#YES you WILL find true love you WILL sobbing weeping crying

[lucyflawless]

♡ S O U L M A T E S ♡

[josiesullysblog]

Emotions p2

~AGED UP Neteyam x Na’vi reader, Sully family x Na’vi reader

~ANGSTTTTT, fluff

~Proofread?-no

~Summary-[Y/n] is naturally gorgeous, and a bubbly girl. Just by the way she carries herself, you’d never know what happens at home.

~Note-so glad I was able to get this done! Outcast p4 will be done tomorrow!

~Warning: Parental abuse and signs of mental illness are shown throughout, please read with your own discretion.

***



Why? Was the only question going through Neteyam’s mind. Why wouldn't you tell him about this? Why were you subject to such abuse? How long had it been going on? How come nobody saw the signs? All these questions ran through his mind as he watched you sleep.

You were such a calm, gentle soul so for one to want to cause you pain shocked everyone. Neteyam stayed by your side the entire night. Kiri was shocked looking at your body, bruises covered you. You looked nothing like the girl she grew up with. Tuk hugged her mother as Mo’at was healing your body.

“When did you find her like this?” Mo’at was never one to cry, she fought tears as she looked at you. “We walked in on that woman beating her,” venom fell from Neytiri’s mouth mentioning that woman. Jake had taken her to a holding tent, while he looked for your father. “Excuse for a mother, what mother would dare raise their hand on a child?” Mo’at seethed with anger.

You stirred awake, your head was booming it felt as if someone dropped a weight on your head. Neteyam quickly rubbed your arm up and down as your eyes opened. Neytiri quickly handed Tuk to Kiri, “go straight home, nowhere else,” Kiri was going to protest but she knew her mother was serious. She looked at you once more before leaving.

You jumped up quickly, “mama! Is she alright?” you tried to head toward the exit, “child, you must rest,” Mo’at tried to bring you back to lie down but you hit her arm away. You started crying as Netryam held you in his arms, “it's okay, pretty girl,” you sobbed as you hugged him back, “she's going to kill me!”

For years your mother threatened you if anyone found out about your abuse. You began hyperventilating as Neytiri approached you, “it's okay they can't hurt you anymore,” her words gave you no comfort as you cried, “yes, they will! They always do!” tears slipped from Mo’at’s eyes, she excused herself.

True fear was written on your face as Neteyam was finally able to calm you down. Left to sniffle as you finally lay down. “I promise you, [Y/n] you will never have to see them again,” Neytiri looked you dead in the eyes, “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Neytiri couldn't see why such an amazing girl like you, had to endure so much.

“It's not your fault,” Neteyam told you, and for the first time you felt noticed. “Thank you,” you felt more tears fall from your eyes, “thank you so much.” Neytiri smiled, “you were born into a family that doesn't always appreciate you,” she held your chin, “but things are going to be very different, we will love you no matter what.”

And from that day forward, things were different. You never saw or heard what happened to your parents, you were too afraid to ask. You were scared to mention them as if even muttering to your mothers name she’d come back. So, you never brought them up, and nobody pressured you to talk. You had never felt so much love surrounding you. You were truly happy.

Sometimes though, you found yourself slipping into old mindsets. One time, you, Kiri, and Lo’ak were in the forest. One moment they were behind you, the next gone. You start hyperventilating, screaming their names. It was just like all those years ago when your mother would drag you into the woods, and attempt to leave you there. You rolled up into a ball weeping, “please, i’m sorry I’ll do better please don’t leave me.”

Jake had been the one to find you. He immediately grabbed you, pulling you in for a hug. “It's okay, baby girl i’m here,” he held you close, letting you weep in his arms. At that moment he knew your trauma was a lot deeper than he had thought. “I’m sorry, please don’t leave me,” Jake’s heart broke as your grip on him tightened, “I’ll never leave you out here,” you calmed down after his words came out. “I probably look so dumb,” you sniffed wiping your tears away. “No, you don't,” Jake patted your head as you stood up.

“It’s just no matter how hard I try,” you stopped talking as you felt more tears come, “no matter how hard I try they're always here,” you broke down again as Jake grabbed you into his embrace. “I’m always in that tent, they're always there with me.”

Memories of your childhood filled your head, your father was emotionally absent while your mother beat on you. “I can't get out,” Jake felt tears swell in his eyes he wanted nothing more but to protect you, “but the weird part is that I miss them,” Jake looked at you, “I’m messed up, aren't I?”

Jake shook his head, “sometimes we accept the love we think we deserve,” you took his words in, “what they did to you isn't a reflection of you, [Y/n] it's alright to miss them,” you felt more tears come down. You hugged the man, “I know you’ll be alright,” Jake smiled at you, “how?” It felt as if your past was always going to follow you no matter where you went.

“I got faith in you,” you wiped your tears, “why?” he smiled while kissing your forehead, “I just do.” You both walked home that day, and you decided it was the last time you were going to let what they did to you define you.

You and Neteyam had become very close. He became very protective of you, something you had never had growing up. He introduced you to people you’ve never spoken to, and new ways of living, but most importantly he showed you love. How genuine love looks like, feels, and sounds.

He had brought you by a beautiful waterfall, “wow!” you smiled big looking at the scenery. Neteyam watched with love in his eyes. He has never seen someone so excited before, “let's eat here!” he brought you to the side of the waterfall. He had brought you on a picnic, something his father introduced to him.

You gladly eat the food in front of you while you and Neteyam conversed. “Wanna go for a swim?” you looked at him with hesitation, “I don't know how to swim,” he smiled, “I’ll be there don’t worry,” you took his hand trusting him completely.

He walked in first and you were behind him, floating with water, you laughed when he splashed you, “see? I told you it is fun!” you both played in the water, running around. Your laugh was real, cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

Neteyam grabbed your hand, and bringing you closer, “I love you, [Y/n],” you smiled at him before fear laced your face, “I don't know what love feels like,” Neteyam brought you even closer, “I can show you,” with that he connected your lips too which you gladly responded to. It was short, but it made your heart beat faster. After you both disconnected he placed his forehead on yours, “I’ll always love you.” You smiled at him, “I love you too.”

You lived a very happy life, you were mated with the love of your life, but your mind still went back to your parents. You wondered how they were, where they were. You couldn't deny that in some weird way, you still loved them. But as you spend more time away from them, the more you realized you didn't deserve the way they treated you.

They made you feel as if you were unlovable. Like there was no way someone could ever love you, they destroyed everything good about you, yet you still came to the other side. You wanted to see them. One last time, before you could truly put it to rest.

You couldn't tell anyone, anytime anyone mentioned your parent's name, it was met with hisses and whoever you were with would drag you away. They meant well, but you needed peace and the way you could get this type of peace was by seeing your parents.

You had overheard a Na’vi saying they kept your parents in solitary. This was before, Jake would exile them from the tribe. It had been months since you saw them, so you were shocked to know they were still there. You always had someone with you, besides when you had to use the bathroom. You excused yourself when you and Lo’ak were helping set up dinner.

You walked quickly, you wanted this to be quick and easy. You fidgeted with your hands, you wondered if they’d be happy to see you. You never knew how your mother would act, and your father was probably ready to kill the woman already. You approached where they were staying and took a deep breath, “quick and easy.”

Everyone took notice of your absence, “where's [Y/n]?” Tuk questioned, “she was meant to do my hair,” she pouted a bit as Neteyam walked in, “where's [Y/n]?” Lo’ak shrugged at both of them. “She said she needed to go do something,” Lo’ak stopped doing what he was doing, “to think about it, she said that like thirty minutes ago.”

Neteyam’s mind went crazy, and he immediately went toward his parents, “[Y/n]’s missing,” Neytiri's heart dropped at the words, and Jake immediately stood up heading towards where they held your parents. “These God dam bastards,” Neteyam and Neytiri hot on his trail. The three of them saw red.

You walked closer seeing your father facing the wall, and your mother in a ball crying on the floor. You cleared your throat gaining their attention. “Hello, momma,” you looked at her. Tears brimmed in her eyes, “MY CHILD,” she hugged you hard. “Hi, dada!” he came up behind her hugging you as well.

“My daughter,” tears came out your eyes, it was moments like these where you tried to convince yourself they changed. That they are different people who wanted you, and you three would walk home hand in hand. The woman pushed you away quickly, “took you long enough, I knew the minute you’d find a mate you’d leave us.” Then they show their true colors, and you remember that they’ll never change and are terrible people.

You decided to cut to the chase, “I wanted to come here to say bye,” tears fell from your eyes as you spoke, “and that even though you were terrible to me, I still love you,” your mother scoffed sitting down, “when I was younger,” you stopped yourself maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all, “get on with it.” You sighed, “I mean when I was a kid, did you ever love me?

“Did you think my mom loved me?” she stood up screaming, “poor fucking you, we ain't stay home and cuddle you like those Sullys.” at the mention of them, they appeared watching from afar. “No, we made you tough, knowing you'd hate us for it.” Anger grew in your body as she spoke, “I'm sorry i’m not like that Neytiri always shoving it in my face, piece of shit of a daughter.”

Neytiri hissed but Jake placed a hand on her shoulder, don't get him wrong he was seething. But he knew you needed this, and he trusted you could handle yourself. “You cursed me, both of you are the ones who should be apologizing,” you looked between them before giving a dry laugh, “you act as if I can't remember,” you looked at your mother, “I can’t even go in the goddam woods without having a panic attack I'm going to be left behind.” You shocked your parents with your words, “I might have done some things I shouldn't have, but I did not deserve what you two did to me.” tears poured out your eyes, “neither of you care about me, you don't give a shit.”

Your father stood up stopping you, “of course, we give a shit-,” you cut him off quickly, “you shouldn't make people if you're going to leave them, dad,” he hissed at you, “don't give me that victim shit, [Y/n],” you rolled your eyes. “At least the Sully’s care about me,” your mother quickly stood up, “child, this will stop now!”

You shook your head, “momma, I wished every day that you didn't turn out this way, that you were a different person,” you approached her, “love is not weak, or ridiculous. It’s a wonderful thing and I wished you got to experience genuine love.” You noticed tears pull from the woman's eyes, as she hissed at you, “I know one thing child, you have no room for such thing!”

And with that Neteyam stepped out of the bush, heading your way, “Neteyam!” you said as his hands engulfed you. “You're still with the man that pushed your mother,” your father hissed at you both, “if I should even call her that! That woman has done nothing for me!” Jake and Neytiri came out next standing in front of you two. Neytiri hissed loudly at your mother, blade in hand ready just in case.

“You both should be ashamed of yourselves,” Jake spoke with authority, “you were blessed with the most important jobs in the world, and you have failed. You have failed to keep your little girl safe, and yet you still expect something in return?” Jake grabbed your father abruptly, causing a gasp to leave your mothers throat, “you two will be exiled and stripped away as one of the people.”

Your mother fell to the floor crying, a static she used on you as a child to get what she wants, “you will walk pandora, knowing of the mistakes and pain you have caused your child.” Neteyam dragged you away, kissing your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. “You were amazing, pretty girl.” you smiled wiping your tears away, you hadn't really known what you wanted to do with your life. But you knew for sure if you were to ever have kids, they’d never feel the way you felt growing up.

You heard screams as you walked off, you knew Jake and Neytiri were having their rounds with your parents. You smiled as you kissed Neteyam, you couldn't have been any happier.

***

TWO STORIES IN A DAY!!! I owe it to you all especially since I've been kinda slacking hope you all enjoy it!

Taglist: @cherry-blossom24, @yourbobaeyestell, @erenjaegerwife, @mashiromochi, @nxptury, @eywaheardyou , @vviolaswrld , @fanfictons-loveavatar, @c78r , @stevesdick, @inutheangel , @neteyamforlife , @mommyneytiri @btsiguess-kpop , @slythermania , @tejas-kris, @cwufst , @hornknee-and-bi-myself , @laviedanslespetal , @scarletrosesposts @itssiaaax, @ssc7514, @inutheangel, @reguluscrystals, @virginslutsstuff, @rspbrryoare

[stromuprisahat]

For a moment Saera was at a loss for words, but only for a moment. Then she gasped and said, “My Sweetberry? Truly? She…oh, what has she done? Oh, my sweet little fool.” If Septon Barth’s testimony is to be believed, a tear rolled down her cheek. Her mother was not moved. “You know perfectly well what she has done. What all of you have done. We will have the truth from you now, child.” And when the princess looked to her father, she found no comfort there. “Lie to us again, and it will go very much the worse for you,” King Jaehaerys told his daughter. “Your three lords are in the dungeons, you ought know, and what you say next may determine where you sleep tonight.” Saera crumbled then, and the words came tumbling out one after another in a rush, a flood that left the princess almost breathless. “She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. ... “What have you done?” the king said, when at last the princess ran out of words. “Seven save us, what have you done? Have you given one of these boys your maidenhead? Tell me true.” “True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.” Jaehaerys was so horrified he could not speak, but the queen kept her composure. “You are very proud of yourself, I see. A woman grown, and nearly seven-and-ten. I am sure you think you have been very clever, but it is one thing to be clever and another to be wise. What do you imagine will happen now, Saera?” “I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.” She had gone too far. Jaehaerys rose to his feet and descended from the Iron Throne, his face a mask of rage. “You would compare yourself to Maegor? Is that who you aspire to be?” His Grace had heard enough. “Take her back to her bedchamber,” he told his guards, “and keep her there until I send for her again.” When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father. ... The king was angry and unyielding, for his shame was deeply felt, and he could not forget Saera’s taunting words about his uncle’s wives. “She is no longer my daughter,” he said more than once. Queen Alysanne could not find it in her heart to be so harsh, however. “She is our daughter,” she told the king. “She must be punished, yes, but she is still a child, and where there is sin there can be redemption. My lord, my love, you reconciled with the lords who fought for your uncle, you forgave the men who rode with Septon Moon, you reconciled with the Faith, and with Lord Rogar when he tried to tear us apart and put Aerea on your throne, surely you can find some way to reconcile with your own daughter.” ... That very night, Princess Saera sealed her fate. Instead of remaining in her rooms as she had been instructed, she slipped away whilst visiting the privy, donned a washerwoman’s robes, stole a horse from the stables, and escaped the castle. She got halfway across the city, to the Hill of Rhaenys, but as she tried to enter the Dragonpit, she was found and taken by the Dragonkeepers and returned to the Red Keep.

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

... and the Academy Award for the best actress in 84 AC goes to ...

Fragile, scared Daella HAD TO be married off at fifteen, but her younger sister's not even betrothed at seventeen? No wonder she felt like she's overlooked and she's "acting out".

Why is it such an issue Saera is no longer a virgin? It's not like she's wrong. She's a princess- give her some tea, wait a few months and marry her off. This is one of those cases that nicely show Jaehaerys was very comfortable with Westerosi traditions, and he was more than happy to view women as walking,- annoyingly also talking- cunts.

Men are so quick to disown their children. Is it because they didn't carry them? Does zero investment at the beginning make it so much easier to cut the losses?!

You know what?! I wish Saera had managed to claim a dragon before she got caught. How did Rhaena "start a tradition of giving dragon's egg into Targaryen cradle", when whole generation after, none of the children got it?! Is it because there was so many babies? They weren't worth the effort?!

[bradshawsbitch]

Disclaimer; I had to read this, ugly cry with snot running and a fever. Sleep. Read it again, and still weep. It was good.

Coley, I will begin this long-ass, unhinged reblog by saying the biggest, most sincere thank you for writing this incredible piece of literature! It has captivated me from the very first lines, to the very last. It has truly helped me in my journey and my discovery in the fact that I am neurodivergent, and has really helped my acceptance and appreciation of the fact that sometimes life is hard, but it can always work out in some way or another. So that's on like a personal, weepy, self indulgent level.

ALSO, thank you, for putting up with my dumb ass, stumbling into your DMs covered in blood and flailing my arms like a whole dumbass just spilling all of my dumb thoughts about the best depiction of Jake I have ever read (it's true. this is Jake now, I will not be able to think of him as any different.) And thank you for being one of the best friends I've made during 2022, you brighten my day so much and I love that you still put up with me!

Unhinged thoughts below;

ALRIGHT, let's start this cry-fest off!

First of all... Marlee assuming Sugar knows about how Jake is doing, and her babbling on all happily whilst Sugar's heart is breaking? Honestly... Jail. Jail-time forever, Jakobi. I will always be just a little mad at him for that (of course I understand but the emotions, Coley!!!! The logic don't work for me when I have this storm of emotions!!!)

Same when Marlee calls again to let Sugar know that Jake's coming home. Honestly, would love to read this from Jake's point of view. He just gon' show up a random day and expect Sugar to not have a whole ass breakdown? Dumb boy. Very dumb.

Listen... I'm not sure I can go into detail about when he left. I'm like still in mourning. His soft eyes? Like:

The morning Jake left, he'd woken you up with his thumb tracing your pulse point. His soft mostly lidded eyes trained on you, neither of you said anything just laying there quietly memorizing the moment. Neither of you could bear to get up until after the third alarm rang. The sun still hadn't crested the horizon when Jake went to shower.

This shit is pure poetry. Like I can not find eloquent words to describe how much this moment ruined me? Knowing that he'd be going away. And also knowing from chapter two that this dumb ass stupid boy left her on read for a HALF YEAR.

And their avocado fight... It was like that last peaceful moment before all hell breaks loose. You read it, and your heart twinges with the knowledge that that's the last sweet and innocent moment before Jake makes a decision that he thinks will help him and Sugar, but will ultimately lead to so much hurt and anguish. It was beautiful, but fuck it hurt so much.

"I suppose I've reached my limit on things I can take from you." Jake puffed out with a quiet sigh.

Girl.... I--- he---... fuck. I am so... Like the words just run out, you know? When I'm so fucking in despair at how this sweet man thinks. Jesus. YOU AIN'T TAKIN'. SHE IS GIVING OKAY. FUCK.

"Thank you for everything, my sweet," Jake whispered quietly

STOP!! JAKE!! FUCKING STOP!!! this had my heart fucking racing, even though I knew (sort of) - that sounded so much like a farewell instead of a goodbye, this is probably when I started crying the first time.

"I can't do it," Jake whispered, leaving his forehead pressed to yours. 

"It's not optional, and there isn't anything Hangman can't do. Let alone something you've done before," you reassured him. It didn't seem to work as he tensed up more.

"Promise me you'll be okay," Jake had begged you. You had nodded yes in response, saying the word would have tasted too close to a lie. Jake's nose nudged yours and he asked again. The second time was much closer to a desperate demand, "promise me." 

This... killed me. Like the desperation, the fucking raw desperation and emotions. It killed me. Like I sobbed okay, whole chest aching, ugly sobs. Maybe I should stop copy-pasting your story and commenting them, I'm gonna end up with like 50K worth of notes because I can only read a few lines before another kills me in the best way.

Jake helping Sugar with her shoes, Jake helping sugar with her shoes, Jake helping sugar with her shoes. That's all.

When Sugar 'made a mistake', gosh. That hit a little bit too close to home. I'm not entirely sure I can go into too much detail about the wood stripping, without it getting too much - but just know it was the sweetest thing, in the midst of anguish - it was very sweet and I loved it. And how he sort of reassured her by not making a big deal out of it. I cried. So attuned to her needs, I'm shaking.

---

If I were Sugar, I would probably stay in my room until the next year. I could never be as brave as her. Braver than any naval aviator.

When she bursts out because it all becomes too much, forgetting her shoes - I felt that. And I was so conflicted because on the one hand I wanted so badly for her to tell Jake to fuck off when he asked about her shoes, but the other part knows that she knows him better than anyone, and letting him do that gesture probably meant the world to him.

It did hurt me so much that Sugar locked herself up, that also sort of hit me close. It was so painful to see her build her guard up, even on the front porch, the first thing. I understand her, if you don't bring it up, that immense hurt can't really touch you. That like awful, emotional pain that takes form in physical pain and grief - it's all consuming and it hurts so so bad. I just wish she would've taken the leap and let herself feel that hurt that first day. But I understand why she didn't. God these notes aren't making sense and it's making me frustrated because I sort of need you to understand how much I loved this final part, and I feel like it might not be coming across, ugh. "2".

It's much later that night when you hear some loud banging. You shoot out of your room worried, and realize the banging is coming from the other side of Jake's bedroom door. You knock on it firmly but don't hear a response. 

You knock again and the banging comes to a stop. You try the door and find it locked.

This is when Jake committed mass murder behind my back. Reading the reasoning later, I just... hate that I understand. Understand that it's all too much and that it doesn't feel right and that it's too soft or too hard and nothing makes sense what so ever and your insides just crawl with desperation and anguish and just that overwhelming feeling of being tired. Just tired.

And when he goes to her... like god, you two - you are already so in fucking love with each other. Like it's so... just right there that you are in love, and that they're it for one another. They might as well be married in the eyes of the universe and their souls recognition of the other as it's final puzzle piece.

Like I'm crying again. Oh god. That scene in the bed where they kiss, like it's just so much. Like I wish you could see the tears falling down my face as I'm typing this during my re-read. It hurts so much, that they're so soft and so made for each other and that they both love each other so so much, but they don't really understand how to show it in a way that the other might understand? I don't know, I'm just a mess.

And then he leaves again, and he is so selfish, because he forgets about Sugar needing him too. And needing to get a goodbye, and a check-in.

'It's no big deal' YES IT IS!!!

It pushes you right against an edge that you are unfamiliar with living on now. You had forgotten how it was to live in a hyper aware state, trying to manage and monitor someone else's emotions. 

Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch, I know that one. And it unfortunately makes me so upset with Jake, my own experiences probably colour my reading of this a little too much sometimes. Sugar's trying her best to anticipate what Jake wants and needs so much that she's tripping herself up, and sometimes that coping mechanism just doesn't work anymore. It's hard and difficult to even pinpoint, and it's amazing that you've described that feeling so well it made my throat close up.

I loved that Sugar had a moment of anger, a moment where she sort of lashes out - when the emotions she's bottled up because of her believing she needs to. Believing Jake needs her to, believes herself that it's for the best. But that lash felt like such a relief, and it's like she sort of shone for a moment - the PTSD and abuse not really winning that time? If that makes sense. She shines in her righteous feelings, and that small moment is like the most beautiful moments that Sugar has. She's so unapologetically herself for the first time in probably forever, and it's so *clenches fists* poetic that it's Jake that pulls it out of her by being a complete fucking ass. And he doesn't even know it, and she doesn't either!! That's recovery baby!! (even though at the time it might not seem like it) ugh, the relief I felt. Like seeing my past self and just wanting to cry.

And Jake calls her sweets again. I feel like that's the indication that he's not fully there yet. Like he's still a little lost. Either way, I might be off by a mile. But I agree with Sugar, it's not the same.

This next moment is so tender that I'm sure that this has to be one of the moments you thought that I would love? The recognition that Jake is so tired - and not just 'sleep' tired. He's neurodivergently tired. Overwhelmed, it's all just so much and nothing ever just stops. It's really beautiful the way you've captured it.

I hope Sugar chose lavender, it's my fave soothing shower scent, even though they're having a bath.

I love that they sort of stayed clothed, and that it was just about finding relaxation and reprieve just in that moment. Like just the touches, the scents and the re-acquainting them to how sweet the others touch is, how the mere prescence is the 'off-button'.

This whole scene is just perfection, the shaving is so intimate that I cried here too.

"Before me?"

This is such a... god, Coley, you just nailed that horrible realisation that perhaps your prescence in anothers life has made it all the more hard for them, even though you love them so much it hurts.

Mmmm, revoking Jake's honey-rights. Gorgeous. I love it. I love how much he loves it. Sweet summer child you deserve all of the love, the wooing, the sweet nicknames. Ugh. Dumb boy, I love you.

THE HEXAGON!!! UGH JAKE I LOVE YOU. IT IS A SUPERIOR SHAPE. YOU'RE SO RIGHT TELL ME MORE.

"... he blinks slowly at you heavily lidded."

Cat language. Love. He be lovin'. Sorry, I'm getting more unhinged. We're so close to key-smashes and gifs now, Coley.

"It's nothing you haven't seen and you can control yourself," you chastise him. 

"But you are so fucking beautiful," Jake groans making absolutely no effort to hide the way his eyes trace over your body. 

Insert the "SOMEBODY SEDATE ME" gif here as I SCREAM FOR ALL ETERNITY. THEY--- AND HE!!!!!! HEEEEE!!!!!

The small three 'hi's'.... Coley, you already know I'm feral at this point. Like I'm fully losing my shit so hard. It's so soft. Like they might as well scream "I FUCKING LOVE YOU" so loud their vocal chords snap.

"Ah, there he is," you say with a soft sigh. The lines of Hangman's face are prominent and easy to follow again. A tear spills from Jake's eye and you push it away gently.

INSERT EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SCREAM.JPG

His nose just nuzzles your neck, and he places a tiny kiss there. You sigh, and resume playing with the silky strands. 

Soft, soft, soft, soft. I cry.

So, maybe it was finally time for you to take a jump, you had been waiting much longer than just since he had been home.

"Would you, Lieutenant Seresin, be amiable to me wooing you? Do you want that experience?" You find your fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt, while resting a little bit of your weight into your hold on his bicep. 

THERE SHE IS AGAIN, AHHH!!!!! Like I want to scream for joy every time she pulls through, and even though you might not have meant it to be like that - but I love that every time she sort of takes charge and decides and just does because she feels like it is sooo huge. Like you're doing so good sweetheart!! You matter.

--

The whole date is beautiful, and I would give my life for a sweet museum date where the other person isn't pestering me to leave - but wants to stay longer than me - SWOOOON!!!

"How do you manage it, sugar?" He asks in a voice tinted with wonder.

To find your off button? Idk Jake maybe she's your fucking soulmate and just innately knows what you need, barely knowing it herself. God. POETRY!!!

--

His leaving again, totally necessary and so so good. I'm so glad Sugar didn't respond to him. And not to punish him, but sort of show him that if she goes along with his version of what's good for them - it doesn't always have the same emotional impact as he figures it will, like the logic and the emotions don't go hand in hand, and I think it was so important for Jake to experience that first hand.

-

I LOVE that she opens it in front of him. Again, there she is. I love her.

"Then tell me Jake. Explain it in detail and let me make that choice for myself. I know you want to take care of me and help ease some of these burdens, but that's not fair. I should get to choose. I get to choose you If that's what I want. So tell me, be plain and honest." 

TELL HIM SUGARRRRRR!!!! YOU'RE DOING SO GOOD

He doesn't answer, and the numbness in you starts to seep in a little deeper to your bones.

Ah, yes. The ptsd/depression numbness. It's awful. That's an off-button I don't want anyone to find.

"I really really really missed you," Jake reiterates,

Jesus, man, was that so fucking hard? (still made my heart stutter).

Marlee and Javy. Loves of my life I feel so sorry for them - but I feel in my heart of hearts that Marlee got to keep her little bundle, and that Jake and Sugar got to be the best aunts and uncles ever after Marlee's put on bed rest and they go over there more often to help her and Javy, and play games more regularly. And it's so good for both couples.

-

THE GROCERY SCENE. Hate grocery stores. I am Sugar. Wish I had a Jake. <3

Jakes declaration of love really had a bitch snot sobbing, and I'm tearing up again. It really feels Mr. Darcy-esque, or perhaps more of "If I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more"

Like this was absolutely perfect. Sugar's denial, Jakes insistance - and the repeating of the words once he's opened the flood-gates. God my chest aches at the mere though of his elated face as he is able to say it and let the emotions just flow over Sugar, whispering the words into her skin as many times as it takes for her to wholly understand (spoiler alert, it takes a while but Jake doesn't mind saying it all day every day)

"You told me I didn't make you feel safe, and I realized I had to let go of this fantasy I had of us being together. You know, as bad as it sounds, I would never let you be with someone who didn't make you feel entirely safe, including myself." 

You already knew this destroyed me. But I'll tell you again; this destroyed me so wholly. Sweet, sweet man... I love you. You're the safest man I've ever read (except maybe Bob... Don't tell Jake.)

"I stayed up that whole night." he trails off, avoiding your gaze. "I rethought every moment between us. Tried to figure out what I could have done to make you feel that way." Jake laughs wryly. You feel your heart clench tight at his words. 

I had the exact same reaction, heart clenching, chest aching - oh god, he must've spent so long agonizing over it. I'm fucking DYING.

"God, I love you. Can I kiss you?" 

Coley. I swear to any deity, I fucking passed away. I have ascended. It was nice knowing you.

"Prayin', beggin', longin', dreamin', hopin', and every other synonym," Jake answers in between kisses.  

JAKE YOU AND I BOTH!!! GOD I'M SUCH A MESS!!

In conclusion, this is... beyond any of my wildest imaginations. Unfortunately for you, I can't get enough of these two. I want to know how they got married, I wanna know how they're fun uncle Jake, and how Marlee and Javy's kids genuinely think Sugar's name is Sugar, and you both just go with it until one day they're like 13 and someone calls you by your actual name and they're like "??? who the fuck is that. isn't your given name Sugar?" (happened to me with my aunt, thought her given name was her whacko nickname - as if my grandma would stray from super traditional names to that)

And last, thank you, from the bottom of my heart for giving them this incredibly sweet and happy ending. I know you had a rough time writing it, and it means the world to me that you put so much time, effort and stress to get this done. I'm so immensely proud of you, this is truly your magnum opus and I can't find the words to tell you how much I loved every single minute of reading and talking to you about them<3

Good Comes In 3

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

Summary:  You and Jake navigate what it means to spend six months apart. Then, when he does come home, you two have to evaluate precisely what feelings you have for each other and also what a future together could mean. You just aren't sure he will ever forgive you for starting a puzzle without him. 

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

Word count: 34K

AO3 Link

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Abuse (Implied), Slow burn, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles, Rejection, Drinking, Arguments, Yearning, Deployment, communication, Fertility problems, miscarriage (discussed), menstruation (discussed and lightly described), close female friendships, Depressive episodes, PTSD, roommates to lovers, love confessions, hyper-specific!Jake, Neurodivergent coded! Jake. Please let me know if I missed any for this part; I know it is a long one.

An: Unfortunately this last part was too long to post altogether here on Tumblr. So I have included the first half here, the rest can be read on AO3 though. I apologize for the inconvenience.

Thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you all for loving this version of Jake. There were so many things I wanted to include and finish off for these two. While I couldn't include everything, I hope you enjoy what I did.

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.

"Jake looked tired. Has he told you how he's been sleeping?" Marlee asks you curiously while chatting with you on the phone. The question causes your stomach to roll in a deep dive, and it takes you a moment to find the composure to respond. 

"No, I haven't heard," you manage to tell her. Setting down the piece of fruit you had been about to eat, you lean back against the kitchen counter. 

"Ah, well, will you ask him about it whenever you next talk? He wouldn't answer Javy or me about it when we asked."

"You and Javy are joined at the hip, practically the same person sometimes. Do you find that shocking?" You ask Marlee teasingly. Marlee chuckles at your comment. Her smile betrays her true feelings, though she likes how in sync she and Javy are generally considered. 

"We are sometimes." Marlee concedes but then says frankly, "But even when Javy had his individual call with Jake, he wouldn't say. And you are the only other person I can imagine him opening up to," 

"I'll mention it next time I talk to him," you manage to say. It would just be one of the many things that you were supposed to be talking to Jake about on his deployment. It was easier to go along with their assumption than to flay your chest open and let the hurt you felt pour out. 

Sometimes it's better, easier, to keep the kind of pain you felt to yourself. Bundled close and protected. To expose it would just make it hurt all the more. The idea of anyone, especially your closest friends, knowing you weren't important enough, or you had scared Jake away, or made some other mishap was mortifying. How could you go about explaining what had transpired? You weren't sure you could explain it. Also, Javy and Marlee had plenty of other things and people to worry about without having to add you higher on their list than you were already placed. You felt bad each week when one of them called you to check in begging, sometimes demanding that you hang out with them. 

"Okay, I'll talk to you later then, babes. I love you!"

"I love you too, Marlee," you say, giving her the sweetest, kindest tone you can muster up. You end the call and walk over to the chalkboard in the kitchen. 

Jake normally would draw seasonal decorations on it, but you had cleared it to be blank for notes months ago. The only thing on the board is a list you had titled: things to talk to Jake about. You add 'sleeping habits' to the bottom and frown. Reading through the list makes tears prick at the back of your eyes, and a lump forms in your throat. You hold the eraser poised for a moment, ready to trash the entire list, but you don't manage to follow through and drop the eraser, letting it fall to the ground. 

You walk through the house, checking the locks and turning off the lights. The sadness and frustration you feel in you is still bubbling as you pass where Jake had unceremoniously left the large Juniper chest. You glare at it just like you do every night. 

The morning Jake left, he'd woken you up with his thumb tracing your pulse point. His soft mostly lidded eyes trained on you, neither of you said anything just laying there quietly memorizing the moment. Neither of you could bear to get up until after the third alarm rang. The sun still hadn't crested the horizon when Jake went to shower. While he was occupied you stole one of his large Navy shirts that had been washed so many times it was soft. You are reluctant to leave his room, but make your way to the kitchen starting some breakfast and Jake's morning tea. You were just adding the dollop of honey he likes when he came downstairs, fully dressed and ready to leave you. 

Jake thanked you sweetly, with a kiss pressed to your cheek. In the same breath he tried to steal the whisk out of your hand. You danced out of way holding the whisk out like a sword to ward him off. He had quickly grabbed the masher from the utensil jar and brandished it in response. Amusement filling his features. After a small chase around the kitchen which included a small clash of utensils, Jake got his way. You loved the way Jake's eyes crinkled and how charming his dimples and smile lines were. It was a look you almost always got anytime you let him do things for you. Jake had still let you help though, asking you to toast the sourdough bread, while he whipped the avocado, goat cheese, and honey together. Once it was the constituency he liked, Jake spread it on the toast sprinkling some sea salt on top. He made one for you as well, but you had already started cooking three eggs for him, and didn't really have an appetite. After Jake ate, you spent every minute waiting for Coyote to arrive for pick up wrapped tightly in Jake's arms.  

"There is one last thing I need before I go," Jake had said. 

"I can't give it to you this time," you said muffled, trying hard not to cry on his whites. 

"Just one smile." Jake pleaded with his large warm hand lifting your chin so he could stare at you intently again. 

"No, Jake." He frowned at your answer, eyebrows pulling tight together. 

"I suppose I've reached my limit on things I can take from you." Jake puffed out with a quiet sigh. The tip of Jake's nose had dragged softly across your forehead before pressing a soft kiss to the center. He lingered there, breathing you in.

"Thank you for everything, my sweet," Jake whispered quietly. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you tried to pull him as close and tight to you as possible again. Jake allowed you to hug him, but he didn't relax into the embrace like he normally would have. He was almost stiff in your hold, but one of his hands traced slowly over your back in a soothing motion. When Coyote's headlights had inevitably shown through the frosted window on the door, Jake carefully detangled himself from your arms. He lingered though practically trembling. 

"I can't do it," Jake whispered, leaving his forehead pressed to yours. 

"It's not optional, and there isn't anything Hangman can't do. Let alone something you've done before," you reassured him. It didn't seem to work as he tensed up more.

"Promise me you'll be okay," Jake had begged you. You had nodded yes in response, saying the word would have tasted too close to a lie. Jake's nose nudged yours and he asked again. The second time was much closer to a desperate demand, "promise me." 

"If you be safe," you had compromised, wanting to savor every second ticking by that you would never get back. This last time you would be in the same space sharing the same air, for an undetermined amount of time. With a resolve you knew you didn't possess, Jake mouthed the words goodbye he was so close that his lips brushed yours as he did so. With a shaky inhale, Jake stepped away from you. His first two steps hadn't hurt so much, but the third as he exited the front door took all the air with him, including the bit trapped in your lungs. It was a sense of instant emptiness you had never experienced before. Everything you wanted to do seemed impossible when you couldn't even breathe. So there was no running after him for one more stolen moment, no collapsing against the floor, sobbing until your throat was raw, no more reassuring green eyes you could look to for comfort. 

The hollow feeling that nestled into you was hard to find your balance with. You had thrown the lock on the door and stumbled through the house, ready to retreat back into Jake's bed. Well aware his scent would be gone sooner rather than later, you were determined to imprint as much of it to memory as possible. You are blindsided by pain shooting up your foot as you unexpectedly stubbed your toe. Cursing and looking down you realized there was now a new piece of furniture. Jake had left a hand made juniper chest Jake left sitting in the area between the living room and dining room. On top was a small note card with a watercolor of two very detailed puzzle pieces. 

You stare so hard at the water colored pieces trying to parse their meaning the focus of your visions started to blur. The rapid blink forced tears to lubricate the area. However, when there is one tear there are others quick to follow. Just as a tear had splashed against the edge of the card you recognized the duplicates of the last two pieces you and Jake had double tapped into your last puzzle. On the back of the card stock was the drawn design of the chest, with all of Jake's neat measurements noted. You traced over his neat handwriting, and you were quick to quell your disappointment not finding more. That confusion and disappointment was impossible to ignore when you had gone to see what was inside and it was locked, the latch refusing to open. 

Now, after 6 and ½ months of radio silence, the chest taunted you. His entire deployment, there hadn't been a single word to you. Your only source of information was occasionally hearing from Coyote and Marlee about how Hangman was doing. And there was the memory of him, a large empty house, and a locked chest that was too heavy for you to move. 

You kick the side of the chest as you walk past it. It has become a tradition for you – this small abuse of the furniture while pacing before bed was a small soothing habit that helped you work some of your worries out. Once the feeling of missing Jake had settled into a dull, steady pain there was room for anger. You were furious and the only thing you had to take it out on was this beautiful work of craftsmanship. Unshockingly, the chest had been well made – because why would Jake make something that was easy to take your anger out on. He couldn't even give you that small concession. Even though you aren't as angry anymore, kicking the chest has become a part of your nightly routine. 

The chest didn't just bother you because it was locked or a surprise gift you hadn't asked for. It also bothered you because of what it was made from. The juniper wood Jake used didn't match the boards he used for the puzzle table, which was a more common light juniper. The boards for the chest were such a deep red it looked purple. Jake made it from one of the logs that you had helped him strip. Seeing the chest felt like a reopening weeping sore; one bleeding from a formally treasured memory that was nestled close to your heart. 

…

Saturday mornings were always a wild card with Jake.It was the one day of the week you could never be 100% sure what his plans were. There were staples you could expect like his morning run, but after that who knew? Sometimes he would have plans to see his friends, other times he had a project, list of chores, plans with his "little brother", manuals to read or some other all day activity. He liked it to be all day. So Sometimes you liked to just lounge in the living room waiting to see what he was going to do before making any plans of your own. 

 "Hey, I'm going on a drive and run some errands. Anything you want me to pick up?" Jake says to you when he comes down the stairs one Saturday morning. 

"Oh, can I come with?" 

"Sure, if you want. It's going to be boring though," Jake warns you. 

"No, it won't," You protest, standing up and stretching. "I'd rather be with you. As long as you don't mind me tagging along?"

"Yeah, of course, sugar. I never mind when you tag along." Jake says with a wide smile. 

"Well, what's the errand so I know how to dress?"

"I'm going to meet an old friend." 

"Oh my god. Please be less ominous Jake"

"What would you like to hear, sugar?"

"Who exactly are we meeting?"

"We are meeting up with my friend, Jess." 

"And?"  

"And, and, and," Jake says, twirling his hand around the air before dramatically pointing to his watch. "We are already 4 minutes behind our schedule. I'll tell you right now that this is cutting into our farmers market time." 

"Farmer's Market is on the list?" 

"Of course it is sugar. And so is Target," Jake says in his ‘duh-voice’ that you actually hate, but also you love because it reminds you how easy this is supposed to be. How it's not supposed to be a second thought. The things you like are included and planned for without you having to ask.

You are scrambling up the stairs to get ready when Jake calls after you. "You don't actually have to rush!! I'll make up time on the road."

"You know I don't support your excessive speeding Jake!" you call back, grabbing what you thought you would need. 

"Bring socks for your heavy boots!" When you make it back downstairs Jake is tapping his pen aggressively against a notepad. 

"What am I going to need boots for?" You ask him suspiciously while going through your items. 

"Do you want car snacks? I packed some, and we can always stop to pick something else up." Jake asks you glancing up from his paper. 

"We don't have to have snacks; I know you don't like eating in the truck." 

Jake just shrugs and opens the door to the garage for you. "It's not a big deal, I'll add the car wash to my list for tomorrow." 

"I also got your truck slippers so you don't have to wear your boots for the drive," Jake tells you. It's so sweet you want to grab him in a tight hug. You squeeze your hands tight instead, waiting for the urge to pass. Jake helps you up into the passenger side of the truck. Just as he said, the soft fuzzy blanket you like, and the slippers Jake got you are laid out waiting. Jake helps you out of your boots and into the slippers, setting them in the back seat for later. Once you are fully settled and buckled, Jake closes your door. He checks that the garage door is locked before jumping in the truck himself. 

"Was I quick enough for you not to aggressively speed?" you ask when Jake gets into the driver's side and checks his mirrors. 

"I would hardly call it speeding," Jake complains. 

"It's a number above the speed limit sign. Therefore, it's speeding." You say, explaining it.  

"I literally fly ten times as fast as car speeds. Well, more like 9.9 but still when you round up. It's ten." Jake responds, 

"That is no excuse to be going 120 miles an hour, Jake." You say while rolling your eyes. 

"I'm just saying. I am perfectly capable of controlling a fast vehicle," he argues. 

"That's fine, and I am not invalidating that. However, you know just as well as I do, that everyone else doesn't have that same ability."

"You are so sassy!" Jake teases, clearly deciding to let the faux argument go. 

"I'm the sassy one? Sure," you say sarcastically, drawing out the word. However, you also decide to let it go. Instead you enjoy the start to your drive, getting music going and adjusting the temperature controls until they are just right. 

"So," you say after a bit, drawing out the word. "What are we driving to do?"

"It's nothing," Jake responds with a shrug. 

"Really? Nothing is the justification to wear the work boots you got me?"

"You can't live with a bit of mystery, can you?" Jake asks, but there is affection laid into his words. 

"No," You concede with a joking sigh, "which is what makes you so infuriating sometimes."  

"I do strive to live as a man of mystery," Jake says amused.  

"Oh really, is that what your next move is? Retire, so you can become an American James Bond?" You tease him. 

"I'll admit it. You got me figured out. What gave it away?" Jake asks jokingly but not as quiet as bright as before. You shoot him a look, but his smile is still firmly in place. 

"Honestly?" You ask him hesitantly. 

"Yes Ma'am. They do say honesty is the best policy."  

"It's the fact that you refuse to grow facial hair. I'm convinced that it's because you want to save that for a disguise." You say, almost giggling trying to picture Jake with a beard or mustache. You expect Jake to laugh too, but he doesn't. After a slightly too long pause, he forces out a strangled laugh, and you realize that you've misstepped somehow. 

"Talk about it or leave it?" You offer trying to sound natural and keeping the pushiness you felt gnawing on you out of your voice. Jake takes a deep measured breath, exhaling out slowly through his nose. He drums a staccato on the steering wheel before responding. 

"Can we leave it please?" Jake eventually requests. 

"Facial hair or James Bond?" You ask, wanting to clarify. 

"Both, please." 

"Can do." 

"Thank you," Jake breathes quietly. Then he offers his right hand to you across the center console. You only wait a moment before slipping your fingers to slot in with his. He squeezes your hand affectionately and you both seem to take a deep breath to try and ease some of the uncomfortable tension. Jake's thumb tracing softly against your skin.  

"I'll tell you if you really want to know," Jake says a few miles later while his eyes stay trained on the road. You think about whether you really want to press him for details. As much as you want to know, you don't want to ever force Jake into sharing something with you if he isn't completely comfortable with it. 

"Nope, it's fine. Keep your mysteries, Hangman, I'll find out eventually." You finally respond, pulling Jake's hand up to press a kiss to the back of it, making sure he understood your innocent intentions. He chuckles good naturedly and his hand flexes at the movement, tightening its grasp on yours when you set them on the middle console again.  

"That's good. I appreciate you." 

"I appreciate you more," you tell him sweetly, though you mean it very genuinely. Jake pulls his eyes from the road to flash a heavy frown of disapproval your way. 

"I don't think that's possible," Jake says with passion.

 You just shrug, letting the conversation drift to the next topic, just enjoying the drive with Jake. It is a while before Jake pulls off onto a private road that leads up to a massive barn, and you still don't really have any clue where you are or why. Jake throws the gear into park, the truck in park and shoots you an almost gleeful smile. 

"Jake, where are we?" You ask him again. 

"Just my friend's place," he answers.Then,while reaching over and patting your cheek affectionately, says, "You, my sweet, can stay here." 

"Do I have to stay?" You ask him nervously, checking the mirrors on either side of you. You know once Jake leaves the truck and into the barn you won't be able to see him anymore. The idea of being alone here, somewhere you don't know, even in the truck makes you uncomfortable. 

"I just didn't want you to have to walk through all the mud," Jake says. 

"It's okay," you tell him reassuringly. "That's why you had me bring my boots, right?"

"Yes, but you just look snug as a bug. I didn't want to make you move," Jake replies. 

"I don't mind, it will be nice to get out of the car. And I want to meet your friend." 

A moment later Jake is opening your side of the truck and helping you into your boots, tying up the laces for you and ignoring your protests that you are perfectly capable of doing that yourself. Jake helps you out of the truck and holds your hand, helping you walk over the uneven ground carefully. You can smell it before you see it. The fresh woodsy scent permeates the air so heavily that you can nearly taste it. 

Subverting your expectations, Jake does not lead you to the large frame equipment sliding doors of the barn. Instead, he leads you around the nearest side where there is a small typical sized door. Opening the door, Jake reveals a huge workshop. Half of the large barn space is filled with massive logs, planks, boards, and other cuts of wood. The other half is full of various projects, a giant tool bench, and shelving making up an impressive workspace. 

"Oh wow," you breathe taking it all in. You look at Jake and he is positively gleeful, maybe even more excited than a kid in a candy shop. His grin is wide, looking around and leading you a bit further into the workspace. A soft Jingle plays in the air, penetrating the otherwise quiet atmosphere when Jake closes the door behind you. 

"Seresin, that better be you!" A voice calls out from the back of the barn.

"And it if ain't?" Jake calls back playfully. 

"Then you should know, I've got a gun I ain't afraid to use, and you're trespassing." 

You almost let go of Jake's hand in alarm, but he gives you a squeeze reassuring you. He leads you a little further into the warehouse, and a middle aged woman comes in through one of the open doors. 

Jake lets go of your hand to give her a warm hug. She hugs Jake back lightly before pushing him away with a playful shove.

 "It's good to see you too, Jess," Jake grumbles, dodging out of the way of her playful punch. 

 "Hi, I'm Jess. It's nice to meet you." She says turning to you and offers you a warm smile

You introduce yourself a bit shyly, but feel more confident when Jake's hand slips back into yours. 

"Have you known this pest for long?" Jess asks you while gesturing to Jake. 

"Jess, be nice. I am literally your favorite customer and the son you never had," Jake complains. 

"Paula and I were actually very conscious in our choice not to have children, Jake," Jess says, clicking her tongue at him. 

Jake pouts and you can't help but giggle a little at the sight. "I've known him for a bit, yes," you respond. 

"Well, even if he is annoying, you've found yourself a good man," Jess says. You wait for Jake to correct her. When he doesn't you start to do so yourself but Jess has already changed the subject and started walking to the other side of the warehouse with a gesture for you to follow. 

"So, I got them fresh this week. And just like you requested, I'm letting you have the first freshcut pick, even before me." Jess explains to him. 

"I knew you loved me," Jake gasps grinning wide. Jess huffs out a breath at Jake but doesn't deny Jake's accusation which just makes Jake grin wider. Y'all walk to a pile of grey logs stacked close to the large barn doors.

They start a conversation that completely goes over your head, something about soil conditions, chain lengths, altitude, sap, and other details you didn't know impacted wood. You take this opportunity to look around the shop, and appreciate all the different types of wood and tools. You have only slightly lost focus when you suddenly realize Jake has said your name and is looking at you expectantly. He quickly picks up that you missed the question though, so he repeats it gently. 

"You should pick our first one, Sugar. Juniper was your idea." 

"Oh, I just pick one?" You ask looking at all the logs. Besides the fact they were different widths they all looked pretty much the same to you. 

"Yes, Ma'am," Jake confirms. He leads you to the ends of the cuts and starts talking about grains, and the potential knots and twists that would be in the wood when you cut into it. Jess leaves y'all to decide, saying she'll go grab her forklift to make getting the selections into Jake's truck easier. Jess declines Jake's offer to drive with a snipe about how he isn't forklift certified. Jake's muttered comeback about how he could be forklift certified if he wanted makes you roar in laughter. 

You eventually pick a trunk that overall doesn't look too special, but Jake said it looked like it would be easier to work with because of how sticky the sap was. Jake makes two other selections and also insists on helping Jess get the wood into his truck. 

Jess invited you to an early lunch where you met her wife Paula. Paula had clearly been prepared to host and spent the whole meal fawning over Jake. While Jess might deny treating him like a son, Paula certainly leans into it, and you can tell Jake doesn't mind from the glowing smile that stays on his face the whole time you're at their home.  

As promised Jake had planned time to stop at the farmers market, and an outlet mall, that included a target, where two do some light shopping. Finally picking up Jake's drycleaning on your way home. It's a fun day, and you were thankful you had decided to tag along.

"So Jake, are these for what I think?" You ask him excitedly when you have finally made it home and he is pulling the logs into the garage. 

"It definitely might be. After all, this is fresh Juniper." 

You stare at the grey logs of wood with their mossy, splintering bark that has already made a mess in the garage. Examining the wood you try to compare it with the Juniper you have seen in the past.

"I didn't think it was that color," you tell Jake scrunching your eyebrows together in contemplation. 

"Well, the wood isn't actually grey, just the bark," Jake explains. You watch as he pulls two pairs of work gloves from the workbench. He jerks the larger pair on, you realize with adoration that he had gotten a pair in your size. Jake doesn't hand the gloves to you, rather just leaves them out as an offering if you are interested in participating. The casual no pressure offering makes your chest warm and stomach flutter. Biting your lip you try to contain the grin threatening to split your face before joining him at the workbench and sliding the gloves on. 

Grabbing two chisels, he throws one on his belt. Then he picks up alo with two hammers, hanging both those on his toolbelt as well. You start to get distracted by the way Jake's tool belt sits on his slim hips. 

"Yes. Jess managed to expedite it for us in a special order. I'm so excited. You see, in the spring the sap warms up and it runs through the tree so it allows us to do this –" Jake explains to you. He angles the chisel into the bark, working it in. With a controlled hit from the hammer the flat head sinks in a little bit deeper. Wiggling the chisel makes the bark displace, allowing Jake to grab it and pull it downwards. A long section of the bark comes off before splintering and breaking off the log. The action reveals the light colored, bright, 'green' (fresh) wood underneath. 

"I can tell you've never experienced stripping before," Jake says cheekily while wiggling his eyebrows at you. You feel a bit amazed at the beautiful gem that's been revealed to you. 

"What?" you gasp.  

"Stripping is what this process is called," Jake answers while letting out a full bellied laugh, going so far as slapping his own leg. You roll your eyes at him but can't help your smile and excitement on joining in. 

"Some people strip wood with a power washer, but I think that's lazy. On top of the laziness, it prematurely ages and strips the wood of its natural oils, color, and saps! If we take our time though, we can get a longer lasting, vibrant cut. It's a lot of work, but I promise it will be worth it in the long run." 

Jake takes his chisel and edges it under the bark again. When he pulls the long grey strip of bark gives way with a crunch that sizzles against your ears. Jake continues to slowly peel more away to reveal the fresh color underneath, not pressuring you to join the process at any point. 

However when you do ask to help Jake is patient going over the process with you, explaining the best angle to keep the chisel. He provides steady guidance, only leaving you alone in the process when you tell him that you have a handle on what you're doing. 

You help Hangman strip one of the logs and just as he had said, it is a slow process. It is however extremely satisfying and lots of fun. He puts on a podcast after consulting you to find one you would both enjoy. At one point you accidentally dig your chisel too far under the bark and feel it sink slightly into the 'green' sap softened wood. Your heart drops, and when you peel it back you see that it has pulled a chunk of wood, leaving a gouge in the trunk. You freeze, noticing the damage of the mistake, pulling your eyes to where Jake is working. Just as you start to wonder if there could be a way to fix or hide your mistake, Jake looks over at you with a wide smile that crinkles around his eyes.

"Oh wow," he gasps, the smile falling. Anxiety claws at your throat, and you instinctively prepare yourself for something bad to happen, every muscle in your body tensing in anticipation. Jake's hand gently pushes yours out of the way and dips over the gouge pushing away some of the sap that was springing from the area. Jake clicks his tongue before saying. "Look at this, sugar" 

"I know and–" You are getting ready to spew the best excuse and explanation you can think of before Jake interrupts you. 

"I've seen this color juniper, at least not in person" Jake tells you breathily. You are momentarily surprised that his words do not contain any anger, veiled insults, or condescending tones. Then you remember that this is Jake, so of course you're not going to 'be in trouble'. It takes your eyes a moment to drop down to the thick trunk again. Where you had damaged the wood, it revealed a bright purple streak under the top grain. 

"It's purple," you say, eyes widening. 

"It does look purple does it?" Jake asks excitedly. "That means at the very least that vein will look like that through the trunk. If not all the pigmentation in the grain." 

"So, it's not usually purple?" You ask. 

"Sometimes red but not purple. This one was a real treasure find, sugarpie" Jake answers. His grin was so wide you were a little worried about his face. However, before you know it, he is sweeping you in his arms and rocking you playfully while saying, "We are going to have to do something really special with this one."  

"Puzzle table," You say as if that was the most obvious answer. That was the whole reason he had gotten all these logs of juniper, after all. 

"Yeah, maybe for the puzzle table," Jake says noncommittally, though as he hums you can tell that won't be the case. He kisses your forehead and mutters a thank you.

Jake gives you another thank you, a little while later, once you two have started to work again. "We wouldn't have known about the color until I went to cut planks and then there would have been a lot less I could do to preserve the color." 

"I made a mistake, Jake."

"Not all mistakes are bad," he says kindly. "Sometimes they are just something that's meant to happen. They have to happen for us to learn something." 

"Says the man who famously never makes mistakes," you grouse back. 

"I make mistakes, but unfortunately, like everything I do, it's to the max. Either the best or the worst," he trails off with a shrug. 

"Because you refuse to be middling?" You ask him teasingly. You aren't surprised when his sharp elbow playfully taps into your arm, and if you bruise later-- it will be worth it.  

"We never should have read and watched Little Women," Jake grumbles. However, his open and light body language make it very clear to you he is being playful. You traced the shape of his dimples with your eyes enjoying the ease they brought to you. They seemed like the perfect place to rest your thumbs on his cheeks. It's nice how Jake comes with a built in guidance system. From his dimples, to the smile lines that will age nicely into kind crows feet all pointing to the freckle-mole by his right eye. You had already mapped out every place you wanted to kiss, given the opportunity. 

"You loved them both," you remind Jake. 

"Of course I did. It is a heart warming, stunning story. But you don't always have to make fun of how I teared up a little bit." Jake tells you, adopting a frown. Teared up was a bit of a down play on what had happened but you didn't call Jake out on that part. It wasn't a bad thing for men to get emotional and cry. 

"I only tease because you were upset about it for the entire next day. Which honestly was so sweet."

"It's not sweet, Sugar." Jake groans. 

"Jake, let's not do this dance," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him and turning back to your work on the trunk. You are much more careful now in how you place the chisel under the bark. In the middle of stripping off the next piece the podcast shuts off and some slow country music replaces it. 

"Now, Sugar," Jake says in an extra thick southern accent that makes you narrow your eyes. He eases in close to you and pulls the chisel out of your hand sliding it in his tool belt. Unbuckling it Jake sets it on the bench. Coming back to your side he takes your hand, delicately. Jake pulls your work gloves from each finger. Intentional and steady, the pads of his fingers brush against your revealed skin. He tosses the gloves to the side as well, and with your now free hands pulls you closer to him, towards the open space in the middle of the garage. 

"What dance exactly don't you want to do?" Jake asks you, starting to sway to the music and encouraging you to join him in the simple steps. Once you do he gleefully spins you in time with the music and draws you back even closer to his chest after. 

Blowing out a sigh you melt into his embrace. Dancing with Jake was different than any other man; he was confident and incharge, firm enough with his hold that there wasn't any space for you to really fall out of step with him, but he left enough room so you didn't feel like he was forcefully dragging you through the steps. He was good about taking the worry of thinking about the steps away from you, allowing you to just enjoy the movement and how his broad body felt pressed so close. 

"The dance where you try to sell some preposterous lie about not being a good man, and I have to convince you otherwise." 

"Ouch," Jake says. You lean back further resisting the hold he has in moving you. Jake doesn't allow the movement though, continuing to step dance to the music guiding you with him. 

"I'm sorry, Jake." you say already feeling a little bad. 

"No, no. I might have deserved that one," Jake answers, as the song wraps up, and you don't know what to say. He doesn't let go of you though, just adjusts his steps, leads his steps into the next one. 

"Let's find a different dance you do like," he says after a bit, shuffling you in his arms. "For example, we know you love the Texas two step."

"Do I?" You ask him with a laugh. 

"Yes, ma'am," He responds confidently, not leaving room to contradict him. "How do you feel about salsa though?" 

Jake turns you around the open space in the garage, going through dances he knows until you are both laughing. When he suggests cooking dinner and watching Dancing with the Stars for some new ideas you readily and happily agree, especially when he reminds you the logs will still be there tomorrow, and there is no real need to rush since you have at least a week until the sap is too dry to easily strip anymore.

…

"Marlee, your boss isn't going to pass you up for a promotion." 

"Well, she might if I'm pregnant," Marlee responds in a small voice that doesn't match her typical outgoing demeanor. You almost drop your phone but manage to keep your grip tight. 

"Marlene Machado… First of all, that would be illegal, and we would file a report with HR. And secondly, is there something you are wanting to tell me?"

"No!" Marlee says, "I don't know what you're talking about, me pregnant?! That's crazy talk. Maybe you're the one who's pregnant." 

"Okay, honey. Sorry, sorry." You sigh only partly apologetic into the phone. 

"No, I'm sorry." She replies in a quiet voice. "But nothing for sure yet." 

"That's okay, Marls. It's only been a few months of this new medicine."

"Yeah, well um I guess that leads to my next problem."

"What's that?"

"What are your plans for Saturday?"

"I don't have any plans." You say running through your mental calendar to check. 

"Okay, perfect. So, here's what Javy and I are thinking." 

"So Javy is involved?" You clarify. 

"What? Of course, he is!" Marlee says sounding affronted at even the concept of not including her husband, which makes you almost smile for real. 

"Okay, okay," you tell her with a small laugh. 

"We'll pick you up. Then we'll carpool to the airport. Don't worry I already made signs. Then we want to take y'all to Olive Garden."

You distantly hear Javy yelling, "When we are there, we are family."

Marlee takes a moment to giggle, "I'll make sure you and Jake drink a bottle of wine. Preferably one each. Trust me, nothing helps with the ‘we haven't seen each other in six months’ awkwardness better than wine. Then we will drive you two home!" 

You aren't successful in catching your phone this time and it slams to the ground. You're frozen staring down at it, only managing to shake yourself and pick it up when you hear Marlee saying your name in concern. 

"Sorry, the phone slipped. What was that?" 

"Oh no, is it okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine," you answer the pit in your stomach growing till it feels like it might swallow you whole. 

"You don't need help with anything for tomorrow do you?" Marlee asks worriedly. You take a glance around the house. You had worked hard keeping things orderly and together while Jake had been gone. You knew how worried he was that things would change while he was away. It hadn't been easy and there were a few weeks there when you hadn't been able to keep yourself afloat very well. 

"Help with what?" You ask, trying to get her to confirm what you thought you had heard. 

"Any cleaning or organizing or any of that. Groceries so you and Jake don't have to go shop. Javy hates going to the store when he comes home. I guess there is something especially frustrating about them," Marlee trails off. You can tell that she is picking up on your off mood, and of course she was. She probably expected you to be ecstatic that Jake was coming home, and maybe you would have been if you had known about it. 

You realize there isn't a way out of this so you have to concede a truth to her. You bite your lip and let your eyes frantically comb over the house again before finally whispering. "He hasn't said anything to me… about coming home." 

When Marlee answers you can hear she isn't on speakerphone anymore, and asks you quietly, "He hasn't mentioned it at all?" 

"Not a word," you respond solemnly. 

"I'm sorry for ruining the surprise."

"I'm glad you did. I'll definitely want to clean and shop like you mentioned. And as nice as your plan sounded, maybe not this time. You two are the sweetest ever."

"I still feel bad. Are you sure you don't need help with anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Marlee!" You were not fine.

"Wait, babes, I'm worried."

"Don't worry. I'll talk to you later, yeah? I love you!" You hang up the phone and stare at it blankly. Trying to process the new information you had just gotten. Looking around the house you realized you weren't even close to ready for Jake to come home.  

You spend all of your free time panicking, cleaning and organizing the house, trying to make sure everything was just perfect for when Jake comes home. You almost had a breakdown when you couldn't remember if the quilt on his bed had been green or dark blue when he left.. The smallest details were haunting you. You had spent nearly an hour working up the courage to erase the chalkboard in the kitchen. Worried that you would forget some of the more important reminders, you erase everything but what you deemed Jake needed to know, like things that had come up concerning the house. It leaves a choppy, oddly spaced list, but you don't think you will have the energy to rewrite it without crying. 

You were asleep when Jake came home. Waking up to sounds that are familiar and yet gone enough that they don't sound right, confuses your tired mind before you are startled into wakefulness, fully placing that for the first time in 6 months someone else is cooking in your kitchen. Your alarm is slightly eased when you check your phone and see a text from Marlee. 

We're here with a gift, come down stairs as soon as you wake up &lt;3

 While you were put at ease knowing some manic axe murderer isn't in your house, you almost feel like you would prefer that to what you now know is waiting for you downstairs. You sit in your room for nearly an hour trying to work out what to do, if you should confront Jake and how to approach it, hoping inspiration or bravery will strike you into moving. It never does though, and instead there is a heavy handed knock on your bedroom door. 

Taking a big gulp, not having the strength to find your voice, you slowly creak the door open. You lift your eyes up and unexpectedly find Javy on the other side of the door. 

"Hey, sleeping beauty!" Javy says cheerfully. It takes you a few deep breaths to answer from your surprise. You don't know what the look on your face is, but the next thing you know, Javy is sweeping you up into a tight hug. You are frozen though, still strung out on what this must mean, that Jake is home. 

"Is he?" You start to ask, but not sure how you actually want to finish the sentence: home, safe, okay, the same. Javy doesn't respond, he just squeezes you harder. You try asking your question again to get an answer. "Is Jake?" 

"Hangman is here," Javy finally confirms. 

"I thought it was going to be this evening."

"Some of his flights got shifted around at the last minute." 

"Oh. And is he..?" You can't finish that question either. 

"He will be okay," Javy says lightly.  

"Will be? So, that means that he isn't okay now." You grimace, worry flooding your chest that is already so full of hurt. 

"It'll all take us some time to readjust and recalibrate. Just don't push him, and more importantly yourself too hard. Okay?" Javy says pulling away from the hug after another squeeze. You nod numbly, not entirely sure you know what he means but it is comforting to know your friend is here. 

When you don't make a move to follow Javy towards the door when he starts to retreat he levels you with a concerned look. 

"Why do you love Jake?" Javy asks, leaning back against your door. 

You open your mouth to protest that you don't love Jake– how can you love someone who willfully hasn't talked to you in 6 months? The words don't come out though, because in spite of it all, you do love him. You love him so much it hurts, and you made that choice even as Jake actively warned you against it. Javy waits patiently for you to respond, which just makes you feel like squirming more. 

"I do not see what that has to do with anything," you try to deflect but Coyote frowns at you and shakes his head.

"It's because he makes you feel better than a million bucks right?" Javy presses on with the question.

"Yeah, sometimes." You concede thinking of how it was before Jake left. 

"Or like you are the most important thing in the room? More important even than him?" 

"Don't know if I love Jake because of that. I think those are just side benefits. I love Jake just by virtue of him being Jake." You say trying to explain how you feel and Javy nods along to your words. 

"I get it," he says. You worry your lip and look at the door again, still not sure you can do this. 

"It's going to be okay. Marlee and I are here to play interference as long as you two need it. Remembering those things you love about him will help get through the rough patch. He is really worried about doing something wrong."

"What do you mean wrong?" 

"I would say he is worried about hurting you." And you had to resist the urge to laugh, because it was already much too late for that. Jake had been hurting you for months now.

"Has something gone wrong before, or is he just scared?"

Javy doesn't answer your question and he avoids your gaze and stares hard at a far wall. "Hangman and I aren't always stationed together." 

"Oh, I see."

"You're going to have to give him some grace and time; he will even out, I promise. If it gets too bad you can always call me, okay?" Javy's eyes meet yours again, and he gives you a sad smile. "I love Jake too, you know."

"Yeah, I know you do." You reassure him. "Thanks Coyote, you are a good friend to him, and me too." 

Javy is then urging you to finally leave your room, opening the door and gesturing for you to step out. He is asking you to be brave, and it's a lot easier to face your fears when you know someone else is there to help, just in case. 

"Hey what's taking so long up there?" Marlee yells up the stairs suspiciously. She must have heard your door open.  

"I am once again begging Javy to run away with me." You yell back to her playfully. Giving Javy one last tight hug and a muttered thank you, he strides confidently down the stairs. Anxiety and nerves eat away at your every step leaving a sour taste on your tongue. You keep your eyes trained on the ground, as you descend the stairs, still not ready to actually see Jake. 

Instead you keep your eyes trailed on Javy where he has automatically drifted to his wife's side and is already wrapping himself around her and kissing her cheek. 

"Well, were you convinced to run away?" Marlee asks her husband, hugging him back, clearly enjoying the joke. 

"No Ma'am, not this time," Coyote answers with a laugh. 

"I wasn't worried," she tells him. "I know there's only one person you would leave me for."

"I would never leave you," Javy responds, dropping the playfulness from his voice. However, Marlee persists. 

"That's not true, we both know if Jake asked, you wouldn't even hesitate." The couple both turn their eyes towards the kitchen, which you realize is where Jake must be. You are frozen on the last step of the stairs, unable to take your eyes off Marlee and Javy, even as they expectantly look back and forth between where you are standing and where he is. 

You decide you aren't brave enough, that you can't actually do this. You need to retreat up the stairs into your room and pack all of your things in order to get out of here as soon as possible. Jake was back now, all the responsibility you had to watch and take care of the house was released from your shoulders. Never facing him again seems like the obvious solution, you don't know why you had never considered it before. 

"I wouldn't ever ask Javy to run away with me, he snores too much," Jake says. His voice tricks your eyes into looking towards the kitchen. Thinking about Jake Seresin and seeing him are two distinctly different things. He is handsome, Jake always has been handsome, but after so long of not seeing him, it's glaring, breathtaking. 

You think you had expected him to change, which doesn't really make sense. Half a year, in the grand scheme of things, really isn't very long. You think maybe his uniform fits him a bit more snugly, that he looks even more fit than before. You weren't prepared… you weren't prepared at all. And now you are stuck because he is looking back at you. Jake blinks at you, and you stare wide eyed, too afraid if your eyes close for even a second he will be gone. 

"Hello. Good morning," Jake finally says. 

"Hi," you squeak. Then you are finally able to take the last step off the stairs and say, "It's good to see you." 

Jake flashes you one of his perfect practiced smiles and a wink. Then he gestures to the bowls and pans in front of him, "I'm making french toast." 

You wait a second, having to choke back a sob threatening to bubble in your chest. Then say, "I'm sure that will be good." 

Javy and Marlee's analyzing the two of you makes the awkwardness press in harder. Gulping, you try to seem casual about walking towards the kitchen. Jake watches you intently. At the last minute you change your mind and veer down the hallway towards the front door instead. 

"Sorry, I just have some errands I need to run," You announce loudly, quickening your step. Fumbling with the locks you burst out the front door, and stand heaving on the front porch. Gripping the railing hard, you lean against it trying to brace yourself. 

A minute later you hear the door open, and you close your eyes tight, wishing you had been smart enough to walk further away. There is a slight clunk against the ground and you see a pair of your shoes next to your feet. 

"Thought you might need shoes," Jake says quietly. Fuck, this hurt so much more than you though it would. You thought having him home would feel like a relief, not a fresh stab wound. You just shake your head, not sure you can say anything. Jake waits patiently but after several long minutes, he breathes out a quiet sigh. 

"Okay. Well. I think I should just apologize and get on with it. I'm sorry, I am so sorry." You can't stop the hitching sob that falls from your throat. 

"I know you didn't love back the same way, but I didn't realize you cared so little about me." 

"That is an inaccurate statement," Jake protests. 

"I don't want us to have a fight Jake." You mumble, nothing about this conversation was making you feel better. 

"Well I do. I want us to have a fight, because you should be mad at me. You should be yelling at me and cursing the ground I walk on. You should've burned down this house!" He exclaims, and you can hear his frustration. You open your eyes to find Jake standing stiff and straight next to the slightly ajar front door. Hands clenched tight, Jake was staring at like you were water and he had been stranded in the desert for days, parched. A direct sighting of his green eyes is all it takes to break your resolve.  

"I can't be mad at you!" You exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air. 

"Why not?" He prods you in a low voice.

"You know exactly why."  

Jake huffs, clenching his jaw he glares upwards, away from you. 

"You don't have to be this saint you know. You don't have to be this perfectly stable person for me because you feel like that's what I need. Please don't let me get away with hurting you." 

"I won't give you the satisfaction," you tell him coldly. 

"What?" Jake asks, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. 

"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of confirming that you are the bad guy you've convinced yourself you are. So, what would you like me to say instead?"   

"I guess I want you to listen to the fact that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for how I left, I'm sorry for how I behaved, I—"

"Are you really sorry for what happened between us?" You ask in a small voice. You lower your eyes to look at the ground, not wanting to be too confrontational. 

"Of course I am," he sighs. It's a stab to your heart. You had treasured the long heartbreakingly beautiful evening you had with Jake before he left, and hearing him say he doesn't feel the same is harrowing. 

"Are you—" you start to ask but stop yourself. You ball up all the hurt in your chest trying to rationalize and compartmentalize. Realizing this is another one of those times you had to fill in the gaps. It was time you refocused on the realities at hand. There were no promises besides the one you had made. That you would love him regardless, and continuously. Reminding yourself this fact helps, you could be upset after, later. Every moment actually with Jake should be treasured, this was the first moment you were getting with him in how long and of course you had ruined it. 

"I'm sorry for every other thing I know I should be, and everything I willfully chose not to know too. I'm sorry, and well I want to go on forever. I want to keep telling you I'm sorry every second. So, I'm sorry. I'll say it a million times more. Like you deserve."

"Jake, stop. Sometimes the more times you say something the cheaper the words have become. So let's keep this one valuable. I'm sorry for pushing, and you've said sorry too. We can move on now." 

"I'll just be plain then." He says, though you can tell that the frustration and desperation are still burning hot under his skin. 

"Yes, Jake, be plain. That's the best option for us."

"If we step over lines?"

"We say something, stop and talk about it."

"Okay." He agrees, "We have to talk about the other thing now too."

"What thing?" you ask.

"My question, what happened between us." He says as if he hadn't just told you part of him regrets it. 

"You asked to be selfish with me Jake, and I said yes. I don't regret that, and I'm not mad about what happened. You had my permission and consent for all of it.' 

"I just kept waiting until I knew what I wanted to say, but then I never knew what I wanted to say," he explains. 

"Jake, I really…" You sigh and scrub your hand over your face. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

 Jake nods silently in response. "Okay, Later, then."

"Sure, like when the Machados aren't listening on the other side of the door." You say loudly looking at the front door that was cracked, having no doubt your friends were being nosey. Not that you really blame them, you probably would have done the same thing. 

"Do you still have errands to run?" he asks you. You look out to the street deciding you should at least take a small walk to sort through your thoughts. 

"I'm just going to go on a little walk. I'm sure I'll be back by the time breakfast is done," you explain. 

"Sounds good, sugar. Can I help you with your shoes?" He asks quietly. The only reason you nod your head yes is because you think you might start crying otherwise. 

Jake kneels down and hesitates for a long moment before his large warm hand is on your ankle, helping angle your foot into the shoe. His thumb makes a brushing stroke across the skin before doing the same thing with the other foot. 

When you get back from your walk, it's awkward. You completely avoid Marlee's attempts to get you to go off and talk with her. Instead, you decide that the best course of action is to pretend that nothing is wrong. You laugh at jokes and ignore how stilted and awkward Jake's conversation is with everyone. 

Then, after Marlee and Javy linger way too long, before you and Jake finally get them to leave. Once they are out the door and Jake has locked the door behind them, you both let out a sigh of relief. You meet Jake's gaze, both of you offer small smiles. It's the most normal moment you've had all day. 

"Welcome back, Jake." You offer tentatively. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I kinda just want to nap," he admits. You part ways at the top of the stairs giving him a strained smile and retreat into your room; Jake's eyes don't leave you until the door is shut firmly in place. 

It's much later that night when you hear some loud banging. You shoot out of your room worried, and realize the banging is coming from the other side of Jake's bedroom door. You knock on it firmly but don't hear a response. 

You knock again and the banging comes to a stop. You try the door and find it locked. 

"Jake, are you okay?" You ask him through the door. 

"I'm fine. Thanks," he yells back. You wait but when you don't get anything more, you have no choice but to leave him be and go back to your room. You don't actually even see Jake again until two nights later. You have been able to tell that he is home but Jake is as elusive as a ghost. 

You run into him next when you open your door one night to get some water before bed. Jake is standing on the other side, holding two water bottles. Part of you has a hunch that he had been standing there for a while. He looks shocked but a little relieved when he sees you. 

"I know I shouldn't be here," Jake starts slowly, taking his gaze off of you and looks down at his feet. 

"No, it's okay that you are here," you stutter slightly. "Is there something you need?" 

Jake nods his head along with your words, his eyebrows drawing together. Then he holds out a water bottle for you to take. "Can I just be here? Here, with you?"

"Of course, always." You say stepping backwards into your room leaving the door wide open for him. You shuffle to your bed and lift open the blankets ready to welcome him there with you. However, Jake drops the pillow he was holding on the floor nearby and lays down instead. 

You want to ask him questions about it but the edge he is on isn't one you want to poke or prod in any direction. While you are still hurt, knowing he is here is safe again, with you is equally as soothing, a small dosage of pain medication. 

"There's plenty of room up here with me too, you know." You decide to casually offer just in case. 

"It's too soft for me right now."

"I just thought I would offer," you say lightly. 

"I can't sleep. It's the worst part. Everything is too quiet and too still and at the same time not quiet or still enough. I think I might go insane." He explains in a low voice. 

"What can I do? What do you need?" You ask sympathetically. 

"Can we talk about it?" Jake asks hopefully. 

"No, Jake. We can't," You sigh and hear him sigh in frustration. 

"Someday, at some point, we are going to have to talk about it," Jake says so carefully you know he is consciously holding back the taunting frustration he wants to put into the words. 

"No, we really don't," You contradict him. 

"Sweets," Jake responds, sounding wrecked. 

You think you should give into him again. You should allow Jake to talk his heart out and seek penance from you. How this should be a time when you are strong for him. However, as much as you want to give Jake the world, there must be times that you curl around your own heart to try and shield it from hurt. 

"Listen, Jake. I don't need to know why you didn't talk to me while you were gone. No matter what your explanation is, it's going to hurt my feelings. So, I would rather not know. Please, let me pretend something a little kinder." 

He is silent, so very quiet for so long you almost wonder if he has left. Evaporated from existence, that he never came home at all, and you've been living an elaborate hallucination. You turn on your side just to check in the soft lamp light that Jake is still laying on the floor. 

"You should have said no to me before I left. It would have saved us both a lot of grief I think." 

Jake's words feel like a punch in the gut, rattling around like a wrecking ball, leaving a bloody massacre behind. With a heavy blown out breath you say, "No it wouldn't have."

"No, it wouldn't have," he sighs in agreement. 

"It would be nice though, if we could go back to before." 

"Before?" He asks. 

"Yes," you say, clutching your blankets tight. "If I could pretend that you never got orders and didn't leave. I would jump to that in an instant. 

"You want to pretend nothing happened?" 

"Isn't that an idea?" You huff a small broken laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

"What if I don't remember exactly how things went before?" Jake wonders. 

"Jake, I wasn't serious," you say cautiously.  

There are several long minutes of silence where you wait for him to say something. Finally, you hear Jake let out a long heavy audible groan while shifting. "If you don't want to talk it out. Pretending is probably our best option then. Otherwise, what are we going to do, sweets?" 

"Sugar," You correct automatically. 

"Hmm?" 

"You usually call me sugar, or honey. Not sweets" 

"Ah, that's right, and darling. I got it mixed up because you're so sweet to me."

"I'll help you. If you don't remember how it goes." 

"Thank you," he says. And you can't believe he is actually agreeing to this idea, or really that you are either. 

"Do you not like sweets?" Jake asks eventually. 

"It's fine enough, I guess." You answer as lightly as you can. Then you go through another bout of silence. You nervously play with the edge of a blanket hoping that this tension with Jake will ease. It's always gone away in the past, but that was also before. 

"That's what you want then? Tomorrow, we go back?" Jake asks again. 

"Yes, tomorrow," You confirm. 

"Sugar?"

"Yes, Jakers?"

"Can I ask you a question?" He asks. You laugh lightly, feeling a bit of the nervousness ease at his tone which has become much lighter. 

"I never understand why people say that. Aren't you already asking a question?" Jake chuckles low in his chest in amusement. He doesn't follow along with the joke though, just leaves it there hanging in the air. 

"The answer is yes," you tell him casually. 

"You don't know what the question is." 

"Yes, you can ask me a question," you clarify in a whisper. Jake makes some rustling sounds and you hear him come closer to you.

"Are you sure that bed is big enough for two?" He asks. 

"Why don't we find out?" You laugh feeling more at ease. 

With a nod Jake crawls onto bed and turns to face you on his side. However, he doesn't scoot in close like you expect. He is stone still on the other side of the bed, laying on top of the covers, only shifting his pillow once. 

"What would you do, if I told you the last time I said yes, it had an extended warranty?" You ask while turning on your side to face where you are in the bed now. 

"How long are we talking about here?" Jake asks. 

"Unfortunately, I think it expires some time tomorrow." You watch Jake work his lip in contemplation, while examining your face closely. 

"Why would you let me be selfish with you again?" 

"I think it's because we are selfish. Maybe it's a little bit because I don't want the memory of the last time I tasted you to be bitter." 

Jake rolls away from you onto his back, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. "Stop letting me take things from you."

"We both deserve a night where we are selfish with each other, I think." You tell him reaching across the gap between you. You set a hand on Jake's cheek ignoring the prickly stubble there. 

"To have you and let you go again the next day would be torture," Jake says all while leaning into your touch. 

"Just a kiss this time," you offer, urging him by his cheek to come a little closer to you. 

"It was supposed to be just a kiss last time too." Jake's eyes are bright where they burn into yours. He inches a little closer and you lean forwards as well, reducing the gap between you two that much more until there is just a miniscule space now.  

"I know," You answer against his lips, letting your hand slip into his hair. Jake's lips move with yours crowding in close, like he is trying to breathe all of you into himself and commit you to memory. 

"Maybe, it can be more of a promise?" Jake eventually gasps. 

"A promise?" You question. 

"A promise not to hurt you like this again," Jake answers.

"That's not an easy promise to keep," you warn. 

"That's true, but I'm willing to try anyway." He kisses you again and dips his tongue into your mouth. Jake swallows your little whimpers; he tastes just as good as he always has. It's very easy to be selfish with Jake "Hangman" Seresin.  

…

It's a slow road to trying to get back to normal. Jake circles around the house like he is lost. Picking things up and setting them down, starting conversations with you and leaving halfway through them. Shadows stretch across his face and his increasingly dark stubble and facial hair. You are a little surprised to find that he doesn't have a red beard like most blonds do. The facial hair only serves to make him look increasingly gaunt.

Jake even denies your offer to start a puzzle together, telling you that wasn't something he could handle at the moment. You try not to seem like you were watching him like a hawk, but you definitely are. Until one day he stood up from the table in the middle of dinner and announced that he was going camping. 

"Oh okay. Do you know how long?" 

"Yeah," Jake sighs, "I'll be home before next weekend, and I promise you when I get home I'll be normal again."

"You don't have to be any which way for me Jake," you tell him gently. 

"I know, but I need to do this for me too, sugar." He explains while putting away dishes. You watch him complete the task; Jake is antsy even with his hands occupied. None of the projects or tasks he has picked up since being home have been enough to occupy him with real distraction. Two days ago, you had walked into the garage where Jake had rigged up his camping hammock to the ceiling which you felt like he was swaying precariously 8 feet off the ground. On top of that Jake had music blasting, a documentary on Yosemite playing, while also whittling a piece of wood. 

"Okay. I'll miss you." You eventually say. Jake purses his lip, and after a heavy gulp he nods his head. Once the last of the dishes is away he spins on his heel and heads towards the garage door. 

You hurry after him, "Jake?"

"Yes, sugar?" He asks, not pausing his trajectory. 

"Are you leaving right now?" You ask him surprised. 

"Yes, I packed earlier today."

"Can I have a hug before you go?" You ask him hesitantly. 

Jake freezes. He rubs his hands across his face pressing briefly into his eyes while sighing a very soft "Fuck." Then he turns to you fully looking abashed. "Yeah, sugar. What do you need before I go? I'm sorry I should have asked that first."

"No, it's no big deal. Honestly." You tell him backing off not wanting to be too much. Jake shushes you softly while stepping closer. 

"Tell me how it goes. I need to remind myself about this part."

"Well," you start off hesitantly, "normally I would get a hug goodbye." 

"Ahh," Jake hums, "that's right. And I do that part like this?" Jake wraps you in his arms. Draping his arms high on your back. You wait a moment before draping your arms around his neck.

 "How's the next part going again, honey?"

"You squeeze my waist a little harder and lower." Jake follows the direction his arms tightening around you drawing you flush against his chest. 

"Now?" He whispers. 

"You would probably kiss my forehead."

"Just your forehead?" Jake asks breathily. 

"I'll leave that one up to you, Jake." He unwraps a hand from your waist to hold the back of your neck, keeping you steady. 

"And if I want to kiss somewhere else?"

"You've got my permission Jake," you tell him trying to keep want and desire out of your voice. Jake parts his lips and leans in closer brushing his lips to grace over your cheekbone. 

"You can have it, Jake," you remind him.

"No," he answers and closes his eyes. "Not again, not yet. I'll be home in a few days."

Once Jake leaves you know there is something you have to do to help him. It's an idea that gets stuck in your head and then you can't get it out. He had been spending time daily in his hammock in the garage, and you noted that Jake had taken it with him when he left. You missed how he used to casually be in the living room, so you started brainstorming some ideas on how you might entice Jake to join you again. 

So, you go to the kitchen and pull out the rolodex, find the card dedicated to Miss Celeste and give it a call. Russell answers the phone, and you can hear the man smiling through the phone as you ask after his wife. It turns out Jake's grandmother is just as blunt but kind hearted as you had been led to believe. After a longer conversation with her, she and Russ offer you some advice and tips

You aren't wholly sure how you managed to get it all done. Eventually having to call Coyote to help you move some of the living room furniture. However, after significantly less sleep than you already get, there is a large comfy hammock in the living room. You and Javy had to sandwich Jake's large comfy chair much closer to the couch than it was previously, but y'all managed to make it all fit. 

Jake comes home from camping quietly late one night. The stubble he had been supporting before is a full-on beard now, and his hair is longer than you have ever seen it. This look is intimidating to you in lots of ways, like some mirrored version of Jake that you don't know. He offers. quick hello when he comes in from the garage, breezing past you and towards the stairs.  

Jake doesn't make it to the stairs though instead he stands frozen at the edge of the living room for five whole minutes just staring at the hammock. You watch him closely, trying to gauge his reaction. 

"It's a surprise for you." You say after the amount of time he is standing there increases to a concerning duration. Compelled to do something you explain, "I know your hammock has been one of the only places you have been able to relax."  

"This is very sweet. I appreciate it." Jake starts evenly. It's contradictory as you see him grit his teeth, and his fists clench and unclench at his sides. 

"You don't like it?" You ask him.

"It's not that," Jake tries to explain. "It's just you can't randomly switch the living room around and add new furniture like this." 

Your mouth drops open in shock. This might be one of the first times Jake has ever told you there is something you can't do in the house. It's jarring, he has always spent so much time tailoring everything to your likes, desires, and aesthetics. You hardly even think about the house as Jake's and Jake's alone anymore. Frustration bubbles under the shock twisting into anger at the situation. You were trying your best, doing all the things you thought you should, and it still didn't seem like enough. 

"That is so rich coming from you for so many different reasons Jake." You say agitated, rolling your eyes. 

"Why are you upset?" Jake asks you, finally looking away from the living room. 

"Why are you upset?" You parrot with emphasis. 

"Well, what did you expect? I left for a few days and now there is a hammock in the living room. That's an outdoor item you brought indoors," Jake responds snappily. It pushes you right against an edge that you are unfamiliar with living on now. You had forgotten how it was to live in a hyper aware state, trying to manage and monitor someone else's emotions. 

"You act like you haven't done the same thing," you tell him, gesturing frustratedly at the juniper chest. "I was doing something nice for you. However, if you don't like it, I'm sure you're more than capable of taking it down and moving your furniture back and fixing your living room."  

You leave Jake in the living room and go to the kitchen. He grumbles to himself upset which makes you feel even more on edge. However, you refuse to let Jake blowing back into the house prevent you from finishing the dishes you had been stacking and putting away. 

"It's our living room," he finally calls back to you.

"You aren't acting like it."

"You could have given me some warning," he reasons, but it has a slightly accusatory tone. 

"When Jake?" You ask him, upset. "When you called me and told me you were coming home? When you text? How exactly was I supposed to let you know?"

He doesn't have an answer and you slam the door of a cupboard harder than you intend. Inside, the stack of bowls were more precariously placed than you thought. The cupboard closes and bounces back open, the bowls ejecting and crashing hard against the ground. Several of them shatter when they make impact, sending ceramic shards flying across the area. 

You aren't expecting the sound to trigger you. It most likely does because of how high strung and worried you already are. The house is such a safe comforting space you don't really have a game plan for when PTSD attacks hit you here. A chill makes its way up your spine, while the sound of shattering glass rings echoing in your ears, for much longer than it echoes in the room. It's all it takes for some flip to switch in your head. 

Managing to take small gasping breaths, you try to assess the damage of the sharp ceramic pieces around you, categorizing how many bowls had broken. It doesn't help you to fight off sudden panic that is creeping in when you notice one of the destroyed bowls was one Miss Celeste had made for Jake. It was a soup bowl stamped with a silly song Jake liked to sing anytime he used it. Distantly hear Jake calling your name but can't fully process it. He is stepping towards you, fear rings through your body, and instinctually you go to step back away from him. Flinching hard every one of your muscles feels like it's attached to a live wire. Your fight or flight mode activated but you are still mostly frozen in the middle with short panting breaths, your eyes flit across the area and the room trying to find a suitable escape path. 

"Sugar, please don't move. Just stay right there. It's okay." Jake is repeating, holding his hand up and showing you his open body language. Your breaths continue to come out gasping, but eventually you are able clear the cloudiness up enough with the help of Jake's soothing.  

"Jake, help," you whimper. Training your eyes on Jake you think that he is the only available escape, from the glass around you and this attack. At your words, his whole face shifts overcome with a serious ‘get things done’ demeanor.

"Are you hurt?" He asks calmly. You can't answer him just offering a shaking shrug. "Stay right there for me, Sugar. Okay?" 

Jake is shoving his feet into some boots, then crunching through the broken ceramics and glass before picking you up. He carries you to the living room, setting you down on top of the closed puzzle table. Once you are there, he kneels in front of you. Picking up each of your feet, Jake carefully examines them for injury. Then gives the rest of your body a scan; he is clearly relieved to find that there weren't any cuts. 

"Wait here." He orders you gently, walking back to the kitchen and setting about cleaning the mess. 

"I can clean that," you try to tell him in a weak attempt for Jake to stop.

"You just stay there looking pretty and take some breaths, sweets." He responds from the kitchen. You decide to give in, which is probably for the best with the way the numb panic is still very present at the edge of your consciousness. Your heart is still beating erratically as well. 

Jake is expedient and thorough about cleaning, going through the whole kitchen and dining room with his shop vacuum searching for any hiding slivers. When finished he makes his way to the living room and crouches by your side again sighing heavily. 

"I'm sorry," he says, setting his large warm hands on your knees.

"I'm sorry," you apologize as well. "I would have waited and asked you."

"You don't need to ask. I've just been on edge and wasn't expecting it. I do appreciate the thought. And you know I do love hammocks so, I'm sure I'll love it."

"We don't have to keep it," You remind him.

"We are taking it for a trial run," Jake responds. Then a few moments later he lets out a heavy sigh and says, "You know we are doing it all already, right?" 

"What's that?"

"It" Jake says gesturing with his free hand in the air. "We fit together. We're," Jake takes the slightest pause, his hand grips yours so tight you almost ache, then he drops it completely. "A bridle joint or maybe, a box joint." 

"We aren't ever going to fit with anyone else are we?" You ask him, clarifying. 

"No, we aren't. I think it might just be this, Sugar. It's just us." Jake says the words like a confession, an admission, an honest reality. 

You try to analyze the look in his eyes, but over anything else all you can focus on is how tired he is. You pick Jake's hand up again. Standing from the couch, pulling him with you. Jake asks no questions; he just follows you as you guide him. You tug him with you to each of the doors as you make sure each one is locked, jiggling them to be sure. Then he follows you to the kitchen as you grab two of his glass water bottles. You hand one to him and take his, gripping it tightly while his other hand remains loose in yours. 

You keep leading him then as he follows you up the stairs. Finally, You open the door to his room, and freeze in the doorway. A gasp catches in your throat. It's empty. The whole room. Not a mattress or a bedframe, no side tables or a dresser. It's all gone. There is one chest, a basket with some blankets, and one pillow. Jake stands close behind you, and you hear him audibly sigh into your ear. 

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and pull Jake through the room, leaving no room to address the issue and heading straight to the bathroom. You turn on the water for the bath and let the tub start filling. Turning to Jake and finally, let go of his hand. He looks lost at you, and you bring your hand up to lift his chin up a little higher. Jake takes your direction and those gorgeous sea-glass green eyes look at you. 

You tug at his shirt twice before he follows the movement and pulls it off. You step out of your own pants but otherwise stay clothed. Jake follows you sliding off his jeans. You go to Jake's bath chest still in place and grab a scent you think will be soothing, adding it to the bath. 

You reach to pull down his boxers, and he shakes his head small. When you start to pull off your shirt, Jake's hands stop you there too. He gives you a pleading look, and you shrug back, leaving your shirt in place. You motion for Jake to get in the bath, and he wordlessly does as you say. Making room for you between his knees, Jake scoots until he hits the back of the tub. You step into the warm water and slide down to settle in.  

Jake's head falls forward so his forehead presses into the space where your shoulder and neck meet, taking deep breaths. You shudder, feeling the air of his breath against your neck. Jake's large hands are gripping the side of the bathtub hard. You are shocked that the feeling of the wet clothes sticking to your skin hasn't rocketed you out of the bathtub. But like it often is, it's hard to focus on anything that's not Jake when he is this close to you. 

After a while, when Jake lifts his head and leans back, you do as well, leaning into his chest, his arms slide around you, pulling you even closer, as you draw imaginary designs on one of his forearms. 

"What's it mean for us?" You finally ask him. 

"I'm worse than I was before," Jake says to you quietly. 

"Before me?" And that actually makes you want to cry because it sounds so true. Things certainly would have been less variable without you around in Jake's life. No one to throw him off his routine. And before him weren't you better able to protect your heart better than this? You had been calloused and strong before. Living with Jake and in this house has been like a fine grit sandpaper buffing you so now you only have smooth soft edges. 

Has that been the way it's been between the two of you this whole time, something bad that was disguised as good? You can't come up with an answer, and apparently, neither can he. So it sits there, wilting, rotting between the two of you.

The silence is loud and almost echoes in the bathroom, with no room to hide. You finally take one of Jake's hands in yours and play with his fingers. He seems content with this, relaxing even further into the water. One of his knees occasionally bumping into you playfully, as if you could forget that he was there, as if there were anything besides Jake on your radar. 

Then he is whispering your name against your neck, right behind your ear. Gooseflesh bursts across your skin, and his beard is coarse and scratchy against your sensitive skin. Not having been trimmed once since it started growing. You try to shift away but his lips follow you. Tired of the game you reach a hand behind you and fist it into Jake's long hair, tightly tugging his face away from your neck. Jake gasps in response. 

You drop your hand feeling like he has been sufficiently warned from the action, which you know would descend into tickling. Jake grabs your wrist and turns it, and then ghosts his lips over your pulse point. After two more soft kisses there he presses three to your palm, and on each finger. Each press of his lips is intoxicating even in a place as insignificant as your hand. With your ring finger Jake's kisses are three times as long and lingering. It's an action that has you slamming your eyes closed to keep the tears from escaping. He finally releases your arm and you drop your hand back into the warm water. 

Something starts to thaw out there, in your chest. The combination of the physical warmth of the bath and Jake's blazing body. However, it is the feeling, emotional warmth of it that makes the difference. You tremble slightly feeling completely overwhelmed, the idea of being anywhere else or trying to move is devastating to your system. 

"Sugar pie?"

"Yes, Jakobi?" You answer back just as quietly 

"We haven't been doing so good, have we?"

"No."

"Our mental health?"

"Positively dismal. We both probably need to be institutionalized." Jake nods along, in understanding with your words. 

"Do you think I could convince them to let us be roomies there too?" 

"Not sure even you could swing that one, honey." You respond. Jake's eyes and whole face positively light up moments after you say the words. 

"Honey?"

You hum thinking it over before smiling and nodding, "Yup."

"But that's my nickname for you," Jake says in a pouting tone but the bright expression he is wearing hasn't dimmed. 

"Yeah, and sugar, darling, babycakes, anything related to pie—"

"I called you Huckleberry pie once and—"Jake protests but you barrel onwards cutting him off. 

"Well no more honey for you anymore. You use half the sweet names under the sun, I'm allowed to have one. And I think it's honey." You cup Jake's scratchy bearded cheeks and smile softly. "You're my honey, now." 

"Why honey?"

"Because you're so sweet."

"I'm not," Jake says brokenly, all playfulness having been sucked out of him. His head is heavy in your palm as he eases into your hold.

 "You're sweet," you repeat more firmly. Then continue, "Plus I can just imagine how snug and happy you would be in those honey combs."

"Hexagons are one of the superior shapes," Jake sighs.

"Sure they are. And you are golden like honey." You run your fingers through Jake's hair again. He shutters, and hides those sad green eyes from you.  

"I never knew just how blond the sun could make your hair," You sigh when you reach the end, scratching back up his scalp to repeat the process. You are turned fully to face him now, sloshing the water a bit to settle more comfortably. However Jake doesn't move, he seems almost as if he could be a statue made of glowing gold. 

"This tan also makes no sense," you tell him, trailing your hands over his shaped shoulders. 

He squints a single eye open at you, and you freeze as if you've been caught. Instead Jake's hand's pull your knees to settle on either side of his hips. Dragging you that much closer to him. It makes your breath hitch and Jake's eyes darken, however, he still leaves a bit of space. 

"One of my grandpas was Italian," Jake says with a quirk of his lips. The single eye he had opened closed as the smile melted off his face. Your hands resume their path, after massaging Jake's shoulders you knead his neck. Which just leads to playing with his hair again. Your train of thought was lost until you noticed a small light but fresh scar on the top of his bicep. You lean forward and  gloss your lips over the skin there. Jake's hand tightens where he is holding your thighs. He takes a careful breath in through his nose, and a long exhale. He follows that up with two more shallow but steady breaths and then just like that the tension releases from his body as he releases the air out.

"Where did you learn how to breathe like that, cowboy?" You ask him, letting your thumb continue to trace the strange new scar you have been examining. 

"Oh, so, I'm cowboy now?"

"Mr. Cowboy, my honey." You coo back. Jake's eyes flutter open again, he blinks slowly at you heavily lidded.  

"You are avoiding the question." You prompt him by raising an eyebrow. 

"It's not as bad as you're probably thinking," Jake answers a moment later. 

"I'm thinking, you did a whole summer of Vipassana, and meditation in some foreign country that made you have concerns about being that white guy(™)."  

As his lips lift in response to your joke, you think Jake's dimples are some of the prettiest things in this world, and you find it unacceptable that his beard hides any part of them from your view. You see the hint of them but it's not the same, you think that as you trace the shape of one. Your right left hand remains pressed over the new scar you had discovered. 

"We both know I could never do vipassana."

"I have evidence to the contrary," the words fall from your lips before you can stop them, and you regret them instantly. 

"Don't be mean to me," he begs you. In the same breath he speaks the words you are already halfway through saying, sorry.

"I'm working on leaving it I promise," You tell him.

"We don't have to leave it, we could talk about it." Jake suggests hopefully. 

"We are leaving it Jake," you say back sharply and he snaps his mouth shut chewing at the side of his cheek for a moment before responding. 

"Okay. I know I hurt you deep, and it's still fresh," Jake responds. His jaw clenches and you feel it jump.  

"So, it wasn't meditation? Is this going to be another riveting USNA story?" You ask him, steering the conversation back on a lighter track. 

"It was before Annapolis."

"Tell me more," you laugh, dropping your hold on his face, leaning forward and pressing your face against his bicep.  

"You're going to laugh at me," he pouts.

"I find that an entirely likely probability," you answer teasingly. 

"I had to take friendship classes in middle school." 

"I'm sorry, you did what?" You ask Jake to repeat, trying to process this bit of information. 

"This other kid and I hated each other, and we were constantly getting into it. The worst part is we had lockers right next to each other. He accidentally hit me with his locker, and I lost it. So I slammed his head right back and we started brawling. Anyways long story short, our school counselor made us take friendship classes, and taught us breathing techniques. It was all bull shit, but we ended up being friends afterwards, bonding over how stupid friendship class was."

"At least you got some good breathing techniques." 

"Something like that."  

"What's this one then? It's new." you say ghosting your lips over the scar you had found again. Jake sighs, glancing at the scar himself. 

"You are going to be mad," he starts. 

"Why would I be mad, honey?"

"I got two more moles removed." The admission makes you pull back and give Jake a weary suspicious glare. 

"Have you not been wearing sunscreen again?"

"No, I've been wearing sunscreen ever since you told me about it, I promise. The Doc just asked about one of them and wanted to do a biopsy. So, I said he might as well just take them all off while he was at it."

"And?" 

"Everything came back benign. Nothing to really worry about, Sugar."

"I always worry about you, Jakers." You sigh with relief and kiss that scar again, enjoying the feeling of having your head pillowed on his arm. 

"I know, I'm sorry." Jake whispers back. You wish he had just left it as I know, but you know you must persist on. 

"I don't want to make you worse, Jake."

"You don't make me worse. I am worse, no one has ever inspired me to act quite as selfishly as you have. I don't even know how to wholly be anymore, without you." 

"I just want to make things better for you." 

Jake groans quietly, "Maybe someday it will finally click that you make everything better. That you are stunning, and gorgeous, and just over all the best." 

"We could clear cut a forest, and not find a single tree that's sappier than you Jake." It inspires a quirk of his lips but the laugh you were hoping for.

"You probably right," is all Jake says back, continuing to trace shapes into your skin. It's quiet like that for a long time, as you two just exist together, coming down from the emotional turmoil. 

"Jake, where are you?" 

"I don't know. I don't know, Sugar," He sighs and tilts his head back letting out an exhausted breath. 

"Are you in the clouds?" You ask. He thinks before shaking his head no. 

"Are you on the ocean?"

He feels the water around him briefly then settles his hands on your skin again. "It doesn't appear so."

"Are you on base?"

"No." 

"So, where are you?"

"I know I'm here with you sugar, it just doesn't feel real." Jake answers. 

You examine him closely from his wet hair to the defined muscles of his shoulders and neck. How much muscle Jake gained deployment almost pushed him into a category you describe as too buff, but not actually going over the edge. As you trace the shape of his face you can easily identify what one of the problems is. 

"You are being suffocated," you tell him as your fingers trace up his cheeks and around through his hair there.

"Why do you have a beard Jake?" You ask in a gentle curious tone. 

"I don't have to shave until I go back to work."

"You should shave sooner," You say encouragingly. 

"Too tired," Jake says, stretching out one of his legs in the water. 

"Do you want help?"

"You want to give me a shave, sugar?"

"I'd be willing to give it a go if you feel like it would help," you answer plainly. He thinks about it before nodding. 

"It would." 

That's all you need to hear before you are stepping out of the bath. Immediately you hate how the wet material of your shirt clings to your skin. So, you quickly rip it off and throw it into the shower. Jake groans behind you and you point a finger back at him while grabbing fresh towels and Jake's shaving kit from beside the sink.  

"It's nothing you haven't seen and you can control yourself," you chastise him. 

"But you are so fucking beautiful," Jake groans making absolutely no effort to hide the way his eyes trace over your body. 

"You were two minutes from falling asleep."

"That was before," Jake whines as you come back to the bath and he sees you in even more detail. 

You set the shaving kit to the side within easy reach and settle yourself back into the water. Settled again your bare chest is pressed against his. This makes Jake closes his eyes throwing his head back  whispering a quiet "Fuck."

When his eyes open again, they are slightly dilated with lust. It makes you smile at him whispering, "hi there." 

"Hi," he breaths back.

"Hi," you say again, smiling wider. Jake can't stop himself from smiling as well, lips drawn upwards. His hands trace up your bare sides and you give him a small glare. Grabbing his chin you tilt his head back once more. 

"Yup, hold yourself just like that," You tell him, pausing to make sure he doesn't move. You start to lather up some shaving cream spreading it along this neck. 

"Have you shaved someone else before?" Jake questions. 

"Not really. So, you might want to give me pointers. I don't want to cut your pretty face." You answer with a teasing tone. 

Jake hums in acknowledgement thinking for a long moment. Then starts to detail the intricate shaving ritual he normally keeps. You follow each one of the steps. It's a slow process, shaving him. You are worried that you will cut him or make some other mistake in the process. Jake isn't hesitant or shy about giving you sweet and gentle encouragement. 

Finally, Jake's face is free of hair again. You help wipe away the remaining product, and dab on the aftershave in his kit you brought over. Just like he asked you. Jake winces but gives you a tentative smile when you stare at him examining your work. You smile back softly, setting things down that are in your way, feeling relief to be done. 

The two of you finish your bath before getting out and drying off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you head back to your room changing and settling into bed. Jake follows not long after in a pair of comfy pants and a soft muscle shirt. He asks if he can join you in bed even though you already pulled the covers back while waiting for him. 

Jake takes a bit of shifting to get comfortable until he is laying on his side facing you, meeting your gaze as you shift to see him better. You lift a hand to cup his face enjoying the fresh smooth skin there. 

"Ah, there he is," you say with a soft sigh. The lines of Hangman's face are prominent and easy to follow again. A tear spills from Jake's eye and you push it away gently. Leaning forwards Jake angles his lips to barely brush over yours before he pulls back. 

"Please?" You ask him, going to follow his lips for more. 

"I don't think we should," Jake responds and snuggles his face into your neck to avoid the temptation of your lips. 

"But we fit. We fit perfectly," you whisper. 

"That's exactly the problem," Jake answers. "I won't do wrong by you again. And that means I don't want to rush anything. Are you in a hurry?"

"Does that have a timeline?" You ask, ignoring your frustration. 

"It does in a general sense."

"Care to share?"

"Sure," Jake mutters tiredly into your neck. "I think it's been going for a while, right?"

"That's right," You answer, letting your hand drift into his long hair. It was almost all the way dry now and fluffy. He had a haircut scheduled to get it cut before he started work again leaving you only a few days left to savor this. His eyes close, and a small smile graces his face. With a gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp a tiny whine tumbles out of him. Jake seems too tired to care anymore. His nose just nuzzles your neck, and he places a tiny kiss there. You sigh, and resume playing with the silky strands. 

"And how long before we have it all figured out, Honey?" You ask. 

"As I see it, the rest of our lives. So, give or take sixty-ish more years."

"We are making it the long haul huh?"

"Yes, Ma'am. We will, so there's absolutely no reason to start at a sprint." 

"I thought you had a need for speed." You tell him teasingly. 

Jake huffs into your neck, sucking in a deep breath he blows it out slowly tickling your skin. "I have a great comeback for that."

"Oh really?" 

He hums in affirmation. Then he sleepily manages to crack an eye open and looks at you, while he mumbles, "But I am a sleepy boy. Wait, no…  a sleepy man"

You chuckle and kiss Jake's forehead. "Goodnight, sleepy boy"

"Sleepy man," he tries to correct you, but the words are hardly coherent. It takes less than five minutes before Jake is fully asleep, and you aren't far off yourself. Jake was so warm, and it was so easy to match your breaths with his deep even ones, falling into a dream where you spend sixty years with Jake. Even in your dream you realize that might still not be enough. 

...

Read the rest of this chapter on AO3. Sorry, again Tumblr would't let me put it all here.

[thickenmyblood]

fics i think about every single day of my sad little life

Incision by Ccainao3

The Akielon loses the fight.

Sometimes I want to die and it’s because of this fic right here. No words.

Canis Major by Lapin

It starts because Aimeric is a pushy, arrogant, little bastard who has never learned when he needs to keep his mouth shut. His very presence at this party already irritates Laurent in the worst way.

Laurent is only trying to be a good friend to Jord. Damen was never supposed to be a factor.

Okay so this fic is not only VERY WELL written (as in, perfectly) but it also has all the best tropes EVER: pining Damen, fake dating, Auguste as an ALIVE older brother, NICAISE, Damen and Auguste are bros. Amazing dialogue, and the chemistry between Laurent and Damen is fucking BONKERS. And one more thing: THE SEX SCENE WAS SO HOT. IT WAS SCALDING MY EYEBALLS.

Nature by ahdriking

Laurent snorts, drinking in Damen’s horror like it is something to be savoured.

“I have done nothing,” he says, “but aided nature in its course.”

Pain, but the good kind.

before it all burned down by onekingdomonce

It was true that love was nothing like people explained it to you. Growing up, no one told you that you might find it in more than one place. You find your soulmate. Your one. No fairytales prepared you for the feeling of that sentiment being ripped down the middle, figuratively and literally. Laurent didn’t know how to live with it, so he just had to.

You know sometimes I wake up at, like, five am and I wonder how Nikandros is doing in this universe. This fic ruined my brain and we need to talk about it more often because it’s so fucking hard to get GOOD cheating fics and this one is NEXT LEVEL. This is subtle, but fucked up, but sweet, but sour, but Jesus Christ just READ IT. THE CHEATING IS SO GOOD IN THIS, GO ADULTERY! GO! AND THE WRITING JKBGKJBGK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The World's More Full Of Weeping by deripmaver

At thirteen, a boy named Laurent Devere had gone into the woods with his uncle.

What had come out was wrong. He was wrong.

He was not Laurent.

He was a changeling, and he needed to find a way to bring Laurent home.

Petition for derip to stop. This fic is a MASTERPIECE. This was so sad but sweet it sometimes had me CRYING my eyes out and that’s no easy task considering I have like three tears left. No spoilers but the final scene had me sobbing like a fucking child. It is SO GOOD. Best tropes ever too: trauma (lmao, am I calling trauma a trope? yes, this is derip’s fic), AUGUSTE AND LAURENT’S CRUMBLING BUT STILL THERE RELATIONSHIP, angst, the horrible realization that you will never be a child again and that there are parts of you that have died or been killed by life but also that does not do this justice. PLEASE READ THIS FIC.

No Plan by melancholicpie

Laurent and Damen are not bonded by the Red String of Fate. Laurent worries about it.

Loved this concept so much. This was originally posted in 2020 and has now been re uploaded so just take a chance and read it because it’s the best take on soulmates I’ve read in this fandom!

between them, sharp as a knife by Ccainao3

Damen tells Laurent his true identity at Ravenel.

It doesn't go well.

Good Boy by DreamDrop

Auguste wouldn't have suspected the turn his life took after his brother came back from France to live with him. Now he couldn't imagine ever going back to the way it was before. Especially not after meeting Nik. Not after experiencing the stunning sub looking up at him and calling him Daddy.

I KNOW. I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING.THIS PAIRING WORKS HERE. I SWEAR TO GOD IT DOES. Also the porn here is very, very, very hot. Very hot. I think about this at least ten times a month. 

Étude by xlydiadeetz

“The heart has a melody. Once you discover it, there’s no going back.”

Present day, Auguste is dead. The Golden Pianist is gone, and Laurent finds himself completely alone in the world. Haunted by the ghost of the promise he never accomplished, he goes through the stages of grief as he remembers his brother and deals with the return of a high school crush who makes him start to believe once again in the beauty of music.

No words, just pain. Most painful fic of my life. If you’re a Laurent lover this is a MUST READ. No skipping the classics. This is a fandom gem. This is like the Bible but for Capri fans.

Notorious by VeretianStarburst

“You genuinely don’t know who I am, do you?” Laurent asked, tilting his head back to look into Damen’s eyes.

“Should I?”

“I’m rather notorious around here. I have a feeling you’ll find out why soon enough.”

This is so good and the ending was so good and I want more. Mafia AU, baby!

Lose You by Ellies

“I’m pregnant,”

Damen paled as soon as those words left his mouth. Laurent felt vaguely sick himself.

“What?”

This is or the Incision fans. Hell yes, this fic is INSANELY good. It will keep you on the edge of your seat. It’s SO GOOD.

[this is me trying] by ace_assin9

Aimeric would like to say it wasn’t his fault. What happened. He’d like to, but he’s never been much of a liar. Not unless he’s already spitting mad. Lies don’t formulate themselves like prophecies demanding to be spoken, not like they seem to for the others. He blames the fact that he’s never had to lie. He’s only ever had to hide and hope his parents don’t find him when he fucks up. With five older siblings, it had never been particularly hard.

“Aimeric,” Jord said, haltingly. His shoulders were tense. “D’you think you should see a therapist?”

THIS FIC IS ONE OF THE BEST AIMERIC FICS OUT THERE AFTER CHERRY WINE. I LOVE THIS FIC SO MuCH SOMETIMES I WAKE UP GASPING BECAUSE I CANNOT BELIEVE IT EXISTS AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH PLEASE READ IT. PLEASE. GIVE AIMERIC A CHANCE I AM BEGGING YOU.

I Don't Smoke by rmayuscula

He loves Jord, loves him the most. But not enough to let himself be wrecked by him, to be kicked to the curb like a dog, like his parents did to him. To be used by him, like he has been before. He’ll stay here.

“I could wait too. You could come back.”

Everything Leo writes is cool (check out his latest fics btw, he’s DERANGED) bt this fic will always be special to me because it’s the only fic that made me like Jord as a character. YOU NEED TO READ THIS. GIVE AIMERIC A CHANCE. PLEASE. 

all alone by desastrista

Inspired by Green But For a Season. AU - Auguste never discovers Jord and so Jord never joins the Princes Guard. Instead, he finds work at Fortaine, where he is assigned to instruct Lord Guion's fourth son in swordfighting.

Amazing fic. If you’re looking for something that reads like canon and has this tragic feel to it, give this a try. PLEASE. You will NOT be disappointed. Amazing writing.

Works In Progress - Special Mentions:

(Not) Meant For You by Holly_Golightly

With the internet buzzing over Auguste and Damen’s latest fight and Auguste going off the rails a little bit, Laurent was fairly positive now was the worst possible time for him to accidentally send Damen a text meant for his ex. A text asking for sex.

Auguste was going to kill him.

This fic will be my death. I can’t seem to NOT think about it. Auguste in this is so amazingly fucked up. I love him so much. Lamen here are 10/10

All My Words by itallends

Over one quiet summer, Damen becomes enamoured with his son's boyfriend.

UGH my gem, my guilty pleasure, my love. I love this fic even though it leaves me feeling like a gutted fish. Damen is so fucking hot in this. PLEASE READ.

Concordia by Ccainao3

He’d had hope, after those talks, that when the sting of Olympic loss had faded he and Auguste would be able to salvage something of their old friendship. This doesn’t seem likely now. Sorry I gave you a concussion when I checked you is one thing; sorry I beat you out for the gold medal and then had your little brother wear it while I fucked him is another.

Is your fic rec a fic rec if Concordia isn’t in it? GHHHHHHHHGGBJKGJGJGJGJ I hate this author so much, she poisons my brain with her stupidly well written fics and they won’t leave my MIND. Seriously this fic is SO GOOD. Angry Auguste, Protective Damen, Asshole Laurent. ALSO... Erasmus and Damen in this... they’re my OTP even though they’re not together like that in this. 

Pop Stars by silentdescant

Laurent has been famous since he was a preteen, signed to his uncle's label, Regency Records. Damen and Nik front an indie band and signed with Regency for the opportunity to go on a world tour and open for Laurent.

NO WORDS. Groundbreaking. Wonderful. An ode to suffering.

The Firebird Suite by treeprince

Ancel knew the Regent preferred his pets blue-eyed and younger, but he was the best, so he wasn’t too worried that he couldn’t turn the highest head. If nothing else, he knew he’d make a lasting impression and land himself a contract either with someone much more suited to his tastes, or better.

After all, the only person looking out for him was himself, so there wouldn’t be any need to improve his circumstances with his current owner. There was no use in sticking his neck out for those who wouldn’t do the same for him.

WHY WON’T GOD LET ME HAVE GOOD THINGS. WHY. @treeprince just fucking update it’s KILLING ME. Best Berencel fic of 2020-2021-forever.

sanguinary poultice, love charm by Lapin

A different brother dies at Marlas, a king is crowned, and a new prince is born.

In a garden in Patras, Damen meets Laurent.

No, you do NOT understand. Laurent pretends to be a pet and Damen believes it and this fic is literally the most beautiful thing I read all year. You don’t UNDERSTAND. By the time you see this it’ll probably be completed but... Jesus Christ. The chapters are super long and juicy and beautiful. The scene transitions are SEAMLESS. The sex is so fucking good (Canis Major levels of good). PLEASE read this. The writing is so, so, so, so good. DAMEN IS SO OBLIVIOUS AND I LOVE KASTOR’S LITTLE SON. PLEASE, PLEASE READ THIS if you love love and pain and jokes and pining.

Sunblind by Folfar

The sun is in Auguste’s eyes when he dies. It is there when he wakes up, too.

Everyone has read this fic. We all agree it’s the best of the best. MOST ANTICIPATED AUGUSTE FIC EVER. Damen and Auguste bonding. Laurent... well, READ IT. 100000000/10

Wait, did you think I was done? Without mentioning my favorite fic of alll time? Surprise, bitch.

The Mannequin Gallery by marrieddorks

Laurent was still standing at the bookshelf, his fingers grazing the edge of one of the shelves near eye-level, seemingly scanning the array of titles like that was what he was here for. As he slowly walked, following the parallel lines of the shelves, the angle of him changed, allowing Damen to take in the neat way his sweater was tucked into his pants, the way the belt there accentuated the waist that Damen knew was underneath all those layers, the waist that was so slight in comparison with the build of his illusionary-worthy shoulders, the wisps of hair escaping the low ponytail his hair was pulled into, dancing around the elegant column of his neck like a nonexistent necklace, and the ridiculous length of his eyelashes as the, however briefly, rested on the apples of his cheeks for a blink.

“I, however, am not my uncle,” Laurent continued, his fingers hesitating over a well-used copy of 'Il barone rampante' by Italo Calvino. “Because of that, I will not make his mistake in my counter-offer to you.”

“Counter-offer?”

“Work for me instead,” Laurent said.

Best fic ever. IT HAS JUST BEEN UPDATED. PLEASE READ IT. Soon we’ll get fake dating and fake kisses that are actually real and I need you to PLEASE READ THIS. I am on my knees. Begging. Crying. Throwing up. Laurent is a model. Damen is an influencer. Together they escape from the Regent lol. Something like that... READ THE FIC.

[nxrthmizu]

kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug 

genre | lila salt, so much salt 

summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life. 

w.c | 8.1k 

author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass. 

author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it. 

Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.

Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.

She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.

If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—

“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”

Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.

“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.

“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”

Sharp enough to kill?

Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.

Good, Lila was already present.

“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?

“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.

A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.

“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.

Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”

The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.

Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.

“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”

“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?” 

Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess... 

Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared. 

Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.” 

Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads. 

“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child. 

The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.” 

“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate? 

She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain. 

Was it...? 

After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps. 

Perhaps it was possible. 

The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise. 

Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?” 

“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?” 

“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?” 

The Italian cursed under her breath— Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.” 

Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily. 

Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks. 

No. 

She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again. 

“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again. 

Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead. 

As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them. 

“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!” 

“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines. 

“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?” 

Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.” 

“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for. 

Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support. 

“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl. 

“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,). 

“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything. 

Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed. 

All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”

Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”

“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”

With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.

“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.

Alya frowned. “Who?”

“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”

Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”

“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”

“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.

“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”

“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”

“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one. 

“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on. 

“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.” 

Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one. 

“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart. 

The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!” 

“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done. 

The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks. 

“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation. 

“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself. 

“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill. 

Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers? 

“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!” 

The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.” 

Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter. 

Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?” 

The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen. 

“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face. 

Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was. 

“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.” 

“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.” 

The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery. 

Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being. 

Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had. 

“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist. 

“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white. 

Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...? 

“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.” 

“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom. 

“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?” 

Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string. 

Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done. 

“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.” 

Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone. 

“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!” 

The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her... 

“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on. 

“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...” 

There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?” 

“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.” 

Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...” 

Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?” 

The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word. 

Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.” 

A collective choir of groans rounded the class. 

“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?” 

Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely? 

“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?” 

“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed. 

The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?” 

“... No.” 

“...” 

“... Maybe.” 

“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.” 

“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.” 

“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?” 

Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.” 

Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression. 

“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?” 

“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?” 

This elicited another round of groans. 

Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally. 

“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery. 

“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Slam! 

Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled. 

And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette? 

Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right? 

Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point. 

Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft. 

“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other? 

“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.” 

Alya was silent. 

“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes. 

“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?” 

“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally. 

“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates. 

She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job. 

“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.” 

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom. 

“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?” 

“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.” 

Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know... 

Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.” 

In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. 

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.” 

“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row. 

“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.” 

Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him. 

“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?” 

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered. 

“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.” 

“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in. 

“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled. 

“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea. 

The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?” 

The class agreed, nodding along. 

Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president. 

This is your problem now. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?” 

“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?” 

“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly. 

Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.” 

“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?” 

The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile. 

“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—” 

“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.” 

Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’. 

“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?” 

“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice. 

“Determination was always one of your good traits.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there. 

“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.” 

Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it. 

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation. 

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations. 

“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond. 

Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come. 

Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet. 

Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars. 

“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”  

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

this was both satisfying and tiring to write... 

[patchworkpuzzle]

MINORS DNI 18+

word count: 2.6k

paring: Kirishima x f!Reader

warnings: lots of biting, marking, lots of dirt talk (like I went crazy it seems), like one spank, rough sex in general

authors note: um hi again. So I really liked how I did my gift to Emme and figured I would keep on that gift train and write a fic for another sweetheart Miss Moo! ( @eyebagsbutglam ) so I hope she likes it and hope all you guys do too! 

“Ah! Eji please! Slow down!”

You whimpered out, clawing at Kirishima’s shoulders to help ground yourself from the overwhelming pleasure that was being brought upon you. His hips that kept crashing down on your backside at an alarming rate was telling you that he had no intentions to listen to your cry any time soon.

He was ravenous.

He was like that the moment he walked through the door. You couldn’t quite understand why that was. Maybe it was a really long and tough day, maybe someday said something that irked him, or maybe he just simply wanted you so badly it hurt, and he just had to act on those urges the moment he saw you.

You would guess the latter with how hungerly he claimed your lips the moment you greeted him. And how he just kept devouring every part of you, barely letting you catch your breath or understand any reason as to why. And maybe that was his design. Maybe he just wanted to consume every part of you and wanted you to submit to that; willingly or not.

Kirishima would tell you later the reason why he was being so possessive. Why he was so feral with how he was making love to you right now; never letting up for even one second despite your pleas of a slight reprieve. To simply put, it all boiled down to being pent up.

Not sexually, no. The sex life he shared with you was very active and he certainly had no complaints whatsoever. No, it was a type of jealous rage that started within him as a slight simmer, and before long it boiled over and out of control.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take the leers strange men would give you as you walked hand in hand on the street. Couldn’t take the sly comments his coworkers, fellow heroes mind you, would let slip passed whenever you would drop something off for him. And certainly, the line was drawn when one of your coworkers, some wannabe Don Jaun, put his arm around you at one of your office’s functions. The words he whispered, which Kirishima himself couldn’t hear, made you blush scarlet as you pushed him away playfully and gently chided him was all the proof that Kirishima needed. Your co-worker wanted you, and badly.

And that’s when everything bubbled over.

But Kirishima didn’t act on it right away. Oh no, he just simply chuckled along as he pulled you back to him. Never letting you go too far after that. He couldn’t blame you; it wasn’t your fault that you were so beautiful and so very lovely. That you had such a sweet presence to you, with a dazzling smile to match, that people couldn’t help to be drawn to.

It was what drew him to you after all. And he was so thankful for it everyday when he came home to you, kissed you honeyed lips, got to hear your sweet voice say his name. He got it, totally understood why people acted the way they did. It was just when people drew that line that made Kirishima want to show all of them who you belonged to.

And that was exactly what he was doing right now. The moment you got into arms reached his true colours were brought forth. One of his rough hands immediately went to the back of your head to pull you into a heated kiss, one that he dominated. His tongue entered your mouth when you gasped in surprise at the suddenness of it all.

 His towering frame made it easy for him to trap you against the nearest wall, continuing his assault on your body in the ways he saw fit. Groping your chest through the fabric of your light cotton shirt, feeling your nipples get hard under his palms, as he slid a knee between your legs.

All you could do was whimper, breathlessly moan out when he pulled away from the kiss, as you tugged his hair harshly in one hand. The other held onto his shirt tightly to help keep you in reality. A loud yelp shot out your mouth as you felt a sharp pain at your shoulder, one so loud you covered your mouth.

That didn’t go over well, with Kirishima ripping your hand away with a growl and pushing on your core with more pressure as he stared into your eyes. You felt small under his gaze, almost helpless as you felt your hips start to gyrate on his thigh. A shiver running down your spine at this new, more dominant, side of your boyfriend.

 “Don’t you dare hide any sounds; you hear me?” Kirishima growled, the low timber to his voice was making your knees weak “I want to hear it all. Want them all to hear it.”

You nodded your head, swallowing thickly as you watched him lower his head again. Licking up the column on your neck before finding that weak spot by your ear and taking a bite. The sharp ache returned, only to turn dull and more bearable when his tongue soothed over the tender spot.

His sharp teeth mapped all over your neck and collar bone, leaving behind red angry marks; some that were already turning purple. No place left unmarked as he continued his downward track, ignoring your wobbly legs and whimpers as you tried to stay upright when he ripped the flimsy material of your shirt off of you to get to more of your chest.

Not even taking a breath, or allowing you to take one, before his assault continued onto your pert breasts. One nipple being bitten, and sucked harshly, before he moved to the next one. The neglected one would never be left alone, as his large hands would grope and tug. All ministries done to hear more of your broken moans.

And moan you did. You couldn’t help it. He was toying and playing with you so wonderfully, so roughly. The drastic change from how he would normally kiss and caress your skin was making your head dizzy. The rough pleasure, that almost bordered on pain, was something so divine that you couldn’t help but want more.

“Bedroom.” You whispered out, tugging his head up and away from your chest “Take me to the bedroom.”

It was a command, though it was masked so prettily that Kirishima couldn’t help but oblige. Lifting you up by your thighs, to force your legs to wrap around his waist. Kirishima wasted no time in rushing to your bedroom, throwing you onto the bed and enjoying the squeal you let out when you bounced on the soft mattress.

“Come here, baby. Wanna mark those pretty legs of yours too” Kirishima licked his lips as he tugged on your legs. Pulling you to the end of the bed before ripping your jeans off your legs.

Your breath hitched as his lips tickled your ankle, watching a wicked smirk play across his handsome face as his eyes turn darker while gazing down at you; like a predator would with his prey. And you had no qualms being his prey as you leaned back on your elbows to watch him slowly make his way up the length of your leg.

Letting out little mewls of pleasure whenever he would nibble a spot before soothing the sore skin with his warm tongue. Your hips twitching in place, you were trying your hardest not to move so much but couldn’t help it. You were getting needy, wanting him to hurry up and touch you properly.

“Needy baby, aren’t you?” His dark chuckle accompanied by his fingers lightly brushing your soaked panties made you whine, hips trying to chase the fleeting touch for more.

“Please, need more!” You whine, lips unconsciously pouting as you lay fully down onto the bed “Want you to touch me more….”

“Such a good girl, aren’t you? Telling me what you want, want me to play with this pretty pussy, huh?” Kirishima spoke slowly, pulling your panties down your legs, groaning at the sight of your glistening folds.

You mewled when you felt his fingers run up and down your folds, his other hand coming down to rest on your pelvis to keep you in place. Rough, thick fingers, slowly rubbing your clit before dipping down into your core. You let out a choked moan when you felt his fingers enter you. They were so thick, much thicker than yours, that you adored the stretch they provided to your gummy walls.

“Always so tight for me, aren’t you baby?” Kirishima groaned, pushing more on your pelvis as he sped up his motions. Enjoying the way you cried out and tried to move away from him “Such a perfect pussy, and it’s all mine isn’t it?”

You could only wail and the sudden onslaught of overwhelming pleasure of his digits positioning into you at an alarming rate. Your orgasm was being built up so quickly that you couldn’t think straight, eyes crossing and back arching as the coil was starting to break.

“Hey!” Kirishima pulled his fingers out, much to your disappointment as you sobbed out for him to not stop. A harsh smack was brought down on your thigh “When I ask you a question, you answer me, got it? And only good girls who act right get to cum.”

He brought his hand back to lightly run up and down your folds again, ignoring your clenching hole and you mewls that were asking for more. He rubbed on your clit lightly for a brief moment before pulling away entirely. Standing upright he threw his shirt over his head before he started unbuckling his belt.

“So, let's try that again.” Kirishima licked his lips at the sight of you looking up at him, doe-eyes looking so sweet and innocent as they tried not to stare at the tent that was now present in his jeans “This pussy is all mine, right? You’re all mine?”

You nodded your head, a meek little ‘yes’ escaping from your lips as you sat up to rub his bulge. Biting your lips as you looked back up at him, feeling yourself getting wetter at what was to come.

“All yours Eji, no one else’s” You whispered, bringing your hand higher to help him tug his jeans and boxers down.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Kirishima chided, moving your hand away from touching his weeping cock “Can’t wait any longer, gotta fuck my girl right now.”

You eagerly nodded your head as you quickly moved up the bed to nestle yourself in the pillows. Letting out a playful giggle when Kirishima followed suit, grabbing hold of her leg once more and kissing you knee before settling it up on his shoulder.

“Gonna fucking wreak you baby” He groaned, rubbing his blunt tip up and down your folds to coat it in your click juices.

You let out a mewl, that quickly turned into a groan, as you felt him enter you. The stretch was always too much no matter how much he prepped you, you just never were fully ready for his girthy cock. But that was why you loved it so much. You loved the burn and pleasurable pain his cock would do to you, how he would stretch you so wide to force your pussy into his shape.

“That’s it. Take all of it, good girl” Kirishima moaned, teeth grazing your calf by his head as he continued to push more of him into you. Trying to get it all to fit “Such a good girl for taking it all. Keep going….. yeah just like that!”

He let out a long-drawn-out groan when he finally bottomed out, gripping onto your thighs in a tight hold to help bring him down. He didn’t want to end the fun so soon, but God were you tight. You always were and it drove him crazy every time he entered you.

 Your eyes were clenched as you held onto his shoulders, nails making small crescents into his skin as you tried to adjust. After a moment you felt his hand move in between your bodies, the other gripping at the pillow beside your head, as he rubbed small circles on your clit to try and get you to relax a little more.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He praised, his starting to rut slowly “There you, doing so good taking me in this tight cunt. Gonna start moving okay, so hold on tight.”

You barely had a moment to fully register what he said, or fully prepare yourself, when he pulled almost all the way out before slamming right back into you. Repeating the motion with increasing speed and strength that after only a few moments he was slamming down into you at a brutal pace. One so hard that your body kept moving up towards the headboard, and your upper thighs were starting to feel bruised by his punishing thrusts.

All you could do was hold on tight and scream out his name, to babble nonsense as his cock kept hitting your sweets spots at such an angle and speed that your eyes could barely stay focused. If it wasn’t for his constant praise, of him constantly telling you to “keep taking it, yeah keep taking this cock, keep screaming my name baby, let them all know who fucks you this good, no one else can fuck you like me”

It was the dirty talk, the constant filth that was coming from his mouth that made you go wild, made your cunt clench around him, made you gush again and again. And Kirishima knew it too. Along with his vigorous tight circles his thumb kept relentlessly spinning on your clit, the brutal slapping of his brutal hips crashing down into you that just pushed his cock deeper and deeper into you. And his thick cock bombarding your senses as it kept hitting your cervix, causing you to cry out constantly in pleasure even if your throat was getting sore.

“Gonna fuck you so its always in my shape, you would like that wouldn’t you? My cock hungry baby, look at how you scream for it. Am I fucking you stupid, huh? Fucking you so good that you can’t help but cream around my cock?” Kirishima asked through clenched teeth as he tried to hold on until after he felt you cum around him one more time “I know you do baby. Come on, cum around my cock again. I know you got one more in you.”

“S’too much!” You cried out, not bothering asking him to slow down as you knew your previous attempts were futile “Please, want you cum Eji!”

“You want my cum? Want me to fill this pretty pussy up?” Kirishima moaned when he felt you clench at his words, clearly it was getting to you more than he originally though “Come one baby, cum for me. Milk my cock with this tight pussy, come on!”

It only took a few more thrusts before your body was trembling and his hips were stuttering into you. You both cried out as you came crashing down, your gummy walls holding onto him so tight that it was making him whine, as your body convulsed with overstimulating pleasure.

He stayed buried deep within you as you both tried to catch your breath. Petting your hair gently and running a hand to run small soothing circles on your thigh to help you calm down. Once your breathing evened out, he reached under you to pull you up and to his chest.

“Come on, let's go run you a hot bath.” Kirishima whispered, carefully stepping off the bed “It’s what my girl deserves after being so good.”

All you could do was mumble into his neck as your head lulled gently along with his movements, too tired and blissed out to find, or want to find, your strength.

[lexiepoch]

Wake Up, I Need You

Total Word Count:1282

Summary: it’s smut. All of it. That’s all. Thor smut specifically.

I wrote this for my best friend @desolatecarer in like all of three hours. It’s probably crappy but that’s fine, it was fun to write. Also available to read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40770543?view_adult=true

You wake up beside Thor to the Asgardian sun shining through your balcony window right onto your faces and an all too familiar stickiness between your thighs. You grin to yourself as a brilliant idea to mind. “Thor! Darling! Wake up, I have a surprise my love!” You simper in the lovers ear, waking him easily from his sleep.

“Yes daring? What is it?” Thor mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“Give me your hand a moment,” Thor places his hand in yours and allows you to guide beneath the sheets. Locking eyes with the man beside you, you push his hand against your weeping cunt.

Thors eyes widen as you grind yourself against his hand. "Well this is one way to wake up," Thor growls in his hoarse morning voice before capturing your hips with both hands, rolling to his back and lifting you with ease to hold you above his face. “By Gods you’re fucking gorgeous my love. And fuck, look at you. You’re absolutely dripping with lust. Did you wake up like this, my queen? Needy for my touch?” Thor groans at the sight and sound of you clenching around nothing.

“I did! I did my love!” You cry out.

“Good,” is all Thor says before lowering your drenched heat to his mouth.

“Oh Gods!” You gasp out, feeling his warm tongue lapping against your quivering entrance. You feel Thor smirking against you quickly before you feel his tongue dip inside you.

“I forgot how good you tasted my darling. We can never let that happen again.” Thor groans against the sensitive flesh of your quim. His pause to speak is as long as his words are and before you know it the man beneath you is devouring you like someone who’s been starved of food for days on end.

“Oh! Thor! Fuck!” You shout, leaning forward slightly as he hits just the right spot inside you with the tip of his tongue. One of your hands shoots down to grip at his hair and the other to the grab the headboard. Thors hands find your hips once again as he pulls you farther onto his face so he can find that delectable spot inside you once again. Once he finds it a second time you give his hair a tug, trying to pull even closer. This earns a loud but low, rumbling moan from the god of a man between your thighs. “Fuck! Thor! I’m getting-oh shit! Really close! So -“ you let out a moan as the bridge of Thors nose nudges your clit beautifully.

Thor adjusts his hold on your hip to only one hand as his mouth travels from your hole to your bundle of nerves. His second hand strokes softly against your already shaking thighs before two deliciously thick fingers delve into your core. “Gonna come for me, my love? Gonna come all over my face?” Asks Thor, deliberately brushing his voluminous lips over your pulsing clit. He pumps his fingers into you steadily, a devilish smirk on his face as he wraps his lips around the pulsing bundle of nerves and begins to tease it with the tip of his tongue.

“Thor! Please! Please Thor! Let me come!” You all but sob, breathing becoming laboured as you try to hold back your orgasm.

Thor relinquishes his pleasureful assault in your clit. “Come for me, my queen. Let me feel you come apart all because of me.”

As soon as you hear those words come out of his mouth you allow your orgasm to wash over you. “Thor!” You scream as you feel him lapping up all you have to give him, as you clench down hard on his fingers which never leave your core. You pull hard on his hair in an attempt to balance yourself.

“Good girl. Good job, love. Did so well for me, my angel. Taste so delicious my love.” Praises Thor, delicately removing his fingers from inside of you as you begin to come down from your post-orgasm high. He sneakily pulls the thin sheet off of his lower body. “You did so well, baby girl, so fucking well.” Thor grab you gently by the waist, lifting you up and onto his hard cock. He gently lowers you down until you’re sitting in top of his, with his cock buried inside you. You let out s soft moan at the feeling of your lovers dick splitting you open after your earth shattering orgasm.

“Fuck Thor! You’re so big! I feel so full!” You whine, letting your head fall back. “Love having your cock inside me. Love being stuffed full of your big cock, Thor.” You moan, beginning to rock your hips back and forth.

“You look so pretty with my dick inside your pretty pussy.” Praises Thor, hands returning to your hips once again. He starts sliding you up and down on his cock, meeting each downstroke with a soft thrust. “Look at you! Taking my dick so well!” He groans at the feeling of your cunt swallowing him with ease each time. “So warm and tight, like this pussy was built to take my cock!”

“Thor! Feels so good!” You whimper, clawing at his thigh trying to ground yourself.

“Getting close again my love? I can feel you clenching around me. Gonna come a second time for me, my darling?” Thor starts to thrust up into you a little harder as his own orgasm approaches. You nod quickly as your legs begin to tremble. “Use your words my love, I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you beg me to let you come again.” Thor Tainan’s. He halts his movements on your hips, choosing to change to solely thrusting up into you.

His words cause you core the flutter and ooze out more arousal. “Please my king, make me come again. Make me come so hard I pass out.” You whimper, hole clenching around him.

“Where do you want me to come, gorgeous? Where do you want your kings cum?” Thor groans, rubbing your clit in gentle circles.

“All over me! Please Thor! Let me come! Can I come please?!” You plead, squirming in Thors hold as he continues to his you g-spot with every thrust.

“Beg me darling. Beg for it, you dirty little whore. Beg for me to let you come.” Thor demands, slapping your cheek causing you to moan louder.

“Please Thor! Please let me come! Please let me come all over your cock! Pleas!” You cry, tears running down your cheeks as you legs shake uncontrollably as you hold back yet another orgasm.

“Come.” Thor orders. He throws his head back as he feels you come undone in top of him, the sobs shaking your body. He fucks you through your orgasm, pulling out right when he’s in the edge and shooting his cum onto your body. Once you’ve both come down from your highs, you fall off of your lovers body and roll to lay beside him once again. After a while of just laying there, Thor rolls over to take in the sight of you. “Look at you, all fucked out. Just because of me. All covered in my cum. So fucking beautiful.” You smile at him, tiredly.

“That was fucking amazing,” you croak, legs still shaking from the aftershocks of your second harsh orgasm of the morning.

“It was. Thank you for waking me up. That was a lovely surprise. I’ll go fetch a cloth to clean that off of you.” Thor stands up, bare naked and walks away to your ensuite as you lay in your bed, fully satiated and exhausted again.

[justpevensies]

Please Come Back to Me

request:  “ hi can i request a edmund angst like a really good heartbreaking one where he says really hurtful things he doesn’t mean but with a happy ending” - anonymous

blurb: Edmund says some things he didn’t mean..

A/N: my first request! this one was difficult to write but I hope you all enjoy it x

warnings: lots of angst but eventual fluff

Curled in a ball against the door, hot tears were free falling down your face spilling all over your hands and clothing. You had no idea how long you had been sat there weeping bitterly as the pain continued to sting every ounce of your being - your heart ached - and at the same time you felt numb with the sadness and shock. Muffled you could hear a voice crying from the other side of the door.

~

Very rarely did you and Edmund get in arguments but in this moment, that was exactly what you were doing. You couldn’t even remember what had triggered it but you both were here now and it was going back and forth. At the peak of this anger, Edmund said: “You know, I don’t even know why-”

“Say it!” You spat at him. 

“I don’t even know why I care. Why I bother. I can’t believe we’ve come to this”. As far as you were concerned, that was what he thought of this relationship, unworthy of attention or care. 

He stared blankly at you, there was almost no traces of remorse in his body. Tears began to glisten on your horizon and when you responded to him pleading your case, Edmund didn’t say anything and in that moment you wanted to slap him across the face for being a coward. 

This wasn’t the Edmund you knew, this wasn’t the Edmund you loved. The Edmund you knew and adored didn’t argue with you, he didn’t raise his voice at you, he wouldn’t dream of speaking to anyone like this. In fact, it scared you.

“So that’s it?” You asked sternly. “That’s us?! After everything we’ve shared, experienced and dreamt, all it will come crumbling down over some stupid argument?” You asked, arms folded. Edmund looked at you and it was a look that could kill. “Well” he scoffed, “I guess it will”.

That was not what you were expecting. Your voice went quiet, almost as if you were restrained and you asked in a whisper: “What?”

Edmund turned around and sighed, about to resume work at his desk and he responded: “I don’t know if I can talk to you like this”. At that you stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “No!” you yelled. “I want to hear what you have to say”. 

Edmund looked at you and shrugged, “Okay”. After that, he laid it on you. He told you everything he had been feeling in the last few minutes - anger, disappointment, frustration. You knew that recently he had been overworked and tired so you assumed that contributed greatly to everything he was doing right now - probably to this very argument - but the things he was saying at this moment felt different. Every word felt like a stab at your worst insecurities, it felt like an attack and you knew you wouldn’t dream of speaking to him like this, regardless of how he made you feel. In this moment, you looked at Edmund - tears in your eyes - and for the first time you didn’t feel any love for him.

Frozen in that moment, you whispered back to him when he finished: “Is that really how you feel? I’m not enough, I’m not good enough?”

Edmund didn’t say anything, he just clenched his jaw. However, he knew that as soon as he finished that he didn’t mean a word. The pent up frustration, anxiety and exhaustion of duties he had been experiencing lately had almost possessed him and he had found no other way to let out that anger than onto you. Everything he had just said to you was how he felt about himself, yet here he was - an unworthy, stupid fool who had wasted the most joyful and good thing. He knew instantly he had made the biggest mistake.

However, his lack of response convinced you that everything he said was true. You didn’t need him to say anything, so you took that as your cue to leave.

“(Y/N)! Stop! I-”

The door to his study opened and immediately slammed shut.

~ 

You raced to your dressing room in your bedchamber, slamming the door and locking it shut. Sliding down in defeat, you just the agonising pain consume you. His words raided your head, your heart was detonated, you wanted to scream but no words came. 

Suddenly you heard another noise that wasn’t your heavy breathing or sobs: approaching footsteps. Rather quick paced footsteps. 

You had forgotten to lock your bedroom door so whoever had come to check on you (bearing in mind several people saw you in the corridors) was obviously going to waltz right in after your emotional exit. 

However, you recognized the sound of those footsteps, that walking speed. You wanted to believe it was him but everything right now was telling you he wasn’t interested and didn’t care. 

“(Y/N)?!” A pleading voice cried out. It was Edmund. 

He must have heard your cries from the other side of the door as you heard the footsteps approaching and then a loud banging on the door. The handle rattled as he attempted to burst in and - due to getting a fright - you suddenly held your breath. You were certain that your heart was pounding, as if something cruel was trying to break through. For a brief moment, everything was quiet.

~ 

That was what happened... you had no idea how long ago it was but you couldn’t see yourself moving anytime soon.

The voice crying from the other side of the door became more muffled as time ticked on. Cries, pleads and shouts from Edmund of your name gradually became more audible to you as you tried to inhale more and calm your breathing. 

“(Y/N)?!”

“(Y/N)?!”

The cries became more desperate, the thumps on the door became more repetitive but less strong, evidently it was hurting his hand. However that pain - as far as you were concerned - was nowhere near what you were enduring on the other side. 

“Oh (Y/N), open the door!” Edmund yelled through with a cracked voice. 

You didn’t want to imagine how he was looking right now because it would only tear you in two. 

You managed to piece some of your emotions together to wimper out: “Edmund-”. You heard him let out a sigh of relief before his thumping stopped. “Oh goodness (Y/N)! Please open the door!” You had somehow managed to stop crying, as if all of reality had snapped back into place. However, it felt like some alternate universe, a nightmare, and one you wanted out of quickly.

“Edmund-” you repeated, holding back more tears, “No”.

“What?” 

“Please go away”.

There was a silence before Edmund again knocked - this time in a more gentle manner - “(Y/N)” he said before you snapped: “Go away! Leave me alone!”

These words broke Edmund more than he could say, as if he wasn’t feeling guilt already. This came down on him like a tonne of bricks: you didn’t want him. He cracked involuntarily and he fell into the wood. With his face pressed against the door, some stray tears began to glide down his cheeks. You could hear him but you didn’t say a thing - right now there was no sympathy.

“Oh (Y/N)...” Edmund began to whisper. “Please... open the door. I need to talk to you”. 

You scoffed, more tears beginning to glisten: “No you don’t! You’ve made your perspective very clear” you replied sharply before burying your face in your knees. 

There was a silence but it was piercing. You could hear Edmund sniffling through the door and while you did feel compelled to open it - largely out of heartbreak -but out of stubborness you didn’t. He finally broke the tension by saying: “Listen (Y/N) you’ve got to open the door”. Just wanting him to leave you alone you shouted back: “Why should I?”

Immediately, Edmund responded: “Because I love you!”

Before you could even say anything back, he continued: “Yes. I love you! You may not believe that right now and the feeling is probably not mutual right now but I love you”. 

You were silenced and you waited to hear if he said anymore. He did.

“Oh (Y/N) I love you so much. Every aspect of your being - your radiant smile, your character, the fact that you are truly genuine, caring and loving regardless of who or circumstance. I would compare you to the beautiful things of this world but none could do justice for you are so perfectly different from everyone and everything else. I cannot tell you how blessed I am to have you in my life - you’re a saving grace to me. However, I understand if that loving nature isn’t extended to me currently-”

You slowly began to stand up at the other side of the door, at the same time your head had fallen silent and no words were capable of coming from your mouth.

“I’ve been a fool. I was stupid and immature, and instead of talking about how I was actually feeling because of all this outside pressure, I took all of my own doubts about myself and put them onto you. You will never be like that - you are worthy of every ounce of love and praise, you are a saint. If I have to spend every day proving that to you then I will do that but I know I am unworthy to have you for making you feel how I did.

There was a pause.

“If you can find it in your heart to forgive me-” you heard Edmund whisper before breaking into tears. At that you leaned against the door, pressing your hand to the wood. Your heart ached, torn in two. He sniffled, wiping away any emotion before continuing: “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll never make you feel the way I have ever again. You’ll never doubt my love for you. I didn’t mean what I said, I don’t even know why I said it. But I know it was wrong”. 

Those final words were the ones you needed and they began to patch your brokenness. He finally said:��“If you will forgive me, I will dedicate all of my soul to yours. ” It was a bold statement but Edmund knew it was genuine and you could feel the truth from within it. “Please come back to me?” he asked in a whisper but you remained in your position, listening against the wood, unable to move from the response you had just heard. 

The silence marked the answer. Edmund began to cry yet again outside and, defeated, he turned and walked away. His legs almost gave way and more tears began to fall - he had never known a feeling of loss and pain like this one. It was the pain that you could only feel when something special was taken away from you too soon, too unexpected, and he knew it was his fault.

Suddenly, from behind, he heard a noise and as he turned to see, he saw the door was unlocked, the handle moving at an angle and you stepped out from the hiding. You looked at his face, drowned in grief and his body beginning to sink, and the vision in front of you was a broken man. As Edmund looked at you, his heart pounded - unaware of what was coming and whether to be hopeful or not - and you simply responded: “I will forgive you”.

Without anything else being said, the two of you sprinted to one another and embraced closer than you had ever been. The most deepest of kisses was shared and almost instantly all of the pain had been washed away. Through muffled voices you both cried “I love yous” and Edmund restated his promise of faithfulness and love - you believed every word. 

After kissing several more times, Edmund held your face in his hands delicately and he smiled brightly at the look on your face. Your crying had been replaced with tears of joy. You just wanted to hear him tell you how much he loved you again and again and as you gazed into his eyes, you knew those words were true. This was the Edmund you knew, this was the Edmund you loved...and would continue to love for all time.

[joonkorre]

How to Love Another Person

@drarrymicrofic prompt: technique

another microfic with a list?? oh the horror. ao3

A tail feather of a cedar waxwing, grind to bits. Add in when the solution has reduced to half.

Stir until the first hints of purple show, then lower the fire level by hand.

Combine with a bit of you, your dearest memory. Allow it to dissipate.

3 dried petals of waterlily tulips added every 3 minutes. The solution will weep into a rolling boil.

Don’t cry.

Control yourself. Check the Silencing charm.

Continue.

10 ml of distilled water. Vanish the yellow fumes as you stir.

Mix in diced ginger root and a tablespoon of honey for flavor. Make it pleasant for him.

Let it simmer. For the next 15 minutes, clean up everything. Take a quick shower, wash away the stench of potions from your body. Wear the clothes from your bag.

Turn off the fire. Make a single cup of tea.

Don’t speed up the solution’s cooling process in order to ensure effectiveness. Once it’s room temperature, add a teaspoon of it to the cup of tea. No more, no less.

It is 3 in the morning. The world is deep in slumber, and he is no exception. Wake him up anyway.

“Hmm,” Harry murmurs into his pillow, “Draco?”

“Darling, hello,” Draco whispers against his forehead, kissing away the crease between thick brows. “I have something for you.”

Harry’s hand searches the nightstand for his glasses, almost swiping all the takeout menus and little trinkets to the floor. Draco finds the glasses first, unfolds them, and places them on Harry’s nose, careful not to poke his eyes.

“Hmm, what, what’s going on?” Harry rubs his eyes as he sits up.

Draco presents him with the freshly-brewed cup of tea. Chamomile, a dash of sugar. His favorite.

“Drink, darling.”

“What? No,” Harry pushes the tea away, his lovely eyes made clearer and clearer by the lamplight, “Draco, I’m not drinking that.”

Draco shakes his head.

“You have to.”

Harry keeps pushing the cup from his face, and Draco is getting impatient.

“Draco, stop—”

“Drink it.”

“Come on, don’t do this—”

“Please, darling, just a sip will do—”

“I said no!”

Harry bats the teacup from Draco’s hand. It flies across the room, shatters, drenching the wallpaper. The broken shards are millimeters away from impaling a framed picture. Their framed picture.

Draco can’t stop his hands from shaking. He moves to gather up the pieces, to somehow salvage the tea, but Harry grabs ahold of his forearm, keeping him in place.

There is not a sliver of sound in their bedroom but Harry’s harsh breathing.

“Why?” Draco asks, staring at the stain on the wall.

“Is this why there’s a duffle bag below the stairs,” Harry says instead. Draco can feel his gaze on him. He can’t look.

“Yes.”

“Is that where your toothbrush is? You didn’t just throw it away since it's after 6 months like you said. You packed it.”

A shivery sigh. “Yes.”

He hears a sob. One hand on his forearm turns to two, and Harry pulls him close. He rests his head against Draco’s stomach. Usually, Draco would sift his fingers through that unruly mane of his, chiding Harry for buying conditioners unsuitable for his hair type. Now, he has no right to do such a thing. His hands stay by his sides, unworthy.

Harry clutches him more tightly by the second, burrowing his head into the soft wool of Draco’s sweater. Another sob.

“When will you accept that I’m not drugged?” Harry says.

It’s the Amortentia talking, Draco knows. He’s known from the start, for it’s impossible for Harry to be right of mind when he confessed to Draco all those years ago. He’s accepted it for his own sake, just wanting an excuse to bask in the love he’s desired for nearly a decade. And it’s been good, so, so good.

“I love you, do you know? You have to,” Harry lifts his head up and stares at Draco. His face is much too beautiful to be twisted like that. Like he’s heartbroken. “Baby, I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I don't usually say things like this, but you know me better than I know myself. I thought you knew, I really did. I thought after all we’ve been through… we’re it, you know? You’re it for me. You’re the kind of love that doesn’t need words. I thought you knew, baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

But things that are too good to be true, are. Admittedly, waking someone up in the middle of the night to make them drink tea isn’t the best plan, but Draco is tired of the charade. He knows Harry, the portion of his subconscious that is still awake and aware, is tired, too. He has to give his darling an out so he can move on in peace. Perhaps it’s a pipe dream and Draco can never move on, but at least he can love Harry by himself. He needs to.

“Draco Malfoy, I love you, you hear? I love you,” Harry’s hands move from Draco’s waist to cup his face. His thumbs are soft as they rub Draco’s cheeks, almost as if they mean it. “Say it back, baby, I know you feel the same. Say it back.”

Draco raises a palm, hesitant, and places it on Harry’s cheek in return.

“I love you, Harry Potter,” Draco says.

Harry gives a teary smile and leans against Draco’s touch, glasses knocking on his finger. His eyes are a sweet shade of green, bright and glistening.

“Let’s go to sleep, okay?”

“Alright.”

It truly is alright. In the kitchen cabinet, behind cartons of tea leaves and bags of coffee grounds that Harry never sorts through, is the remaining batch of the antidote. Tomorrow is Draco’s turn to make breakfast. He won’t make the same mistake again, and Harry will be free.

He’ll make sure of it.

[liyuesbian]

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

[tennessoui]

There's something about seeing a civilized, prim and proper man like Obi turning into a touch-starved feral mess that is just *chef kiss* The other Jedi are shocked and don't know what to do. Anakin has a snuggly shadow who follows him everywhere bc he KNOWS if Anakin leaves his sight, he will lose him (eg after their blow up fight). And Obi forgetting the code and himself and everything except Anakin...why must you hurt me so good?

yes!!!! i imagine that obi-wan does not let him out of his sight for any period of time

anyway this is a bit short and a little more feral and violent than the other one but here is feral!obi-wan where he was anakin's master before.

(1.6k)

This can’t be his master, is the first thought that filters through the white noise in Anakin’s mind.

His master, before he’d been taken from him, had been the primmest, cleanest, most civilized person Anakin had ever met in his entire life. He’d been meticulously groomed, always. Anakin doesn’t remember ever seeing even a speck of dirt on his master’s pristine robes.

He’d looked perfect even the night he’d disappeared. He’d looked untouchable and perfect even during their argument. Anakin’s face had been flushed, his eyes wide and wet, his hair a mess. Obi-Wan had been perfectly put-together, voice sharp and ice cold in his reprimand of his apparently atrocious behavior.

Anakin doesn’t even remember what the argument had been about. He’d been fifteen years old. He’d have argued with the Force itself given half the chance and a direction to shout at.

The important thing is he’d been stupid enough to block their bond, stupid enough to leave their rooms for a walk without telling his master where he was going. And his master must have thought he’d be stupid enough to leave the safety of the building on a war-torn planet too, because Obi-Wan had gone out looking for him. He’d passed right by his hiding place. Anakin hadn’t said a thing, just watched his master go, too angry and hurt to think of the dangers that lurked outside the door.

In his mind, there was nothing that his master couldn’t handle, couldn’t defeat.

That was the last time Anakin had ever seen Obi-Wan Kenobi; the last time, actually, that anyone had.

It’s been seven years.

And now there’s someone on the floor in front of him, crouched over a body of one of the pirates who had been drinking in the main room the other night.

When Anakin and Ahsoka shut off the power to the facility in a bid to open the door to Master Windu’s cell, they hadn’t taken into account that there may be other people in other cells.

And now they’re standing in the main hall, lightsabers drawn, pirates stunned and groaning and tied up around them, and there’s someone crouched in the middle of the room, a dead body beneath him and golden eyes roving around looking for the next target.

And there’s something in Anakin that pounds at the cage of himself, that looks at this dirty, bloody, ungroomed, feral person, and thinks, That’s my master. That’s Obi-Wan Kenobi. That’s him I have finally found him.

But this. This can’t be his master.

His master would never snap a man’s neck with his hands. He’d never make those sounds with his throat, he’d never crouch that low to the ground, and he’d never have gold eyes.

But.

But there’s something in his force signature that feels so familiar. And it makes Anakin stumble forward, closer to the man--to Obi-Wan--before he even realizes what he’s doing.

“Skywalker, don’t!” Windu snaps, with what sounds like fear in his voice. But Anakin can’t stop, won’t stop until he knows for sure that this is or isn’t his missing master.

The man on the ground growls at him as he approaches, eyes narrowed into golden slits. Anakin halts his progress a few steps away when the man shifts his weight, as if getting ready to pounce.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispers, voice breaking in the middle of the second syllable. Ahsoka draws in a sharp breath from behind him. She knows what this means to him. Everyone probably does. “Obi-Wan, it’s me.”

When the man looks up at him and snarls without a glint of recognition in his golden eyes, Anakin feels his legs give out and his own force signature explode outward in pain and guilt and anguish because if this is not Obi-Wan, then his master is still out there somewhere. And if this is Obi-Wan, then...then he doesn’t remember him. Anakin.

The man goes dangerously still when Anakin’s mind brushes his own, and he tilts his head to the side as he stares at him with an unreadable expression.

“Anakin!” Ahsoka yelps, darting forward to help her master up.

But before she can get close enough to touch him, the world spins and Anakin finds himself on the ground completely, with the man’s form hunched over his and one long-nailed hand pressed into the skin of his throat.

The snarls are infinitely louder when they’re right next to his ear.

“Stay back!” Anakin shouts over the noise to Ahsoka and Windu, both who have moved forward immediately. Ahsoka takes another step forward anyway, and the snarls turn downright vicious.

Anakin could try to get out of the man’s hold, but not without hurting him. And if this is Obi-Wan Kenobi, then he’s been hurt enough already.

“Ahsoka, stay back,” he says again in his firm Master voice. “I have this handled.”

Looking rebellious, Ahsoka steps back to her original place.

The threat taken care of, the man on top of Anakin turns his full attention to him again.

Anakin feels like he’s been stabbed with a lightsaber when he sees the familiar mole on the man’s forehead. “Master,” he breathes. “Master.”

Obi-Wan growls something out, and bumps their heads together.

Anakin blinks in confusion and shakes his head. Obi-Wan growls that same roughened word again, and then again even louder, and then Anakin starts to weep.

Ani.

He’s saying Ani.

“Yeah,” Anakin whispers back. “Yeah, I’m--I’m Ani. I’m. I’m your Ani.”

Obi-Wan sniffs at his cheek and then licks the tear away, making a distressed sound in the back of his throat. “Ani,” he rumbles. “No. Won’t. Won’t Ani.”

Anakin doesn’t know what that means, so instead of answering verbally, he reaches out with the Force and touches their minds together again. It’s easy to enter Obi-Wan’s mind. His master’s impeccable shields are nowhere to be found.

Instead, there is only darkness and a landscape of pain. Anakin is vaguely aware that he’s crying harder now, that he’s sobbing, but in Obi-Wan's mind all of Anakin’s worst nightmares about what happened to his master prove true.

Obi-Wan reaches back clumsily but with great enthusiasm, and Anakin tries to stuff away his own feelings of pain and guilt and enfuse his thoughts with all the happiness and affection and love his master has ever made him feel.

On top of him, Obi-Wan whimpers high in his throat and presses forward, impossibly closer. Anakin raises his hand to stroke at the muscle of Obi-Wan’s bare bicep, sending him soothing comfort. Obi-Wan latches on and pulls Anakin back into his mind.

Their old training bond, never severed, roars into life and it feels so good, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure and aching relief that Anakin forgets where he is for several moments.

Obi-Wan is back. Obi-Wan is back.

Footsteps approach from behind them and Anakin snaps back into his own head as Obi-Wan snarls dangerously at the intruder, tensing his body as if preparing for a fight. “Won’t Ani,” his master growls, words hardly distinguishable.

“Anakin,” and it’s Windu. “Is that--are you--” “He is, it’s him,” Anakin replies, not taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan. “I felt...Master, I felt his memories in his mind. They’re...unfocused and old, but. The pirates, they--”

They had wanted Anakin, the people who took Obi-Wan. They had wanted to sell him, thinking they could fetch a high price for a Jedi padawan. When they got Obi-Wan instead, they’d hurt him in an attempt to get him to tell them where he was.

Obi-Wan hadn’t. Obi-Wan hadn’t once, not in seven years.

Anakin can feel tears dripping down his face, and Obi-Wan breaks off his staring contest with Mace to coo at him in distress.

“Master Windu won’t hurt me,” he tells Obi-Wan. “It’s alright. We’ll be alright.”

He desperately tries to believe it, even as the words leave his mouth.

When Windu steps closer, Obi-Wan snaps at him.

“Master,” Anakin says softly, touching the side of Obi-Wan’s face with his hand. “Obi-Wan.”

His master swings his attention down to him immediately, and Anakin uses their bond to slip a Force suggestion into his mind. Sleep.

Obi-Wan obviously doesn’t want to, but his golden eyes drift halfway shut anyway. Sleep, Anakin insists, rubbing his thumb over his cheek.

It only takes one more command for Obi-Wan to collapse on top of him, unconscious.

“Get him onto the ship,” Anakin says in a no-nonsense tone as he slips out from underneath the body of his master and stands, looking dispassionately at the dead pirate next to them. “And prepare for take off, Ahsoka.”

Master Windu looks at him silently.

“Please,” Anakin tries. “I don’t know how long he’ll be under, but we need to get him back to the Temple.”

“And what will you be doing?” Windu asks.

Anakin’s jaw clenches and unclenches. He wishes Windu had not been the one captured. It makes what he will do next infinitely harder. “Please, master. I just. I just need a moment to myself. I--” he doesn’t have to fake the way his voice gives out, nor the way his hand shakes when he reaches up to wipe away his tears. “Please.”

Master Windu’s stern face caves in with compassion, and he nods once. “Ahsoka,” he tells Anakin’s padawan, “help me with Knight Kenobi.”

Together, they levitate the unconscious form of Anakin’s master out of the main hall.

As soon as the doors close behind them, Anakin uses the Force to hold them tightly shut.

He turns to face the pirates, the ones who had hurt his master, held him against his will, and broken his mind.

It’s the easiest thing in the entire galaxy to flick his lightsaber on.

“Please,” he smiles. “Do not scream.”

[erosofthepen]

Finality pt. 2

Hey yeah so it’s 10:35pm at night and I wrote the second prt to this, hope it hurts you all very much!

Part 1

Pairing: Fili x reader

Words: 655

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Death

Tags: @dark-angel-is-back @guardianofrivendell

Fili fell to his knees as he watched the dragon descend on Laketown. He had run with all his might, but there was little to be done and too much distance to be covered. A burst of fire set the first few houses ablaze, going up like a tinder box despite how bitter and damp the entirety of that miserable town was. Truly, it was a testament to the intensity of a dragon's scorching breath.

He clutched his stomach in sickness as Smaug continued his relentless destruction, crushing houses beneath his weight and burning their splintered remains. (Y/N) was down there. And Kili and Oin and Bofur, they all were down there. And Fili felt as if he’d doomed them to a horrid fate, a burning fate. Still, faith for their safety remained as Fili spied little flickering torches moving quick and scattered across the bridge connecting the town to land.

His faith vanished when Smaug destroyed the bridge with the wrath of his claws, tearing the wood and the people on it, flickering torches extinguished as they were consumed by the winged beast.

A sob escaped through Fili’s throat, a pathetic and weak sound not befitting a warrior prince. And the sound was soon repeated. The Prince cursed at the sky, at the rocks, at the ground, and at the tiny gold flecks the dragon had scattered with his wings. But in the end he only cursed himself for forcing her to stay there.

When the crash of a dragons body shook the very earth itself, Filis eyes flew up shining from tears and hope. He began running once more, back to the shoreline where he’d find a boat that would be impossible to control alone, but before he could even face that issue, he was called back.

“If they are alive, they will come to us.” Thorin spoke, commanding his nephew to return, “Come, we must claim what is ours.”

Fili had stood still, as if his feet had been frosted over and stuck into the ground.

“But Uncle… the others—“

Grabbing his shoulder, Thorin spoke once more.

“They will come if they are alive. Now, follow me.”

Still struck with horror from the dragons wrath, it grew even more at his Uncle’s indifference to the fate of their friends. Of their family. For surely, they meant more than this treasure, yes?

Still, Fili followed his Uncle into the mountain, shackled with loyalty, though he did not join the cheers and the songs sung at its reclamation, nor did he sleep. Ever steadfast, he took watch all night, desperately searching for the figures of his brother and his lover in the distance, but saw nothing. He watched all through the morning after, and well into the afternoon before Dwalin forced him to rest.

He was woken by his brother. Fili had bolted upright, quickly blinking the blurryness away, embracing Kili as closely as he could, before it became apparent that something was amiss. Fili drew back and looked at his brothers face, skin smeared with ash and eyes avoiding his gaze. Fili looked past him and around the room, expecting to see (y/n) nearby, but instead there was no one. Ignoring his growing dread, he asked,

“Kili, where’s (y/n)?” His heart was not willing to hear what he knew to be true. Kili did not respond, looking at the floor with the countenance of someone far too young to have seen so much terror.

“Where is she?” Fili asked again, voice starting to crack. Kili looked up and met his gaze, lip trembling and tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry Brother.” Kili said, his voice hardly above a whisper.

A mighty cry of grief escaped the blonde prince, and he collasped into his brothers hold, both weeping for the loss of (y/n), Kili for his namadith and Fili for his Âzyungel.

Namadith- little sister

Azyungel- love of all loves

[fruitcoops]

I usually don't like angsty stuff but I love it with a happy ending and I've been THINKING....

O'Knutzy... one of the boys, let's say Logan, has a nightmare where Finn tells him he doesn't love him anymore and because of that the relationship between the three doesn't work anymore and he loses both of them.

But than he wakes up they cuddle and kiss and everything is fine

This was a rough one to write, but very cathartic. O’Knutzy credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for night terrors, crying, and insecurity

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he is alone. Once upon a time, this would not have been unusual, but for the past five months—six? Seven? Leo always teases me for forgetting our anniversary—he has greeted the morning with two warm bodies next to him, their steady breaths easing his mind.

Logan is…cold, this time. He hates being cold. “Peanut?” he calls when he hears sounds from outside the bedroom. “Finn?”

The rustling doesn’t stop; nobody responds. He frowns and clambers out of bed, stretching his back and reaching for one of the many, many hoodies that usually lay crumpled on the chair in their room. Logan stops dead in his tracks when he sees only two there, and both are his own. Panic spikes in his chest. “Mes amours? Where are you?”

“I told you not to wake him up,” Finn whispers harshly. Logan frowns and walks out, nearly tripping over the multitude of cardboard boxes lining the hall. His boys are in the living room, packing the blanket Leo’s mother made for them for Christmas.

“What’s going on?” Logan asks warily as he steps over a box labeled ‘clothes—Finn’. “Why are you packing our things?”

“We’re leaving,” Finn says. His voice is devoid of emotion and he looks at Logan with utter contempt. He feels as if he has been doused in ice water and then set aflame.

“What?” He glances at Leo, who shuffles awkwardly. “Where are we going?”

“Not you.” Leo looks up at him, and his beautiful blue eyes are like chips of ice. “Just us.”

Logan is drowning, he’s sure of it. He is suffocating on the dark cloud of fear and agony that billows from the place his lungs used to be. “No.”

“Yes.” Finn rips a piece of packing tape off the roll and Logan flinches.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

Logan’s legs give out and he sits down hard on the floor, barely registering the flash of pain. “But—”

“No.” Finn’s face is twisted and furious all of a sudden, and Logan is almost grateful—at least there is something left of the passionate, bleeding-heart boy that he loves with everything in his fucking body instead of that mask from before. “No, Logan, you don’t get to keep us here. I don’t love you.”

“But you do.” His voice is feeble even to his own ears. “You said it when you kissed me goodnight. Peanut-“

“Don’t call me that,” Leo says quietly. Logan’s heart snaps in half.

“Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore. An explanation, maybe, or just for them to stay. “Please.”

“This is your fault,” Finn continues as he opens a new box. “If you had just talked about your feelings, we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Logan chokes out as the first tears start to fall. “You hate being told what to do.”

“You don’t know me—”

“I do know you!” Logan shouts. It rings throughout the apartment, along with his ragged breaths. “I know you better than anyone. You’re Finn O’Hara, Harzy, my best friend, my Finn—”

“I’m not your anything.”

“Leo, please tell me what’s going on.” Logan turns to Leo and sees almost nothing on his face. For the first time he can remember, that shining sunlight is dim.

“Finn doesn’t love you. I’m going with him.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stand being around you.” Exasperation laces Leo’s tone, as if he’s speaking to a child. “The only reason I was with you is because Finn was there.”

Some horrible, strangled noise rips out of Logan’s throat and he covers his mouth with his hands. This is what dying feels like, he thinks. This is it. “Don’t do this,” he pleads, little more than a whisper. “Please don’t.”

Finn opens his mouth, looking straight at him with those hard brown eyes, and Logan knows what he’s about to say. “Good—”

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he’s not alone. A cut-off shout escapes him as he scrambles out of the blankets that threaten to drag him back under and his foot connects with something warm that grunts, reaching out toward him. “No!”

The floor is unforgiving as he falls onto it and shoves himself back against the wall, shaking from head to toe as the beginnings of a scream accompany every shallow breath. “Logan?”

A sob, clogged and gross, tears from his throat and he puts his forehead on his knees. “I’m so sorry,” he blubbers.

“Holy fuck, Lo. Leo, wake up.” More shuffling sounds come from the bed and a sleepy voice murmurs something, confused. “Leo, wake up.”

Two gentle hands rest on his shoulders and Logan thrashes away. “Get off me!”

“Hey, shhhh, it’s me.” The voice is terrified, he can tell. But it is so achingly soft. “Lo baby, it’s just me.”

“F—F—” He can’t even get the name out as more tears pour down his face. Someone slides off the bed and kneels next to him, a dark shadow.

“It’s me,” Finn says again, running his hands down Logan’s arms. “It’s your Finn. Leo’s here, too.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” He balls up tighter, digging his fingers into his thighs. “I’m so sorry, just please don’t leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Leo murmurs, still accented from sleep. Logan makes a noise like a wounded animal and a third hand comes to brush the sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “What’s wrong, Lo?”

“You’re leaving.”

“What?”

“You’re leaving,” he repeats, voice cracking with grief. “You’re leaving and I’m sorry.”

“We’re not leaving,” Finn says. A solid weight presses against the length of his side and an arm comes to rest over his back. “See? We’re both right here for you. You had a nightmare, baby.”

Logan only sobs harder; in his mind’s eye, Finn is still glaring at him with that stonelike distaste as Leo watches him weep with no reaction. “Can you tell us what it was about?” Leo’s hands are broad and warm on the sides of his legs, even through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“You—you don’t—” Logan takes a few gulping breaths. “You don’t love me anymore.”

There is a small, punched-out exhale from Leo and a shuddering gasp from Finn. “That’s not true.” Finn sounds like he’s crying. “That is not true, Logan.”

He shakes his head. “You said it so many times. So many.”

“Look at me, Lo,” Leo says, smoothing Logan’s hair back. “Please look at me.”

Come on, Tremblay, you can do it. He sniffles and raises his head just enough to see over his knees; Leo’s got heartbreak written all over his face as he carefully wipes Logan’s cheeks dry with the heels of his hands. Logan can’t bear to look at Finn right now. His chest still hurts too much. “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Leo promises. Even in the low light of the streetlamps through their window, he glows. “I love you too much to do that. It was just a nightmare, okay? None of that was real.”

A shiver rolls through Logan again and Finn’s arm tightens around him. “It felt real, and it hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Leo kisses his forehead. “You’re cold. Do you want to go back to bed?”

A slender hand comes into Logan’s periphery and touches Leo on the arm, light as a feather. “Logan, please look at me,” Finn says. Logan squeezes his eyes shut. I can’t. “Please.”

“I asked you to stay.” His voice is broken glass, each word tearing his throat. “I asked you to stay and you looked me in the eyes and told me you didn’t love me. You hated me.”

“Logan, please.” Finn sounds miserable and Logan can hear the tears in his voice as he finally turns. His eyes are so bright, so wide, so Finn as two small rivers form on his cheeks. Bambi, he thinks. “I love you so much, Logan. I would never, ever say that to you.”

Logan’s lower lip wobbles and he leans his head against Finn’s shoulder, prying one hand off his leg to pull Leo close as well. “I know. I know. It wasn’t you.”

That is one thing he is sure of, one thing he would swear in front of God and every angel. Those cold caricatures in his nightmare were wrong on a deep, deep level—Leo radiates kindness. Finn looks at him with nothing but love. Their other selves were the exact opposite of everything Logan adores about his boys.

“Are you going to be alright?” Leo asks as he places a light kiss to Logan’s temple. “We don’t have to go to sleep if you don’t want to.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Okay.” None of them make an effort to stand.

He knows Finn and Leo are having a silent conversation and nuzzles against Finn’s warm collarbone, pulling Leo’s arm up to kiss his wrist. “Can I be in the middle?”

That draws a light laugh from both of them. “Yeah, Lo, you can be in the middle,” Finn says, getting to his feet on wobbly legs and hauling them both up with him. They collapse into bed again, dragging the covers up to their shoulders.

“I feel like a panini,” Logan mutters as they squish him between their chests. There is a moment of silence before they break down laughing and a series of kisses find their homes on his face and back; he wraps an arm around Finn’s chest and presses into Leo’s steady warmth. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Lo.”

“Love you, baby.” Finn shifts closer and sighs against him. “And that will never change.”

[gralunaisland]

On the Topic of juvia Being a Better Person By “Doing Things Less Than Before”

I can't comprehend how people dismiss juvia’s behavior by saying she either "doesn't do it anymore" or she "does it less".

By behavior, I refer to her manipulative behavior, her constant emotional and physical harassment, her blatant disregard for Gray's feelings and what he wants, her mistreatment of any woman who talks to him, and of course, her stalking. (Need I say more? Why do people like this creepy character again?)

she doesn’t repent, she doesn’t realize what she did was wrong, she doesn’t apologize, not to Gray for the mental and physical abuse, not to any of the women she's harassed over her own delusions, not to Fairy Tail for the transgressions she's committed against it during her time as a Phantom Lord member.

All that changes with time is that she just gets what she wanted, which is Gray’s affection, (thanks for the terrible writing, Mashima, really) so she doesn’t have to be “so desperate” anymore. (Still seems like it to me though). she's finally worn him down so much, and guilt-tripped him so much (along with his guild mates and supposed friends who constantly flame him for "not being nicer to juvia") that he practically developed Stockholm Syndrome for her, due to her sacrificing her life for him (even though many have done so for him). Though I said this in another post, the difference between them and juvia is that juvia has something she wants from him, so Gray bargains with her corpse with the thing she wanted because he felt guilty due to "not doing anything for her".

she hasn’t learned a single lesson about why her behavior is wrong, and therefore isn’t suddenly a better person for “not doing it as much”. It didn’t happen because of character development because she never self-reflects on how her actions can affect other people. You can't equivocate a change in behavior as being a character's development, because there's a nuance to "development", where it means the character is becoming a better person, a more mature, wiser person.

juvia coincidentally stopping stalking (which she still does, cough cough look at the grave scene) doesn't even prove she's become any better because there was not much reason to since they were always together thanks to being guild-mates.

At that point, stalking Gray to his father’s grave (yes it’s stalking because he didn’t tell anyone where he was going, and yet she was able to find him countries over, aka she followed him—some people really don’t see it as such somehow) is even a worse offense against him because she proceeds to make everything about herself, disregarding Gray’s desire for privacy, and inserting herself so manipulatively into his high emotional distress that he begins to apologize to her as if she didn’t just kill his dad (which was actually unavoidable, but Gray still shouldn’t be apologizing for it). she didn’t try to see if he was alright, she was just crying because she “didn’t have the right to love him anymore”, as always so self-centered, and began blushing when Gray clutched onto her, sobbing and weeping, instead of being concerned for his mental and emotional state. “You’re warm” is all she says. How did people find that an endearing moment between them???

The only defense Pros have for that horrid stalking is that “she hadn’t done it in a while”. As if it matters how many times you violate someone’s privacy due to your own self-interest. The fact you ever did it shows your true character.

Are we just going to pretend she’s a good person because "oh, she only stalked a couple times at the beginning"? Can we really only say she’s a better person by listing the literal crimes she was doing that she doesn’t do as much anymore and not by the (nonexistent) character development she went through? Are we going to ignore all the gross things she does non-consensually and without regard to Gray?

juvia had no redemption arc. Sure, we all make mistakes, we all have bad deeds under our belts, but good people try to make those right by others. juvia never does.

To say a stalker isn’t bad because they don’t do it as much anymore is so wrong. As if there wasn't some severe character flaw in them in the first place for stalking someone in the first place!

I suppose to summarize my ramblings, for one, even though juvia stalks less, it’s not because she improved as a person, it’s because she has less need to. she’s in Gray’s guild and can be with him whenever under her capacity as a fellow guild member. Two, she never stops her manic obsession of Gray and how she intrudes on his personal space and life whenever possible. That can be just as bad as the following him without his knowledge, so considering she never refrains from doing so, she’s still a terrible person. Three, she so has it in her to keep on stalking him even though she “stopped”, because as soon as she needs to, (cough to Silver’s grave obviously cough) she’ll do it without remorse.

Closing Notes:

Phew, yes, I’m still alive! Sorry for dipping for a while, life do be busy sometimes. The Anti drought continues it seems, so I wanted to throw something out there, that while it might not be my best work, (Ik it’s a bit repetitive TvT) it’s at least something. Also sorry for that confusing title, it’s the best I could think of! Anyway, as always, let me know what you think and thank you for your time!

[xhanisai]

Confront the boundary line of good and evil in my heart

AO3 / FFN

Summary: 

It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!'

~(x)~ . . . Tick. Tock. "I'm so sorry Chat Noir! I didn't mean to- I just- I just completely broke down and she was right there and I needed someone-" "It's okay, Bug. I understand, don't apologise," Tick. Tock. "It's not okay at all! You've wanted to know for so long, so patiently and I have always said no- and then look at me now! A hypocrite! This is probably a huge sucker-punch for you and I hate that I've always kept on hurting you back then but now, this takes the cake-" "N-No, I'm fine, honest...really. What matters is your happiness and wellbeing-" "But what about you!?" "..." Tick- "...Kid, talk to me, please. The way you're staring out into space is scaring me." The subdued, raspy voice belonging to the ancient being of destruction went unheard. The boy in question continued to observe the empty space in front, sitting on top of his bed with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms folded in front, hiding the lower half of his face. If one were to enter the room, they would instantly freeze from the glower of the boy's fiery emerald greens that were begging to pool with unshed tears and the aura of his stone-cold demeanour. From the waft of his internal turmoil, even a blind person would be able to pick up that he was currently the host of bad luck. "...Adrien...I want to help, I want to understand, so talk to me!" Once again, Plagg was left ignored, leaving him no choice but to float back down to his pillow and direct his pleading kitten eyes at the blonde, his tiny heart shattered from the state of his chosen. Alas, even he was helpless, his feline ears and whiskers drooping with sorrow. 'But you won't understand. You never did and you never will. No one will ever understand.' Adrien didn't even flinch, didn't even bat an eye. He was a statue of apathy and aloofness; though deep down inside, he was a maelstrom of agonising pain. Oh, so much pain. It was excruciating. He wanted to suit up and claw through the rooves of Paris whilst screaming in anguish. He wanted to find every billboard that had his face on it and tear through it all like paper. He wanted to shred and pulverise his useless, traitorous heart along with its despicable feelings and emotions. But most importantly, he wanted to rip the magical ring off his finger and throw it into La Seine with all his might and then cry for the rest of eternity. And he hates that he feels that way. Absolutely, ridiculously, hates that he feels betrayed. Self-loathing and disgust have taken over his body like a puppet and rendered him completely useless, like a toy forgotten at the bottom of the box, never to see the light of day ever again. The feeling of uselessness and pure shame replaced the blood running through his veins and numbed him to the point where he was equivalent to a powerless machine. He felt his throbbing heart fall deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!' The younger, softer, naive part of himself which was usually tucked away within the dark, hidden crevices of his heart, screamed as if the rest of humanity's lives depended on it. It was taking Adrien everything to keep him out. 'Is it too much to ask for only one constant in my life? Is it too much to ask for one thing to remain the same? Is it too much for anyone to stop keeping me at arm's length!?' . It is. . It is. . Deep down inside, below the platinum chains and iron bars of solid, concrete denial, he always knew that Ladybug never considered him as close as he did with her. And why should she? Just because he performed an act of common, proper human decency and helped an old man get his walking stick back? Just because he was gifted with the power to destroy anything he touches in order to save the day? Just because he knew how to fight possessed villains alongside her? Just because he's in love with her? . "I'm literally the worst." Adrien finally spoke out loud ever since he returned from...that patrol many hours ago. Despite his words, his soul couldn't help but weep and pray that it was all one huge, cruel nightmare. A twisted, sick joke that whatever deities out there have concocted up just for him. Anything! Yet, this was his reality. "I disagree." The boy snapped his gaze towards the kwami, his brows furrowing for elaboration on the little God's part. "I may not be human but I do have feelings and I can empathise. I've existed from the beginning of time and I've witnessed many, many things in my lifetime." Plagg then floated towards him, settling on Adrien's arm so that he was face to face. "You're not in the wrong here, kid. It's okay to feel like this-" "No, it's not!" Adrien's sudden outburst had the kwami shoot away in surprise, the boy instantly turning baffled at his own harsh reaction and then visibly paling even further. He caught sight of his own reflection on a nearby mirror, cringing at the monstrous mess that looked back. With a frustrated sigh, he leapt off the bed, solemnly treading towards his windows, fingers digging into his upper arms as if he was hugging himself. . The luminous moon that shone through the night sky, what was once a beacon of freedom in the past, never looked so unappealing to the distraught hero. His usually glittering eyes were vacant, devoid of any joy and hope whilst his lips were etched in a permanent frown. How many fake smiles and empty words of wisdom did he force out in front of his Lady earlier on? He's lost count. And how many more times will he have to keep doing that, knowing that there will always be another person out that there that Ladybug trusts more than she'll ever trust him? . "I stand by with what I said," Plagg quipped once more, his host quietly surprised with how the little God managed to get so close without him realising. "The two of you have been thrust into a messy situation with very little guidance and a whole bunch of rules which only complicated it further." He then directed his eyes from the moon to the boy. "Yes, I agree that Ladybug's decision in confiding with someone about her identity was a good idea, but as a result of that, it's brought you so much pain. You are not the worst and it's okay to cry it out. It's okay to tell her how you really feel." He placed one of his tiny hands on Adrien's cheek, ears and whiskers still weighed with melancholy as the boy allowed his eyes to prick with tears. One drop. Two drops. Three drops. Four. "It shouldn't hurt- I...I shouldn't be so selfish! Even if she never told me, I was able to tell that she wasn't able to handle her civilian life any longer, especially after becoming the Guardian- I'm supposed to protect her and be by her side! Not throw a tantrum like a three-year-old just because I'm not the one she decided to tell about her secret identity! And then adding my own stupid feelings and insecurities to her plate? I'll be a burden!" The dam was broken and the overwhelming feelings within Adrien cascaded like a tsunami. "You have plenty on your plate as well-" "But I'm used to it, she isn't. I was born and raised to deal with these kinds of things anyway so it's a no brainer for me to shut up and accept it all with a smile-" He paused abruptly, a wet gasp escaping his throat as he leaned against the glass for support when even more realisation sunk in. 'I have been dealing with so many responsibilities ever since I was born...and that puts us on the same boat...so why couldn't she have confided with me then?' Adrien dropped to his knees, fingernails scraping against his scalp as he tried to fight back against those negative thoughts and questions. 'Why am I never good enough? Not for Maman, not for Père and now...not for Ladybug...?' 'Why am I even here then?'

"Adrien...you don't need to put a mask on when you're with me. Cry it all out. I'm not gonna sit by and watch you destroy yourself from inside out because of your inability to address your true feelings. I'm right here, I'll even destroy all the wretched butterflies that dare to come by- so please, let it all out," "I can't! If I do, I'll never be able to go back and nothing will be the same again-" "And if you don't, then things will change for the worse and trust me, kid, that is the last thing you need." Finally, Plagg's words unravelled the obstacles that slowed down the flood and Adrien couldn't help but give in. His body shook and a whole new fresh wave of tears pooled down his eyes, teeth biting down on his lip to prevent the sobs from bursting out. . "...It hurts Plagg...it hurts so much! I love her...and I trust her so much but it hurts! I know she trusts me on a level and I know that multiple times she's mentioned that I'm irreplaceable but dammit! Why does it all feel like a lie!? She did the right thing in telling her civilian best friend, she finally has someone to look after herself- but why does it feel so wrong? Why is my heart in so much pain? Why can't I stop crying? If Ladybug won't lean on me, then what am I here for? And if I can't lean on Ladybug...who...who do I have?" . "...I may not be much and I may talk about nothing but cheese...but you'll always have me, kid," "I want to believe you, I want to so badly, Plagg...but I can't. I feel so alone...I've always been alone... ...And I'll always be alone..." . . . A couple of hours ago, just shy under midnight on a lone, hidden rooftop, if a curious civilian looked up, they would have seen Ladybug and Chat Noir locked in an embrace. However, what they would have noticed first was the absolutely broken, heartwrenching expression Noir wore... ...As if his entire world has fallen apart... . . . ~(x)~ A/N: Just wondering if I should make a sequel and give these two poor cats a happy ending~