to be nice, then," you say, rolling your eyes.

Jake sets down the folder he is currently holding, and it thumps a little bit on the table. The force and loud sound make you flinch.

"I'm not sweet, nice, good, or kind. Okay? I'm not any of those things. I call things how I see them. I look at facts, figures, and numbers. Then I run calculations and act accordingly."

"And how is it mathematically possible that me paying less rent possibly works out for you, Jake? You will be losing money." As he shakes his head, he huffs at your words a little bit like they are funny.

"You could do a lot and make a lot of gains if you paid less rent, and I don't mind picking up the extra amount. You might be one of the few people I haven't hated living with. I don't want you figuring out you need to live somewhere cheaper and moving out on me. So, I'm not being nice. I'm being a selfish asshole." Jake clenches his fists hard, and you see his knuckles start to turn paler. With a deep breath, he relaxes and shrugs. Loosening the tight coil of his muscles, Jake gives you a curt tight lipped smile with a nod. "I'm just a selfish asshole, okay?"

"Please stop. Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true," he says, rolling those beautiful eyes at you.

"It's not true. Also, I would prefer if you don't use the word selfish around me, please." You say in a surprisingly steady voice. You don't really want to get triggered right now, and you could only hope that you wouldn't have to explain triggers to Jake. It takes him one moment to think and another to process before he says anything.

"Oh fuck. I'm so sorry. I won't use it again." Jake promises, no questions asked. His words blow up a balloon in your diaphragm, making it feel like your breath is about to catch. Then he adds on, "If there are any other words…" He looks around and grabs a loose pen and one of his notebooks. Jake slides them across the table to you. "Write them down. Maybe? If you can."

The warmth Jake inspires in your chest is unparalleled and drowns out anything you can think of aside from how endearing he can be and how fond you are of him. Jake doesn't take the lack of response from you well.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again. You spring from where you had been sitting, walking slowly and deliberately toward him. You make sure to give him plenty of time to protest and say something.

Jake looks steadily back at you. However, he looks like he is preparing himself to be slapped or punished, holding perfectly still. Instead, though, you wrap Jake in a tight hug. He is stiff as a board beneath you. After a long moment, as you consider pulling away, Jake relaxes and wraps his arms around you. They are wrapped loosely at first but then tighten in small intervals until Jake is practically clinging to you.

"You are so good," you whisper to him, a little dazed. You are almost stunned by how desperately Jake tries to pretend otherwise.

"Don't say that," Jake whispers in a broken voice, hugging you a bit tighter.

"Too good." You left the words for me unsaid, but you felt them.

"I'm really not."

"It's okay if you don't see it. I see it for you. I'll make sure everyone else sees, too," you tell Jake curling your hands into a fist in his shirt.

He doesn't say anything but keeps holding you tightly. You don't know how long the two of you stay embraced like that until Jake finally eases his grip on you, and you reluctantly pull away from him as well.

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Please stop paying so much in rent," he requests again.

"That will not be happening, Hangman."

"So stubborn." He sighs. Jake kisses your forehead again. He leaves his lips lingering, and you start to count the breaths memorizing how warm his lips are. Three breaths later, he is pulling away. Jake grabs his laptop and a stack of folders heading upstairs without another word to you.

You stare after him for a while, trying to parse out the mystery Jake presents, and coming up a bit short, just like you always did. He is one of the most outwardly confident men you have ever met. Yet, other times, Jake is the first person to make a self-deprecating comment about himself. You swallow down how much you desire more from him, wishing for more, knowing you can't and shouldn't have it.

🏡🧩🏡

You and Jake were lounging on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone, avoiding going to the gym, half-heartedly trying to convince you to go with him. You were also scrolling your phone while deflecting Jake’s offers.

That was when your doorbell rang, followed by heavy knocking. You and Jake both look up at each other. He raises his eyebrows, and you just shrug, having no idea who could be at the door. Jake looks back to his phone, clearly ready to ignore it, when the doorbell rings twice more, and the pounding on the door gets louder. Jake sighs and gets up, walking across the house towards the noise.

“Hold your horses out there!” Jake yells towards the door before opening it.

You wait for a moment, trying to hear who it is, curious about who would be so rude and what they needed. However, you don’t hear anything from where you are on the couch. So you stand and follow Jake into the entry hallway.

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” You hear Jake say. He is standing at his full height in the door frame.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You hear from on the other side of the door.

Nervousness shoots through your whole body hearing that voice. Anxiety immediately pops up, and your stomach drops. You know that voice. You have heard it a thousand times before. Why was he here? How was he here?

“I asked you to leave, Sir.”

“Just tell that little bitch that —”

Jake steps further forward onto the front porch. “Now, we don’t speak about ladies like that where I am from. And I’m going to ask that you act accordingly while at my home, Sir.” Jake cuts him off with that well mannered southern military niceness.

“I don’t give a fuck where you are from.”

You flinch at his tone of voice, feeling bile rise up in your throat. You lean against the wall slapping your hand over your mouth, trying to prevent yourself from throwing up.

“I asked you politely to leave. I won’t ask again. I can call you a taxi or an uber. But don’t you dare take one more step on my front porch.” Jake says in a deep tone. You are hit with the sudden, horrifying realization that he is going to hurt Jake, and that is something you just won’t let happen.

You are trying to go through possibilities in your head. Anyway, this could shake out; it would be bad for Jake. Jake would either get hurt and get in trouble, or he would kick ass and gets in worse trouble. This would end badly; either way, Jake is going to get in trouble, and it would be your fault. You would be responsible because you caused this situation. Jake was going to pay the consequences all because he was trying to protect you. You were roommates, so Jake must think he has some obligation to protect you.

You feel swamped in stress knowing how easily Jake can escalate a situation and provoke someone; sometimes, all it takes for him is one well-placed smile. That stress is finally what unfreezes you, and you stumble towards the front door.

Jake’s large, broad form still mostly hides your view of the other side, but you cautiously approach and set your hand gently on the back of his shoulder. You feel how tense Jake’s muscles are under your hand and can see it in the line of the back of his neck.

“Sugar, I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Jake says in a deep voice. He doesn’t budge an inch or look back toward you. “But I would like to suggest that you go back inside. I have this handled.”

You want to cry. You want to cry for so many reasons: cry because you are in this situation, that you have to deal with this again, that you feel so small. However, you mostly want to cry because Jake “Hangman” Seresin is such a good man. It’s startling sometimes, not because it’s really unexpected, but rather that it is so completely and bluntly genuine.

Having Jake here defending you, trying to protect you from the person who has probably scared you most in your life, it feels so silly to pretend like you don’t have feelings for him, to pretend that you aren’t more in love with him than you ought to be.

The realization doesn’t really feel shocking; it is closer to acceptance. A given truth that is part of your life now. An empowering truth that swells in your bones like a swift tide, filling up the spaces that have been empty for so long.

You love Jake more than you are scared. The warmth of affection towards him is so hot it burns out the freezing ice in your veins and the numbness in your fingers. You love him, and you will be damned if you let Jake be hurt, touched, tainted, or affected by this man who has hurt you. It seems cliché that loving someone like this is enough for you to finally break through the barrier of fear you have lived your whole life in. However, now it just feels so simple.

Your heart is beating hard. The adrenaline is pumping through you so strongly that you can hear it echoing in your ears. Your hand slides up Jake’s back to his bicep, and you give him a gentle push. Jake shifts with the movement. He slides to the right so you can finally fully see the front porch. However, he doesn’t move enough that you are fully exposed. Jake’s body is still partially concealing you from view.

Then you hear your name, and your attention snaps away from its hyper-focus on Jake. You turn it forward and brace yourself. You drift your eyes to the ground, landing on the feet of your visitor, staying there for a minute before meeting his burning eyes.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Ah, so she is here,” your father says, throwing his hands up and glaring at Jake. You can smell the booze on him from the doorway. It makes your stomach turn. You resist the urge to wretch, squeezing your hand, which is still on Jake’s bicep. He flexes, and his bicep digs into his shirt as your nails also dig in. You don’t like those angry, hateful eyes on your Jake. Jake doesn’t budge an inch or react to your nails on his skin.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” You ask him. Your hold on Jake acting like an anchor point for you.

“You don’t bother to answer my texts or anyone else’s calls and texts. Just because you moved out doesn’t mean you get to be a selfish bitch” your dad spits out.

“I’ve been pretty busy,” you defend yourself in a small voice.

“Oh, I bet you have been so busy. What are you doing these days?” He growls at you. “You know it doesn’t really count as moving out if you are spreading your legs to pay for it.”

You flinch, your hand falling from Jake’s arm and balling into a tight fist at your side. You hate how easily he can make you feel small, even when you are angry.

“Watch your mouth,” Jake hisses, rejoining the conversation. You glance at him, and Hangman is shaking with contained rage. You know this is not a good situation; anytime, someone could blow up.

“You should go inside, Hangman,” you tell him gently.

“Absolutely not,” Jake responds instantly.

“So you are playing the part of a pathetic little whore wife for this pretty boy.” Your dad says, cutting in.

You grit your teeth as he continues on. “Come on. I thought you gave up pussies after our talk when you were in high school.”

With the reminder of just what he is referring to, You are overcome with anger, and you finally can’t take it anymore. You recognize his words for what they are, a direct bait at Jake and undercutting you. It makes you so angry you start shaking. Tears burst from your eyes, trying to let off some steam bubbling inside you. It boils up, so you can’t take it anymore, and you whisper, “Shut up.”

“What?” Your dad asks, clearly shocked. You take a step forward fueled by your anger.

“Shut the fuck up.” You pronounce each word slowly. Then continue on, “I’m tired of this. You don’t get to be mean to me and still expect a relationship with me. You don’t get to hit me, yell at me, and abuse me just to show up at my house on your bullshit. And you sure as fuck don’t get to say anything about Jake.” You suck in a rapid breath, the words fueling the fire in you. Your angerburning brighter with every word.

“You made me think that kind, decent men didn’t exist, Dad, but Jake is good. He isn’t a pretty boy. He is smart, sweet, strong, and kind. I will not hear you say one more thing about him. Ever.” You punctuate the sentence with a jab of your index finger at him. He looks like he might be cowed, and before you can even finish a prayer that he will be done, the fire in his eyes lits again.

“You could have at least found someone who stands up for you. A real man.” Your dad isn’t even looking at you when he says it. Instead, he is staring at Jake.

“That’s a rather rude thing to say about an active duty Naval Officer,” you hiss. Your dad takes a step back, his eyebrows raising, reexamining Jake. He shifts his weight between his feet nervously.

“You aren’t welcome at our home. So leave and crawl back into the bottle you drank before coming here. Don’t come back, Dad. I don’t want to see you.”

You try to force your body to relax, but the adrenaline is still pumping hard in your veins. So, you start to walk backward back into the house. Jake still hasn’t taken his eyes off your dad, and he makes no move to come with you back into the house.

“Jake?” You ask.

“Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I need to have a talk with your old man here and make sure that he makes it home.”

“I don’t want him near you.”

Your dad still looks blown away by this turn of events. Like he is scrambling to put words together. He keeps looking back and forth between you and Jake.

Jake breathes out heavily through his nose. He turns his head enough to glance at you. Whatever he sees on your face must break his resolve. Jake clenches his jaw, and you watch the muscle flex once, then twice. After that, he rolls his shoulders, and it’s like Hangman is physically able to just shrug the tension of the situation off.

“Get home safe, Sir. I suggest doing so soon. MAs are known to drive down our street.” Jake says it in a light, easygoing tone, border lining on cheery. Then, plastering that practiced, perfect smile on his face, Jake nods his head toward your dad and comes back into the house.

Jake closes the door but doesn’t move, staring out the frosted window on the front door. His body is tense again, standing rigidly at his full height. You are still shaking from anger. You slump against Jake’s back, letting your body weight shift into his. One of his arms bends backward a bit awkwardly, sitting on your waist. His large palm is burning hot. You can feel it through the fabric of your clothes. Then Jake’s fingers flex to give you a small squeeze of reassurance.

When Jake finally does move, it is just to turn away from the door and wrap you tightly in his arms. You enjoy the warmth of his strong embrace, feeling exhausted as the adrenaline starts to fade. Jake is still shaking, though.

“He’s gone,” Jake says into the crown of your head. You let a little sigh escape you, feeling a bit more of the tension release.

“Good,” you manage to tell him.

“I wanted to defend you. I wanted to slam his face so hard into the porch that he wouldn’t ever be able to open his mouth again. Wanted to tell him how you are—”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you cut Jake off before he can continue. You don’t want to know what he thinks about you right now. You can’t handle whatever words could spill out of his mouth next.

“I’ll make sure he never comes back here,” Jake says, his voice dropping, and you feel the rage contained in him, the subtle shake and heat coming from how tense he is.

“I don’t want him near you. If something happened to you because of him….” you trail off. Your hands wander the expanse of Jake’s back in an almost soothing motion. However, you don’t know who it is soothing more, you or him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He takes a deep breath and then releases it in a heavy sigh. “What if you just give me his full name and social security number? You wouldn’t have to know about anything else.”

“Jake,” you whisper in a tone that is almost reminiscent of amusement.

Jake sighs again. He draws back from your hug and cups your face. He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away the tears that have been lingering.

“You are the kindest, most compassionate person I have ever met,” Jake whispers. Considering how he is looking at you with a glimmer in his eyes, it’s clear the emotions of the situation are still running rampant. That look, paired with how he is holding you, makes you think Jake might be about to kiss you.

“No, No. Stop.” You don’t know if you are trying to ask him not to kiss you or to stop talking. Either way, you feel like you might explode if this interaction isn’t over soon.

“Yes,” Jake says. “Let me, please.”

His thumb is still tracing along your cheek, and you can’t help yourself from leaning a tiny bit into his palm. An action that momentarily freezes his thumb before it picks up steadily again. Not hearing an explicit no from you again, Jake continues on.

“That man has no say over you. Who you are is so stunning. You never deserved to be treated the way you were. I am so sorry you ever had to go through that. I am so sorry he showed up here. You don’t owe him a single second of your time or attention. You are valuable. You are amazing. He is trying to make you small because he sees how good you are.”

A shudder racks through your body, hearing Jake’s words, and fresh tears start to fall unprompted from your eyes. As soon as they do, though, Jake pushes them away. “I am so proud of you for getting away from him. You are so strong and brave. It makes me awed. I’m so glad that you moved in here. You are…” Jake doesn’t finish the sentence, he seems to lose his train of thought. His mouth parts a little bit, and his eyes flash down to glance at your lips.

Jake is going to kiss you, and it might possibly be the worst thing that could happen. If he kisses you right now because of your dad, you know you might break into a million different pieces. You don’t want Jake to kiss you for any reason but pure desire and affection. You don’t want him to kiss you in comfort, or pity, or convenience, or as an outlet. You don’t want him to kiss you just because emotions are running high from the incident that just happened. Most of all, you don’t want Jake to kiss you and not mean it. You don’t want him to kiss you without the intention of kissing you again.

So, even though you are desperate to feel his lips, and memorize their shape, how they feel against yours. Desperate to discover what he tastes like, curl your fingers in his hair and take comfort in the form of his body. You know you can’t, it has the power to break you, and you already feel so broken and exhausted.

You cover the hand Jake has on your face with your own and pull it away. However, you don’t immediately let go holding his large palm. Hangman takes your hint and steps backward, giving you a little space so that he is pressed against the door again. You decide to thread your fingers with his. Jake’s skin is still almost hot to the touch in your hand.

“Thank you, Jake,” You finally say, meeting his piercing green eyes again. You squeeze the hand you are holding. He gives you a tight nod and then tips his head upwards, so he is looking at the ceiling. Jake rests his head against the door as well and closes his eyes.

You observe him for a moment, then you go to release the hand you are holding. Jake stops you, though, his hand tightening as yours loosens, and you try to pull away. You give a little tug, and he tightens his fingers even more. Jake’s head is still tipped, and you hear him sucking in a deep breath before blowing it out.

“Please don’t let go,” he begs you. Jake’s eyes flash open again, and he is looking down his nose at you. “I just, I need you.”

You inhale sharply at his phrasing, and he sighs heavily. “I might do something terrible if you let go of me. If you don’t need me here, there won’t be anything to stop me.”

“You’re not going to do anything terrible,” You say, retangling your fingers with his. Jake’s hand flexes in yours, and he takes another big breath.

“I’ll make sure he loses our address and forgets it too. Make sure he doesn’t remember anything at all anymore. I’ll—”

“You’ll stay right here, Jake.”

He lifts his head so it isn’t tilted against the door anymore and stares down at you. He looks like he is holding on to every word you are saying to keep his sanity. His skin is flushed from anger, and his palm shakes slightly in yours. You were in awe he was able to hold back this reaction so long, remaining calm and collected throughout the entire encounter.

“You will stay here with me, Jake. I need you.”

“Yeah?” He asks shakily.

“Yeah. Need your help, Jake.”

There is a low rumble in his chest, almost resembling the hum it was probably supposed to be. You step closer to Jake, once again closing the gap between you.

“Tell me what you need.” It comes out as a demand, and he seems to realize that when he adds on a small quick “Please.”

You look at him then, trying to read his face and those eyes that haunt your dreams. You examine the creases and lines his face makes with the severe angry look he has plastered on. You take the time to observe how his hair is hazardously falling out of place for how many times he has run his hand through it. You don’t really find any of the answers you are looking for. You just find Jake. And Jake is an oh-so-wondrous thing to find.

You step closer to him and tug the hold he has on your hand again. His nose scrunches for a moment, and his frown tightens. His eyes lift upwards towards the ceiling again as his jaw clenches; he lets go of your hand. Jake’s hand falls heavily back until it hits the door making a smacking sound. You flinch at the sound but take another step forward, crowding Jake against the door. You lift your hand up to trace over his neck and then settle on his face, encouraging him to adjust his gaze back to you. He follows direction and leans into your hold, just like you leaned into his earlier.

“Need you to stay with me,” you start slowly, encouraged as Jake nods his head in a small jerk.

“I need you to leave the front door.”

He considers your words for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry, sugar. I need to protect you.”

“There is no one in the world I feel safer with than you, Jake.” He squeezes his eyes tightly closed at those words and pulls in a ragged breath. “So, you can’t leave me alone here.”

He nods again but still has his eyes closed. “Ain’t leaving. You need me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I hold you?” Jake asks, then once again remembers his manners throwing out another small, please.

“Yes, please,” you whisper. Jake doesn’t waste a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snuggly against him. The change of angle causes your hand to slip from his face, so you wrap it around his neck instead, your fingers drifting against the short hairs there. You go to wrap your other arm around his waist but instead awkwardly hit the front door. You hiss out a small breath at the momentary pain.

Jake responds to the sound. He starts walking forward, making you walk backward. Walking while he is wrapped around you proves to be difficult, and you stumble a little. That seems to be all Jake needs; he wraps his arms under your ass and lifts you.

You are terrified at the concept that Jake is going to try to carry you, and you open your mouth to protest. However, with only one small grunt that honestly sounded more like pure sex with how low and husky it is, Jake is carrying you down the hallway. You wrap your arm around his neck more securely, adding a second one for more leverage.

Jake doesn’t stop to set you on the couch like you had expected. Instead, he continues up the stairs and right into his room. He sets you on his bed gently, and you unwrap your arms from his neck, letting him pull away. Jake goes back to the door of his room, closes it, and clicks the lock into place. You raise an eyebrow at his action.

"That’s rather presumptuous, Hangman.”

“What?” He looks at you confused before he looks back at his door. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t, I’m not.”

You shush him motioning towards yourself to try and get him to come closer again. “I know.”

Jake comes back to your side. Now that you have been given the temporary clearance to freely touch him, you cannot stop yourself. Jake sits next to you on the bed, and you are scooting closer so that your thighs are flush side by side. Jake throws an arm across your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him.

“Do you need to talk about it?” He asks you softly. You let a hollow dry laugh at his question, your laughter starts to devolve until it’s nearly hysteric giggling. Jake takes it in stride, holding you close and his thumb drawing small soothing back-and-forth shapes. After you are almost breathless and heaving, you finally start to recover.

“I don’t want to talk about it, but I definitely need to. Not with you, though, Jake.”

“Why not me?”

“Because it’s the kind of fucked you talk to a therapist about.”

“I’m a great listener.”

“I know you are, but this isn’t your baggage to pack around and deal with, Jake.”

“Baggage? Sugar, that’s why we have the attic. If that isn’t enough space, or you fill it up. I’ll build a shed in the backyard.”

“What if that’s not enough room?”

“Then we have the garage. We’ll just park in the driveway.”

“You would give up your shop?” You ask, thinking of Jake’s favorite place in the house.

“Yup,” Jake says without hesitating. “And after that, well, I’ve never been too fond of the extra guest room anyway.”

“If that’s all not enough?”

“Then we’ll move. Or we go through it until we find some we can let go of.” Jake says, his free hand crossing his body to settle warmly on your knee.

“It’s not physical baggage.”

“I know it’s not.”

The feeling of affection you feel for him grows even more. Every time you think that there is no way possible you can fall further in love with him, Jake turns around and proves you wrong. He does some kind, funny, sweet, unexpected thing that makes you fall a little harder.

You lift your head and look at him. Jake’s eyes meet your own, the severe stormy look in them a little less present. He is a bit more at ease, no longer shaking with anger. You let your eyes fall to his lips. You briefly think you love him so much it might be worth the risk to shift forward and kiss him. That maybe it wouldn’t lead to disaster like you’ve convinced yourself it would.

“What’s your favorite comfort movie?” Jake asks, breaking you from your trance. You shift a bit further away from him but not far before giving him an answer.

The two of you watch your favorite comfort movie. You are cuddled into Jake’s side the whole time. The two of you had shifted back into the bed, cuddled close while watching the wall-mounted TV in Jake’s room. Exhaustion hits you like a wall as the adrenaline leaves your system, accompanied by the heat radiating off of Jake, the way everything smells like him, and his Tempurpedic bed; you relax more than you have in a long time.

As you start to drift asleep against Jake’s chest, his heartbeat has a steady, soothing rhythm under your ear. You think out of all the times you have dreamed of falling asleep with Jake in his bed, none of those fantasies come even close to how good it actually feels. None of your dreams prepared you for how safe you would feel.

Your dreams also didn’t prepare you for sneaking back to your room at three in the morning when you woke up. Or pretending the next day that nothing had happened. After all, nothing had happened except some tense moments and Jake getting a glimpse of your past. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t, either. You catch him watching you closer than he would typically for the next few days.

More time starts to pass, and you are thankful that nothing was risked or changed between you and Jake or has affected you as roommates. There are only the slightest moments when both of you are much more casual about physical affection. Hugging Jake was now a commonplace part of your day, and you occasionally catch yourself daydreaming about what it felt like to fall asleep in his bed.

🏡🧩🏡

You had started to pick up what the signs were when Jake wasn't okay, and something was bothering him pretty early into moving in. He had some pretty obvious tells. However, something had been really really bothering him for a while now. He didn't say anything to you, but he didn't have to; Jake's mannerisms gave him away. Jake wasn't following his routine and had started obsessively cleaning.

The other night, he knocked on your door, bursting open seconds after you told Jake he could come in. Then Hangman had all but begged you to let him deep clean your room. When you told Jake no, he gave you a look like you just insulted his Babula and stalked out of the room. Half an hour later, he was back in your doorway, asking the same question phrased slightly differently. You had finally given in after his second time double-checking. However, you insisted that you helped and supervised his cleaning. Once you agreed, Jake had done his happy dance. It was so cute it managed to cover the embarrassment that was crawling in you at letting someone else, let alone the man you loved your roommate, clean your room.

The next day Hangman decided to reorganize all the bookshelves. First by color, then by genre, and even one time by the number of pages. His last reorganization was to put them all back to by author's last name. This was only after Jake talked to you for over an hour about the pros and cons of the Dewey decimal system in modern library science.

After the books, you come home, and there is a puzzle on the table. A 2500-piece puzzle of the painting Meeting On The Turret Stairs. Jake works on it constantly. Only stopping to go to work and the gym. For three days, he doesn't read and doesn't do his sudoku. Jake doesn't sit with you in the living room at night. Instead, he just works on his puzzle, blowing past his typical bedtime every night. Then he stops going to the gym, and a day after that, he cancels his weekly call with his niece. That's when you know without a shadow of a doubt that whatever is bothering Jake must be significant.

Finally, you can't bite your tongue or try to keep your nose out of his business anymore. The concern you feel is too much to handle. You had gotten up at 3 am for some water, and Jake was still puzzling at the table.

"How's it going, Sport?"

"No, I'm Hangman," Jake answers in a quiet voice.

"What?" you ask him, confused.

"Not my callsign," Jake mumbles to you. You squint and try to piece together what he means in your still half-asleep brain.

"You know someone named Sport?"

Jake just shrugs his shoulders, engrossed in his task. "There are worse callsigns to have."

"Like Hangman?" You tease him. Jake finally looks up at you when you say that. Jake's eyes are bloodshot, and he has a hurt look. The small frown, paired with his glassy tired eyes, makes you feel like you just kicked a puppy.

"Hangman is cool," Jake protests.

"Hangman is very cool," you tell him placatingly, holding up your hands in surrender.

"You don't actually think it's cool," Jake whispers, his tired eyes falling back to his puzzle. Jake sounds so sad about it that your feet are moving before your brain, and you are sliding next to him on the bench for the long side of the table.

"Hangman is cool," You say and then nudge him affectionately with your shoulder. "You are cool."

His lips quirk upwards from his frown before falling again. “Well, I am the Hangman.”

"How is the puzzle going?"

"Fine, good. I like puzzling."

"You have done other puzzles?" You ask.

"Yeah, I have a whole box full."

You hum at his words, tiredly wiping your eyes. "You should have been Puzzleman."

Jake's eyes flash over to yours, slightly worried. "Do not ever say that around Coyote."

"Hangman, It's three AM." He looks surprised to hear the time, and you watch him turn his wrist to confirm the time on his watch.

"Go to bed," You add softly.

"I like when you call me Jake."

"Then why do you listen better when I call you Hangman?"

"Hmm, maybe because that's the name I hear most often. Maybe because it's easy to be Hangman."

"Is it hard to be Jake?" You ask him gently.

Jake is quiet for a long moment after your question. Before answering, he sets the piece he had been holding back in its color pile. All he gives you is a whispered, "Sometimes."

You aren't sure what to say, so instead, you put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. "It's time for bed, Jake. It'll be here in the morning."

Jake nods his head, listening to you. You get the water you initially came downstairs for and wait until Jake starts up the stairs. Following behind him, you make sure he goes into his room. You aren't really eased about the situation when he shuts the door. However, you are glad he will at least get some sleep.

Before you go back to bed, you shoot your group chat with Marlee and Javy a text.

Have you ever seen Jake do a puzzle?

You wake up to texts from Javy and Marlee, both asking all kinds of questions like: what you meant? What kind of puzzle? With how many pieces? And, how long has Jake been working on it?

From the questions alone, you gather that your worries are correct and Jake puzzling is not a good thing. Getting out of bed, you make yourself presentable enough to venture out of your room and downstairs.

In the mid-morning light, you are once again greeted with the sight of Jake hunched over his puzzle. A steaming cup of tea sitting next to him, and Chris LeDoux playing from the record player.

"Good morning," you say.

"Morning, sugar," Jake says back. You are glad to get a response, but the worry is still gnawing at you. You start putting together your own morning drink, and your eyes keep drifting back to him.

"Jake, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He says, not looking away from the puzzle piece he is currently studying.

You stop leaning against the counter, taking your drink with you and walk over to his side. Jake is completing this puzzle concerningly fast; you notice examining his progress this morning alone. He keeps staring at the piece in his hand, unblinking even as you approach. You watch him for a few more moments before deciding it's time for you to intervene.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You pose cautiously. His eyebrows crease, and he still doesn't look away from the puzzle.

"About the puzzle?" he asks you in a hopeful tone.

"No, Jake. About what's bothering you."

He finally does spare you a glance, and you don't like how dull his green sea glass eyes are. The normally vibrant, mischievous glint isn't present, and they are slightly bloodshot and red, even after you forced him to get some sleep.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Just work stuff. I've got to finish this puzzle." He tells you, then looks away.

You frown at Jake's answer. Puzzles are supposed to be fun, and you don't think this is actually a healthy, cathartic activity for Jake anymore. You almost preferred his book reorganization or when he went to every door and oiled the hinges, the top and bottom hinges twice but the middle ones only once. When you asked why not the middle one twice? Jake had told you something about middle children that had made you laugh.

While Jake normally released stress through organization, order, and control. The frenzy and energy he has with this puzzle is different. This wasn't like the month after you moved in, and he decided to rearrange his shop in the garage. Jake had reorganized his tools, labeling where they all went. After that, he made you a booklet of where everything in the garage was located, just in case you wanted to use something. Jake was very genuine about it, too. As if he really believed you were about to start borrowing his screwdrivers, saws, wrenches, lathe, and various other tools.

Your frown deepens, and you pull out your phone, shooting a text to your group chat with Marlee and Javy. Answering some of their questions from the morning and shooting back a request of your own.

After texting with them for a few minutes, you set your phone down on the table, taking the spot next to Jake. He gives you another short look but doesn't say anything. You take a moment to look at the piece he has been staring at for over five minutes at this point.

Taking it gently from his grasp, you examine it yourself. A moment later, you place the puzzle piece into the correct spot. Jake ghosts over the piece you just placed and taps it twice as your hand retreats.

"You got to tap it into place," he tells you softly. Then Jake is back digging through his piles, looking for the next piece.

You help Jake with his puzzle for a little bit, pleasantly surprised at the textured surface of the pieces, enjoying how tactile they are. You know this must be a very expensive and nice puzzle. Any time you place a piece, you make sure to tap it twice for Jake. Each time you do, Jake gives a small nod of approval. The one time you forget, his fingers quickly find the piece again and tap it twice with a small annoyed huff. You don't try and coax Jake into a conversation again, simply enjoying just being with him.

Y'all's work is broken a while later by the doorbell ringing. The sound startles Jake, and he jumps in his seat and his head snapping towards the door. You place a hand on his shoulder again to try and ease the sudden tension.

"It's okay," you tell him quietly, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. "I'll go get it."

"No, I can get it," Jake says, starting to stand up. You know he doesn't like you to answer the front door anymore. He hasn't ever since your dad showed up unannounced. Jake has never explicitly told you he doesn't want you to answer the door. However, you have picked up on it because he has not let you answer the door once since the incident. One time Jake had even sprinted across the house to beat you to the door.

"Don't worry. I know who it is," you say. Jake gives you a concerned look but then nods a little bit. His eyes trail after you as you make your way to the entry hall.

You open the door to Javy's tall form and are immediately wrapped in a tight warm hug. You lean into his embrace, enjoying the comfort for a moment.

"Is it really bad?" Javy asks you in a low voice when you pull away from his hug.

You shrug but then follow it up with a nod. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know. Maybe not? But it's the worst I have ever seen."

Javy gives you another reassuring squeeze before he saunters into the house towards the living area. Jake's eyes are trained on the hallway, clearly waiting for you to come back. However, when he sees Javy, he blanches, dropping his eyes back to the puzzle. Jake's shoulders hunching tight almost up to his ears.

"Hey, Hangman," Javy hums.

"Machado," Jake says gruffly, fiddling with a piece.

Javy shocks you by not immediately going over to Jake. Instead, he meanders over to your TV. He shocks you even more by opening a drawer in the entertainment center and pulling out an Xbox. Javy starts hooking up the console, and you shift your eyes to Jake again.

He is still sitting there digging through his puzzle pieces. You aren't sure what to do. If you should leave the two of them alone, join Javy in the living room, or go back to the table with Jake. So instead, you end up in a weird middle ground lingering in the hallway. Finally, when Javy has everything set up, and the Xbox booted on, he goes over to Jake. Coyote sets his hands down so hard on Jake's shoulders that it jostles the blond a bit.

"Wow, buddy, this is a nice puzzle," Javy says casually.

Jake just hums in response, placing a puzzle piece and tapping it twice. Only answering once he picks up another piece. "It's a watercolor by Frederic William Burton. He painted it in — "

"It's time for a break, Hangman," Coyote says, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Naw, you see this section," Jake gestures generally towards the entire surface area of the puzzle. "It's almost done."

"Nope, it's break time," Javy repeats more firmly.

Jake's shoulders hang, and it looks like it takes him physical effort to stand up from the table. Jake's joints and back audibly pop from the action, and he raises his hands above his head to fully stretch.

You try to root yourself in concern, not thinking of the flash of skin you saw where Jake's shirt rode up a bit. Jake blinks a few times, and when he finishes stretching, he turns to fully look at Javy.

"How long are you staying?" Jake asks, daring to glance back down at the puzzle. Javy snaps his fingers in front of Jake's face twice and then points aggressively toward the couch.

"As long as I want to," Javy responds with an upbeat tone and a wide grin. He gives a light shove, and Jake shuffles over to the couch. Jake looks at you as he walks, and you can tell that he feels betrayed.

"I'll leave you to it," you say, ready to retreat into your room.

Jake looks away from you then, and you don't like the flash of embarrassment on his face as he does. It's been odd seeing Jake so completely out of his element and uncomfortable in his skin the last few days. Embarrassed wasn't a look that fits well on Jake. It made you want to rush in and remedy the situation.

"You don't gotta go," Jake calls to you.

"Javy came over to hang out with you, Jake." You say plainly. You want to give them space to talk and hang out.

"Yeah, bro, feeling the love," Javy says jokingly. It earns him a sharp jab to his side from Jake. The action just makes Javy laugh, though. "Don't worry so much, Hang. Marlee is coming by later with dinner, and then all four of us will kick back, but right now, it's me, you, and the Master Chief."

"You'll hang out with us later, though? Or are you doing something tonight?" Jake asks, ignoring Javy.

"There is nothing I would rather do tonight than hang out with you," you tell him. Jake's eyes snap up from where they had drifted to the left, lowered just enough not to meet yours. The burning bright color in them is startling after the dull, distant look he has supported the last few days. You can't stop the words you say next, needing to try and back peddle. It takes a long beat before you say, "and Marls and Javy. I don't know if you've ever had Marlee's green chile enchiladas, but they are to die for."

"They are so good," Jake agrees enthusiastically and looks down at the controller he is holding for the first time. Javy then shoots you a smile with a thumbs up, and you are reassured enough that you head upstairs and into your room.

You hear Javy's voice behind you, "You know Marlee only cooks for two reasons."

You close your door before hearing Jake's answer and resist the urge to eavesdrop. A few hours later, you hear loud yelling and laughter from the living room. Then get a text from Marlee to send the boys to help her get the food out of her car.

The rest of the night is mostly light, and Jake almost passes for his normal self. He jokes with Coyote, eats two helpings of Marlee's enchiladas, and with you... well, with you, he is hot and cold. One moment Jake will be flirting with you in a heavy bravado, then the next, he falls into a quiet, contemplative silence. Javy has to herd Jake away from his puzzle three separate times. It gets easier to draw Jake back in every time; the last time only took a question directed toward Jake to draw him back to you guys.

It is a good night, and everyone seems happy at the end. Jake hugs Javy and Marlee goodbye and leaves you to walk your friends out. You let out a small sigh of relief, seeing Jake walk up the stairs and not back to the dining room table.

You talk with the couple for a few more minutes on the front porch, then hug them goodbye. You are thankful for them, to have such good friends who are willing to be a support system, for you, for Jake, and for their other friends too. It warms your heart, and it feels a lot like family.

Jake's puzzling is less frenzied after that night, and he starts to reign back in. He has full conversations with you again and goes to the gym after work as well. He follows Javy's rules that had been texted to you both and doesn't puzzle by alone again.

For the next week or so, Javy and Marlee end up in your living room in the evenings. Keeping Jake from becoming too obsessed, you also notice that he won't let Javy or Marlee touch his puzzle pieces. But when Jake does work on the puzzle, and you are home, he always invites you to join him.

Jake makes an effort to converse with you while working too. The conversations you two get into range from academic to childhood memories, favorites — books, movies, foods, bands, animals— funny stories, and anything else that would pop in your heads. Of course, each puzzle piece must still be double tapped into place, and you are meticulous about following that rule.

Puzzling in the evenings with Jake surprisingly becomes one of your favorite times of the day. Sometimes you would even just sit there at the table with Jake, scrolling on your phone while he works on the puzzle.

Hangman's presence is a comforting steady grounding force, so much so that you can only hope you provide half of that for him. You knew you were roommates, and Jake may not carry the same romantic feelings you do. However, you couldn't deny the plain platonic affection that poured from him, so much you sometimes think M aybe . Maybe he does feel more.

When you enter the kitchen, you see the puzzle is finished. You go to examine it and realize two pieces are missing. You feel a bit of worry creeping up in you, not sure how Jake will react to having lost pieces and being unable to complete the puzzle.

You start to look around, checking every chair and bench to make sure a piece hasn't fallen. You shine a light under the couch in case they slipped under there. Then you are flipping up the edge of the rug in the living room and trying to think of any other feasible place the pieces could have disappeared.

"What are you doing?" you hear, and you snap your head to see Jake standing on the other side of the couch, looking at you bemused.

"Sorry, I was just looking for your missing pieces," you say, straightening up and fixing the rug.

Jake quirks an eyebrow then he follows your gaze to the table where his puzzle is. Jake's mouth drops open, lips barely parted, and a soft "Oh." falls out like he didn't even make the sound intentionally.

"No luck so far, though. I'm sorry. I'm sure they will turn up. Only so many places they could have gone," You say, making sure to project an upbeat, positive tone and attitude.

Jake looks between you and the puzzle twice before suddenly you are graced with the rarest of Jake Seresin's smiles. It is one you have only seen a handful of times. It's different than his smirk and his confident panty dropping smile. It's not the smile that he gets when he laughs, and his eyes crinkle around the edges or the mouth wide open smile. It's not his practiced perfect smile he uses for pictures.

No, this smile is closed-mouthed, those pearly whites hidden from view. It's a quirk of his lips like Jake is trying to hold it back from showing it on his face but he isn't entirely successful. His bottom lip is tucked a little bit between his teeth as if he is physically trying to bite back the expression, none of which prevents Jake's dimples from popping up.

It's a smile that always leaves you a little stunned, and this is no exception. Not that there are many things about Jake that don't leave you feeling that way. This smile, paired with the soft look in his eyes, makes you want to melt into the floor.

"I have the pieces," Jake tells you then. It takes you a few moments to process his words.

"Oh, you do?"

"Yeah, I do," he says and pulls out a ziplock baggie from his pocket with the two pieces in it.

"That's great!"

"They weren't lost. I was saving them, actually."

"Saving them for what?"

"For you. Well, for us."

You don't think you are able to hide your surprise at his words. "For us?"

"Yeah. You know, so we can finish this puzzle together. We worked on it together. So, we should finish it together. Few things match the feeling of putting the final piece of a puzzle into place."

God, you want to kiss him. You want to grab his face and smash your lips against his. You want to taste him and thread your fingers in his short dirty blonde hair. The little fantasy starting to form in your brain is cut off by Jake walking over to the table.

You follow him there, and Jake sets the last two pieces on the table, letting you pick which one you want. Once you make your selection, Jake grabs the other one.

"Okay, on three," he tells you with a grin. At his countdown, you both place the pieces of the puzzle. Automatically you double tap your piece into place. Jake was right; it is an extremely satisfying feeling finishing the puzzle and seeing it whole for the first time.

Your gaze drifts over the puzzle, and you look up to see Jake staring at you instead of the finished piece. After a moment, you realize what is wrong. Your hand reaches across and gently nudges Jake's to the side. Then you tap Jake's piece twice, realizing that for the very first time, he seemed to have missed that compulsion of his. However, you knew it would bother Jake when he realized he had forgotten, so you make sure to complete the ritual.

Jake's gaze snaps down to the piece you had tapped for him. Then his knuckles purposely brush against the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

"Thank you," spills from both of your mouths at the same time, which makes you laugh.

"Jinx," Jakes says in a rushed voice, making you laugh harder. That odd tension in the air between you two disappears.

You walk into the kitchen and grab a white claw from the fridge, bringing it back for Jake, handing it to him. Jake is a strict enforcer of the jinx soda pop rule. The two of you look at the puzzle for a few more minutes. Taking in the stunning painting, the yearning and sadness of it never fails to impact you.

While the two of you had been working on the puzzle, Jake had told you many different facts about The Meeting On The Turret Stairs. How it was a watercolor painting by Frederic William Burton, the poem it was based on, the era it was painted in, and its place in Irish art.

When you asked Jake more, he surprised you by knowing hyper-specific details and answers off the top of his head. Intrigued, you learned how he had double majored at Annapolis in Aerospace Engineering and History. However, because Jake was golden boy Midshipman Seresin, he had gotten away with his final history thesis being art focused. Hangman more than understood how to be charming when he needed to be.

"What now?" You ask him.

"What do you mean?" Jake asks, confused.

"What do we do with the puzzle?" you ask. It sounds much better than what you wanted to say. What now between the two of you? What were you going to do to keep spending time together?

"We take it apart." Jake shrugs.

"No," you gasp, horrified thinking of all the time you had put into the puzzle just to undo it and throw it back in the box.

"What else would we do?" Jake asks you. You think for a moment before smiling at your own idea.

"Let's Mod Podge it, and then we can hang it up. We have some pretty bare walls in the house, and it is a stunning piece of art," you suggest.

Jake doesn't even take a moment to think it over before saying, "I love that idea."

So, you two are driving to the craft store to get cardboard and Mod Podge. A week later, the puzzle has been cemented and hung on the wall in between your and Jake's rooms upstairs. After the puzzle is finished, Jake is back into his sudoku and his various other reading books. He still lingers near you in the evenings, waiting longer than he used to before retreating to his room for bed.

One night almost a month after you two had finished the puzzle, Jake brings the subject up again. You two are lounging on the couch, he had just gotten home from watching the Army-Navy game at a bar with some of his friends, and he is definitely a little bit tipsy.

"I am going to build us a puzzle table," is the first thing he had loudly declared, walking in the door.

You were instantly worried about why Jake might want to start a new puzzle. "Is everything okay?"

Jake doesn't seem to hear you, though, as he continues on. "A really nice one that opens and closes with velvet or something so we don't have to worry about losing pieces, and maybe I can even make it an adjustable height?" He is talking to himself more than to you.

You watch as he grabs a notepad and pencil out of a drawer. Then he slumps on the couch. Before you know what's happening or can stop it, Jake has his head on your lap and is sketching design ideas, potential measurements, and materials.

"How are you doing?" you ask him again, staring down at his face, unable to contain your enamored smile. Jake just nods his head and keeps sketching while mumbling.

You run a hand through his soft hair tentatively. It is a bit longer than usual right now, almost out of regulation. He will need to get a haircut this week, but the strands are so soft, and you can't help but enjoy that there is a bit more there to run your fingers through. His eyes instantly close, and he hums contently at your touch.

"Hangman?" you ask him almost teasingly, halting your movements.

"Yes, sugar?"

"Are you okay?"

He blinks his eyes open and looks at you. Their gleaming sea glass green color is a little glazed over and so very soft. His mirth is open and obvious to you. "I'm so great. Navy won."

"That's great. Go Navy." A wide grin splits his face wide, and Jake's eyes actually crinkle closed, hiding their unique color from you again.

"That's right, Honey. Ooh ahh!" Jake responds automatically, making you both laugh, and maybe you had been drinking a little bit of wine before he came home; perhaps you were warm from that, or maybe Jake was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Your eyes lock with his, and your hands pull out of his hair. You let one drift trace his face helping him relax the furrow in his eyebrows.

"Why do you want to start a new puzzle?" You ask.

"No new puzzle. A new table." He corrects you. Jake taps his pencil on the notepad pointedly.

"For a new puzzle?"

"You liked doing a puzzle with me, right? Well, after the first bit, you liked it?"

"I loved it." The words slip out of your mouth before you can amend the sentiment to come off less forward.

"Me too,"Jake says and trails off for a moment. Then he continues asking, "So you would be open to doing another one with me? Just for fun this time, not my mental health." Jake doesn't say the last sentence with any bit of shame or embarrassment, which you admire. However, the vulnerability is obvious and glaring.

"Yeah," you confirm, once again having to run your fingers over his brow to relax his face.

"Perfect. I'm building the table, then. You can pick the puzzle this time."

You can't help but let your hands slip back into Jake's hair, and he returns to sketching on his notepad. It was a moment of quiet peace you knew you didn't ever want to let go of.

"Javy said that you don't like to do puzzles with other people, and that's what helps you pull out of the pit."

Jake's eyes don't leave his notepad, and he turns the page. You watch Jake start to scrawl the pros of a dovetail joint versus a dowel joint before he starts to draw it out as well. You almost don't think he will say anything back by the time he finally does.

"You aren't other people," Jake tells you, as he starts drawing in shading, which is completely unnecessary for anything beyond aesthetic. He bends the lines from a basic blueprint to a detailed drawing of a realistic table joint. It was distracting watching the engineer in him flow into the unexpected artist.

The idea that you ever had thought his talent for art and engineering were such radically different things was a bit funny. Now that you see him dance between the lines back and forth so elegantly that you understand it wasn't two competing sides of Jake. It was just him. It was how he worked and operated.

It was how he was Hangman and also Jake. It was how he could fill out sudoku then go to bed at 9 pm and how he could shoot pool until closing with the squad. It was how he was a cowboy and a pilot. It was how you wanted to cry a little bit, knowing he enjoyed you there, knowing you weren't like other people.

And you are struck with the thought that you don't ever want Jake to do a puzzle with anyone but you. You never want to see him sitting alone at three am with bloodshot eyes putting pieces into place again. And you don't even want to consider him explaining animatedly why he believes a piece goes in one color pile and not the one it was originally sorted to anyone but you.

You want to be selfish with Jake. You want to have him, and you want to keep him close, never letting go. Surely you could convince Jake to be yours. It was a selfish act that could be forgiven if you promised to cherish him. After all, there were worse things in the world than loving someone, so entirely the fact they might not love you to the same degree didn't hurt so much.

Jake flips to the next page in the notepad and starts to sketch out the living room. As he works, the living room table starts to look significantly different than your current one.

"Oh. It's for the living room?" You ask him.

At first, he just hums in response, but when he finishes rounding out a line, Jake lifts his pencil from the paper. It pauses there, poised and frozen, as he asks, "Do you want the dining table instead?"

"No." As you continue, the pencil falls back to the page, "It just wasn't what I was originally thinking."

"I could do a dining room table too. They could even be made of the same wood." Jake says. His green eyes broke from the page to glance up at your face for the first time in a while. He searches your face trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion.

"Two puzzle tables?"

"Think of all the possibilities. We could do two puzzles at once." Jake gasps. You kind of hate the excited timbre that Jake's voice picks up at the idea, but you actually mostly love it.

"Just one puzzle at a time, please." You say, giving his hair a teasing gentle tug, ignoring the sharp inhale of his breath that immediately follows. You refuse to give away the unexpected thrill sent straight through your body that settles at your core. You have to consciously make sure your words do not fall out rushed, "I think it would be nice to have out here, comfier."

"I thought the exact same thing."

"Oh really?" You ask, amused.

"Yes, Ma'am. I've got two words for you, puzzle naps."

You huff a small laugh at him and bite your lower lip. He flips back to his first page of notes, where he had a small list of wood. He adds cherry to his list after oak.

"Juniper is really pretty," you suggest. He immediately starts to write down your suggestion with a little heart next to it. When Jake starts to shade in the heart, you feel like the one in your chest might actually burst out. Something very similar to butterflies was fluttering around in you, but it is much less nervous and rather born of pure fondness.

"Sounds beautiful. I'm sure it's perfect," Jake tells you.

"Let's pick one together, though. It should be our choice."

"No," Jake says, drawing an elegant oval around juniper. Then he goes back and strikes a straight line through the other options. "No one else has ever remembered to double tap."

Jake spends a few more minutes detailing the design before his eyes start to get sleepy, and his pencil marks become light and halting. It doesn't take much from you to encourage him to go to bed, just a whispered suggestion.

He stumbles up from the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. Jake puts his notebook on the counter in the kitchen. After that, Jake circles back to press a second lingering kiss to your forehead. You watch him go all the way around the house to double check the locks, the front door, the garage, and the back door. Finally, after sending you two finger guns, Jake drags himself up the stairs, humming Anchors Aweigh.

"Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home!" You loudly hear him sing. You listen to Jake as he hums his fight song while randomly peppering in other lyrics. When you finally hear him close his door, your mind makes a decision on the war it's been having.

You are going to do whatever it takes for Jake Seresin to agree to be yours. Potential consequences be damned; Jake is worth the risk.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #Hangman imagine #Slow burn #Roley Coley's writing #part 1 #Double tap #Hangman x you #house we share

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crookedteethed · 4 months

Text

DEPRIVED barbarism (1)

Pairing: University!Coriolanus Snow x Mysterious!reader

Summary: Taking two incompatible oaths showed weakness, but that didn't add anything to the immorality of Coriolanus Snow.

WARNING: 18+ SlightyDark! Coriolanus, SlightMean!Coriolanus Dacryphilia, Smut (p in v), Mind-fucking kink, reader is referred to as an "abomination", Fem reader, mentions of violence, (Kinda) enemies to lovers trope, Ocs, bullying

Authors note: Originally I wanted this to be one post, but I just decided to split it into two parts so it won't be so long. Going to post the second part sometime this week. Enjoy the read! ily babes <3 💗

Word count: 1.7k

An abomination. That's what they referred to you as. That's what he referred to you as.

Coriolanus Snow was too proud of himself to admit that it hadn't been more than a joke, too self-conscious to let any of his peers get a sliver of who he was outside of university. Only the Grandma'am and Tigris got to see that part of him, the part of him that smiled and made attempts of sincerity (though that fa��ade was shortly fleeting.).

After all, Coriolanus was the son of General Crassus Snow. He was to be the future President of Panem (Grandma'am and Tigris had told him such so many times that he was starting to believe that he might have a chance at presidency someday); Coriolanus didn't have time to be making jokes with his peers.

As much as Coriolanus liked daydreaming about being President someday, he knew dreaming was only for those who lacked control. For now, he was Coriolanus Snow, still the son of Crassus Snow, the tenth annual Hunger Games winner Snow. Coriolanus Snow, subject of Dr. Gaul.

Being Dr. Gaul's study subject introduced the two of you, albeit, He wasn't sure if you two were ever formally introduced in the beginning.

You just popped up one day in Dr. Gaul's laboratory, and after a week or two, Coriolanus deemed you a zit (this was before he deemed you an abomination). Zits shows up out of the blue and is hard to get rid them, and you don't want to pop it because it'll leave a blemish.

Coriolanus Was unsure if you were a student; the way you lingered around Dr. Gaul and the university made you seem like a ghost filled with dreaded longing.

Coriolanus thought, if she were a ghost, she doesn't know she was dead yet.

You weren't a ghost. Fennel Clearwillow, Coriolanus's occasional acquaintance, confirmed it.

Coriolanus was studying in the archives when Dr. Gaul approached him alongside her: you.

"Mr. Snow." Dr. Gaul greets. "Cramming your nose in a book during your substantial off day." She says, hands clasped behind her back and head held high. Dr. Gaul had this look on her face—like she knew something that you don't. At first, Coriolanus mistakes this look of all-knowing with the woman being out of her mind, but he would later conclude that Dr. Gaul is omniscient and a little omnipotent (and a little scary at times).

"Dr, nothing's the matter with a little weekend studying," Coriolanus said, making sure to flash his pearly whites.

You were there. Lingering behind the curve of Dr. Gaul's shoulder. So odd, yet compelling.

"While the rest of your peers are out partying, drinking themselves to a stupor." Dr. Gaul states.

You looked…clueless, Coriolanus thought.

"The rest of my peers are morons. They wouldn't know how to serve the Capital well if there was another rebellion."

It's like your brains had been sold separately or something.

The thought of another war breaking out terrified Coriolanus, but at least this time he knew how to aim and shoot.

This joke had been one of many self-deprecating ones. He earns a small smile from Dr. Gaul, which makes him feel pleased.

“Mr. Snow I want you to meet my…”

Latest creation? He thought.

Dr. Gaul was a psychotic mutation-obsessed woman. Coriolanus was no stranger to this. He’d seen the snakes of various colors, the rabbit mutts, and even those stupid, stupid Mockingjay, all done by the hands of Dr. Volumnia Gaul.

She’d already had a Frankenstein complex, messing with nature, so why not mutate humans next?

“My latest subject, Y/N Y/LN, alongside you, Y/N will also be studying under me.” Gaul said.

Hmmp.

Dr. Gaul nearly pushed you into Coriolanus. You stopped by the tiptoes before you collided with Coriolanus’s broad chest.

“Hello.” You say firmly.

Coriolanus nods, too occupied studying your face. He would never admit it, but Coriolanus was too stunned to speak. This was his first time seeing your face up close and not hiding behind Dr. Gaul’s wild hair or burning in some dark corridor.

Your skin hadn’t been muted with discoloration or any signs of stitching of other human body parts on you; you didn’t have that overall oddity most (if not all) Dr. Gaul’s mutation had.

If you had been created in a laboratory somewhere, Coriolanus was sure it had been an antique doll factory.

You were like a porcelain doll, like the ones Tigris had played with growing up, which she would later have to pawn off during the war for three cans of pinto beans and a jug of milk. Before they were pawned, Tigris didn’t let Coriolanus touch her porcelain dolls, scared he’d break them with that negligence only a child could get away with.

You extend your hand out, waiting for Coriolanus to accept and shake your palm, but he doesn’t. Coriolanus didn’t want to touch you. He was scared he’d put a scratch on you.

You extract your hand, the slight smirk on your face fading.

“It seems like Mr. Snow has already caught onto my intentions.” Dr. Gaul says. “You two will not be friends—Coriolanus, you know how much of a nuisance it is to have friends, don’t you? Especially in a competition.”

“Competition?” You and Coriolanus say simultaneously. Coriolanus felt a strange feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach at the smile that appeared on Dr. Gaul’s face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to throw you two into the arena.” I wouldn’t put that past her, Coriolanus thought. “Just think of the opportunity you two students have compared to the rest of the student body.” Gaul said. “How bad does that make me look? It’ll look like I’m just inviting anybody into our little secret society.”

She was anybody.

You scoff.

"I must assume the winner gets a permanent spot in this 'little secret society' then." Coriolanus said.

The winner would be Coriolanus since he was here first, obviously.

Dr. Gaul begins to nod, but she cuts herself off. "That part has been undecided, Mr. Snow; until further notice, I want to see how the two of you work with each other."

Coriolanus concluded that Dr. Gaul must get off by watching the youth of Panem suffer.

"I want the both of you to write a 6-page essay about what the punishment shall be if there were to be a second rebellion. It seems like the districts haven't quite learned their lesson, what would we do to deprive their barbarism?"

Coriolanus's face dropped in realization.

"Thank you, Mr. Snow, for the idea." Dr. Gaul grins. Dr. Gaul watches the bewilderment on both of her prodigy's faces; she's pleased with herself. "The paper is due this Monday, so there's no time to stand there so boggled."

Before Volumnia Gaul leaves her two students to work, she says: "Two brilliant minds both wanting to study under one brilliant professor. This should be fun."

Coriolanus could feel her shit-eating grin gloating through the archives as Dr. Gaul left.

You were there again.

Looking so clueless.

The sight of you alone made Coriolanus's gut churn, but that bewildered look on your face gave him hope. This competition should be easy if you were as brainless as Coriolanus thought.

But…

If you were one of Dr. Gaul's mutated experiments, you indeed had an advantage. An advantage Coriolanus Snow lacked.

Though the "competition" hadn't been set in stone, Coriolanus couldn't afford to let you win.

Snow lands on top, Coriolanus affirmed, watching you from a distance as you roamed through the "Punishment in World History" section of the archives.

Snow always lands on top.

Two hours passed.

Two hours in which you and Coriolanus hadn’t spoken a word to one another. The only sound came from the flip of a page in your textbooks or your pens squabbling over your papers.

Coriolanus looked up at you occasionally. He wondered how you got your skin to look so soft. He wanted to touch you, just one poke.

She can’t be that bad, an unrecognizable voice in his head said; this was his morality speaking.

His thoughts meshed, creating one considerable thought of you and a second rebellion.

He wondered if you would survive in a second rebellion; surely you wouldn’t; you’d shatter. And Coriolanus would have to save you from those barbaric districts. Though he didn’t mind having to save you, the thought of you being some damsel in distress made him more pleased to be around you.

Coriolanus looked down at your paper. The two you decided to split the essay into three parts each. You’d been on your second page, going onto the third. Coriolanus had just decided what he wanted to put in the introductory paragraph.

For two hours, what had he been doing?

You noticed his hostile yet imploring stares; you didn’t let it bother you until the second quarter of the hour came around.

“Sir Stare-a-lot, if you want to win Gaul’s competition, this isn’t how you do it; I’m sure cheating is prohibited.” You said, eyes still on your paper, penned hand squibbing away.

Coriolanus scoffed like he would want to cheat off you. For the past two hours, you could've been writing nonsense onto your paper.

"Like I could even read your chicken scratch handwriting from here." He spat. This makes you smirk. You snatch his paper quickly, ignorant of Coriolanus's pleas to "Give it back!"

You scanned over his paper.

Two sentences. He had two sentences, and the first sentence was the initial question rephrased.

You laugh.

"More like you can't read at all." You say. "You'd been staring at your books for two hours and this, is all you come up with? A district can come up with something better than this."

Maybe it was your taunting laugh, your comparing his knowledge to someone as low as a district, or your control over him in the short time you two had been studying together that left Coriolanus Snow speechless.

He couldn't think straight with you being around. Coriolanus excelled greatly at coming up with exciting ways to punish the districts for their wrongdoings. Still, with you sitting across from him with exquisite facial features and flawless skin, his mind drew a blank.

Coriolanus needed to recuperate; he needed you out of the picture, and he needed to win.

Part 2

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #fem reader #tom blyth #part 1 #toppost

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neowinestainedress · 2 years

Text

enough for you | lee haechan

title: enough for you | sequel to traitor

pairing: ex!lee haechan x oc/fem reader (no descriptions, no name, written in third person) | side members: huang renjun, lee jeno

genre: angst, song-fic, friends to lovers to exes, (a bit of) fluff, happy ending | requested and inspired by enough for you by olivia rodrigo

summary: all she ever wanted was to be enough for Haechan, even now that they aren’t together anymore. Until someone opens her eyes and makes her realize that she is already enough the way she is.

warnings: angst (but it's not that bad, it's more focused on the healing process)

words: 5.002k

a/n: i hope you’ll like it! let me know what you think with comments, reblogs or asks ♡

Looking back at what had been between her and Haechan she should’ve known. Should’ve seen some red flags before, instead of being so surprised when everything crumbled apart.

Sure, it was all there. But she didn’t feel like blaming herself too much when he did nothing but fool her. She had no idea what kind of Haechan she would’ve had in front of her, every day changing into someone she didn’t know.

But she loved him. Deeply, too much to really hate that push and pull. She loved him too much to see how much all that was getting to her head.

And even now that Haechan wasn’t hers anymore, now that they broke up, those doubts filled her mind.

Her confidence had crumbled into pieces, it was worse than when they started dating when he had to whisper sweet words to her hear and tell her how beautiful he found her.

“Why are you changing so much?” Renjun asked her when he met her in the corridors of their campus.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, fixing her bag full of books on her shoulder, and starting to walk to the library with her friend.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t,” she replied, chuckling.

“You never wore make-up,” he pointed out. Renjun wanted to add ‘not that style, not the kind of make-up Bora wears,’ but didn’t. She knew it.

She sighed, pushing the heavy door and waiting for him to walk inside. “Wanted to change,” she shrugged. “New break-up, new me.”

“Sure,” he huffed, pulling out a chair for her before sitting next to her. “You’re just hurting yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, hiding her face in her bag to look for the books they needed to study.

“You gave him everything you had to give,” Renjun said. “If he’s dumb and doesn’t see the value in you it’s not your fault.”

She lifted her face, glaring at him. “I’m doing this for myself.”

“Yeah, just like you started going to the arcade for you, right?” He asked, placing his elbows on the table, staring at her, making her roll her eyes. “Jeno saw you, you were more concentrated on Bora and Haechan laughing because she got herself killed every two seconds than your own game.”

She wanted to deny it, but she knew there was no point. She saw Jeno too, they made eye contact and then drifted away, but it was too late. And neither he nor Renjun were dumb to don’t know she didn’t care about video games at all.

“He never let me play with him,” she confessed. “He always got mad at me because I wasn’t good. And now he’s laughing with her for the same mistakes I made.”

“And knowing it will make you feel better?”

She chewed her lower lips, head lowered as she pulled a hangnail on her thumb. “No, but I don’t understand. How can she be so much more exciting than me? What does she have that I don’t?”

“He’s an asshole, that’s the only answer you need to give yourself,” Renjun insisted.

“No,” she replied. “You know her better than me, you don’t have to lie. I know she’s more exciting. It took me one night to get she had everything to swipe him off his feet.”

“Her being interesting doesn’t make you less.”

She hummed. Of course, Renjun was going to say something like this to her, but she didn’t want his pity. She didn’t even know what she wanted. No, she knew. She wanted Haechan back and that was something she couldn’t have.

“Let’s study,” she said, opening the first book. “I don’t want to think about him.”

But she thought about him a lot, more than she should’ve.

Every time that she was in her kitchen preparing coffee, she couldn’t help but remember their mornings together.

“I promise coffee is not that bad,” she laughed at Haechan’s disgusted face as he pushed the cup back.

“That’s like a shot of venom,” he said, trying to clean his tongue and get rid of the strong flavor.

“It’s an espresso, of course, it’s strong,” she said before turning around and opening the fridge. “Wait, let me make it better.”

“Yeah, throw it away.”

She rolled her eyes, sitting next to him and pouring the milk into the small cup. “Drink it now, come on.”

Haechan lifted his eyes on her, a furrow on his face, and then hesitantly grabbed the cup. “Just because it’s you,” he said before bringing it to his lips, tongue sticking out to try to taste just a bit before drinking it all.

“So?” She asked, big bright eyes looking at him with hope.

He sighed. “Hate to prove you right, but it’s good.”

She clapped, letting out a squeal, “I told you! You never trust me.”

“You nearly killed me before.”

“I’d never kill you, I can’t live without you.”

And it was true. Because now that he was gone it felt like she was carrying around an empty shell of her body. And she hated the way his favorite songs popped in her mind at the most random times. And she could still hear his angelic voice singing over them when he would let her lay her head against his chest and she could feel it vibrate and then drift to sleep into his hold while his voice lulled her.

She couldn’t move on when he was in every corner of her house. She still had those self-help books she bought just to impress him, to make him think she was smart. Like she had to prove something to him when her history major was going so well, when she always aced everything since she was six. It still wasn’t enough. Somehow Haechan always found a way to don’t make her feel smart enough.

“It’s not like you’re not smart,” he said, resting on the couch with one leg falling out, dangling back and forth. “You’re too emotional. You let that part of you get the best of you and you end up looking stupid.”

“There’s nothing wrong with emotions,” she retorted, trying to push away the painful emotion she felt at his words.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You panic over anything. The other day you got mad at me just because I was a bit more annoyed over the phone.”

“Lately you are always annoyed,” she replied. “And not only over the phone.”

“I told you, I’m tired,” he cut her off. “Anyway, you should read some self-help books, they might help you.”

And she did, she listened. Starting from one and then reading so many more just to make him happy. But it wasn’t like they worked. She kept being her paranoic, obsessive little self because Haechan gave her enough reasons to be. No book was going to take away the way he acted and how much he pushed her back.

“I thought you were smarter than this.”

The last person she expected to ever talk to her approached her one day, making her turn around with a furrow on her face.

“Shouldn’t you be at your table with your friends?” She asked when Jeno sat next to her in the university cafeteria, ignoring his words because she couldn’t get what he wanted from her, and she couldn’t care about it either.

“Don’t want to deal with Bora and Haechan stuffing their tongues in each other mouths,” he said, making her gag just imagining them so close. “You were much less annoying.”

“Is this a way to slap to my face how much better he’s doing without me?”

Jeno shrugged, grabbing his chopsticks and starting to eat. “No,” he mumbled after swallowing. “I told you, I don’t get why you’re still obsessing over him.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes when she got that he had no intention to leave her alone, and started to eat too. “I don’t care about him.”

Jeno almost choked from laughing at what she said. “Please, be serious,” he said, looking at her up and down. “Look at you, baggy pants, neon tops, sneakers? What happened to your dresses and skirts and pastel colors? From looking like a fairy to looking like a hip-hop dancer.”

“People can’t change?” She asked, tilting her head to look at him, still trying to understand what he wanted from her and why out of all the people he cared.

“Sure,” he said, “but it would be less embarrassing if you didn’t try to be her copy.”

She placed the chopsticks down and turned to him. “Leave.”

“No,” he retorted, turning to face her. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth none of the hurt you’re putting yourself through.”

“You are his friend, not mine,” she said, not getting why he was acting like that. Were those words coming from Haechan? Maybe he saw her changes and found her annoying once again but didn’t dare to confront her?

“I know, and I also told you I can’t stand them.”

“Sure, it didn’t seem like you couldn’t stand her when he was dating me,” she huffed, going back to her food.

“I guess he made you feel incredibly insecure, but,” he said, stopping for a moment because he didn’t know how to let her know what he thought without looking weird. “You are interesting. And you’re not annoying or whatever he made you believe,” he confessed.

She stopped eating again, looking at Jeno with a furrow on her face. “Do you have a fever by chance?”

“Oh, shut up,” he groaned, slapping her hand away from his forehead. “I’m serious.”

“How do you know?” They never talked much, well, now that she thought about it, they never went past greetings and other small talks when they ended up being alone during their group hangouts.

“You don’t want to know,” he said, drifting his gaze from her.

“Oh, no, I do. You sound like a stalker.”

“I’m not, you can be sure about that,” he defended himself immediately.

“Then what it is? I don’t need your sympathy or worse your pity, Jeno. I already have Renjun filling me up with bullshits to make me feel better and trust me, it doesn’t work,” she snapped, raising her voice, making him look around, panicking when people turned around to look at them.

“I didn’t eat,” she whined, barely grabbing her bag and trying to don’t fall on her steps as she hardly followed him when he grabbed her wrist and dragged her outside.

“We’ll skip the last lessons and I’ll pay for something outside,” he said, starting to walk out of campus, still holding her hand.

“Jeno, what the hell,” she complained but then gave up. She couldn’t care less about university either, two hours skipped weren’t going to make her fail.

“I know,” he whispered once they were outside of the garden, walking through Seoul, his hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans, his backpack on one shoulder, and his black hair hiding his face.

“Yeah, how?” She asked, getting inside of his car once they reached it, not even sure why she was following him and maybe ending up getting more hurt than she already was.

“Is there something of your heart left to break?” He asked, lifting his eyes to meet hers and when she looked behind him, he got that yes, there was something more to break. “Nevermind.”

“I want to know anyway,” she begged, grabbing his arm without thinking before letting him go, pulling away.

Jeno sighed, starting the car and driving to a place where they could eat. “Haechan talked a lot about you…” he confessed. “And not always in a positive way.”

She was expecting to feel pain, to hurt more, but maybe there truly was nothing left of her heart to break. There was nothing left of her that Haechan could break because he had already destroyed everything. Her heart, her confidence, her passions, her intelligence.

“I honestly couldn’t get half of the critiques about you,” he admitted, his gaze was concentrated on the street, but she felt a weird nervousness in his voice, and she couldn’t understand why. He always seemed like the confident type, and he wasn’t her friend, so he had no reason to be afraid of hurting her. But she shrugged it off, she, unfortunately, had other things to worry about, like her ex-boyfriend talking shit behind her back when they were together. “A bit because you seemed the total opposite of what he used to tell and also because I couldn’t find flaws in many of the things he hated about you.”

“Hated?” She asked, a look of disbelief on her face. Over the past months, she had come to the conclusion he couldn’t stand her anymore, but she never thought Haechan hated her.

Jeno nodded, not daring to turn around and see her wrecked face. “Maybe your story became too much,” he guessed. He truly couldn’t comprehend how they fell apart. He was there since the start and imagined them to be together for eternity. She had been by Haechan’s side when nobody else was and Jeno couldn’t understand how Haechan could be so stupid to let her go, especially like this. And he couldn’t get an answer from his friend. Not that he asked, it wasn’t his business after all.

“What did he hate about me?” She dared to ask, looking down at her thighs because she felt tears at the corner of her eyes. But they threatened to fall even harder because Jeno was right, she looked pathetic trying to be Bora. She hated those clothes. She wasn’t like her. She wasn’t the kind of girl Haechan wanted and no matter all the clothes she could change, or lipsticks on her face, she was never going to be her.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” He asked, parking the car before signaling her they had arrived.

“You started talking to me,” she reminded him, closing the car door behind and following him as they walked toward the place.

“And not to hurt you,” he said, scratching his neck, and she saw his mouth open again to say something, but no other words came out of his lips.

“Then why?”

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Because I think you’re smarter than this dumb thing of trying to be a copy of her. And because…nothing. We’re here,” he said, turning left and pushing the door open before looking for an empty table.

“No, finish,” she insisted, sitting in front of him, and now it was harder to escape her interrogating gaze.

“Because you deserve better than him,” Jeno confessed, cheeks reddening.

“I will never have him back,” she replied with a bitter chuckle as she felt her heart clench as the realization hit her again.

“That’s why I wish you stopped acting like this,” he said before handing her the menu. “It’s on me, get whatever you want,” he added. “What?” He asked when a smile curled her lips and she hid her face behind the papers.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. “I thought you hated me and here you are, paying for my lunch, trying to wake me up from my fantasies about my ex.”

“You thought I hated you?” He asked, raising a brow, eyes widening in surprise.

“Let’s say you weren’t the most welcoming of his friends,” she explained, smiling at him again before focusing on the menu.

“Let’s say you’re not good at reading people considering how you let him treat you,” he whispered but she heard anyway.

“You do stupid things when you want to keep somebody by your side,” she replied, but she wasn’t mad, not at Jeno at least, because he wasn’t wrong. She was terrible at reading people, especially when she loved them.

“Yeah, but now?”

She hesitated before answering, “I know… but I can’t help but still want to be enough for him. I meant too much for him. I have no idea how I…” she had to stop, feeling her eyes wet again and a gulp form in her throat. “I don’t get how he couldn’t care less about someone that loved him so deeply. I don’t get how after everything that tied us he could forget me that easily.”

Jeno nodded. “I don’t get it either. And I know you don’t want me to be the one saying those things but as I said before, you don’t deserve all this pain.”

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” she confessed. “I don’t know how to make him go away.”

“Or maybe you didn’t even try,” Jeno whispered with a hesitant voice, shily meeting her eyes, and feeling his heart clench seeing that they were off, nothing of her old bright eyes was there anymore.

“I just… I want myself back but I feel that he’s such a big part of me and I know this is wrong, but he took so much of me, Jeno. I cannot erase so many years of my life in the blink of an eye.”

And he wanted to tell her that yes, she could, just like he did. He wanted to tell her that the way he moved on so easily should’ve been enough for her to do the same or to at least don’t let him have so much power over her. But when he looked in front of him and saw her shaking as she tried to hold back the tears, he realised that Haechan was right. She was too emotional for this, too emotional for his careless way. She loved too much and Haechan didn’t know how to deal with so much love. Now that she looked at him, apologizing when a tear rolled down her cheek and ranting about how pathetic she looked and how weird this all was, he realized why she and Haechan didn’t last.

“Hey,” Jeno called her, grabbing her hand that was moving frenetically to fix the bottle with flowers she made fall by mistake, “look at me. It’s alright,” he said, smiling before he wiped her tears away. “Why don’t we eat without thinking about him?”

She nodded, slumping back in the seat, hating herself a bit more because she wasn’t so sure she could’ve avoided thinking about Haechan. Not now that she knew that he truly started slipping out of her hold much longer than that and only God knew how many other girls made him turn his head because she had never been enough for him. Because she was not enough and too much at the same time and she had no idea how to deal with it. Jeno was wrong when he said that their story became too much. The heavy thing that dragged them to the bottom of the sea was her. She was too much to take and at the first chance Haechan got, he ran away.

But weirdly enough Jeno was good at keeping her mind off her ex. He listened to her, something nobody did in ages. And he was funny, unlike the times they hung out together and his jokes never hit. Sure, it wasn’t the kind of humor that anybody could get, but right now it was enough to make her crack a laugh and feel her heart less heavy.

And with time, it turned out that Jeno in general was really good at don’t make her think about Haechan. She had no idea when they started hanging out so much, probably after he had asked for help for a class he was about to fail because he couldn’t even memorize the basis and they spent afternoons in the library studying, occasionally with Renjun’s company, that was finally happy to see that she didn’t look so heartbroken anymore.

“So, you’re finally stepping out of the house without me dragging you by the hair,” Renjun joked, they were sitting on the sidewalk while they waited for Jeno to bring them their orders from the street food stand in Hongdae. “And most importantly,” he said, looking at her dress and the make-up on her face, “you got back to being yourself.”

“You were right, it was dumb trying to be like her,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder. “Also, I look better in pink than in bright colors.”

Renjun chuckled, and then asked, “And your heart? Got back to beat for someone else?” He pointed his head to Jeno that briefly turned around to smile at them while he waited in line.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, pushing him off.

“You know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s just a good friend, like you.”

“Are you sure?”

She hummed, biting her nails, before saying, “I’m getting back up on my feet, but I’m still hurt, Injunnie. And…sometimes I still think about you know who.”

Renjun laughed before pinching her cheek. “Take your time, baby. And, next time, fall for someone that won’t hurt you this bad.”

“That someone that hurt me that bad is your friend.”

“And? You have no idea how much I fought with him for the way he treated you.”

Before she could say anything else, Jeno came back.

“Teobokki for my favorite girl,” he said, handing her the cup, making her lower her head and mumble a low ‘thanks’ and then he turned to Renjun, “and a tornado potato for you.”

“Thanks,” Renjun said. “Should we start walking again?”

The other two hummed and started walking through Hongdae again to enjoy more local singers or dancers covering songs. But she couldn’t help but think about what Renjun had told her.

She wasn’t feeling anything for Jeno, right? No, of that she was sure, at least, she believed her heart was too wounded and broken to start beating again. And she also knew that when she occasionally crossed Haechan she could feel a weird sensation in her stomach, but she couldn’t tear the butterflies and the venom apart.

On the other hand, she knew that Jeno made her feel good. But she couldn’t call it love.

She liked the way he would rest his face on his crossed arms and listen to her talk no sense for hours, his eyes crinkling up every time he laughed or smiled at something she said.

She liked the way he never made her feel stupid, even when her emotions would take over and tears fell a bit too easily from her eyes.

She liked the way he listened to her repeat for her history exams and didn’t find it boring even if she knew that it was terribly boring for him and he couldn’t care less about wars, politics, and social dynamics all around the world.

She liked hearing him talk about dance without mocking her when she didn’t understand some specific terms, or when they tried choreographies together and she couldn’t keep up with him. Most of the time it lead to them laughing on the floor like fools while they struggled to breathe from the laughs and the fatigue. And when she laid there, at his side, so close to him feeling light, she could feel her heart beat just a bit faster than usual. And maybe her stomach twisted when he turned around and smiled at her, his shaky hands moving a strand of hair out of her face.

But it was too soon, it definitely wasn’t love, and she couldn’t jump into another relationship without looking. She couldn’t use him as a replacement, she couldn’t hurt him when she was the first one to know how painful being used and betrayed was, so she left Jeno there, in the back of her heart, under the ‘friend’ label because she knew she wasn’t ready for another heartbreak.

“So, Jeno’s the lucky one.”

When she heard those words and that voice she felt her heart drop to the floor, her stomach clenched uncomfortably and she felt struck on the spot. But she still turned around, the lights of the party weren’t enough to don’t make her see Haechan standing there behind her, unfortunately for her with the same handsome face of always. And the music wasn’t loud enough for her to pretend she didn’t hear him.

“Jealous?” She asked, tilting her head and holding the glass in her fingers tighter.

“I just think that it’s just a low move to go with one of my closest friends,” he said.

She laughed, not a chuckle or a smile, a laugh, loud enough to make some others at the party turn around and stare at them before Haechan glared them off. “You talk about what’s a low move or not. You have some gut to come here and teach me a lesson.”

“You broke up with me,” he replied.

“Of course,” she chuckled, shaking her head, “how long has it been? Two months since we spoke last and you still don’t get it, you still don’t get all the pain you put me through.”

“I told you, I never cheated,” he said, taking a step forward but she stopped him with a glare.

“Yeah, because cheating is the only painful thing you can do, right? Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded? Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing? Not even respect. I’m not asking you to love me, I don’t need it anymore. No, worse, I don’t want it anymore. But you could at least stop coming in between my happiness. Why are you mad? Because your best friend can give me all the love you were never able to give me?”

“I loved you and you know it. You can’t delete five years of our story just for someone that arrived in your life in what? Two months?” He told her and when she looked at him with a serious face, eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face, it hit him. That was exactly what he did to her but two weeks after they broke things off. He was getting mad at her for the same thing he did, but he did even worse, he hurt her more than she could ever do now.

“So, is it clear now? Do you feel at least half of the pain I felt? Do you feel betrayed like I felt?”

Haechan didn’t answer, he stood there, staring at her while all his mistakes crumbled on his shoulders and pushed him to the ground. He was the reason their story fell apart. He had hurt her. He had betrayed her. And he couldn’t get mad at her for moving on with anybody else, not even if it was Jeno, not even if that meant seeing them together all the time.

That was her payback, and all of a sudden, he realized he had no more reasons to be mad. And probably, it would’ve been better if he simply avoided approaching her in the first place. But he did that, and they were there now, and he deserved it, he deserved to feel all the humiliation he was feeling right now.

But she was glad he did. Sure, those past months not talking to him helped her, but this conversation made him realize what he had put her through. And she loved to see that he was finally bleeding too. Sure, revenge wasn’t a virtue, but she couldn’t care. She was tired of his smug smile, of his confidence when he broke her apart. She was tired of seeing him walking around like a God without realizing all the pain he was causing.

And right now, in front of her, there was a broken-hearted Haechan and she had no idea if he was regretting it because he missed her, because he had realized that Bora couldn’t give him what she gave him, or if simply because he didn’t like losing and his pride now was eating him alive. Knowing him, well, finding out over time who he truly was, she would’ve bet on the latter, but she truly didn’t care.

Haechan wasn’t her problem anymore.

She was done with this story, with him, with his lies, and his games.

And since he seemed to have no intention to talk again, she started walking past him. She had a party to go back to, and an entire night to dance between arms that weren’t his, between the arms of someone that made her feel good and enough. A feeling she had forgotten all these years by his side.

“And for your information,” she said, turning around again because she needed to put an end to this with a light heart, “between me and Jeno there’s nothing. But who knows, someday I’ll be everything to somebody else. And they’ll think that I’m so exciting. And maybe then, only then, you will be the one who’s crying.”

Haechan didn’t dare to meet her eyes, the floor wouldn’t have hurt as much as meeting her cold heart would’ve, the floor couldn’t remind him that she wasn’t his anymore and it was all his fault.

“All I ever wanted was to be enough for you, Haechan,” she said, looking into his eyes when he lifted them, and not feeling pain, not feeling anything anymore. “But thanks to you I found out I was already enough for someone else. And I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not. I don’t have to hurt myself just to keep them. They don’t leave me all alone crying, wondering what I did wrong.”

“You were enough for me,” he tried to stop her from leaving him again, grabbing her hand but she swiftly pulled away from his hold, making a crack form in his heart.

“No,” she replied, a bitter smile painted on her face as she stared into his brown eyes, “I don’t think anything could ever be enough for you.”

HAPPIER (finale): READ HERE

#haechan oneshot #haechan fanfic #haechan angst #lee haechan angst #donghyuck angst #lee donghyuck angst #haechan scenarios #jeno fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct angst

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lostloveletters · 2 months

Text

Big Girls Don't Cry (Bucky Egan x OC)

Summary: After a night out spirals out of control, Holly thinks she's doomed to be a haunted house. Bucky’s brave enough to let the light in.

Note: An angsty first kiss for Holly and Bucky…I’m so overwhelmed by the response to the MotA fics I’ve posted so far, thank you so much🖤 There's going to be a parallel Woody/Brady-centric fic to this, which is why I included a decent ensemble here lol. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Descriptions of a panic attack and related self-inflicted injuries; mentions of death and grief (hurt/comfort). Inevitable historical inaccuracies. Ends on a somewhat suggestive note, but nothing explicit.

Holly was exhausted when Bucky asked her to go to the pub in town with him and some of the other pilots that evening. She initially hesitated, but between his near insisting and her notion that a break from the base would do her good, she accepted the invitation. When she found Woody later on to ask if she was going, Brady had already invited her, a light blush spreading across Woody’s face when she told Holly. The overall group of seven required pushing two tables together and stealing some empty chairs.

“Holly, your drink’s on me. I got $4.50 when you won the last typing contest,” Bucky said.

“You bet on it?” Buck asked.

“I knew she’d win.”

“Beat her own record,” Woody added.

Buck shook his head, smiling a bit. Holly liked Buck a lot, especially the way his face lit up when she asked him about Marge. Seemed to be physically lighter, too, like the weight of being one of the de facto leaders of the 100th was off of his shoulders for that moment in time. He’d get almost flustered if he realized he was rambling, apologizing for taking up so much of her time talking about his girl even though she was the one who asked him.

“Which is why I’m buying my sailor a dark ‘n’ stormy, and the rest of you are on your own.”

She laughed, “Thanks, Bucky.”

‘My sailor.’ He had taken to calling her after they listened to the Nationals-Yankees game together. But she apparently inherited her sailorship from Stan, her preference for rum and penchant for cursing around Bucky (and few others), made him designate her so.

Nevermind she had only been on a boat a handful of times, one of which was the ship that brought her over to England from New York, and no, she didn’t know any sea shanties. He took it upon himself to learn one from a local laborer who worked on schooners at the turn of the century. Of course, Bucky had been drunk when he tried to teach her the song, remembering half of the lyrics and ad-libbing the rest. She left the singing to him.

She still had one secret–an anchor tattoo on her upper arm. An impulsive decision she and Stan made together when she accompanied him to San Francisco the week he shipped out to the Pacific. The same week she met Woody, and the rest of her life started before she could blink.

Being in the pub with everyone was the most normal she’d felt in a while. She hoped could finally shake whatever stormy clouds had made their home in her mind over the past year.

“Hey Holly, you’re from DC, right?” Curt asked abruptly. “You ever meet the President? See him around the neighborhood or something?”

She laughed. “No, unfortunately I’ve never run into President Roosevelt at the drug store.”

“How would he even do that? He’d get mobbed,” Crank said.

Woody nodded. “He’s probably got a mean security detail, too.”

“Well he can’t spend all day in the White House!”

“Why not? Heard they got a bowling alley in there,” Buck said.

“Woody, I’ll get you a beer?” Brady asked, his voice low among the clamor of what President Roosevelt did for fun in the nation's capital.

“Thanks, John.”

Holly sneaked a glance at her best friend when Brady stood up and headed over to the bar. She wasn’t sure if Woody had told him that Holly knew about them. There were few, if any secrets between Holly and Woody, and guys were certainly no exception.

“Look, if I were the president, I’d wanna know my neighbors,” Curt said.

“If you were president,” Buck repeated, toothpick between his teeth as he smiled. “Listen to him.”

“Hey, anybody can run,” Curt said. “That’s what it says in the Bill of Rights or something.”

“That doesn’t mean you should,” Crank said.

“You got my vote, Curt,” Bucky announced, setting his and Holly’s drinks on the table.

“Thanks, Bucky. You’ll be my VP.”

Bucky grinned, sitting next to Holly. His arm settled on the back of her seat, his fingers brushing the ends of her curly hair.

The next few minutes was a game of musical chairs as everyone else came and went with their drinks of choice, Brady taking the seat next to Woody as soon as it was open.

Holly found herself leaning against Bucky as she drank, nursing her dark ‘n’ stormy with the intent of making it last until it was time to leave. He was the only person she felt comfortable enough to be in such close contact with besides Woody. He felt like sitting next to the radiator in her childhood bedroom, and she nearly nodded off after some time, Buck and Bucky in the middle of some conversation she couldn’t follow.

Curt returned to the table with what must have been his third or fourth beer of the night.

“Hey Bucky, some of these blokes are lookin’ to play darts,” he said, motioning behind him.

Bucky nodded. “Hope they’re ready to cover my tab.” He threw back his whiskey and gave Holly’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he got up. “C’mon, doll.”

Holly didn’t remember much of what happened between then and when she heard it. An entire chunk of time morphed into a hazy blur in her mind. Vaguely remembered cheering for Bucky and Curt. Then Curt called an RAF pilot an asshole, and a fight nearly broke out before fizzling down by the grace of god. Or maybe Buck stepped in. Bucky had something to her before his turn, an aside she laughed at, but couldn’t recall.

Different conversations around her jumbled with one another, stringing together in a cruel way only her own mind could conjure up for her. She heard him clear as day.

“Stan?” she whispered, her voice crazed with illogical hope.

Her heart raced. She looked frantically around the room for a sign—any sign of him.

But Stan was dead. There’d been a funeral with a body. His mother wept over the open casket. Her own mother had written as much. Sent her the funeral program which remained hidden among her belongings.

She kept the accompanying memorial card on her person at all times. A nice photo of Stan in uniform. His full name. Dates of birth and death. A bible verse and a little mention of his service in the Navy.

Stan was dead. Had been for over a year.

Her chest tightened, pulling like a rubber band about to snap. As the room closed in on her, she barrelled through the pub patrons, paying no mind to who was in her path, only that they were between her and a door.

The cool night air shocked her skin, but it wasn’t enough to snuff out the burning in her lungs. Panic overtook her brain. With a strangled shout, she curled her fist, unleashing months of unspoken grief directly onto the brick wall in front of her. Pain struck her hand like a bolt of lightning, but she could breathe again.

Her knuckles split open, bruises blossoming across her fingers in the darkness. “Fuck!” she shouted, both in pain and disbelief at herself. “Motherfuck–”

The alley door slammed open, chaos from the bar ringing in her ears as she looked wide-eyed at the person who interrupted her. A tense mortification swept over her body.

She’d been doing so well. Kept the self-destructive thoughts at bay. Used to chew on her bottom lip until it bled, the pain of broken skin and taste of copper strangely grounding when her mind wandered too far. Hadn’t done in it months. But she never exploded. Not quite like this.

Bucky stumbled forward, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Holly?” he asked, his gaze drifting down to her hand. “Jesus, what happened?”

Of course he would be the one to witness her breakdown. She wished it were Woody, but she sure as hell didn’t want to ruin her best friend’s night out with her boyfriend either.

Woody was used to it. Holly was always too embarrassed to go to a nurse, so Woody would sit her down and carefully apply petroleum jelly to Holly’s raw lips, eyebrows knit together in concerned concentration as her fingers brushed across the cracked, scabbed over skin. Didn’t care if she had been working for over twelve hours straight or was in the middle of something else.

But Bucky wasn’t Woody, and she never wanted him to see her like this.

Holly stared at him, trembling as he took a tentative step toward her. Tears welled up in her eyes. She frantically rubbed at them with her sleeve. She let out a shaky breath.

“Holly,” he repeated. “Are you alright?”

“I felt like I was going to explode in there so I came out here and…” She flexed her injured hand and winced. “I heard someone talking. He sounded just like Stan.” She swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling more pathetic as she explained herself. “I guess my wires got crossed.”

“Hey, it happens,” he tried assuring her. “You think you’re the only one?”

Holly shook her head. “Even when I got the letter last year, I still showed up and did what I had to do. Didn’t miss a day.” She was silent for a moment. “I don’t know why tonight was so different.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” He took her bruised hand, whispering an apology when she hissed in pain. Examined it as best as he could in the cover of night. “At least not any more than you already have.”

“I punched a brick wall. I’m not gonna be able to type tomorrow,” she said, quickly adding, “I can’t go to a nurse. They’ll ask what happened, and I’d rather crawl in a hole somewhere.”

He shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll patch up that hand for you. It’s probably not even that bad.”

“Don’t cut your night short because of me.”

Briefly, almost enough to convince her it was just a trick of the moonlight, he looked uncharacteristically sheepish. “It’s the least I can do for making you come out tonight.”

“Bucky, you didn’t make me do anything. I don’t want to be some wilting flower who’s too afraid to keep living. Stan wouldn’t have wanted that for me. I just wish my brain would get the message.”

“Well, I’m sure Stan wouldn’t have wanted you to walk all the way back by yourself if you didn’t have to,” he said.

She smiled weakly. “Yeah, he’d chew me out for that.”

So would Bucky, if this had happened and he hadn’t found her. If she walked back to Thorpe Abbotts alone in the dead of night with nothing but the stars to keep her company. She never cared for them, especially not after Stan. They gave the night glistening teeth that tore her apart far too often for her to be comfortable beneath them.

“Hey, what about darts?” she asked, a good distance away from the pub.

“I pulled Crank in. He can hold his own. Besides, if there’s an angry bartender hunting me down on the base tomorrow, you could probably hold him off for me,” he joked, lightly elbowing her side. “You got one hell of a hook.”

“Stan taught me.”

“He taught you how to fight?”

“Sort of, but he was probably thinking more along the lines of self-defense instead of getting into fights with brick walls.”

“That wall had it coming. If you didn’t punch it, I probably would’ve.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Will you tell that to Chick so he doesn’t kill me tomorrow?”

“He’s not gonna kill you. Might be pissed that his best typist is gonna be out of commission for a few days, though.”

“I can still proofread. Or sort mail. Or—“

“Let me worry about that, alright?”

Holly hesitated. “Alright.”

—————

Bucky had the keys to the Air Exec office, empty for the night, and sat Holly down at her desk. He disappeared for a few minutes, but returned with an armful of peroxide bottles, absorbent cotton, and a roll of gauze.

“Geez Bucky, don’t waste all of that on me.”

“If I brought you to a nurse, they’d use it on you, anyway.”

He pulled up a chair, his knees touching hers as he took a closer look at her hand beneath a desk lamp. His eyebrows furrowed as he considered the dried blood, cuts that had already begun to scab over, and a particularly gnarly knuckle that didn’t sit quite right.

“I don’t think it’s broken, but one of your knuckles got dislocated. I’m gonna clean your hand and then pop it back into place.”

“Fuckin’ A,” she said. “I learned that from Stan, too.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“No. Neither did he.”

He snickered, grabbing the peroxide and some cotton. “What was Stan like, anyway? Sounds like an interesting guy from what you told me.”

“Stan was…” She paused. Nobody asked her about Stan. All anyone knew was what little she offered. What was he like? “He cursed like a—well, he was a sailor. Of course he was a Nationals fan. Loved detective novels. We’d have ones we’d read together and see who could figure out the big plot twist first. His front tooth was chipped, but god, he had the best smile. I’m talking serious wattage—“

“Wattage?” Bucky repeated incredulously.

“Okay, I made that up—think electric! He could light up a whole room with just his smile,” she emphasized with a smile of her own. “You know what I mean?”

He glanced up from her hand to her face for a moment. “Yeah, I do.”

“What else…we had this goofy thing going where we’d play tic-tac-toe in our letters to each other. I started doing that because I’m not great at writing letters. I never know what to say, but I wanted him to still look forward to getting them from me.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“I just started secretarial school when he got a job at this fish market up the street from my house. I remember thinking he was so handsome, he almost looked out of place,” Holly said, her voice soft for a moment. “Well, I’d spend so much time there that my mom would complain about how awful I smelled by the time I got home. I asked him out first.”

Bucky laughed. “You’re kidding.”

A wide grin spread across her face. “I wanted to make him mine before he could even think about another girl, so I went in one day and said, ‘When are you gonna take me to see a movie?’ Most guys wouldn’t have liked that, but Stan got a kick out of it. He’d tell the story to anyone who’d listen.” She paused. “I think what really scares me is that at some point, I’ll remember him for longer than I knew him, and I’m always gonna be…like this.”

“I’m gonna set your knuckle back in place now,” Bucky said, his voice low, almost contemplative.

Holly tensed, staring at the ceiling while Bucky pushed against her bruised knuckles. Bone clicked back into place. She groaned. Clenched her good hand into a fist, blinking away tears.

“Barely flinched,” he said. “You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for, doll.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Bucky.”

They were quiet as he finished bandaging her hand. The room was almost chatty though, buzzing overhead lights, ticking clock on the wall, a leaky pipe somewhere. Among them, a thought broke free from the confines of Bucky’s mind.

“Stan was lucky to have a girl like you waiting for him.”

Glassy brown eyes, wavering with the weight of the world, stared back at him in silence.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Holly. I shouldn’t have—”

She kissed him, her bandaged hand caressing his cheek. Weeks of silently longing, lusting, and wondering, answered in full as she moved her lips against his. Nearly forgot to kiss her back until he felt her pulling away.

He placed his hand over her bandaged one, still tenderly cupping his face. The gauze was rough against his skin, a contrast to the pads of her fingers. He curled his fingers around hers, her blunt nails lightly scraping against his cheek.

She gasped against his lips. “John.”

A shiver rolled down his spine as he brushed his thumb over the bandage he’d just finished wrapping, her knuckle that he set back in place for her. All for her. And she kissed him first.

‘I wanted to make him mine.’

Mine.

Her dulcet tone echoed in his head until he couldn’t think of anything but kissing her again, offering himself to her as the sole object of her affection.

Mineminemineminemine. “Holly, baby—” He was trying so hard to be coherent, nearly choking on his words until finally uttering, “I’m all yours.”

#bucky egan x oc #john egan x oc #bucky egan x ofc #john egan x ofc #masters of the air #bucky egan #john egan #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #mota oc #masters of the air oc #ch: holly

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readychilledwine · 10 months

Text

Pressure

A/n: this was heavily inspired by this post

Amelia is one of my favorite ocs I have trapped in the writing world I keep under lock and key. She is one of my Archeron sister characters that I decided was the perfect firey match to Eris. In this little snippet of their lives together, she's just finally had it. Maybe someday, I'll be brave enough to bring their full story into light.

Warnings - mentions of smut, a lot of vulgar language, implied mental breakdown, alcohol use as a coping mechanism, Beron Vanserra is mentioned, and a lack of editing.

Amelia was just done.

Between the constant pressure of being the dutiful wife of the future High Lord of Autumn, the sister of the High Lady of Night, and Beron's new favorite toy to fuck with, she had finally had it.

Her hair was a tangled mess on top of her head. She had attempted to hide it in a messy bun, but it was no use. The blonde mess of curls had officially taken on a mind of its own.

She knew her makeup was smudged, but she could not find the energy to care. Exhaustion had won today. Hence, the two steaming cups of coffee she was double fisting like Cassian at Rita's. Black mascara and eyeliner caused her already tired eyes to look even worse.

She had not even bothered to change since her 4pm breakdown in the dog kennels. She was covered in fur and the lingering scent of hounds. She knew she should bathe, make herself presentable before Eris got to their chambers, but she just genuinely did not care anymore.

She had lost herself in this game of High Lord manipulation and mental chess. It was a game she had never asked to play, and one she was sure would be the death of her if Eris did not off his father soon.

She had loved to read before this all. But lately, she never had time, and when she did, the book quickly found its way into her "rainy day reattempt later" pile. She was trying to distract herself with another attempt at a book tonight, though.

She thought maybe a different genre would help. She had taken Azriel's recommendation in a psychological horror novel, and just found herself laughing at the poor build up, the half effort descriptions, and the ever growing plot holes.

"I fucking quit," she tossed her book to the side, sipping on the warm bitter liquid as she stared into the fire.

"My spark," the deep honeyed voice of her mate reached her ears. "Amelia, baby, what's wrong?"

"Fuck you and fuck this place." Eris chuckled at her response before sitting on the couch near her spot on the floor. "Fuck the games. The court systems. The High Lords. Fuck the fae. Fuck being fae. Fuck all of you."

She took another deep sip of her coffee nose scrunched at the bitter taste. Eris could feel her through the bond. He could feel her love for him, but it was weighed down heavily by her anger, frustration, and exhaustion.

"Tell me more," Eris leaned his elbows onto his knees. He was allowing his wife, his mate, this one moment of anger. He knew this dance all too well, and he could tell she needed to have this moment.

"I really fucking hate that prick your dad has in charge of the libraries. He's a condescending piece of pond scum, and I will dance near his pyre one of these days," Eris felt his eyes go wide, covering his mouth to hide the laughter threatening to escape.

Amelia continued after sipping her coffee. "I hate your father, too, actually." She paused, switching to sip the coffee she had secretly added Eris's whiskey into. "Do you know what that fucker said to me today?"

Eris smirked. "Tell me what he said, my love."

"That fucker said to me I was failing at my duties as a wife since we do not have a child yet. He told me to fuck you more and learn my place."

Eris was frozen as he watched her drink the coffee he could smell liquor radiating from again. "And what did you say?"

"I told him you've never once complained about how I perform my wifely duties when your cock is in my mouth. That shut him up real fuckin fast. Fucking asshole."

Eris took in Amelia's appearance for the first time. Her heavy eyelids. Her chapped lips. Her messy hair and disheveled clothing. She had not bathed today, and he knew she had not slept last night. He took in the look of despair etching deeper into her face as she drank. The stack of books tossed onto the ground without care.

"I think we need a vacation, my love." Eris's voice was soft as he moved to sit on the ground with his mate. "Maybe I should send a message to Kal. We could go to Winter for a little-"

"Fuck. The. High. Lords. Fuck the games. Fuck the song and dance. If we're going to be putting on a show, it may as well be in this fucking hellhole."

Eris paused. Any trip to another court would involve Amelia and him playing the same roles they were in daily. The ones she clearly had enough of. There were few places he would be able to take her to get away from all of this, and he knew of a perfect one.

"How about the cabin?"

He watched as her breath hitched. Her eyes peeked over to him before refocusing on the hearth. They had not been to the cabin since their mating ceremony. It had been two months of them alone. Two months of love, sex, and silence.

"No duties. No High Lords. No masks. Just you, me, and the hounds." He kissed below her ear. "Just us. All alone. Up in the Autumn mountains. Where you can scream as loud as you like. Curse as loudly as you like." Another kiss on her jaw line and then her neck.

"Just us?"

He nodded as he caged her between him and the couch. Straddling her thighs with his knees so she could not escape.

"Just us, our hounds, and that wicked mouth of yours."

"Take me," she whispered to Eris, her blue eyes sparkling for the first time tonight. "Take me please."

"I intend to," Eris nipped her nose, grabbing her small hand in his as she went to smack his chest. "If you go take a bath."

Amelia shut her eyes before chuckling. "Fuck you."

Eris smiled gently down at her. "And you'll get to. After your bath. Come my spark, we will bathe together and plan our trip."

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #acotar x reader #eris vanserra

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acesofspadess · 4 months

Text

Let The Games Begin

Worth The Risk Masterlist

narry x oc

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

You know the saying, easier said than done, well you never meant to take that so literal. Over the course of the next couple weeks, shit had hit the fan. You were good, that was never the question, but being so young and inexperienced compared to the rest of girls set you behind from the beginning.

“The final contestant who’s made it through… is…”

It wasn’t your name. And while 99% of you knew it wouldn’t be, the 1% in you was more hopeful than ever. You didn’t let the tears fall until you were backstage by yourself. You went to text the siblings before someone sat next to you. “I'm sorry you didn’t make it. You were really good.” The accent wasn’t like your own. “Did you not make it either?” you saw the redness in his eyes, and when he shook his head to confirm your guess you rested your head on his shoulder. “Autumn.” you recited, “Niall.” he gave back.

“Nice to meet you Niall, even under the unfortunate circumstances.” you both laughed softly at the attempted joke before silence fell over you both. The silence was comfortable, it was peaceful, home like almost.

“Can I have all the girls over here please?” one of the workers called in your area and you and Niall looked at each other, confusion over your faces. “Maybe they’re collecting the boys too? Go and check.” you urged as he helped you up. “I’ll see you later Autumn.” he waved goodbye as you went in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile….

Nicole, Louis, and Simon, were looking at the photo cards of the boys. “I like these 5 together.” Nicole happily cheered but Simon seemed off-put. “It's missing something.” he pointed out, and while Louis and Nicole thought to adjust the boys Simon went over to the girls group. He looked for a specific photo and once he found it he put the card in line with the boys.

“No Simon, you can’t do that.” The first disagreement was made by Nicole. “But her voice would go perfectly with the rest of the boys.” he stood his ground and looked to Louis who was studying the faces intensely. “I have to agree with Simon, Nicole. They look good together, I'm sure they would sound even better. I don’t know why you have something against her.” He defended and stood with Simon.

“I don’t have anything against her,” she quickly told off. “I just don’t think that she belongs in a boy band.” Louis looked at the photos one last time. “Then let her choose.” he offered, looking down at Simon who spoke, “Have her come in with the girls, then we’ll decide from there. But I think even she would prefer the boys.”

Present…

As you walked on stage with a group of girls from the left wing, a group of boys, some of which you recognised, Harry, Zayn, and now Niall. You couldn't stop looking over at them, wishing you were with familiar people, some who actually cared to learn your name.

“Hello.” Nicole spoke softly into the mic making you snap your head away from the boys as everyone repeated the greeting. “Thank you so much for coming back. I know judging from some of your faces that this is really hard. We’ve thought long and hard about you individually, and you are all too talented to let go of. So we’ve put together two separate groups.” Nicole handed the mic to Simon who was looking right at you. “Autumn, do you mind joining the boys?” The faintest smile made its way to your face as you walked across the stage standing in between Harry and Niall as they had created a space for you.

“See she looks happier there.” Simon whispered to Nicole as you walked across the stage. She nodded in understanding, having to admit that you did indeed belong with them. “We’ve decided to put you both through to the judges rounds.” Time seemed to freeze as you repeated what he said over through your head till you were being wrapped in a massive hug. You immediately wrapped your arms around the figure you now knew was Niall before you both separated and shook Harry who was crouched into himself. He popped up wrapping you and Niall into a hug full of laughs and cries.

As you walked off the stage together you all huddled up again. “I know this might be weird with me, but I have an older brother-.”

“You're one of us now, it doesn't matter.” One the boys who you hadn’t met yet cut you off and you smiled. “Louis.” he held his hand out. “Autumn.” the tallest boy came over to you too. “Liam.” you knew he had heard you so you didn’t repeat it again. When you all walked outside you saw Bentley, Nan and Pap, and Anne chatting together. You assume it was over what just happened. When they saw you, you and Harry ran towards them. You hugged Bentley who held you tightly. “Where’s Bev?” he pointed towards the car to see Beverly asleep. “She has the ability to fall asleep anywhere.” you both laughed before you dragged him over to meet the rest of the boys. “Bentley, Niall, Louis, and Liam. You’ve already met Harry, and Zayn.” he greeted them as Anne pulled you into a hug. “I’m glad you're with them. They need some girl power in their lives.” you laughed with her as it came naturally.

Anne decided she needed a picture of all you, and as you sat on the stairs next to Harry in front of Liam you were truly in for a ride.

———————-

Worth The Risk Masterlist

tags:

@youcan-nolonger-run @ravenclawdirectioner

@luxiorchive @maeflowers653 @purple9950 @forkmeniall @nathalielovesonedirection @hopsydaisy @shortie-niya

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vassia-sparta · 1 year

Text

Daemon Targaryen x OC (Stark)

So, this is my way of coping until the new season of House of the Dragon is released.

Synopsis: After Daemon is wounded during a patrol with the City Watch, how will his Stark wife react?

This is a oneshot, and contains adult themes, so anyone under 18, please do not read.

You have been warned!

Also, POV is from the OC.

Enjoy!

I had been having tea with the Queen and a few of her ladies, when word came that my husband had returned from his patrol down in the city. That was not the concerning part though.

“I heard from one of the men of the City Watch that he was wounded my lady,” the servant girl stuttered. “Wounded seriously.”

I got up from my seat, hastily made my apologies to the Queen, then made my way out of her chambers and down the many corridors, passing by a lot of nobles and servants, ignoring their enquiries and whispers, hurrying to reach our rooms.

I could hear my husband’s screams and curses all the way down the corridor that led to our wing of the keep. That put me a bit at ease, so I slowed down my pace, coming to stand right outside the entrance to our bedchambers.

“He is in a bad state my lady,” ser Frederick Selwyn, his second in command, said to me when he saw me. “He is wounded, but he is in too much pain to let the maesters sew up his wound. They suggest we try to give him something to sleep so they can help him, but he won’t let us.”

“I see,” I nodded, going through the half-open door, pausing when I heard another string of curses coming out of his mouth as he tossed a vial of something the maester gave him. The thing crashed against the wall, coating it with whatever salve was inside it.

“I will not be drinking anything you grey sheep want to give me,” the Rogue Prince yelled, turning away from the poor maester. He was one of the newer ones, barely three months here in the capital. Two of his acolytes stood in the corner, their wide eyes watching Daemon’s every move.

“My prince, you have to listen to the maesters,” ser Marwyn Westerling, one of Daemon’s close friends, tried to reason with him, but the Rogue Prince wouldn’t listen.

“I don’t have to listen to any of them,” my husband raged. “I am fine, I just need to rest a bit.”

I could see at least one wound on his right side, though it was a small one, and another on his left shoulder, bigger and deeper, both bleeding. His tunic was soaked through with blood, and yet he still didn’t want the help of the maesters. I knew well that his stubbornness would be his undoing. He’d rather die than let someone help him.

“Everyone, please leave,” I called out in a clam voice.

The maester jumped at the sound of my voice. He must have been scared out of his mind, after coming face to face with an irritated and wounded Targaryen prince.

“My lady,” he approached me, his voice dropping to a whisper, “if we don’t treat your husband’s wounds, he will bleed out.”

“I will take care of my husband, you can go now,” I assured him, giving him my best serene smile.

The men hesitated for a moment, but one look at the wounded dragon warrior was more than enough to convince them to leave. They knew better than to force their luck with him.

Ser Marwyn hesitated at the door, but I just smiled politely at him, nodding that I would be fine.

When the door closed, leaving us alone in the room, I turned to face my husband. He had sat down on one of the chairs near the balcony, breathing heavily.

“Rough day?” I simply asked, making my way to a nearby table, pouring a glass of his favorite strongwine before I walked up to him.

“Nothing a dragon cannot handle, she-wolf,” he spat, taking the glass from me and downing it all in one go.

I smiled to myself, amazed at how he would continue this little game we had going on ever since we were forced into this marriage. He would call me she-wolf, and I’d call him rogue dragon. We both refused to use each other’s name, if only to irritate each other. It worked, on both sides.

“Well, it seems this time the rogue dragon has bitten a little more than he can handle,” I nodded at the wound on his shoulder.

“This?” he wiped at it with his hand, wincing a bit as he touched it. “This is a lover’s caress,” he smirked, his eyes glinting with sass.

“Well, your lover has some pretty sharp nails,” I smirked back at him, unfazed by his barb. “What did you do, did you tell her that you found someone else and won’t be fucking her anymore?”

He looked up at me, his eyes wide.

“That is no way a lady should be talking,” he warned me.

“But I’m not a lady,” I reminded him. “We have long since established that I’m merely a she-wolf,” I shrugged, taking his glass to refill it.

As he drank his second glass, I went to a basin of water and drenched a piece of cloth in it. I made my way to him, then started to clean his skin from all the blood.

“Fuckin’ piece of work, he caught me by surprise,” Daemon muttered, leaning back his head and closing his eyes.

“Ambush?” I questioned, taking extra care around the wounds. The one on his side had stopped bleeding, it wouldn’t need stitching, but the one on his shoulder, that was another story. Whoever had hit him, it had gotten him good.

“That cunt was hiding behind a corner, with an axe at hand. Went right through my armor, would have taken my head off if not for ser Strong.”

“Why would someone attack you for no reason?” I questioned, walking up to the basin to rinse off the cloth. The water turned pink, darkening every time I dipped the cloth back in.

“Not like I have a great army of friends in the city. I probably killed one of his gang buddies or something, sliced his brother’s hand for stealing, cut his best friend’s dick for sticking it where he shouldn’t have, the list could go on and on,” Daemon shrugged, wincing as his wound gushed some more blood.

“Yet people still call you the Prince of the City and cheer for you at every tourney,” I reminded him, trying to clean his other wound. “Surely you must have some who like you, especially around the Street of Silk,” I smirked at him.

He looked up at me, his face growing serious. I didn’t know why he looked at me like that. It was no secret he was a frequent patron of the many brothels residing in the Street of Silk, both before our marriage and after. I ignored him, more focused on the task at hand.

After I finished cleaning his wounds, I took thread and needle, refilled his glass, then set out to stitch him up.

“Better drink that, this will hurt a bit,” I warned him as I threaded the needle and approached him.

He focused those dark violet orbs on me, and I found myself having trouble breathing for a moment.

I always had that reaction when Daemon looked at me like that. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, that fateful day at the throne, just before my father and king Viserys had announced that we were to be wed, the Rogue Dragon had stared at me with such intensity, I might as well had burst into flames right there. The weirdest part was, I had liked it. I wanted his attention. And he seemed to appreciate my presence, licking his lips as he eyed me up and down. It should have felt wrong, but deep inside me, I was thrilled that I appealed to him.

Alas, that had lasted all but a few moments. After the betrothal was announced, a surprise for him if according to his shocked expression, Daemon turned colder than the Wall itself. During one of the walks we were forced to take in order to ‘get to know each other better’, he made it clear to me that he had no intention of marrying me, but he was merely doing it because his brother forced him too.

Any hopes I had of a happy marriage vanished in a moment. Rumors of his previous marriage had of course reached me, but my father had assured me that I would be different. I was nothing like lady Rhea. I was the daughter of the North, lady Lara of house Stark, daughter of the Warden of the North and one of the prettiest maidens in all the Seven Kingdoms, as some would say. Yet, none of that mattered to Daemon Targaryen. He never acted according to rules set by others. He always followed his own rules, the others be damned. After that walk, he didn’t spend one second around me, preferring to spend his nights with his friends and his whores in the various winesinks of the city.

The night of our wedding, he came to my room and made it clear that he had no intention of bedding me, nor would he ever touch me. This marriage was forced upon him, and he had no desire to consummate it. It was a knife in my heart, a complete destruction of any dream I had for my marriage. I was not silly. As a noble woman and daughter of a great house, I was expected to marry for political or diplomatic reasons. Yet, I hoped that, maybe whoever I had to marry would at least make the effort to get to know me, and then he’d try to make this marriage work.

No. Not the Rogue Prince. He continued with his nights in the brothels and the training of his men, as if our marriage had not happened. I had to endure the whispers and gossip of the ladies at court, maintain a calm demeanor, while the wolf inside me howled with fury. At some point, I had fallen in love with my heartless husband, and therefore was doomed to suffer a marriage to a man that would never want me.

Many had suggested that I follow lady Rhea’s example and go back to Winterfell, away from the whispers of the court and my husband’s cold behavior. It seemed enticing, I admit, but I rejected the idea. I was not some measly girl that would run back to her parents in tears. I was a wolf, and I would show everyone that I was not afraid in the face of hard times.

Life went on and now, almost a year after our marriage, Daemon and I had settled in a sort of routine. We both avoided each other during the day, but made sure to keep a united front against our common enemies during assemblies or feasts. He never slept in our shared chambers, but was at my side whenever anyone tried to get a rise out of our situation and make a fool out of me.

Chief amongst those who sought to humiliate this marriage was Lord Otto Hightower, the King’s Hand. Gosh, how I hated that man. It was the one thing Daemon and I shared. Our disgust at the upstart lord from the Reach who sought to rule the Seven Kingdoms while trying to move the King around like a puppet.

It was during a banquet that Daemon and I first realized that we had that in common. We were celebrating the birth of prince Aemond, the second son of the king and the slimy lord Hand had the audacity to come to our table, baby Aemond in his arms.

“Such a delight that the king has another son to continue his legacy, isn’t it?” he had asked in that annoying voice of his.

“It is indeed my lord Hand,” I had agreed, trying to keep appearances. Daemon, on the other hand, didn’t deem it worthy to answer him.

“Perhaps you should make some effort to give a son to your husband my lady, it has been quite some time since your marriage, hasn’t it? Or has prince Daemon been keeping too busy with the City Watch?”

His comment and that sneer on his smug face made my blood boil, but I took a deep breath to calm myself down. Beside me, Daemon seemed ready to jump at him, but I took his hand in mine under the table, squeezing it slightly. He turned to look at me, a small surprise dancing in those dark purple eyes of his.

“My husband is doing his duty to his king, keeping the city clean of the criminals,” I replied calmly. “Perhaps you should do your duty and find a way to keep our people fed and busy, then maybe the people will stop stealing and murdering, and his talents with a sword won’t be needed so much.”

“Surely he can stop his patrols for a while to tend to you, right?” lord Otto turned to Daemon, and I felt my husband twitching to snatch the little weasel and crush him under his boots.

“I understand my husband’s duty, and I am patient. When the time comes, the Gods will bless us with a child,” I replied, still holding onto Daemon’s hand. Its warmth gave me strength, somehow.

“I did ask your husband to take one of my sons as his lieutenant, but it seems the Rogue Dragon is too proud to accept my help,” lord Otto sneered.

“Which of your sons, the one that runs after boys or the one that I squashed during my last tourney?” Daemon smirked at his adversary.

Lord Otto looked furious, but didn’t say anything.

“The City Watch needs soldiers with extraordinary fighting skills and the guts to do what is needed,” I intervened, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the banquet. “Who better to fill that post than the finest warrior of the Seven Kingdoms? I am sad to say that, according to rumors, neither of your sons are known for their prowess my lord,” I smiled sweetly at him. “Wasn’t it ser Gwayne who lost in the training yard yesterday, after ser Harwin smashed him to the ground two minutes into the fight?” I turned to Daemon.

“Why yes it was,” he smiled at me, that teasing smile that could make a septa give in to him. “The poor thing was on his back bleeding, when ser Strong had barely touched him. I assure you my lord, if I took him with me to the patrols, he’d run back to you in tears an hour into the service. How did he earn his spurs, I’ll never understand.”

Daemon turned to smirk at his adversary, his eyes shining with glee. “Then again, you were never known for your skill in the battlefield, am I right? Perhaps your sons took after you.”

The weasel looked furious, but didn’t say anything. After he left, I let go of Daemon’s hand, conscious of how long I had held on to it.

That night, as I was making my way to our bedchambers, I found him waiting for me outside.

“Something wrong my prince?” I questioned, confused as to why he was here this late at night.

“Why did you defend me?” he asked, straight to the point. His face was devoid of any teasing of playful tone. It was the most serious I had seen him since our wedding day.

His question took me by surprise.

“Why not? You are my husband after all,” I shrugged, pushing the door open.

“That is no reason to defend me,” he insisted, following me inside.

“Then I don’t know what to tell you my prince,” I shrugged, sitting before my mirror to take down the elaborate braids my maid had woven my hair into for the night.

“What do you have against him? The Hand never moved against you or your house. Why would you side with me?”

I sighed, the tiredness of the evening making me antsy.

“Look,” I got up to face him. “You might ignore it, but the fact remains that we are married. And though that is no reason to defend you, I do recognize that you do fine work with your men all around the city. You do what you were born to do, wield a sword and swing it on those who deserve to die. The Hand is too proud to understand that, and he decided to make fun of us and our marriage right to my face, in order to get a rise out of you and humiliate me. That is low, even for him.” I turned away, reaching for my hair brush.

“You could have kept quiet,” Daemon suggested.

“We are married my prince,” I looked at him sternly. “That makes you part of my family. I don’t let weasels like him hurt my family.”

Daemon stood there for a while, penetrating me with his sharp gaze.

“Good night my lady,” he nodded lightly, then turned to leave without another word.

From that day on, he became just a tad kinder to me, and I even caught him staring at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Just as he was doing now.

I pushed my anxiety deep down, and focused on the task at hand. I cut the tunic off of him, leaving his muscular chest bare.

“Are you ready?” I asked him.

“Go on,” he merely replied, taking another sip of his wine.

I came to stand beside him, then started the slow and painful process. I tried to keep the stiches as small as possible, to keep the wound from scarring terribly. I could see several scars on his muscular back and chest, remnants from the battles he had participated in. He was a true warrior, more comfortable in a bloody battlefield fighting his enemies, than in a palace full of courtiers, playing the game of thrones.

In a way, I understood his discomfort. He was a wild creature, preferring to do what he wanted over what was forced upon him. I too longed to be free to do as I wished, but my sense of duty forbade me from acting on my desires.

Halfway through the stitching, Daemon had consumed his fourth glass of wine, and looked a bit drunk. His eyes shined, and his face had turned a slight pink. He kept his gaze on me as I worked on him, and I tried my best not to flinch. This was the first time I had been so close to him for so long, and the fact that he was half naked only added to my discomfort.

Though I had never known the touch of a man, I was no stranger to what went on between a man and a woman behind closed doors. Prior to my wedding, some of my lady friends, the more scandalous ones, had dragged me into a secret corridor that led to a sort of observation deck. Hidden behind a wooden panel, we watched as two servants used an old storage room to house their secret affair. I still remembered the things that man did to his lover. How he used his mouth, his hands, his whole body to give pleasure to the young woman. I wanted to feel that, what it was like to be in a man’s arms, to be wanted, to be pleasured.

It was no secret that Daemon knew his way around a woman’s body. His many adventures in the city’s brothels spoke volumes. Many a night I had wondered what it would feel like to be in his arms, and the frustration only made my heart and my body ache more for his touch. And now here I was, as close to him as I would ever be, touching his naked skin with my fingers. So close, and yet so far away.

I was so focused on keeping my mind from focusing on our proximity, that I didn’t even realize it when Daemon spoke to me.

“What?” I uttered, my cheeks flaming in embarrassment. My mind had been traveling in paths too improper for a noble lady to consider. And yet, being so close to my beautiful husband, I couldn’t help but wonder.

“I asked, why are you taking care of me?” he said, his voice so rough, it felt like a rumble of a distant thunderstorm.

“You are my husband Daemon, that is my duty,” I sighed, tying off the end of the thread, securing the stitches.

“My previous wife did not feel inclined to treat me when I got hurt,” he commented.

“Your previous wife was not me,” I retorted, feeling hurt. How could he really compare me to his first wife, when he had not even made the attempt to get to know me better?

I turned away, reaching for the salve on the table beside him. I had to lean over him to take the small jar, and felt his chest touching mine as he breathed.

I took a small amount of salve and rubbed it on the wound, trying to keep my touch as light as possible so as to not hurt him.

“Why do you do this?” he whispered, making me pause.

I chucked softly.

“Though I do like black, mourning does not suit me my dear husband,” I shook my head, trying to brush off his question.

“I’m serious,” he growled, his arm wrapping around my thighs, trapping me in place.

“So am I,” I threw back at him, reaching down to rub salve on the wound on his side. I massaged it softly, helping the salve be absorbed by his skin, while trying to keep my mind from enjoying the softness of it, the strength that I could feel underneath my fingertips.

He let me go as I put the jar away and took the roll of bandages to tie off his wound. He leaned forward, letting me wrap the soft cloth around him, making sure both wounds were properly protected before I secured the end of the cloth.

I took a clean cloth and started cleaning the dirt and blood that was spattered on his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the cool cloth on his brow before he turned to look at me once more.

“Why do you tolerate all this?” Daemon asked, wrapping his arm around me once more, making my heart beat wildly in my chest.

“As I told you before, you are my husband Daemon,” I sighed, looking at him. “Whether we like it or not, we are bound together. For better or for worse, we are destined to move forward in life, until one of us is claimed by the Gods. By the looks of it, you will not be claimed any time soon. Now, can you let me go, I need to find you a new tunic to wear, and I’ll have to give my dress to the washers and hope they can salvage it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he replied immediately, still keeping me pressed up against him.

“No need for that my rogue dragon, I can dye it if it doesn’t wash out. Perhaps a deep purple, like your eyes when you get angry,” I smiled, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen over his face while I treated him.

With a swift move of his other hand he pulled my face towards his, crushing his lips against mine. He took me completely by surprise, and my gasp gave him the opening he needed. His tongue slipped in my mouth, deepening the kiss and setting my insides on fire.

He pulled my legs from under me, making me land on his lap, never breaking our kiss. I yelped in surprise, but that only made him chuckle as he resumed his attack on my lips. I was completely stunned, too overwhelmed by the sensations to think rationally, so I just slipped my hand behind his neck, holding onto him as he ravaged my mouth.

We broke off for air, but I didn’t have the chance to say anything. He set me on my feet again, though I was glad he kept his hold on me. I wasn’t sure I could stand on my own, my legs felt too unsteady to support me.

Daemon slipped his hands low, never breaking eye contact with me, and pulled the hem of my dress up to my thighs, exposing my legs to the light breeze coming from the open windows. I stood still holding on to the back of his chair, breathing heavily as I felt his hand pull my leg over his lap, whispering words that sent a shiver all the way from my head to my toes.

“Ride me my wolf.”

I obeyed his command, lowering myself onto his lap. Even over my underclothes and his breeches, I could feel him, hot and hard, poking at me. I gasped sharply, clenching my legs around him.

“See what you do to me my she-wolf?” he whispered, caressing my legs lazily.

He nuzzled my neck, peppering it with hot kisses.

“Daemon,” I gasped, feeling so overwhelmed. I had no idea what was happening, but I was too weak to put an end to it.

“I like this, you moaning my name like that,” he purred, reminding me of the sounds Caraxes made when he was around his rider. He might be the most feared dragon amongst those in the Pit, but he was putty in his master’s hands.

Just like I was.

I barely realized it when I started rocking against him, trying to find some relief in the strange feeling I had between my legs. Was this what a woman felt when she was in the arms of her lover?

I paused, not sure what it was I felt at the moment.

Daemon pulled back to gaze at me when he felt me stop moving.

“What is it?” he whispered, his eyes watching me carefully.

“What are we doing Daemon?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I was afraid that, if I spoke any louder, the spell would be broken, and the moment would end. I didn’t want it to end.

“What does it feel like we’re doing?” he smirked, pushing his hips slightly at me, making his intentions obvious. “Don’t you want it?”

“I do, by the Gods I do,” I groaned as he resumed his attack on my neck, descending lower, nuzzling at my bosom while his fingers made quick work of the lacings on the front of my dress.

“Then stop thinking too much about it, and just let yourself go. Let the wolf go free,” he whispered, and the darkness in his eyes made something inside me snap.

I was the one that attacked him this time, searching for his lips as if I was roaming the desert and he held the last of the water in his mouth.

His fingers finally untied my lacings, and he pushed at my dress, letting fall to the ground. I was left in my thin shift and underclothes.

He went for my braid then, releasing my long hair from the ties I had secured them with. He pulled at my hair, not enough to hurt me, but enough to expose my neck to him. He nipped at my skin, marking it with his teeth before easing the bite with his tongue.

“Daemon,” I gasped, pulling at his hair myself.

He hissed, but the lust in his eyes told me all I needed to know. He got up from his chair, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me towards the huge bed not far from where we were.

He placed me softly on the soft sheets, hovering over me.

I pulled him for another earth-shattering kiss, and felt him slip his hand under my shift. He reached for my undergarments, pulling at it sharply, ripping it to shreds.

He attacked my neck again, almost rutting against me, and I thought I was going to explode from lust.

“Gods,” I moaned, pulling at him, trying to get some relief on the ache I felt between my legs.

Daemon chuckled.

“I know some of the smallfolk think we descend from the ancient Gods of Valyria, but I never thought a northerner would believe the same thing.”

“You cocky bast-” I started to protest, only to be silenced by the feel of his fingers enter me.

“Ah, so that’s how I can get you to stop talking,” my husband chuckled huskily, giving me another of those fiery kisses.

I couldn’t reply, let alone form any coherent thought. Whatever he was doing to me with those fingers, it lit a fire in my whole body, a fire I never wanted to get out of.

A pressure started building low in my belly and I started panting, as if I was trying to run a long distance.

“Come my little wolf, howl for me,” Daemon whispered to my ear, and it was all I needed. The knot that had been writhing in my belly suddenly burst, and I saw white stars explode behind my eyelids. An amazing sensation engulfed me, and I felt as if I was flying.

Daemon continued to caress me, prolonging this feeling, until I could take it no more. Then, he withdrew his fingers from my core, raising his torso a bit to take a look at me.

I couldn’t imagine what I looked like from his perspective. Panting, with my hair wild, my skin flushed, and my legs spread before him as if I… as if he and I had just…

I dared to open my eyes to look at him, and was rewarded with a hungry look that rekindled the fire in my belly. He looked at me as if I was his next meal.

As if he could read my thoughts, Daemon licked his lips, giving me another of his signature smirks before he reached for my shift. He pulled it over my head, leaving me completely bare before him. I had the greatest urge to try and cover myself, but I knew that would not please him.

“My little wolf,” he crooned, leaning down to kiss me, softer this time. “That was no true howl. Even after what we did, you still hold back. It seems I have to use other methods to let the wild beast free.”

I didn’t have the time to ask him what he meant before he burned a trail of kisses from my lips, to my neck, to the sensitive skin between my breasts, down to my belly and, before I could stop him, right between my legs.

“Daemon, what are you doing?” I dared to ask him, still dizzy from our previous tryst.

“Feasting on my darling she-wolf wife,” he winked at me cheekily, before descending upon my mound.

I moaned loudly as I felt him lap at my cunt, licking like a cat devouring a bowl of cream. I couldn’t control the sounds that left my mouth, nor my hips from moving as close to that torturous mouth as I could get them.

His mouth closed around something down there that made me scream, asking him, begging him not to stop. His fingers entered me once more, and the feeling was even better than before. I bunched up the sheets with my hands, trying to find a way to anchor myself to reality. There was no way this was happening to me. Another jolt of pleasure shook me whole, and the divine feeling shattered my body once more, sending me crashing towards oblivion.

I barely realized that the moans echoing around the room came from my mouth. What was happening to me? This was nothing like what those servants had done in the storage closet. The man hadn’t treated his lover like this, nor had she moaned the way I was right now. Was this a different way for a man and a woman to be united?

I didn’t realize I had closed my eyes until I heard Daemon’s voice, calling to me as if he stood far away.

“Lara,” he whispered, now leaning over me once again. His voice sounded like velvet, and my name coming from his lips like that was the sweetest thing I had ever heard.

I couldn’t reply to him, only gaze at his perfect face, all sweaty and… Was all that wetness around his mouth from me, from my…

“Want to taste your desire my wolf?” he asked, and the flames rekindled in me once more.

I knew I should be disgusted. What decent noble lady would dare to do such a vulgar thing? Those were things that only whores would do, and only because they got paid for it.

But I wanted it. I wanted to taste my desire, mixed with his taste. And I wanted it now.

I reached for him, uniting our lips in a sloppy, wet and absolutely amazing kiss that had me reeling. I moaned at the sweet and at the same time salty taste that exploded in my mouth, and licked at his tongue, wanting more.

He groaned deeply, and I felt something poke at my cunt, something long, hand and hot. I had been so lost, I didn’t even realize when he had taken off his breeches and now was as naked as I was, hovering over me. Daemon rubbed his cock at my folds a few times, then pushed in me, slowly, giving my time to adjust to him.

This new feeling had me gasping. It felt uncomfortable at first, but I was so wet, he slid in easily. I felt him fill me, bit by bit, until he paused.

I pulled back to complain but, before I could, he shushed me with his finger.

“This will hurt a bit at first, but I promise you, it is worth it. Are you ready?”

I didn’t dare speak, only nodded, trusting those dark eyes with my body, my soul and my heart.

With a snap of his hips, Daemon broke through my maidenhead, and I felt as if someone was slicing me in half. I yelped in pain, tears falling from the corners of my eyes. Daemon kissed them away, whispering to me that the hardest part was over. He stilled his motions, giving me little kisses to distract me from my pain.

And indeed, after a while, the pain faded away, leaving only pleasure, and a need for more.

I tried to move my hips, to get more of this feeling, and Daemon groaned over me. He started pushing further in, filling me to the brim with his cock. He pulled back, almost completely, only to slam back in me with a powerful move.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I begged him, moving with him, trying to get more, more, more.

His hands grabbed hold of my thighs, pulling me towards him, driving into me faster, harder.

I pulled him down for another kiss, this one the hottest of them all. He was on fire, as was I. I didn’t care. I wanted him to burn me, own me, destroy me in every way. I was his, and he was mine. Nothing else mattered.

Daemon quickened his pace, his pants echoing along with my moans all over the room. This time, the knot in my belly was tighter than I had felt the previous times, and I wanted to scream, to let the whole castle, maybe even the whole city know what Daemon was doing to me. I wanted everyone to know that I was his, and he was mine.

His pace became frantic, and I felt as if I was going to explode from pleasure.

“Let go my love,” he gasped, pinning me with his violet gaze. “Let yourself go wild, let go.”

The sound of his voice, those words, the way he looked at me, it was all too much. One last snap of his hips and I was gone, screaming his name for all to hear. He growled, a loud and primal sound that only added to the passion between us. I felt him release his seed deep inside me, and I thought to myself that didn’t want this moment to end, ever.

I must have passed out from exhaustion, because the next thing I knew, I woke up with Daemon’s arms wrapped around me, my head resting on his muscular chest. I lay there for a moment, listening to his strong heartbeat, trying to accept what had happened between us. I was no longer a lone wolf. I had given myself, body and soul, to my dragon. That thought both excited and terrified me.

What if, now that he had performed his duty and made me his wife in every way, possibly planting his seed in me, he decided to go back to his old ways, and spend his nights away from me, in the company of his whores?

The thought was like a knife in my heart. It would devastate me if, after a taste of his fire, he turned cold once more. I didn’t know if I could handle it.

I slipped out of his arms, wrapping myself with a sheet and made my way to the balcony. Night had fallen, and it looked to be about midnight, the moon already high in the sky. I stood at the very end of the stone balcony, taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the night. It felt soothing, calming my nerves a bit.

I tried to think of the worst that could happen. If Daemon decided to go back to his whores and ignore me, I would have to continue pretending as nothing was amiss, keeping myself deaf to the whispers of the other courtiers. No doubt our night together was already known to the entire castle. There was no way the servants or the guards had not heard us. They would speak to each other about it behind my back, giggling and commenting how the wolf had not managed to tame the dragon after all, and mock me every time Daemon spent his nights in the Street of Silk.

My only comfort, the only reason to keep myself together, was if I had managed to get pregnant from tonight. If I had, Daemon would have his heir, and I would have someone to give my love to. I didn’t care if I gave birth to a boy or a girl. All I wanted was a child, something to remind me of the one and only night my husband had touched me, had been with me as a man should be with his wife.

My mind was so preoccupied with all those dark thoughts, I didn’t hear the silent footsteps behind me. Two strong arms were wrapped around me, warming me from the night’s chill.

“Why did you leave our bed love?” Daemon whispered, kissing me lightly on my shoulder.

My heart fluttered at the little nickname he used. Could he really mean it?

“I wanted to see the moon,” I lied, lifting my gaze to the almost round glowing orb.

“Ah, my little she-wolf, she wants to howl at the moon, does she?”

I giggled, turning to look at my husband. He looked so beautiful in the moonlight, his silver hair shining, the same color as the moon. He too had wrapped a sheet around his waist, leaving his chest bare. I was mesmerized by how soft and pale his skin looked under the moonlight.

“Wolves don’t howl at the moon,” I shook my head, twirling a strand of his hair with my fingers. “They howl to call out to their mate, communicate with them, let them know where they are.”

“That sounds romantic,” Daemon smiled at me.

“Yes, it is. Wolves only mate once in their lifetime, they never let anyone else near them if something happens to their mate.”

“So do dragons,” Daemon replied, caressing my face ever so gently.

Something in his eyes told me he wasn’t talking only about the dragons currently residing in the pit.

I stayed silent, wrapped in his arms. I had so many things to ask him, but I had no courage to do so. His answers could either make me the happiest woman in the world, or break my heart beyond repair.

“What are you thinking my wolf? I can almost hear your mind humming with how much you are thinking right now.”

“I… just try to think of what tomorrow might bring for me, for us,” I muttered, knowing that it was now or never. Might as well get it over with.

Daemon pulled back, his face scrunched in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you Daemon,” I sighed. “All this time we’ve been married, I’ve come to know a lot about you, even with the limited amount of time we’ve spent together. Ever since we got married, you made it very clear that you had absolutely no interest in me. But now, after tonight, things have changed between us. I… I have to ask. What do you intend to do from now on?”

Daemon lifted my chin, looking at me with those dark eyes I had come to love.

“What are you afraid of? What do you fear I’m going to do?”

I looked away, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

“I fear that you will go back to what you used to do every night,” I said quietly, walking to the other end of the balcony. “Go out with your men, spend your time with other women, ignoring me, shunning our bed in favor of some lady of the night.”

My dragon approached me once more, pulling me into his embrace.

“My sweet, my lovely wife,” he sighed, leaning his head against mine, his forehead rubbing on the top of my head.

“Do you know how long I wanted to claim you, to hold you in my arms as we lay in our bed?”

I looked up at him, confused.

“Then why didn’t you, why did you treat me so coldly?” I demanded, hurt.

“Our marriage was arranged, just like my previous marriage. I was afraid, I thought you only agreed to this marriage to get into the royal family, to gain more power for your family, through me,” he sighed, his face turning sad. “I couldn’t let my heart be exposed, let my feelings out and get them crushed under your rejection. You were so cold, so formal with me, I had to keep my distance, to protect my heart.”

I could not believe what I was hearing. This great man, this famous warrior, the man who rode a fierce dragon with no fear, looked at me as if I might break him with a wrong move I made.

“I have not touched another woman, not for a while now, since that night that cunt Hightower tried to ridicule us both. I go out every night, looking for criminals to punish, using them to spend my frustration and fear, but I have not laid with another woman. None have touched me, nor have I touched them, this I swear to you.”

The sound of his words filled me with such happiness, I half-expected to burst from joy. I leaned and rubbed my forehead against his, smiling at how sweet he sounded.

“Your heart has nothing to fear from me my dragon, for you have my own heart in your hands. My heart, my body, my soul, my very being, it’s all yours, from this day, until the end of our days.”

My husband smiled, kissing me sweetly and deeply. I had no words to describe how I felt. I was no longer just me. We were one, connected in every way, body and soul.

“As I am yours my little wolf, in every way, until the end of our days, and beyond that,” he whispered, giving me little kisses around my mouth. "Come now, it’s getting cold out here, we’d better return to our bed.”

That night, we made sweet love to each other, not stopping until the sun’s rays broke over the nearby hills.

The next few days, several noble ladies I came across seemed to notice the bite marks my husband had left on my neck, but didn’t dare to ask me about them. They also didn’t dare to comment on the fact that, after his patrols around the city, Daemon returned to the castle every night, and the corridor outside our rooms echoed with our moans.

Nine moons after our first night together, I gave birth to a silver-haired boy. We named him Aemon.

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen imagine #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen smut

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hobeemin · 7 months

Text

vice ⚖️ teaser

⚖️ genre: smut, angst, drama, crime, thriller, f2l, soulmates to lovers, forbidden romance

⚖️ pairing: mafia boss!kim seokjin x (f) poc detective!oc

⚖️ summary: after disappearing 15 years prior, kim seokjin has returned running one of the biggest companies in the city. a powerful and charismatic ceo, no one has ever told him no. but he has a secret...how will his blooming romance with a childhood friend, now detective affect his lucrative activities?

⚖️ rating: 18+

⚖️ warning(s): swearing, physical violence, crimes, weapons, injuries, blood, murder, threats

⚖️ word count: 766

⚖️ credits: Many thanks to @raplinesmoon for looking this over and giving me much-needed feedback! 💜💜

a big shoutout to @dee-ehn for making this kick ass banner and divider!

⚖️ a/n: this has been in my wips for a long time now...as i slowly try to finish old fics and the ones I've plotted it out, its time to release something new! enjoy!

“How long do we have Yoongi?”

“Less than half an hour, Hyungnim.”

His lips thinned as he glanced at his watch. “I guess you better hurry this up then.”

“Well, the helicopter is on the way–”

“Fine. We’ll take care of this on the helipad then.”

He walked off before Yoongi could speak; instead, he sighed and followed his boss to the elevator. The man waited until Yoongi hit one of the buttons. Yoongi glanced down at his phone. They had little time, and he'd be punished if they deviated from his schedule.

They reached the top floor in silence. He walked out with Yoongi in tow, only stepping before him to open the door. A flash of light made his eyelids blink, adjusting to the sun. They were on the rooftop of a highrise building. The helicopter off to the side, propellers turning. The wind whipped his tie as he approached three other men, two standing and the one in the middle on his knees with a cloth bag over his head. He gestured to them when he stood before the man on the ground.

They snatched the bag off his head, and the man’s eyes blinked erratically as the light blinded him momentarily. Once he glanced at the man standing before him, his face paled.

“J-Jin…”

“That's Kim Seokjin to you, maggot,” Yoongi snapped, stepping forward to strike him across the face.

Jin shook his head, placing his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Now, where are your manners? This isn’t how we take care of business.”

“Forgive me, Hyungnim,” Yoongi murmured, stepping back.

Placing his hands behind his back, he looked at the other two. “Namjoon, Jungkook, has he been forthcoming with any information?”

“None, Hyungnim,” Namjoon replied.

Jin tutted softly as the tiniest of smirks appeared across his face.

“I’m only going to ask this once. Where’s my money?”

“What money?”

Jin chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m fairly certain; I said I would only ask this once. However, I consider myself merciful, so I’ll ask this again. Where is my money?”

The man spat down at his feet, growling with hatred. “You’ll die for this, Kim.”

Jin smirked once more as he began to roll up his sleeves. “My usual methods aren’t working, so now we’ll just have to do things the old-fashioned way.”

Yoongi handed him a small box, opening the lid. Jin gave him his cell phone before taking out the two brass knuckles that glittered under the sunlight. Slipping them on, he flexed his fingers.

“Lovely, aren’t they? Never gets old. It seems once these are used, people’s minds change.”

Bones crunching filled the air as the man’s head jerked to the side. Blood sprayed onto the concrete as Jin stepped back in disgust.

“If you got blood on my suit, I’ll kill you,” he hissed.

The man trembled, looking up at Jin. “I-If I knew where your money was, I’d tell you.”

Jin reeled his foot back, slamming it into the man’s gut. He cried out in pain, crumbling to the ground in a ball. He brushed his hair back, rolling his shoulders.

“I’m tired of this game, maggot,” he snapped his fingers as Jungkook and Namjoon lifted the man to his feet. The man sniffled as the blood still dripped from his nose.

“P-Please–”

“Well, when you put it that way. Sure, I’ll show you some leniency.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!”

Jin rolled his eyes, giving them a nod. Jungkook and Nmajoon lifted the man over the side. He struggled, screaming as they let go. His cries grew faint until the body slammed onto the street below. Jin removed his brass knuckles, placing them back in the box Yoongi held out for him. He adjusted his suit, nodding to his men as they ushered him to the helicopter.

“Make sure to clean that mess up, Namjoon,” he instructed.

“Yes, Hyungnim.”

Suddenly, the phone in Yoongi’s hand began to ring. He looked at the contact and handed the phone back to Jin. “Hyungnim.”

Jin waved him away. “Not now, Yoongi.”

“You might want to take this.”

Jin’s eyes darted to the screen as he snatched it away. Smiling, he answered it brightly. “Eomma! Yes, I know I was supposed to call last night…I’m sorry, business got hectic. Will I be home to visit? Of course! When? Sometime soon, I promise. Give Seokjoong and his family my love. Talk to you soon.”

Sighing, he laid back against the seat, closing his eyes. “Yoongi?”

“Yes, Hyungnim?”

“I think it’s time I visit home. Fifteen years is long enough to be away.”

#kvanity #clubzerooclock #ksmutsociety #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #bangtansorciere #kim seokjin #seokjin #bts #bts x oc #seokjin x oc #seokjin x drama #seokjin smut #bts drama #bts smut

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azrielsoulmate · 6 months

Text

Magnificently Cursed - Prologue

Azriel x Rhea

(OC and Rhysand’s younger sister)

a/n: hello loves! i’m so sorry for being gone for so long but i hope you’re still willing to read this series of mine! please do let me know what you think about this part, i’m always open to feedback! also, i’m going to try and stay consistent with posting but school is kinda crazy right now so please be considerate of that :) also english isn’t my first language so pls ignore any language mistakes

series summary: Azriel and Rhea are just one of those things, as she always liked to call it. Ever since they met as children, they have been on and off. But with her coming back from under the mountain and a possibility of war, both Az and Rhea are getting impatient, worried for one another. Will this time be their final or is it just another one of their games that will be over all too soon?

word count: 1162

genre: angst

warnings: none!

enjoy!

The kitchen of the small apartment in the center of Velaris seemed oddly like home, as she set the table for dinner. She had made Azriel’s favorite kind of pasta, poured them some red wine and lit up the fireplace. And although Rhea was never much of a cook, she had spent the whole day in the kitchen. Azriel was to come back from one of his shorter missions that day and she had asked him to come to dinner.

Rhea and the shadowsinger were just one of those things, as she liked to call it - but really what they had should definitely not be described like so. Ever since they met, her a seven year old sister to the future high lord of the night court, with a heart still gentle, unmaimed by the cruel hands of the world, him a nine year old boy who had spent his most recent years locked in a dungeon. He had never met someone who was, to put it simply, nice to him - even his friends seemed to find his inability so fly or do certain things amusing. Rhea was the first and only person to protect him, and what a ridiculous sight that must have been, the girl running up to three boys twice her size, flaring out her wings and scolding her older brother and his friend for making fun of him. Azriel’s youth did not stop him from noticing that that very moment, with this very girl would alter something, not only in his mind, but the world altogether, a shift in the air and his heartbeat and his soul which from now on seemed to be at peace only when she was around.

How saddening it was that their roads never seemed to collide and all their last times turned out to be the firsts. Always their hearts were aching for the other, but never could they get themselves to ask the other one to stay. She sometimes wondered if it was his own past shoving her loving hands away, or maybe her own, always telling her to run, not let her bear her heart to anyone else. The world ached with them, burdened with the wait for when the two would find one another the one final time, oh, and they would - everyone was sure of that, but when?

As Rhea searched back through her memory, she really did hope that this would last. No war raging through their minds, or their court for that matter, the timing was perfectly right. But the time was never nice to them, to her, no. And she knew that this would either be their final time together, or it wouldn’t. That was the way things worked for them, she had figured after one of their breakups and for her own, staged, peace of mind started telling herself that she doesn’t care. They either stayed together, or they didn’t.

Her trail of thought was interrupted by the sound of quiet footsteps in the foyer right behind her, the smell of smoke and cool whispers of shadows making their way to tangle into her hair. She turned around to find her Azriel standing before her with disheveled hair and dirty fighting leathers. Without a word he made his way to embrace her and hide his face in the crook of her neck. They stood there in silence for some time before she pulled back and gently brushed back a strand of hair fallen on his forehead, half-expecting his eyes to light up or soften at the gesture, but his expression remained solemn.

“Did something happen?” she inquired, but it was when he didn’t respond for a little while that concern started creeping in “Az-” “We can’t do this anymore” she stared at him as he continued “I’m sorry” he added. The world stopped going round for her at that moment, as if it dropped everything awaiting for the situation to be resolved. The air cooled down despite the burning in the fireplace. “What?” “I just, I can’t do this anymore, Rhea. I cannot lead you on anymore” she just continued looking at him, as if she didn’t know why he was doing this. As if she hadn’t memorized his sorry excuses years ago, all the reasons he had to keep her at arms length - always close but never too close to comfort. Never too close to let her in on his heart’s secrets, the darkest corners of his mind, never too close to show her the places his scars were. Almost as if she didn’t already know, as if she hadn’t had him figured out for four and a half centuries at that point. As if a single look in his eyes, the crease of his eyebrows could not tell her all she had to know, and even as it did now - she could see it all. He was getting defensive, she had almost made it to his heart and he refused to allow that.

She let out a laugh and his eyes narrowed. “I know you, Azriel” she said “This isn’t about that-” “Really, what is it about, then?” His silence was enough of an answer.

She let out another laugh, but couldn’t get herself to say anything more. Maybe because silently she had feared this moment would come again, that he would come bearing another apology, knocking on her door and they would stand before one another, aching. Or maybe it was that she knew what he was doing, because she had done it countless times before herself. It was back and forth with them, really. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this this time” she whispered “I know, my heart, I know” he looked down at her as his shadows embraced them both, smoothing down the two matching scars on her back and around his wings. She breathed out as she asked “Will we ever learn?” “I hope we do”.

Oh, The Mother herself knew they would. But the skeletons in both their closets were starting to cramp up, taking up more and more space, and soon they would run out of it. As he was making his way to the door, the sound of the creaks in the wooden floors memorized by the both of them all too well, seemed grotesque. She brought up a hand to her lips and turned, unable to watch him leave. Azriel however, did look back, his shiny eyes whispering a promise to come back to her, to bring her peace one day, when he was ready. She knew the smell of smoke would linger and that he would crawl back home to her, and he knew he would get the courage to allow her in one day.

What they both did not know though, was that the next time they would see each other would be fifty years later, welcoming a new world, and a few new scars in Rhea’s eyes.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel x rhysand’s sister #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #a court of mist and fury #acomaf #acotar series #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader

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perfectprofessorloverapricot · 3 months

Text

•| A not so stolen youth |•

Stranger things / chapter 3

Summary: Everything in life seemed limited to walls of whites and rainbows. Caged within the confines of the lab. But an accident that involved a group of teenagers and the upside down world finally let him free. In a funny turn of events he found himself hiding in a step sibling's shed. A redhead that loves video games and a blond that spends his time making sure to keep his good looks.

Character: Male child OC

Warnings: Possible to descriptive scenes, child abuse, use of drugs and bad language.

A/N: I ask you to take into account that I lack experience writing in English and there'll be some grammatical mistakes because my native language is Spanish.

Prev part - Masterlist - Next part

It was early in the morning, every kid was either at school or at home because they’re sick. All except for one.

Thirteen walked with tranquility through the groups of trees scattered all over the town. He found that the only onces that walked there were a few really young kids, other than that, the coast is completely clear.

But what is not completely clear is his mind. The day before he saw something that brought back awful memories. He found out, his father is not the only man like that in the world and he isn’t the only one like him out there. He would like to say that he doesn’t understand Billy completely, but he does.

The teenage has moments of calmness when he usually keeps to himself or even glances at him as if inspecting his soul, and moments of complete chaos when he is hostile against anything and anyone near him.

Billy was angry at his father, that much was evident, but he couldn’t do a thing because he knew it was useless. That was a feeling he could relate a little bit to well.

It happened too often to him in the lab. Loosing his papa’s respect brought a lot of punishment with it and answering it only left him in pain. His only solution was to hold back and resist. But that led to future explosions where he sent his guards flying or breaking an entire room with a scream.

He was labeled as dangerous and forced to stay isolated.

He was thinking of ways to help make him feel better but nothing came to mind other than a present.

But what?

Or maybe, some company? That’s what he wanted when he was in the lab. Maybe that’s what Billy needs at home.

Before he could think about other options, his senses detected something. He heard a pair of soft footsteps quite some distance further in front of him but instead of dreading to find the person a familiar feeling made itself present in the back of his mind. He waited.

As silent as ever, he walked cautiously towards the sound.

Both kids that found themselves in front of one another gasped in surprise. They know each other.

The curly haired girl smiled at the boy receiving a smile in return.

“Eleven.” Whispered the boy, walking closer to her.

“Thirteen.” Once close enough they engulfed each other in a big hug, giggling, happy to realize they both basically survived.

The kids pulled away, still connected by their arms, smiling like no other day.

They had so much to talk about.

“-and then, she taught how to skateboard.” Commented the boy with glee.

They have been talking for about an hour about what’s happened the last year after escaping the lab and getting in contact with the upside down. So far, everything’s been peaceful.

He was happy to know that she was also taken care off by a good guy, even though she puts a kind of weird expression when she mentions him, she stills seems to trust him a lot too.

“But…” he made a pause and sunk in the log they were both seating at the reminder of what happened a few hours ago. “Her papa…” he turned his eyes from his joined hands to the attentive look of eleven. “He is like our papa.”

Eleven gasped softly at the revelation.

“She and Billy hide me.” His lips curved a little at the sides. He always gets a warm and fluffy feeling in his chest at the reminder of people that care about his safety. “She gave me clothes.” He gripped the fabric of the blue hoodie in his chest. The same that keeps his body heat from escaping. “And a name. Magnus.”

Eleven gave him a close-lipped smile. They don’t know each other as well as she would like too because they were separated in the lab. They met only after the rest of the kids disappeared and their father needed more power to connect with the unknown world. But couldn’t interact that much in a friendly way under the scrutinizing eyes of their handlers. He always wore a frown accompanied with tired eyes. So she is happy to see him finally smile, even in the slightest.

“And you?” He asked, giving her the opportunity to express something that might be bothering her.

“Hopper is good.” She nodded. “But he lies.” The kid raised his eyebrows in surprise. “He says, one day I’ll leave to see my friends but that never happens. He promised soon, but soon never comes.”

Thirteen lowered his head in sadness. He knows that feeling, or he knew, before living with his only friend.

“He says it’s dangerous, that it’s for my protection.” The kid wrapped an arm around her in a side hug to comfort her.

In moments like that he wished he was more like magneto and fight for their freedom.

But he couldn’t, he was just a kid after all. All he could do was make her aware that she’s not alone.

A certain blonde haired teenage boy was currently tightening a screw on the engine of his blue baby Camaro.

He was finishing changing the air filter. After what happened the day before with his father he has been looking for ways to release some pent-up pressure. He already said goodbye to his last hook up an hour ago, he doesn’t know where Max is because she was late and he left her to skate home alone and he already worked out in the living room but nothing seemed to make his anger decrease.

Billy huffed once he was finished, cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his dirtied hand. It wasn’t enough but that’ll have to do.

“Jesus.” Exclaimed the blond once he turned around and found the boy behind him, startling him. Weirdly attentive to what he was doing. “What the hell are you doing there? Are you a creep?” He asked with annoyance. He had almost sent the tool in his hand flying.

The kid just kept looking at him and the car with his big blue eyes and shrugged. He didn’t know what ‘creep’ means.

Billy raised a brow at the look of wonder in the kids face. He has seen it a few times before, directed to him, like trying to figure him out, which makes him edgy, but this time it was directed more to his car. “Never seen a car before?” He asked mockingly.

Unknown to him, the first time the boy saw a car was when he escaped from the lab. Ever since that day, the younger one has been greatly interested in the weird machines that roll faster than any adult he has ever seen runs.

Billy furrowed his brows when the only answer he got was the kid leaning his head to the side, still looking at the car.

Was he really that stupid? No, he couldn’t be. They would have already found him if that was the case, but he would have to live under a rock to not know what a car is.

“What, cat got your tongue, brat?” Thirteen shook his head and stick his tongue out to demostrarte it was still there making Billy huffed and turned to his car.

What a weird kid.

He grabbed the car’s hood and slam it shut to make sure it was closed.

“Cool.” Alluded the boy walking closer to the drivers side.

“What?” Thirteen glanced at Billy for a moment before returning to the inside of the vehicle repeating his word.

“Cool.” He is not completely sure if his using correctly the word Max taught him. ‘A word to describe something that’s better than amazing.’ Is what she said, and that is exactly what he thinks about the car.

“Huh, at least you have taste.” Said Billy as he wiped his hands in a towel he had hanging from his short’s waistband. Until he got an idea. Something that would help him destress and he used to do it a lot in California. “Hey brat.”

Thirteen turned towards Billy, not knowing what ‘brat’ means but understanding he wanted his attention. He blinked a few times, watching the weird look in the teenager’s eyes. He had an idea.

Billy would never in his life know what led him to do what he did, but the next thing he knows, he is driving top speed in one of the many lonely roads in the outer sides of Hawkins with the kid in the copilot seat. He loves to use the backroads.

He thought the kid would be scared shitless, however, the kid was grasping the seatbelt like his life depends on it (because it does) with the biggest smile Billy has ever seen.

But he doesn’t care that the kid didn’t get scared he was too concentrated in the adrenaline coursing through his veins at the speed to actually pay attention. He didn’t even light the cigarette between his lips because it wasn’t needed.

Billy whooped in ecstasy and bobbed along the surprisingly not so loud music. It was more important the roar of the engine than the beat coming from the stereo.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Cheered Billy with his always sharp smile.

But that wasn’t the best part, he was waiting for the right moment to put his car modifications to the test. In a way he couldn’t in the crowded city of California.

His smile widened when he saw what he was looking for. A wide straight doble lane road.

It’s show time.

He stepped on the break and pulled the hand brake simultaneously, then turned the wheel completely to one side in a second. The car instantly followed the action, turning with so much force skidding the tires in the street. Making a U turn by drifting.

Billy laughed loudly while the kid beside him screamed for his life. The wheels scraped the floor until the vehicle came to a stop in the other side of the road. Facing the opposite direction.

Not waiting for anything, he pushed the hand break back down and step on the gas. The wheels screeched against the ground, leaving marks, before moving at full speed back to the house.

At the speed he was driving it only took him 10 minutes to arrive.

He got out of the car after killing the engine and lit the cigarette between his lips, taking a drag as if it was pure oxygen he was inhaling. Finally he felt a little bit better.

So lost in his relief he didn’t pay attention to the passenger in his car. He only turned his head back when he heard a thud. He found the passenger seat empty and the door opened. He huffed thinking the kid just left without closing the door but he stop when he went around the car and found the kid basically face planted in the dirt while giggling.

Billy scoffed a laugh almost sending the cigarette in mouth flying. He was positive the kid was high with adrenaline. He saw the kid try to stand up in his jelly legs only to fall on his side.

“What the hell?” Billy didn’t need to turn around to know who that was. He merely rolled his eyes when the redhead rushed by him to get to the kid. “What did you do to him?” She asked when the kid tried to stand up again with her help but stumbled to the side like he was drunk. She got even more confused when she heard him giggle.

“I fixed your damn brat.” He grumbled taking a drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and returning to the house. He wanted to take a shower.

Max looked between the retreating back of her step brother and the kid seating in the dirt with a big smile in his face.

Could it be possible that Billy changed his mind?

No, that is not something Billy could ever do.

But either way, she was relieved that he was at least tolerating the kid’s presence.

If Max thought they had made a progress with Billy after the ride he had with Magnus. She was wrong.

The very next day his anger returned when he saw her talking to Lucas. There was no problem with that, she didn’t plan to be part of their club of hypocrites anyway.

Well, that was her plan, until the very next day she wanted to go to the arcade to play dig dug and forget everything only to be tricked in to the breakroom by Lucas himself. They argued about the veracity of the fanciful story Lucas told her ensuring that it was the truth.

Leaving the arcade Billy saw him at the door. At first he acted eerily calm while accusing her of disobeying and lying. But a silent threat was made evident later in the afternoon when Billy broke her skateboard when reversing in his car.

It was his way of telling her he could ‘accidentally’ break something without a problem.

He became a ticking time bomb and she didn’t want to be there to see it explode because she would be the collateral damage, and possibly with her, Magnus too. Even though he has mostly ignored the kid in the last days, it was obvious the anger he was holding in.

Taking every posible outcome Max took a decision. She’ll go back to Cali to her father and she’ll take Magnus with her.

The kid already had a new name, and no one will be looking for a kid in another city, miles away from were he was.

That’s how she found herself in this position. Fidgeting with her fingers inside her hoodie pockets, feeling the money between her fingers and watching attentively at Magnus sitting in her bed and messing with her Walkman.

She got the money by telling her mother that she wanted to buy a new shirt but she wanted the money to buy it herself and avoid any kind of harsh comments from Neil if she went with them to the mall in the neighboring town. Her mother, illusioned with the possibility of her daughter buying something more feminine, gladly gave her double the money she needed to buy the shirt. She thanked the heavens her mother did because she forgot the amount of money it’ll cost to buy two bus tickets.

She forgot a slight detail. The distance between her and her father was much more now that she is in Hawkins than when she was in Cali, and the tickets would be more expensive.

She already prepared two bags with things for her and Magnus. In that precise moment she has the perfect opportunity to leave with him. Her parents aren’t home and they’ll come back until night and Billy was too busy working on his muscles for his next hook up of the night to notice.

Gaining some courage Max sat next to the kid in her bed. She took a breath and spoke. “Mag-“

She was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, someone calling at the door.

The kid raised his head, looking between Max and the bedroom’s closed door. He was to concentrated on the Walkman that he didn’t pay attention to the footsteps at the front door. It’s not like Billy’s blasting music trough the house helped at all.

He was already used to the volume of the music, but hearing it with the door open still hurt his head. At least the wood helps to drown out the sound. But he was still relieved that it’s not as loud as the alarms in the lab. That was a real headache.

He jumped from the bed when doorbell sounded again. He needed to hide. He turned to the window but stopped, if the person in the door somehow comes to the backside of the house he’ll be screwed. He turned to the bed. He doesn’t fit under it. As his last and only option, the kid threw himself inside the closet and closed the door, always leaving a crack to let the light come inside.

Max pressed her lips together trying to suppress a laugh. For a moment he looked like a headless chicken.

Her poorly covered smile disappeared when she heard her stepbrother yell at the next ring. “Max, are you getting that or what?”

Exasperated with him she yelled her answered “Okay.” She opened stood up stomping her way out of the room, closing the door behind her

“I swear to God Max.” Fumed the blond getting an eye roll and a glare from his sister when she walked by him. He just proceeded to lift the weights again.

From the closet, Magnus could slightly hear the door opening and closing over the music, along with Max’s voice from the other side of the door, indicating that now she was outside with whoever was at the door. He couldn’t tell what they were talking about because the music muffled their voices.

He waited for a moment, relieved that Max at least sounded like she knew the person outside. He was also aware that it wasn’t Neil, he could have heard his truck parking or his gruff voice booming in the house.

He waited a little while until she finally came back, closing the door behind her. She turned to Magnus watching the window in wariness. She knew why. Lucas was outside of the window. “Magnus.” She called for his attention.

He turned to her, blinking a few times.

“I… ammm.” She fidget in her place looking for the words to say. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, she just made up her mind and decided she’ll find out what’s really happening with Lucas and his group because deep down she still wishes to have friends. “I’ll live with the stalker for a few hours. He says he has proof or something.”

“Where?” Came the silent question from the kid. Max almost didn’t hear it with Billy’s blasting music coming through the door.

“To the old junkyard.” Magnus lifted a brown and tilted his head slightly to the side. There was nothing in there other than trash and forgotten stuff. Nevertheless, he nodded, understanding that she is going there like really few other teenagers do. “Okay, then. I’ll be back.” She said, making the reference of the terminator movie even though Magnus didn’t catch it.

She turned to one of the two opened windows. The one closest to the bed. She stepped on the woodshed outside before stopping and turning to Magnus who was seating in her closet.

“Don’t talk with Billy if he doesn’t talk to you, by the way. He’s not in the mood and can get cranky.” Magnus smiled at the thought but nodded again.

Don’t talk to Billy. Copy.

Max said a soft goodbye before exiting when she heard the boy outside telling her to speed up. He even heard her commenting that whatever they were doing better be worth it.

Minutes later after she left, Magnus stayed in her closet. He was to engrossed in the Walkman she borrowed him.

The interest came when he returned from the store he likes to visit (steal from) with a cassette tape he found behind the garbage dump.

He put on the headphones and changed the tapes the way Max instructed him to. He pressed play instantly jumping in his place and accidentally trowing the headphones. The volume was too high. Even with the headphones in the floor he could hear it clearly.

He decreased the volume to the minimum before putting the headphones back on. The rhythm of the music was somewhat similar to the songs Billy hears when exercising but not as scandalous. He turned the Walkman over to see the tape through the see through cover. The letters in the side said ‘Call Me by blondie’ and something else he couldn’t read due to the blurred sharpie. He likes it though.

He bobbed his head to the rhythm of the music, not caring that he could hear Billy’s music through the headphones. He liked it. He found his taste in music.

Still moving his head to the beat, he stood up and walked to the window farthest from the bed. He sat on the window sill dangling his feet for a couple of second before jumping out. He looked at the full woodshed beside him before returning to the shed. Walkman in hand.

He’ll wait for Max in there.

It’s been a few hours and Max still hasn’t retuned. Magnus got bored since he doesn’t know where Max’s tapes are and he can’t read so well, so he decided to steal an apple from the Hargroves’ fridge.

Meanwhile, the blond teenager was done exercising, taking a shower and currently sharpening his look before his date (hook up). He sprayed hair product in the hair locks that fell on his forehead. Turning over the bottle of colon, he spread a few drops of the liquid in his wrist, even going as far as to spread a little bit in the southern area.

He turned and posed in front of the mirror, smiling with satisfaction at the result. Taking a drag from his previously lit cigarette he leaned forward and blew the smoke against his reflexión, winking. Yep, he was ready.

His smile was erased once he heard someone calling at the door. He noticed the rush in the knock even over his blasting music. “Billy?” He knew that voice. The reason for witch his father decided it was a good idea to move.

Kind of.

“Yeah, I’m a little bit busy in here, Susan.” He answered uninterestedly.

“Open the door. Right now.” He mentally cursed when he heard his father’s commanding voice in the other side. There was no way around this.

Genuinely curious he finally opened the door finding his father frowning face and the always present worried face of Susan shielding herself behind the man.

“What’s wrong?” He cut to the chase.

Neil wasn’t at all impressed by his son’s bluntness. “Why don’t you tell us?”

“Because I don’t know.” He answered with obviousness in his tone. They just appeared in his door insinuating something that he isn’t aware of and yet, he is not surprised. Everything that goes wrong for Neil is always somehow his fault. No matter what.

“We can’t find Maxine-” Said Susan.

“And her window’s open.” Interrupted the man like the boss that he believes himself. Billy faltered for a second, looking in another direction before regaining himself. Even he was surprised. She was in her room with the brat a few hours ago. “Where is she?” Commanded Neil.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Scoffed the Man like his son was the worst dumbass in the world, annoying the younger.

“Look, I’m sure she just, I don’t know, went to the arcade or something.” Explained Billy, still not finding the force in his voice, kicking himself for it, and panicking internally. To avoid looking at the rising anger in his father eyes he went to the closet to retrieve his previously selected leather jacket. “I’m sure she is fine.”

Nike wasn’t having any of it. “You were supposed to watch her.” He commented, like he was just making an obvious observation.

Billy could clearly hear the covered anger under those words. But he couldn’t stop himself from arguing. He was getting annoyed.

He sighed. “I know dad. I was. It’s just you guys were three hours late, and, well, I have a date.” He slipped on the jacket and turned towards the man ready to face it and just leave. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“So that’s why you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror like some faggot instead of watching your sister?”

That did it.

“I have been looking after her all week, dad. Okay?” He snapped. “She wants to run off, then that’s her problem, all right?” Neil licked the interior of his cheek, concealing his anger with an eerie façade. “She’s 13 years old. She shouldn’t need a full-time babysitter. And she is not my sister.” He turned to the radio. Stopping the music abruptly only to feel his heart drop to his stomach when Neil grabbed him by the colar of his shirt and slammed him against the shelves beside the closet.

“What did we talk about?” Asked Neil in a condescending tone. Practically whispering it in Billy’s face.

The teenager panted in anger and fear. He couldn’t answer fast enough when Neil slapped him in his left cheek, making him groan.

Susan, who once again couldn’t leave the scenario only looked the other way, feeling guilty for putting him in that situation but not doing anything fearing she could be in his position.

Neil grabbed Billy’s chin to force him to look at him before pointing with the same hand. “What. Did. We… talked about?” He made emphasis in each word.

“Respect and responsibility.”

“That is right.” Answered the man, pleased to have him under control once again. “Now, apologies to Susan.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Neil waiting for Billy while the blonde swallowed his pride and fear. “I’m sorry, Susan.” He said, never tacking his eyes from his father’s.

“It’s okay, Neil, really-“ she was interrupted when the man once again rises his voice.

“No, it’s not okay. Nothing about his behavior is okay. But he’s gonna make up for it.” He grumbled the last part. He finally stepped back to turn to look at Susan. “He’s gonna call whatever whore he’s seeing tonight and cancel their date.” He said as if it was the most normal thing to say. “And then he’s gonna go find his sister. Like the good, kind, respecting brother that he is.” He turned once again to his son, already finished with the humiliation. “Isn’t that right, Billy?”

Billy looked at his father with watery eyes hiding all that hate and anger he harbors towards the man. If only he could make him pay or just leave.

“It’s that right?” Yelled Neil when his first answer was only silence.

“Yes, sir.” He said softly.

Neil sighted in annoyance, leaning closer to his son. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes. Sir.” He repeated. This time with more courage.

“Find max.” Demanded Neil with finality turning around and leaving the room, intimidating Susan enough for her to step away from his way.

Billy finally let the tears spill once the door was slammed close and hit the wall beside him. He hated him with all his being. He wanted to fight back, punch him or something, but the last time he tried to do it didn’t end well for him.

Sucking his feelings up and drying his tears, he left his room to the back of the house. He thanked the heavens he parked the car in the back really close to were he needs to go. The shed.

Faster than he thought, Billy reached the wooden door and gentler than he wanted to, he opened the door (still slamming it open). “Hey, brat.” He grumbled once inside.

Magnus raised his head looking at him with wide eyes. He knew it was Billy the one walking (stomping) towards the shed. But it still surprised him when the teenage barged in the shed and called for his attention, loudly.

Billy opened his mouth about to yell but stopped. He didn’t want to scare the kid that looked like a frightened rabbit ready to bolt and end up running around like a headless chicken looking for Max for scaring him, or for his father to find him hiding a kid in the shed and get his butt kicked.

Instead he took a breath before talking. “Where’s Max?”

The answer he got was the kid blinking in bewilderment hugging a comic to his chest.

“Ugh, for fucks…” he mumbled under his breath. “Do you know where is Max?” He repeated in a gentler voice, clearly containing his annoyance.

Magnus nodded his head slowly. Max told him to not talk to Billy if he didn’t speak to him first, she didn’t say anything about not telling him where she is.

Billy raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Okay, and?”

“The old junkyard.” He answered softly.

Damn. Now he is in trouble. He doesn’t know where that is. He slightly fidgeted in his place. “Do you know how to get there?”

Magnus nodded a slowly, still with the comic in his hands.

“Okay, then get in the car.”

Magnus instantly light up. He didn’t care that Billy used a commanding voice, he was just happy to get a raid again.

The kid quickly rushed out of the shed as silent as a mouse with an annoyed teenager following him.

Billy was already donde for the night, but unfortunately and unknown for him, it would be the longest and most eventful life of his entire life.

Hope you like the new rout I’m taking with this story.

#stranger things x male oc #stranger things x male reader #x male!reader #x male oc #child oc #child male reader #x child reader #billy hargrove #max mayfield #jim hopper #eleven hopper #stranger things #x male reader #stranger things x reader

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