#jake has no time for your self loathing

[therealraewest]

[januaryembrs]

Any fluffy sweet Drabble about the moon boys 🫡

SWEET MORNINGS | Marc Spector x reader

description: the boys wake up to their girlfriend making breakfast, too bad she has no clue which boy is fronting that morning

length: 1.1k

warnings: representation of DID, Marc's slight self loathing (it's Marc idk what to say). Writer has never experienced DID so I am going off the show

He woke up peacefully, which had once been a fleeting dream in itself for a man like him. He’d spent years jumping at the smallest sounds, flinching at voices and footsteps, ready to be up and out of bed within a moment’s notice. Yet, when his eyes slowly blinked out of the reverie of sleep, he heard her humming along to the radio, already half way through the song, heard her socks sliding against the kitchen floor as she whirled around the stove, and the smell of pancakes and coffee hit him with full force. 

His lips drew into a smile before he even knew it, and he was drawing the covers back, her side of the bed not entirely freezing which told him she’d been up about twenty minutes. Marc grabbed his shirt off the floor, the same one Steven used to sprinkle with sand when he had no idea about their coexistence, only two years later, it was scrubbed clean, even with a pretty, knit rug you’d bought from your apartment when you moved in. 

Tugging it over his head, he padded into the living room, where he could already see your form where you danced around the kitchen, entirely unaware of his approach. He’d been trying to teach you self defence, said you needed to learn to have a sixth sense when it came to people on your tail, because he had a tendency to worry about you more than Steven and Jake did. But maybe it was the fact he had naturally light footsteps, or maybe it was the fact you knew in the comfort of your home he would always be there to protect you, either way your guard was entirely down by the time he swooped behind you, grabbing you in a warm, soft hug, pressing kisses down the side of your bare neck and onto your shoulder. 

“Morning,” His voice was muddied with sleep, and he cleared his throat, hoping to take some of the husk out of it despite the fact you whirled around to look at him with something that told him just what you thought of his rumbling voice. 

“Morning, honey,” You said, pressing a small kiss to his lips, your hand still on the frying pan that he now realised had been filled with mini-chocolate pancakes, the batter sizzling and cracking in the oil, “You hungry?” 

Marc wasn’t really listening as he gave a ‘mhm’, too busy burying his nose in the crook of your neck and jaw, kissing lazily there as he tightened his grip on your waist. 

His gaze fell on the counter after a moment, the blueberry porridge Steven went crazy for already dished up in the little purple bowl you’d painted for him for their birthday, whirled of steam coming off the breakfast that was slowly turning a cornflour colour with the chopped fruit swirling in the centre. 

“Sorry, baby, I think Steven’s still sleeping, I can try ask him-” He started as you used a spatula to quickly flip the pancakes, their underside a golden brown that made his mouth water.

“Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t sure who was joining me for breakfast, or if all of you wanted something, so I made a bit of everything,” You said, smiling at him as you turned the gas down and spun in his arms, batting your eyes at him with an innocent smile, “Chocolate pancakes for you, blueberry oatmeal for Steven and a black coffee for Jake since I know you guys got mad last time we had bacon together,”

“What a woman,” Jake’s voice was a growl of appreciation that Marc couldn’t help but agree with, and he was quick to lean in to steal a handful of long kisses, grabbing the soft plush of your hips with feather light fingers and pulling you towards him, “Ay, Romeo, your pancakes are burning.”

You sprung away from him like you’d heard the alter yourself, your eyes wide in surprise, “Your pancakes are burning!” 

He heard Jake chuckle and a smile made it’s way onto his face as you fretted over whether the brown was where the chocolate had melted or if the mix had singed, but Marc thought he might just eat anything you gave him because you poured so much love and affection into it he couldn't help but think it tasted divine. 

“Marc, I’m sorry, I know we have the no hogging the body rule and I got to have her all last night, but please let me have just a few bites- o-or atleast ask her to save it for me, that stuff smells delicious,” Steven seemed to be wide awake and kicking at the sight of food, and Marc sighed, reaching out with one hand to swoop your hair off your neck as he kissed the very top of your spine. 

“Steven asks if we could save him the blueberry oatmeal since it’s my turn to spend time with you,” He said gently, and he feels you smile before he sees it, the way your cheeks crinkle and pull tightly. 

“Of course I can, baby, I’ll put it in the fridge,” You said, despite the fact the man was inside the body, scooping the little circular goods onto two plates for both of you. Turning to set the plates on the table, Marc grabbed two glasses out of the cabinet, opening the fridge door with a rattle as the magnets clasped pictures of the two of you to the cooler. 

“Orange or apple juice?” He asked, pulling the former out of the side drawer for himself. 

“Orange, please,” You replied politely, grabbing some cutlery out and laying it beside his plate. 

The two of you sat down finally, Marc sliding the filled glass over to your half of the dinner table and allowing himself to just watch as you picked up your knife and fork, digging into the chocolatey breakfast before it went cold. 

He never deserved any of this, the light touches and the breakfasts and the devotion and the way you put him on a pedestal. But sitting in the slow hum of the radio, the most obscure top hundreds playlist he thinks you could have chosen, he bit into his pancake, his tongue exploding with sugary yumminess, as you told him the weird dream you’d had about him becoming some kind of half horse, centaur type man and how you wondered if he would wear jeans on the front legs, the back legs, or if you would have to have custom, four legged bottoms made for him. 

The two of you laughed, because he didn’t quite understand what had gotten him so lucky as to end up with you. He could get used to all this.

[songbirdseung]

dwba / yang jungwon

synopsis: you keep listening to the same song, making your boyfriend very concerned and worried that you are trying to say something, jungwon version for @laylasbunbunny

pairing: yang jungwon x reader, established relationship

warnings: a little angsty, crying, relationship troubles, hint of breakups

wc: 948

Everyone perceived you and Jungwon to be the picture-perfect couple, bound to last forever, and a match made in heaven. With the way you two handle issues and conflict maturely and go through life, hand in hand, side by side. It was weird for the rest of Enhypen to walk into the dorm, being met with a stressed Jungwon sitting on the couch with his face in his hands.

A week ago, you and Jungwon fell into a misunderstanding. Unlike solving it like you both usually do, this time; things were just to heavy and needed to be thought upon before making any decisions that you both might regret.

By doing so, in your self loathing time; you were indulging and basking in the moment that you don't get to experience so often, you play music to accompany you, alongside with your tears and dirty tissues.

"The lyrics are 'So, I take my time to self-soothe', not self loathing"

Placing down a new tissue box for you, your sister also offers a shoulder to cry on. The assumption that you had of you crying silently was wrong, since your sister told you how she could hear you sobbing from outside the house. An exaggeration just to hopefully get you to laugh.

While it did get you to chuckle, a few block down, your boyfriend was not.

Jungwon just got back from a busy day filled with dance practices, recordings, and content filming. But not having to be in contact with you for over a week, distracted his senses and or mind to even realize that his body was in total fatigue.

Now, sitting on the couch, regretting the decision to allow you both to sit this one out and to not fix it right away. Slumping on the couch, thinking why on earth did he agree that it was the right idea to let you out of his sight. Sluggishly reaching over to his bag and fetching out his phone to open the contacts, he's hesitant to call you.

After a few minutes, he still in the same position, has yet to call you or even get up to wash up and rest to repeat the same day tomorrow.

His thoughts were interrupted for a second when he heard the door open, but immediately went back to the depths of regret. His members slowly make their way inside, spotting the young one.

"Jungwon? you good?" Jake inquires as he steps closer to the couch, standing behind Jungwon, patting him on the head.

"Does he look good to you, idiot?" A chuckle follows after Jay replies to Jake's not so smart question. The rest follows pursuit except Jungwon. Once they realized that, they finally understood that this was serious. They all huddle up on the couch and try to talk some sense into their leader.

Soon later, with enough convincing, Jungwon is up and running to your place. Flowers in hand with your favorite snacks in a bag. Eventually with successfully saving himself from tripping over things, he's at your door, hopeful that he'll succeed again with fixing things with you.

He knocks on the door and your sister opens the door. She offers him a small smile, a hug with a good luck. Giving him a little more confidence that he needed. He makes his way upstairs to your room and from outside the door, he hears your sweet voice that he missed so much. He loves to hear you sing and he always jokes how you could steal his job. But this time, he isn't that pleased to hear you sing lyrics that are making him question that you hate him at this point.

He stands there, in denial. As he hears you sing the next song. He's thinking how the titles and message of the songs casually just goes along with the predicament you both are in with your relationship.

I don't wanna fuck with your head It's breaking my heart To keep breaking yours again

Taking in a deep breath and exhaling, he takes hold of the doorknob and slowly opens the door. Being met by your back facing him as you sit on your bed with your speaker blasting 'Don't Want to Break up Again' by Ariana Grande. You don't even notice the new presence in your room as you switch the song after it ended.

If the sun refused to shine Baby, would I still be your lover? Would you want me there?

Again, he loves you singing but as you sing along to the lyrics with tears streaming down your face, he's not the happiest guy right now.

"Yes, you'll always be my lover" finally mustered up the courage to interrupt your mini concert to your plushies. You wipe your eyes, making sure that you're not hallucinating and Jungwon was actually sitting down next to you. "Are your songs trying to tell me something?" He jokes while cleaning up your face, wiping away the tears that can't seem to stop from flowing out your eyes.

After calming down a little, you explain how you were just in your feels and wanted to sing the pain away. Jungwon nods but couldn't help to call you dramatic in a joking manner, no harm intended whatsoever. You nudge him and rebuttal.

"For a second there I thought you were gonna break up with me"

Taken a back, you start asking him why you would ever end the relationship that you loved being in for almost 2 years now. He replies with how your music choice is making uneasy.

"Oh, you don't listen to sad songs when you're sad?"

"No, cause Ni-ki would make fun of me"

[ivystoryweaver]

hi ivy, congrats on 1k! 💕🎉 i was wondering if u have any hc's on how the mk system would take care of u when ur sick? currently dealing w strep myself & it sucks. hope this is okay if ur still doing these & that u have good day! 🩷

You're Not Alone

@suresnips Once upon a time you were sick and I left you there, with no Moon Boys to comfort you... Jake is gonna have words with me. Thank you so much for the congratulations, you are so sweet! Long overdue, but I never leave an ask unanswered

Word Count: 700 Content: sick you, mentions of food, domestic life, slight mentions of Marc's past, not beta'd

Marc has been on his own for years, and even when he was young, he had to fend for himself.

He knows how to take care of himself, having shivered through fevers in the roughest neighborhoods and parts of the world - sometimes on the run.

Believe it or not, Marc is the one who really doesn't want you to feel alone when you're sick. He doesn't always know what to say or do (he does, actually, but that's his self-loathing talking), but he'll sit with you.

Marc doesn't like the doctor - he was raised hiding things from professionals and he's conditioned to think they don't actually care, but since he doesn't want you to feel alone, he will always make sure he's there to wait with you.

He's traveled all over. He's a survivor and he's picked up all kinds of useful knowledge from his journeys.

Marc knows lots of little tricks, like how peppermint or lavender oil can be diluted and rubbed on your feet to bring down fever. He also knows oils and tinctures for all kinds of symptoms, such tightness or spasms from coughing, or simply to help you rest.

Since Marc doesn't know what to say sometimes, he will want to touch you. But occasionally, having a fever means you do not want to be touched - or at least not held.

This is why both of you find it so soothing when he rubs a balm into your chest or oils onto your feet. His dark eyes lock onto yours and you can see straight to his soul

Marc is steady and calm when you're sick. He doesn't want you to feel that what is wrong with you is your fault - you really feel loved and supported, even when you have "just a cold."

Steven is a caring, observant person: cordial to those who dismiss him, professional to rude bosses, sympathetic to friends and mindful and proud of the places he occupies

He even talks to Gus and makes sure he has everything he needs.

So he is going to notice the second you're feeling off.

"Getting sick, aren't you, love?"

"What? No, I'm just tired."

By that evening, you're burning with a fever.

Steven ushers you to bed, letting you know he stopped by the store on the way home. He is prepared.

Steven knows which tea will soothe your throat or settle your stomach. He understands just the right amount of honey or lemon you need, and how long to steep the tea leaves.

Even if you don't prefer tea, he knows how to make it taste good enough to warm you up or settle you.

Steven is vegan so he knows how to substitute ingredients or some interesting places to order takeaway. He'll encourage you to steer away from foods that will only exacerbate your symptoms, like fried foods or too much dairy.

He loves to take care of you, dote on you, bring you trays of things, prop up your head with an extra pillow.

He'll place a washcloth over your forehead and cover you with an extra blanket while you suffer.

He'll read you to sleep if you like, but he will miss you so much while you're down and out.

He's an exuberant puppy when you're better.

Jake helps you get things done.

You're out of it for a few days or a week? All good - bills are paid (if you share them), laundry is done.

Don't feel like calling out of work or making doctor's appointments? Jake takes care of it. You're not to be bothered.

He's going to help you zone out.

He'll make you smile, play your favorite record, watch movies with you on the couch.

He's gonna sneak you junk food, tbh. Steven's teas and soups are so wonderful, but after a few days, there's just that one food you want because you're kinda feeling sorry for yourself?

That's Jake. Snacks and movies and lightening the mood.

And - it's Jake Lockley. He's definitely going to try to feel you up during a movie. Once your fever breaks anyway.

“But I look awful,” you halfheartedly protest.

"Never, mi amor. Just relax."

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[pearlsinmyhair]

please more x reader smut with jake or miles, im starving 😭😭

wrong.

a jake sully x fem!human!reader smut fic.

warnings: smut. pnv sex. cunnilingus. overstimulation/multiple orgasms. reader is in her early twenties. daddy kink. use of pet names. squirting. size difference. virgin reader. dilf!jake sully. possibly dark content, if you squint. no beta we die like neteyam (im sorry-).

words: 2.7k

a.n.: ask and ye shall receive! this has been in the cooker for a hot minute. @eddiemunsonguitar this is also for you.

Eywa, it was so wrong. Unbelievably so. So sinful that it made you burn with embarrassment and borderline self loathing every time you weren’t burning with desire.

Desire for a man old enough to be your damn father.

It was innocent enough at first. He was just so big, and caring, and funny. And as you got older, your mind started wandering away from a silly little crush to full blown fantasies. Fantasies of him coming into your room at night, grabbing onto you and having his way with you. Practically ripping off any clothes just to ravish you until you couldn’t so much as move the next day.

And at the center of all these fantasies were none other than Toruk Makto himself. Jake Sully.

How could you be blamed? The crop of scientists, as much as you loved them, hardly sufficed when it came to what you craved in a man. Besides, not one of them would even go near you in anyway other than platonic and parental; they had practically raised you.

You were isolated and horny, with no one and nothing to take your frustration out on. And the only one other than the scientists that regularly visited was the Olo’eyktan. Who never even really looked at you, frankly.

Then again, you didn’t see him up close and personal for the first eighteen years of your life; the first half of which was spent cowering in your room or behind tech, and the second half spent admiring from a distance.

Watching with greedy eyes how his abdomen flexed when he leaned over to study Norm’s tablet, or how his thighs tensed as he crouched, or how his fingers spread when he pointed to something.

You wanted to eat him. You wanted him to eat you.

It was only the night of your twentieth birthday and after one of the female scientists told you about na’vi mating traditions that you hatched your plan.

Reassured by her statements that na’vi didn’t stick to monogamy nearly as much as the typical human did, you put on the gifted tweng and matching top you got from Kiri and Tuk as a gift, strapped your exo pack over your face, and marched into high camp with your head held high.

Jake barely knew you when he first really saw you walking the perimeter of one of the huge fires in the caves of high camp. He knew of you, from Norm and Max and their off handed comments about the spoiled princess in their mix, but he’d never seen her.

‘Spoiled’ had always been a joke- you were a kid, and you had needs that weren’t always easy for them to provide. But they did their best.

His kids had mentioned you too; Kiri was especially fond of you (“Sometimes she’s the only one who really wants to listen to my thoughts. It’s refreshing.” Kiri had snapped one night not too long ago at dinner), and Tuk thought you made a great playmate. Lo’ak had considerably less to say, mostly because you didn’t come out of the Oxygen-Pods nearly as much as Spider did, and therefore you didn’t explore with them. Neteyam had escorted you to fetch a plant for Max’s research once, and claimed you were polite.

That was the extent that he knew.

And damn, he didn’t know shit if this is what you looked like. All long legs and coy smiles and soft giggles.

It was over the instant that you introduced yourself.

You both knew it.

ִ ࣪𖦹

“Fuck, Jake please-“ you whined, wiggling and bucking your hips in an attempt to get away from his flicking tongue. His massive hands held you in place, making your body sink into the mattress of your bed within your room. The poor thing creaked with each push of his hands and movement of your lower half, and you thanked Eywa that you had requested a private living space when you had turned eighteen. You don’t think you could face anyone with apologies for the noise of your late night escapades with the olo’eyktan.

“Hush… ‘m not done.” Jake mumbled into your folds, and you had to fight the urge to kick his chest as another shot of electricity made your whole body twitch.

Two orgasms and this man still wasn’t done. He had practically ripped off your panties as soon as he was through the door, picking you up and (gently) throwing you down on the bed. How long ago was that? An hour? Two? It felt like you were melting at this point, and the slurps of Jake’s mouth on your dripping pussy made you shiver with embarrassment and overstimulation.

“Y’know what to say if you’re done, yeah?” Jake asked, pulling back just enough to make sure his words were audible. Daring to look down, you were met with the sight of strings of your cum and his saliva clinging to his jaw, his lips nearly shimmering and parted as he watched you. He brought a breathing mask to his face as he waited, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh with his unoccupied hand.

You dropped your head and with a frustrated whine, and he slapped his palm against your leg. With a yelp, you gave him an audible affirmative, restating your safe-word. Satisfied, Jake licked a broad stripe from your fluttering hole to your clit, sucking the throbbing bud into his mouth and rolling it on one of his canines. You cried out, the rush of popping sparks and burning pleasure returning.

“Just one more, sweet thing. One more and i’ll give you what you want.” he cooed, nipping your labia and tonguing your entrance.

“Need it now, Jake. Can’t take it anymore.” you nearly wheezed, huffing as you felt the coil in your gut tighten. Something was different from before, tingling just below the hot waves of pleasure rolling through your body.

Tonight, after months of eating you out and finger fucking you, Jake had finally decided to let you take his dick. Only one problem with that. Itsie bitsie, really. Nothing serious.

Just that you were a virgin. And taking a dick over twice the size of a human’s was gonna practically rip you open.

So that’s what got you here, approaching your third goddamn orgasm so maybe, just maybe, your slick would make it easier for him to slide in.

Fuck, you weren’t gonna walk for a week, dick or not.

A flood of ecstasy overwhelmed you, and you felt some kind of tingling between your legs before you were slammed back, white clouding your vision as you cried out.

When you came to and looked down once more, you watched as Jake lapped at the juices adorning your thighs and lower belly, wiping some kind of liquid from his face.

“Y’squirted, baby girl.” he hummed as he kneeled over you, picking you up and adjusting you so that your head rested against your pillows and he could rest his knees on the mattress, situating himself between your thighs.

“Prideful skxawng.” you whispered back, only to be muffled by his mouth on yours as his hands found the backs of your knees.

He pulled back, looked down at you with worried eyes as his gaze traveled between your bodies back up to your face. “You’re sure you want this? It’s not gonna be easy, or painless.”

You shifted up onto your elbows, brushing his blunted nose with your own. “Since when did you decide to be my daddy?” you asked, voice low.

Jake’s reaction was predictably dominating; he hissed low in his throat, pushing his forehead down against yours so that your head landed back on the pillow. He rutted his hips forward, and you whimpered when his dick brushed your oversensitive clit.

“This isn’t time for jokes kid. Talk to me.” he growled, and you sobered quickly as he moved the head of his cock to your entrance, applying pressure so you felt some semblance of the reality of what was about to happen.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your hands to his face and pulled him down, trying not to think of just how much he had to crane his neck to lean closer. “Just… slow. If it doesn’t fit, then fine.” you tried, swallowing the lump in your throat as Jake nudged you again.

“Trust me, kid, it’ll fit. Stretched you to hell and back not too long ago.” he assured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Just relax.”

“Oh, and let’s not call me ‘kid’ when you’re about to fuck me, yeah?” you snipped, tightening your thighs around his waist.

Jake chucked, muttered a soft “brat.” into your ear that got you to laugh. While you were distracted, he pushed his hips forward and slid the first inch of his dick in.

You squealed, and Jake had to keep his hold on your thighs tight and you tried to move away. Your hands flew to his shoulders, clawing into his skin deep enough to draw blood.

It should have hurt- he should have noticed the stings of pain.

But all he could register was tight, warm walls wrapped around his dick with a vice so harsh he swore they were gonna snap it clean off.

With breaks and whispered praise from him, he gradually suck inch by inch of his think cock into you tight little cunt, until finally, fucking finally, he bottomed out.

Tight. Tight around his tongue, tight around his fingers, but fuck. This was on another level.

You were so good- such a good girl taking all of that length, swallowing every inch he gave you with a few tears and quiet whimpers. He leaned closer, making sure not to rock into you too soon, and kissed at the tears tracking down your face, before finally pressing his mouth to yours, swallowing your soft cries every time you’d accidentally shift your hips or he his.

“Damn, pretty girl. Gonna cut off my blood circulation.” he grunted into your shoulder, and he was rewarded with a breathy laugh from you. Experimentally, he ran a hand down between your bodies, before having to mentally convince himself not to burst at what he found.

Leaning up, he looked down at the bulge in your tummy, running a hand over it before looking to your eyes. He found you looking down with awe, wide eyed and dropped jaw at the bump.

Jake placed his palm over it, and pressed down.

The moan you let out was sinful, so desperate and pleased that he nearly rammed into you just out of instinct. But he reminded himself to take it slow as he pulled out, feeling the warmth of your pretty pussy leave him, before pushing back in.

Eywa, Jake was huge.

Of course you knew he would be- you’re not delusional. But damnit, it was almost too much. Your legs quivered with each slow thrust of Jake’s hips, and you buried your face into his shoulder to quell some of your noises. It hurt. Hurt more than anything you’d experienced before. You were quite sure Jake would leave a permanent space for himself inside of you with how you were stretching.

Jake stroked his thumb against your skin where his hand still cupped the back of your thighs, pressing your knees up near your shoulders to get more leverage. The cot gave another soft squeak at the shift in weight, and for a moment you and Jake laughed, finding humor in the absurdity of fucking you into a rickety mattress in a room that Jake couldn’t fully stand up in.

The bulge in your tummy was only a physical manifestation of what you felt: fucking full. You could have cum just at the sight of it there, and by the foggy look in Jake’s eyes, so could he.

“Jake-“ you whispered, though it came out as more of a punched-out wheeze. “Move.”

His eyes flicked to yours for a moment, checking for any hesitation. When he found none, he shifted back on the bed, pulling away. You could feel the emptiness he left behind, and you opened your mouth to protest.

Before you could utter a word, Jake’s hands shifted from your thighs to your hips, and promptly rammed his cock back into you.

You screamed, the rush of pleasure and twinge of pain making you throw your head back as your hands flew to his shoulders, grounding yourself as he repeated the motion. You could feel him, deep inside of you, pressing against your cervix, his tip threatening to push past the barrier and straight into your womb.

That should have scared you, but it only made you rock your hips up to meet Jake’s with each thrust, reveling in the slick slide of his dick against your walls.

“Fucking hell, baby-“ he all but hissed, pinning your legs up again. “Taking this dick so well.”

You whined in response, trying and failing to assemble some kind of sentence to give him. Fucked out and cock drunk from just a few thrusts. How pathetic a sight you were. But no matter how humiliated you would feel later, right now you were confronted will all consuming pleasure and fullness.

Jake was confronted with the view of tears leaking from your eyes and drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, whining and moaning weakly as he continued to pound into you. He was sure he wasn’t much better, anyway. Jesus, he thought maybe you’d loosen, only to be met with a tight clench of your tight little cunt around his cock when he hit your g-spot.

Everything was on fire. Your body, your mind, your pussy. Fuck, you needed to cum. You needed to fucking cum.

“Daddy-“ you whined, finally meeting Jake’s eyes as he bent over you, letting his nose brush yours.

“I know, baby girl. Go ahead and cum around daddy’s cock. Make him proud.” he grunted out, feeling his own release pool deep in his stomach as he tucked his face into the space between your shoulder and jaw.

His permission was all it took for something inside to finally snap, and you could feel yourself gush around Jake’s dick as your whole body trembled, thighs shaking even as Jake held them. After a few beats the pleasure turned into overstimulation, and your moaning became sobs, whimpering into Jake’s shoulder for him to cum already-

Jake shuffled closer to press himself as far in as he could as he felt the coil in his stomach tighten one last time, and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, tasting salt and iron as his release filled your core.

You barely even protested, your body jumping slightly under his at the pain, but otherwise you were limp in his arms. Jake pulled back to look at you, letting one of your legs go and bringing his hand to your cheek. “Hey…” he murmured softly, running his tongue over the dribble of blood from the bite mark marring your skin, waiting for you to come down.

“Hey…” you responded after a second, pushing weekly at his shoulder in an attempt to get him to stop prodding at the wound. Jake chuckled and shifted.

“Pulling out.” he warned you, before pulling himself out of you with a wet squelch. If you weren’t thoroughly fuck out, you would have blushed. But right now, all you wanted to do was curl up and sleep.

Jake chuckled once more, curling next to you and cradling your body against his chest as you began to drift off. “Are you alright?” he asked, his tail curling around your thigh as his hand ran over your back.

“Mhm.” you managed, pressing a kiss to his pectoral as he hitched one of your legs around his waist. “Just gonna be sore in the morning.”

He hummed in agreement, glancing at the bruises on your hips and waist from his hands. Jake knew he should have felt bad for it, and yet his chest hummed with pride at the sight of the physical evidence of him on your body.

Mine.

He pressed a kiss to your head as your breathing evened out, feeling his own eyes grow heavy.

“We’ll worry ‘bout it in the morning, baby. Just rest.” he whispered.

And with an ache between your legs and dripping warmth in your core, you did just that, already drifting away into sleep as his body calmed against yours.

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 2)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: language, angst, Josh is perfect, angst, also maybe some angst

I’m so happy that you are all enjoying Sugar 2.0 as much as I am! I’ve missed this little world so much and it just makes me smile to know that you missed it too ❤️

Curled up into a tight ball under hotel room sheets, your mascara smudges across and stains the bleach-white pillowcases. And you might feel a little guilty about that if you could form a halfway coherent thought.

You’d expected a coworker, also dragged into town for this god forsaken conference, when you’d heard your name skittering across the marbled lobby floors. Turning to find Daniel, dripping in Greek God beauty and memories, had stolen the air from your lungs.

Quite literally, you had found it impossible to breathe for a few panicky moments as your eyes darted around in search of those that might be tagging along with him.

The warm, nostalgic feeling of stumbling across an old, dear friend had been overshadowed and twisted by fear…and a horrible, throbbing sadness; there was a time when this was your life…the last time anything had made any sense.

The overwhelming urge to sob in his arms had left you aching when he’d pulled you in for a bear hug. Somehow, his being so near had made home feel that much further away.

Take me to him. You’d wanted to beg Danny, clinging to his sturdy frame.

Now, you just want to run. To pack up your things in a hurry and flee the building as if it were engulfed in flames. You wish you were shoving your bag into an overhead compartment on a plane bound for anywhere that isn’t here.

This is too close. They are too close.

Three years it’s been, and he is still the first thing that weighs like sand on your mind when your eyes blink open in the morning…and your very last thought before they drift closed at night.

Has it really been three years? It doesn’t seem possible.

You think of Josh, too. Of course you do. But it is with a distant fondness for what you had. He is a pretty memory. A good memory. One you can recall easily, and with wistful affection. You can speak of him readily, with gentle sentiment. It was a great thing you had, and now it is no longer. Simple.

Jake.

You try so hard not to think of Jake, but he’s there all the time anyway. Cozied up inside your head like he owns the place, no matter how many times you’ve ordered him to vacate. He always was stubborn, and his memory has proven no different. There is a hole in your soul shaped exactly like him. Hardly a blip of light in your eyes; you left most of it there with him all those moons ago.

You could so easily satiate your searing need in some minuscule manner, via YouTube interviews, balcony seats at shows where you would stand no chance of being spotted. The wails of his guitar could pour from your speakers and right into your chest whenever it feels too hollow. You could fall asleep to samplings of his velveteen voice, rasping answers to questions floated from radio hosts and devour written pieces where he speaks so eloquently and with such reverence about his craft…

You could, but you don’t.

You do none of these things. It simply cuts too deeply.

Early on, you did. Tortured yourself as you sobbed and cried out in the night like a homesick child. Yes, in those early days, you’d punished your fractured heart and yearning mind with pain; sunk your teeth into and gnashed them together, fearful of letting go.

But you’ve found your way. Tripped clumsily along, patching together a new normal slowly. The diamond that rests upon your ring finger reminds you of that…and you feel sick with self loathing. Weeping in this strange bed over what used to be, while he waits at home for you, happily watering your plants and tending to the household chores. Loving you from a distance.

He sends you texts just to say he loves you, and so you’ll know you’re on his mind. To ask if you’d like him to pick up anything from the store so you won’t have to worry about it when you return home. To remind you that he adores you in a hundred little ways.

…and here you lie, in a bed that isn’t the one you share with him, chest caving in around your heart, squeezed up tight and longing for Jake.

Jake, Jake, Jake…always Jake. Why won’t he go away?

A knock, swift and sure, startles you out of your misery with a jolt.

You don’t plan to answer, that’s a given…you’re a mess, complete with a blotchy, tear streaked face, and swollen eyes…so you’re silent as you creep over to the door to have a peek through the peephole.

He looks angelic, waiting out there in the hall nervously fidgeting. His curls look like home and your fingers itch to touch them, innocently. Almost the same, and so different all at once, now closely clipped at the sides. He looks reminiscent of his younger self. A little like the Josh you’ve only ever known through pictures; the Josh before he swept into your life like a tornado of light and smiles. He always was so beautiful. So offbeat. So eclectically mishmashed together and esoteric.

It’s like spotting a twin flame that you never expected to see again. Like the dead has risen…

…and before you’re consciously aware of your actions, you’re sliding the lock and cracking open the door.

“Hello, sweet girl.” His voice is soothing, and weighed down heavy as it slams into your head and scrambles your brain.

“Josh,” is all you’re able to manage, stupidly.

“As beautiful as ever, mama.” He smiles, flashing that tiny gap in his teeth that used to make you weak.

“Now, listen,” he holds a hand up and then shoes away whatever notion he’s about to bring up, “Don’t you hold this against our dear Daniel…I know you didn’t want to see us,” he lowers his voice into a conspiring whisper, “but you should know, he’s become a terrible tattletale in your absence.”

Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the fact that you’ve left him standing in the hall like an unwelcome stranger. Against your better judgment, you invite him in.

He’s careful not to touch you, mindful of overstepping in a way that’s so out of character for him it makes you feel unsteady.

“You really do look lovely, sweetheart.” He smiles, “A vision. I’ve missed you, my friend. I’ve missed you very much.”

‘My friend’ stings a little at first, but within a blink, it settles and feels right - you were always friends. Friends before it became love, friends while it was love…

The Josh you knew possessed a great many talents, and quick adaptability was listed among them. He allowed the fickle winds of life to toss him about like no one you’d ever known, and had an ever present and uncannily firm grasp on relationships, and an admiration for how they can shift and morph.

He also always was a cool liar when it was for the greater good. Some things clearly never change.

Nervously, you sweep a hand through your hair and blot your eyes with the backs of your hands, “Lovely my ass…c’mere.”

With little reservation, you tug him in close and fold your arms around him. An unexpected huff of a laugh escapes you when you feel his familiar warmth.

He hugs you back, long and hard, with a soft, “Hi, baby, hi.”

“How’d you find me, you stalker?” You joke tenderly as he sways your bodies back and forth. “I didn’t give Danny my room number.”

That chuckle of his that you’d buried in the past trots out to say hello, “A trip to the front desk was all it took. Have you forgotten the Kiszka charm so easily?”

“Uh-huh,” you roll your eyes, though you’re still wrapped up tightly together and he cannot see.

“Okay,” he concedes “the Kiszka charm and maybe a hundred tucked into a hand or two.”

How strange that you had begged Danny not to tell him; his embrace is blissful and you’ve missed him terribly.

Still, there is a phantom in the room with the two of you, and you know without a doubt that he feels it too.

When he pulls back, his hands slip down your arms to clasp around yours…and he sees it.

“Oh my, mama,” he tugs it up closer for inspection, “would you look at that. Going to the chapel, huh?”

“I—“ for some unknown reason, you pull your hand away and tuck it behind your back as though you’ve been caught in a shameful act.

He tilts his head, regarding you carefully “Can we sit?”

With a welcoming gesture, you usher him in further, and like the gentleman he’s always been, he opts for the chair and doesn’t mention the disheveled bed, or its wept upon pillows.

After you settle in respectively, there’s a long stretch of silence in which you both seem to just sort of sink into being in the same room together again. Finally, he breaks the ice.

“He can’t know you’re here. It won’t be like this,” he waves a finger back and forth between the two of you, indicating the ease in which you’ve reunited.

A choked sob threatens to breach your lips at the mere mention of him, and your hand darts up to press it back.

“And he certainly can’t know about that.” Josh points to your ring winking obnoxiously in the light.

“Of course,” you nod rapidly, blinking tears back. “Yes, of course not…but, is he…” falling silent, your gaze lands on your bare toes and stays there.

“Is he, what?” Josh’s voice is kind, and you are so grateful for it. “Okay? No, sweetheart. He’s very far from okay. I should lie for him, I know I should. He’s my brother…I should tell you he’s happy. Happier than he’s ever been.”

“Will you?” There is a desperate hope in your plea that makes you cringe inwardly. “Will you tell me he’s happy?”

His eyes, so like his twins, and so full of sorrow, watch you for such a long time you begin to squirm this way and that in your seat. “Sit still, mama…” he finally scolds with the tiniest wink to soothe your anxiety, “he’s happy. He’s fine. But best if you just steer clear, alright?”

“So he’s happy? Or you should lie, Josh? Which is it?” Why are you asking? You don’t want to know. It’s infinitely easier to swallow the lie. You can’t stand the thought of Jake broken still and riddled with the pain you know so well.

With a sigh, he avoids your gaze. “You know the answer to that already, it seems. Are you?” His eyes flick towards your engagement ring, “Happy, I mean? Are you?”

Now it’s your turn to lie, “Yes. Very.”

He nods, and then glances at the mascara glaring from your pillows like evidence at trial. “Yes, it would seem so.”

“Josh, I—“

“Look,” he cuts you off, stressing with urgency. “We’re only here for the night. Lay low if you can. He’s bad off, and to see you would level him. To see you with that,” he once again points out your ring, “Would kill him. You leaving…”

A shaking breath rattles his shoulders, “It wasn’t easy for either of us, but Jake? Jake is still in that hotel room you walked out of a thousand nights ago. He never left, sweet girl. He never fucking left…and as much as I know that it’s not your fault…”

He trails off in thought and then drags in a hitching hiss of air, “As much as I know it isn’t either of our faults, I still place all that blame right here, with you and me. I can’t watch him descend any further, alright? So just lay low until we’re gone. For me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a thousand questions beating like bird’s wings against the cage of your mind, “Yes, of course.”

Another lull slips in to visit until he shakes his head slowly, “How did I ever manage to get over you? You truly are beautiful. I’d almost forgotten…that’s heartbreaking.”

There is an innocuous lilt to his tone that warms your soul like cocoa with the fattest marshmallow bobbing along in the mug, and you feel your cheeks turn pink under his open, golden gaze.

“Me?” You laugh, “What about you, gorgeous? I love the hair.”

“Oh, you know,” he brushes his palms over the sides with a bashful shrug, “I let Sam trim it, scissors slipped…had to do something.”

“Still blaming Sam for all of life’s tragedies?” You laugh again. You always did laugh so freely with him, and you’ve missed it more than you ever allowed yourself to realize.

He scoffs with the faintest roll of his sparkling eyes “Obviously. That’s what the youngest is for, mama. You know this. And speaking of Samuel, you understand that Daniel will tell him, right? Those two might as well just get married and call it a day.”

Another giggle sounds out of you, “Don’t be jealous, Joshua. It’s unbecoming. Danny loves you, too…and Sammy I would say definitely considers you a solid acquaintance.”

“Yes, well, my acquaintance would be thoroughly crushed if he didn’t get the chance to at least say hello to you. Maybe later tonight? After the show?” He leans forward and toys with the beads swinging between his knees. “How would that be?”

“Only Sammy?”

He holds up two fingers, scout’s honor, “Only Sammy.”

You agree, and catch up a while longer until it’s time for him to take his leave, and you can’t help the confession that blurts out of your mouth without eloquence.

“You said he never left that hotel room,” you waver with bitten back tears. “It wasn’t…I don’t want you to think…it took me a very long time to leave that room, too.”

One last time, before the door closes behind him, his eyes linger on your pillow and the evidence of your tears, and then find yours, “Sweetheart, are you sure you’ve left it at all?”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @jakesgrapejuice @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

[jakegooglyeyes]

Naiad - 1/3

This is a shorter series I've written for quite a while. I need a little fluff to help cope with stress. I came up with this solely because Jake is a Sagittarius. Prone to a lot of mistakes because I wrote and edited this sleep-deprived.

Next

Pairing: Centaur!Jake x Nymph!reader (f)

A centaur has fallen in love with a naiad for a very long time. He deems himself too brutish to be near you, satisfied with watching you from a distance. Until one day, he hears the river goddess cries out for you, her child who was taken by humans.

Word count: 2300

Warning: mild violence/gore, butchering of Greek mythology, Jake's self-loathing and mild horny thoughts, repeating the word "gentle" about a thousand times

Tagged: @gyllenhaalstories (as promised)

Minor DNI

Your breath catches in your throat, a ragged gasp as you realize you cannot remember how long you have been running. Exhausted and thirsty, your legs are about to give out, and painful cuts cover your bare feet.

You try to call out to your mother for help, but you have strayed so far away from the river that your voice can no longer reach her. Looking behind, all you can see is towering trees and darkened sky. Crawling into a hollowed tree, you pray to the gods that the humans will not find you here. You are so frightened by the thought of what they will do if they capture you.

Just as the footsteps get closer, you hear a twangling sound of a released bowstring and something sharp piercing through the air. Whoever attacks them must have caught the humans off guard. They scream and curse in words you can not understand as bodies hit the ground one after another. The bowstring sings its song a few more times. The last human let out a pathetic grunt and then, deafening silence.

You cautiously peek out from behind the tree, the stench of blood and smoke hitting you instantly. A gruesome scene lays out in front of you: several bodies sprawl on the ground, arrows protruding from their chests, their faces twist in agony, illuminated by the flickering flames of fallen torches. Judging by their bloodstained clothes and scattered weapons, these dead men were your pursuers a few moments ago. Now they lie still without light in their eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

A rumbling voice calls out from the darkness between the trees and the tall grass.

Startled, you retreat into your hiding spot once more, eyes fixating on the shadow in front of you. You can only make out a tall figure moving through the bushes and hear the sounds of hooves treading on the ground. Your heart pounds with dread. Your legs feel like lead, aching with exhaustion, and even if they could still move, there was no way you could outrun a horse.

"Please, come out. I mean no harm."

The figure comes forward, emerging from the shadows, and into the flickering light of the torches. You realize the sounds were not from a horse. Instead, they belong to one of the centaurs guarding this part of the forest. The chase drove you far from your home, leading you into the dense forest of the beast-men.

You slowly crawl out from the hollow tree, the silence of the forest amplifying every creak and groan of the branches beneath you. You eye the centaur with every bit of caution. Even though he saved you, and there has never been enmity between your kind and his, you cannot trust a stranger, especially one that looks half a human male and half a savaged beast.

"You don't speak the tongue of man?"

You do not understand what the centaur is saying, but you can at least tell there is no hostility in his voice. So you remain still, waiting for his next move. Your eyes are glued to him as your heart thumps loudly in your chest.

He lowers his equine body into a kneeling posture, his muscular legs folding gracefully, to reassure you he is not a threat. Then, his hand reaches out, his fingers gently closing around your ankle in a reassuring squeeze. He carefully assesses your injuries, ensuring his fingers never brush against the open cuts.

"Thank the gods you didn't sprain your ankle, but your feet are still bleeding. Let's get you out of here before more humans come."

As soon as you feel his touch on your skin, thoughts flow into your mind. His genuine intention is apparent, and you can almost feel a sliver of his emotions. It's warm, like a mother's tender embrace, a comforting river enveloping you, yet with an untamed wildness that you have never experienced.

His powerful arms close around you, one supporting your trembling form, the other gently cradling your knees, as he effortlessly lifts you into his broad chest. Feeling safer in his grasp, you cling to him for support, letting the centaur carry you away into the dark.

You think to yourself as you watch his eyelashes flicker in the dim light; they are so long and beautiful, like that of a cow. The short, bristly hairs on his face catch your eye, sparking a bit of curiosity. Mother had said only men grow hair on their faces. His enigmatic charm held you spellbound, making it impossible to look away.

The centaur, unaware of your gaze, moved silently between the trees, the rustle of his hooves the only sound disturbing the forest's silence.

"If the humans purposely chased you away from the river, they might have set up traps in case you try to find your way back. So we must take the long path around the hills to avoid them."

Though his words are a jumble of unfamiliar sounds, his voice has a calming effect, easing your fear-struck mind.

The hands holding you are firm and secure, keeping the sharp branches away from you as he treads through the forest like tracing lines in the palm of his hand. The exhaustion washes over you as you nestle against his chest, his steady breathing comforting you.

The centaur knows that your kind can pick up on the emotions of others through touch, but he is unsure how much you can actually perceive. So he tries to focus on getting you to safety, hoping to suppress his deepest desire enough that it will not disturb you. Never in his life could he imagine being this close to you, let alone being allowed to touch you like this.

For the longest time, he was content with watching you from a distance. He often came by the river where you and your sisters bathe at the heat of noon, shielding himself behind the trees, for the nymphs would vanish at the sight of anything resembling a man. The centaur would spend hours gazing at your naked form as you rest on the mossy stones, eyes unable to tear away from the contour of your body.

He never asked for more, never dared. Seeing you every day was enough to soothe his aching heart.

The goddess' cry for her daughter stirred all the creatures in the forest this morning, including his herd. He raced down to the river bank, every instinct urging him to find out what was going on. He couldn't stand the thought of something terrible happening to you, his mind and soul reeling at the thought.

His heart sank as he scanned the faces of your sisters, unable to find the one he sought.

The human footprints in the dirt, still damp and fresh, guided him along the trail until he found you, fortunately, in the domain of the centaurs.

The gods knew how much he wanted to trample those despicable men, to pulverize their flesh and bones under his hooves, making them pay for thinking they could defile you with their filthy hands. He would have gouged out their eyes, ripped out their tongues, leaving them to suffer a slow, agonizing death, but he held back, wishing to spare you the gruesome sight.

He wouldn't want to frighten you anymore than you already are.

The gentle rocking with each step, the earthy scent of crushed grass, and the warmth of the centaur's embrace lull you into a deep sleep. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and you can feel the steady thump of his heart against your ear. It reminds you of the sun's warmth on an afternoon you would spend with your sisters, coming to the shore to pick flowers and watch little creatures foraging.

After some time has passed, you are roused from your slumber by the feeling of the centaur lowering you down on a patch of soft moss. You open your eyes, blinking against whatever light the stars can provide, and see that he has carried you to a small cave, the scent of damp earth filling your nostrils.

The remnants of sleep linger for a moment, but your senses start to fully return.

The memory of being chased by the humans is still fresh in your mind and your body tenses in reaction. He notices your discomfort and kneels down to meet your eyes.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said, his voice low and gentle.

"Please do not be afraid. You need rest, and I need to find something to treat your wound. The humans will not be looking for you this deep into the forest."

You feel his gentle hand stroking your hair and your cheeks. As he drapes his fur cloak around you, the scent of wood smoke and wild musk settles over you, and you feel your fear melt away. He leaves the cave to confirm there are no predators nearby and to allow you some rest.

Time seems to slip away, and when the centaur finally returns, his hooves thudding lightly on the ground as he carries a handful of fragrant herbs with him.

He carefully cradles your feet in his hands, and you can feel the heat of his palms as he works meticulously to treat your wound. The centaur scoops cool water from a nearby creek, gently washing your wounds and soothing the pain. He then secures a clean cloth tightly around them, stopping the flow of blood.

You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, indicating that you are thankful for what he has done for you.

The centaur glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours, before he averts them with a hint of shyness. He is not used to being this close to you. He was in a hurry when he carried you here, so he only had enough time to take in a glimpse of you.

He is relieved to see you safe. And now, as his eyes scan your form, he can't help but notice the graceful curves of your body, the very same ones that has haunted his sleep for so many nights. He remembers the times you would appear in his dreams, bare and soft, lazing in his arms, humming your alluring songs.

In those nightly delusions, you would allow him to kiss and caress you, to worship you like his own goddess. Mouth would taste your burning skin, and hands would knead your yielding flesh.

Yet as you sit in front of him now, in person, he feels filthy and unworthy.

His kind has always been wild and violent. Sure, he has shamelessly begged for a favor from Aphrodite. But he was sure the Goddess of Beauty shuns creatures like him.

A delicate touch on the centaur's cheek, soft as a butterfly's wing, pulled him from the depths of his self-loathing. He looks up to see your captivating eyes filled with concern. You must have felt his anguish even though you do not understand what or why.

"Are you trying to comfort me?"

A bitter laugh escapes the centaur's lips. He wants to avoid you, but he cannot. He becomes greedy for your touch, driven by the longing for your affection, even if you are just worried about him because he saved you.

The sorrow you felt begins to fade, replaced by a quiet peace. It's maddening, this inability to communicate with the centaur. You want to thank him and ask him about so many things. But alas, you can only "talk" through gestures and listen to his little thoughts whenever you touch him.

Thank you.

You tell the centaur, hoping he can understand. He seems shocked that you are willing to speak to him.

Your voice fills his head with the most beautiful melody he has ever heard in his life. He would gladly follow, even if you commanded him to plunge into the depths of the underworld or to slay a mighty god. He wants to tell you how much he adores you. His mouth opens and shuts, but no words come out.

"I… Don't worry about me. You must rest. We need to leave in the morning."

After a few words, he fixes the cloak that has slipped off your shoulders before guiding you onto the moss layer. You understand he wants you to sleep.

You shiver in the freezing cold of night, tapping the space next to you, signaling that he is invited to sleep beside you. It will be warmer that way. The centaur's mind wrestles with his heart, reason clashing with desire. The internal struggle is quite clear.

Eventually, he sighs and surrenders. His equine body lowers until he gets into a position where his human half can lie down.

You move your mouth to utter a word, hoping he will understand. Your name. He looks on with disbelief, then delights. He takes your hand and presses it against his chest, letting you feel the raw, beating pulse of his heart beneath his ribs.

"Jacob."

Jake.

"It's Jacob."

Jake.

"It's… Never mind. Jake it is."

You repeat his name, earning a wide grin from him. He does not seem to mind that you decide to shorten his name. Actually, he looks a little too eager, practically bursting with excitement.

He pauses to indulge in the way you look at him before whispering in a hushed voice, not worrying that you do not comprehend his words.

"I swear on my own flesh and blood, I'll let nothing harm you."

The centaur wraps you in his arms. His initial reluctant fades away. When your steady breathing and a slight smile reassure him he did not repulse you, he pulls you into a tight embrace, silently praising Aphrodite and her miracle.

While he knows he is asking for too much, he wishes Eros would spare him from the coarse and unsavory thoughts that were forming in his mind. The golden arrow was painful enough.

The night goes by as you rest snuggly against the centaur's broad chest. You drift off into a sweet dream, comforted by the gentle embrace.

His thoughts are so tender. Though there is something else, deeper, darker, and far more primal. But you are too exhausted to notice.

[oopsallgoalies]

You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 19

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, dead parents, drunkenness, alcohol consumption, violence, sports violence, blood probably, angst, fluff, eventual smut, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, You Catch More Bees With Honey. It was originally posted in November-March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Your head feels heavy like it’s filled with cotton. You didn’t expect to cry this much and yet it’s all you’ve managed to do for the last forty-eight hours. When your mom died you hadn’t cried. Instead, you’d been numb, locking the world out and hiding away behind vacant eyes as you struggled to come to terms with your new reality. Now you’re not sure how you’re not cried out yet. You’re tangled in the sheets of the bed in one of Mickey and Bob’s spare bedrooms. Mickey doesn’t leave your side very often except when the doorbell rings every few hours when Bradley tries to talk to you again. He’s been consistent in his attempts to see you, but with the three occupants of the house standing between the two of you, he’d been unsuccessful thus far. Mickey’s downstairs with him right now from the sound of Mickey’s raised voice. Mickey had transformed into a version of himself you haven’t seen often in your ten years of friendship. He’s cold and fiercely protective, a rock for you to lean on while full of self-loathing for his inability to protect you from the hurt you’re feeling.

He blames himself. You’ve assured him that it’s not his fault but he refuses to see sense. In his mind, if he’d just intervened sooner you’d never have wasted your time falling for Bradley and a part of your heart is bitter with resentment. Because you don’t regret it. Not yet at least. You don’t regret the time you spent being loved by Bradley Bradshaw. He healed parts of you that had been infected with grief for years and for that, you’ll always be thankful. More than that, he taught you what romantic love could really be like, and while you’re certain he’s raised your standards a completely unrealistic amount you don’t have it in you to dwell on it quite yet. Instead, you play the scene from two nights ago over and over in your head.

You try to figure out where it went wrong. The face-off had started out normally, the setup was like muscle memory for these players and then Bradley had lunged for the center across from Jake. When his fist connected with the other man’s face, his teammates had cried out in protest before a defenseman to his left dove for Bradley. He never made contact as Jake intercepted him with an uppercut to the jaw. The ice devolved into chaos then, all twelve players on the ice, goalies included, joined the fray and a full-scale brawl erupted. The refs’ whistles pierced your ears as you watched in horror as your boyfriend ferociously beat into the Bruin’s center who wasn’t even bothering to fight back. If you didn’t know better you’d think you saw him laughing in response. Halfway through, Bradley dragged him up by the collar and you recognized the name on his jersey.

Elias Whitmore was a drunken mistake. You’d partied a little too hard that night with the Icemen and you’d run into him at the club where you’d spent the night drinking and dancing. You hadn’t recognized him in your drunken state and when it was over and you’d realized who he was you’d felt disgusted for falling into bed with the notorious womanizer. That was a few years ago and you hadn’t followed Whitmore’s career enough to know he’d be on the ice tonight. You’d be surprised if he even remembered you, his dating history was even more impressive than Javy’s and that’s saying something.

The voices from downstairs get louder and your heart clenches in worry. Bradley wouldn’t get violent with Mickey, would he? Fear grips you, propelling you out of the bed and to the door, ear pressed against the wood in a desperate attempt to assess the severity of the situation without venturing past the threshold you haven’t crossed since you showed up at the house a day and a half ago after Dare sent you home. You hear a muffled shout and then heavy footfalls on the stairs and your breath catches, and then you stumble back from the door just in time for it to fly open. You blink stupidly as a man barrels through the door but it’s not Bradley. Javy’s face is a twist of quiet rage as he inspects you, chest rising and falling heavily as equally hurried footsteps echo his arrival, and then Mickey’s behind him, face twisted into cold disapproval as something hotter flickers behind his brown eyes.

“Hey sweetheart, how’re you holding up?” Javy’s voice is soft and gentle, a stark contrast to his expression. You don’t get the chance to respond to his question before Mickey interrupts.

“I’m gonna give you five minutes to get the fuck out of my house.” Your eyes widen at the firmness in his tone, turning to try and placate your best friend.

“Mickey, what’s going on? This is Javy we’re talking about? Why don’t you want him here?” Mickey doesn’t answer, wrapping a protective arm around you instead, pulling you against his chest. You go without question but feel unease in your stomach. Javy crosses his arms across his chest, glaring at Mickey.

“She deserves to know what’s going on, Mickey, you know that as much as I do.” Your brow furrows in confusion even as fear makes your stomach clench.

“Mickey what’s he talking-“ Mickey cuts you off even as he pulls you closer.

“She knows what’s going on. She made a decision, why can’t you respect it?” Javy snorts derisively.

“I’m not asking her to change her mind, I’m asking you to tell her what really happened out there so it’s an informed decision that she’s making.”

“Wait what happened?” You ask, increasingly irritated as your two friends talk about you like you’re not even there.

“Stay out of this, Machado, I’m not going to ask you again.”

“She’s my friend too,” Javy says, jaw hardening. “And treating her like a child just because you’re jealous that you’re not her first priority anymore is just plain childish.”

“Hey!” You snap and then both men are looking at you as you twist out of Mickey’s arms, stepping away so you can face both of them. “Which one of you is going to tell me what’s going on and stop treating me like I’m not here?” You set your hands on your hips, irritation dripping from your stance.

Javy nods at Mickey. “You need to hear it from him or it’s just going to cause issues between the two of you.” You nod firmly, turning to Mickey and defensively crossing your arms across your chest.

“Mickey, what's going on and why aren’t you telling me?” He has the sense to look guilty, the harshness in his brown eyes softening as he shakes his head slightly. He’s quiet for a long moment but when it becomes clear that you’re willing to wait as long as it takes he breathes out a heavy sigh before finally speaking up.

“Bradley didn’t start that fight for no reason,” Mickey says and you feel your breath catch in your throat. Javy places a comforting hand on your back, a steadying presence. “A Boston defenseman made a comment about you that wasn’t very appropriate,” he frowns deeply, fist clenching in anger at the memory. “Then the center chirped back, and said something else and that’s when Bradley lost it.” The room is silent for a long moment as you process this new information. “I don’t blame him either,” Mickey speaks up again. “None of us do. If he hadn’t started that fight, someone else would have. We all heard what they said.” When he speaks again, it’s quieter and you hear the bitter regret in his tone. “He was just the first one with the balls to stand up for you.” His fist clenches tighter and you understand then.

“Mickey,” you reach out for him but he steps back, out of your reach.

“That asshole was spewing all kinds of bullshit and I just stood there. After all these years, I just stood there and took it. Bradshaw came to his senses before I did and he hasn’t even known you for six months.” Your heart aches and you step up to Mickey, cupping his face in your hands.

“Mickey, Elias Whitmore was a drunken mistake that never should have happened, and I’m glad you hesitated. I wish you all had because he’s not worth it. Not worth sabotaging your career over and especially not over some offhand comments, even if they were about me.”

“You are, though,” Mickey says, voice cracking as his eyes fill with tears mirroring your own. “You’re worth fighting for. You always have been and you always will be. I’ve always known that, and everyone else knows now. I know I haven’t been Bradshaw’s biggest supporter but when he tackled that asshole, I understood. I knew he was capable of taking care of you and loving you the way you deserve.” You stroke his cheek gently even as your heart clenches. “I know I haven’t been fair to him, especially these last few days. Javy’s right in a way, it’s hard to watch him take up space in your life like that. In a way, I think maybe I have been jealous, no matter how stupid it sounds.” He chuckles before the worry is back on his face. “I don’t mean to ruin things between the two of you. I just,” he hesitates. “I feel like I just got you back when we moved to San Diego and I think I just expected things to go back to the way they used to be, but they won’t. And they shouldn’t. We’re six years older, we’ve changed and that’s not a bad thing. You deserve the whole world and you’ve got a guy that’s willing to give it to you. I don’t think he deserves you, because quite frankly, I don’t think anyone does, not even me, but you deserve him. He makes you so happy and he’s helped you heal in ways that I could never have.”

“Oh Mickey,” you whisper as tears cut down your cheeks. “Bradley’s important to me, and I love him, but I’m never going to stop loving you or needing you. You’ve been my best friend for almost a decade, I’m not going to abandon that just because I have a boyfriend,” your voice takes on a teasing lilt and he lets out a warm chuckle before pulling you into his arms.

“I love you, Zam.” He whispers and you whisper it back even as your heat is beating at its cage, desperate for Bradley. You need to clear things up with him. When Mickey breaks the hug, he sighs and tilts his head towards the door. “Go on, you have somewhere to be,” he says with a soft smile and you lean up to kiss his cheek before turning to Javy.

“Thank you, Javy.” He waves you off.

“Go get your man, sweetheart.” You smile through your tears at the familiar words and then you’re tearing down the stairs, grabbing your keys from the side table by the door, and taking off for your car.

***

When you pull up to the doors of Bradley’s apartment building, you hesitate as the attendant drives your car off to the garage. Tony gives you a warm smile that you return as you set off across the lobby, bouncing on your toes as you wait for the elevator to arrive. The ride up to Bradley’s floor seems to take forever but once the doors slide open you hesitate again. You’d been cold when you’d seen him last. You’d refused to hear him out that night at the stadium and you’d studiously ignored him in Ice’s office. Would he still want you? You don’t let yourself entertain an answer, crossing the hall quickly before you can lose your nerve. You take a sharp breath as you reach a hand up to ring the buzzer. You have keys but it doesn’t feel right to let yourself in when you locked him out. You wait as the buzzer rings, trying to stifle your nerves.

The door swings open and the breath is stolen from your lungs at the sight of Bradley. He looks like a wreck. The bags under his eyes tell you he hasn’t slept, his unruly curls sticking up every which way from running his hands through them. His brown eyes widen in surprise at the sight of you. “Honey?” His voice is rough and you don’t expect the next words out of his mouth. “Where are your shoes?” You glance down at that. You’re wearing an oversized Star Wars shirt that Mickey bought you back in college that you sleep in when you’re at his house, over a pair of sleep shorts. Your bare toes wink up at you, the glossy pink polish on them shining in the hallway lights.

“Oh,” you say, surprised by the discovery. “I guess I forgot them.” You look back up at Bradley and he shakes his head, opening the door wider.

“Come here, Honey.” You go willingly and Bradley takes your hand in his tentatively and you pad across the floors through his bedroom to the bathroom. Bradley guides you to sit on the edge of the tub as he starts running the water. He sits beside you, leaning down to grasp your ankle gently and guiding it under the water, washing your feet with a tenderness that doesn’t match the harsh way you’ve treated him over the past few days. He doesn’t push you to speak but you do anyway.

“Mickey told me what happened at the game, what you did. Or more why you did it. I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain yourself.” You keep your eyes trained on Bradley’s hands where he’s washing your feet. “And while I’m not happy that you did it, or that any of the guys got involved because that scum bag isn’t worth it-“

“But you are,” Bradley cuts you off and you look up to meet his honey eyes where they’re watching you. “You’ll always be worth it.” Your eyes pass over his face. It’s untouched despite the fact that he beat the absolute shit out of Elias Whitmore. You squirm under the intensity of his stare and words but manage to whisper your thanks. “You don’t have to thank me, Honey. I love you, that’s part of the package.” You smile then, softly gazing at him through your lashes.

“I love you too, Bear.” You watch him relax slightly and he brings your wet ankle to his lips, placing a delicate kiss to the damp skin. Your stomach chooses that moment to growl and you scowl down at it even as you laugh and Bradley gently guides your legs back over the side of the tub. He asks you to wait and crosses the bathroom to the linen closet retrieving a small towel and kneeling at your feet to dry them and suddenly you want to cry all over again. The idea of this man that you’ve pushed away over and over, still so eager to lay aside his pride and kneel before you in an act of service so extraneous and humble breaks your heart. You’re moving before you can stop yourself, joining him on the bath mat, memory foam sinking under your knees as you wrap your arms around this man who inexplicably loves you with his whole heart. His arms come around you to return the hug and your body relaxes instinctively, knowing it’s safe in his arms.

***

You swing your legs absently as you watch Bradley stir the pasta. He’s once again treating you to his mom’s recipe, but something tells you he’s craving the comfort more than wanting to feed you something he knows you love. Guilt gnaws at your chest as you twist your fingers in the fabric of your t-shirt. Sure you’d forgiven Bradley but a large part of you feels like you don’t deserve his instant acceptance and wholehearted affection. The silence that usually feels so comforting feels like it’s clawing its way down your throat and choking you. You don’t realize that Bradley’s turned back around until his fingers gently ease yours away from where you’re stretching the hem of your shirt and you let your eyes linger on his larger hands where they hold yours gently. Once again he doesn’t push you to speak but you feel the pressure on your lungs. When your tears splatter on your joined hands, Bradley removes a hand to tip your chin up so he can see your face and you crumple under the unjudging, concerned stare.

“Honey,” his voice is heartbreakingly gentle as you cry; he shifts his hand on your chin to cup your cheek and you lean into the warmth of his palm as the tears stream down your cheeks. You’re so tired of crying. “Talk to me, Honey. What’s going on?” He urges softly and the words fall out.

“I’m so sorry Bradley,” you sob and you watch his eyes widen in surprise.

“Sorry for what, Honey? You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he assures you as he leans in, gently kissing your tears away and it only makes you sob harder.

“For leaving you,” you sputter out between sobs. “For leaving you again, when I promised I wasn’t going to run anymore, and I did it anyway. I shut you out.” You watch the heartbreak in his eyes as he cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him as you blubber. His expression is hard and a familiar fire dances in his eyes, sending a chill down your spine.

“Don’t you dare apologize for that, Honey. I told you when we started this that I wanted you to set boundaries and that I’d respect them. I promised you no more fighting and I broke my word. That’s on me. You had every right to enforce that boundary and I’m so damn proud of you for sticking up for yourself, do you hear me?” You nod weakly as your tears taper off slowly. I’m sorry I broke my word, and I’m sorry it hurt you. I can’t promise it won’t happen again because I’m human, and sometimes I let my temper get the best of me but I’ll do my damndest to ensure it doesn’t. I love you and I never want to see you hurt, least of all because of me.” He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re the best good I’ve ever gotten, and as much as I don’t act like it, you’re the only thing that matters to me. You’re my family,” he smiles softly at that, running his thumb over your cheek absently. “There’s nothing I cherish more or treasure greater.”

You reach up to cup his cheek as well, his beard scratching against your palm as you stroke the skin. “You’re my family too,” you whisper, leaning in to ghost your lips over his, “and I’m so damn tired of running away from my family.”

“So stay,” Bradley whispers against your lips, lashes fluttering, fingers trembling on your cheeks ever so slightly like he’s afraid you won’t. You nod, just barely, brushing your nose against his as you speak your promise into that comfortable quiet between the two of you where you’re breathing in each other’s air as you consume each other’s space.

“I’ll stay.” Your lashes flutter shut at the weight of the words even as the tiniest kernels of doubt still tug at your heart. Your heart beats harder than the tug, though, beating with love for Bradley that will always be stronger than the doubt.

***

The next day at work, you’re all seated in a large space used for team lunches when everyone’s schedules occasionally overlap. You’re starving. Taking two days off of work to mope so close to the new year means you’re severely behind on your work. Breakfast in Bradley’s kitchen this morning feels a lifetime away. Cyclone had offered to order lunch today and you’ve heard whispers that it’s from the burger place around the corner. You enter the room, beelining for the seat next to Bradley that’s currently open. Your stomach lets out an unruly growl as you take your seat and Bradley gives you a concerned look that tells you he wants nothing more than to whisk you home to his kitchen. “It’s been a long morning, I’m just looking forward to this lunch.” You assure him and he’s temporarily placated. Cyclone comes in then, arms laden with bags that are indeed from the burger place. He starts handing things out and your stomach drops as your lunch is placed in front of you. Despair strikes your heart as your stomach cramps painfully as you regard your reflection in the clear plastic of the salad bowl. You look up from your pathetic excuse for lunch to see that everyone else seems to have burgers, multiple for the boys, including the other women on staff. Anger licks at your empty stomach, irritation furrowing your brow. Ever since Thanksgiving, while things have been slightly strained between you and Beau, he’s continued to dote on you. Fancy dinners, casual lunches, and various outings fill up whatever of your free time isn’t spent glued to Bradley’s side. You’ve never once ordered a salad and quite frankly you’re offended by the way he’s soloed you out. It’s like despite the fact that you’ve spent extensive time together, he’s made no effort to get to know you and you clench your fist as you fight off the anger that’s threatening to take over due to your hunger. You’re about to give Beau a piece of your mind then and there when a burger slides into your peripheral and you turn to see Bradley’s tight smile. He’s as unhappy about this as you are but the burger is his way of offering you solidarity while also taking care of you in the way he always does. You take the burger, returning his tense smile, devouring it before polishing it off with the salad that Cyclone hasn’t even noticed you snub, deep in conversation with Dare. Across the table, you meet Dragon’s eyes and she’s got a look of painful understanding on her face. You know what you need to do.

***

After lunch, once everyone’s returned to their respective parts of the arena, you ride the elevator up to Cyclone’s office. You cross the hallway to his office door, knocking in quick, sharp raps, entering when he calls for you to enter. He looks up from whatever he’s currently working on when you enter, surprise on his face.

“Zam, what a pleasant surprise. How can I help you?” You almost snort at the complete juxtaposition of his current sweet demeanor with the rude one he used to treat you to before he found out who your mother was.

“Beau, we need to talk.” You say tersely, a polite smile on your face and he motions for you to sit.

“Of course, Zam, what’s bothering you?”

“This needs to stop.” You say as firmly as you can hoping the desk between the two of you hides the way your hands are shaking. “I don’t know what you expect to gain from this pseudo-relationship that you’ve been attempting to form with me but I’m no longer comfortable with the turn that it’s taken.” Cyclone looks surprised.

“Zam, what on earth caused this change?” You do your best to keep your bubbling frustration in check.

“There hasn’t been a change, per se.” You say, careful to phrase this properly. Cyclone’s your boss after all and you don’t want to say anything that could jeopardize your career. “I haven’t been comfortable since the beginning but the longer it’s gone on, the less comfortable I’ve become. I should have clarified this from the beginning but I’m unsure as to what you’re trying to gain from this relationship. I’m your employee and while you were friends with my mother, she’s dead and I’m not her.” Cyclone takes a cheap breath and you almost feel bad for what you’re about to say but you plunge on. “I don’t know if you think I’m secretly your daughter but I want to tell you point-blank, I’m not. I have a father, both biologically and emotionally. I don’t know if you’re trying to treat me like your daughter but I’m not. I already have a father who loves me and fills that place in my life, I don’t need another one.” You feel your fingernails digging into your palms as you muster up the courage to speak your mind. You owe it to Dragon after all she’s done for you.

“You have a daughter too. If you want to be a father, she’s there waiting for you, and from what I know, she’s pretty great.” You sigh, heart heavy as you regard Cyclone even as he tenses up. “I don’t want this to affect our professional relationship, because I love this job, and I’m good at it,” you emphasize. Your mother had drilled into you the importance of knowing your worth, especially in the workplace. Cyclone nods slowly, considering your words even as you see the strain of his temper threatening to rear its ugly head. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder how your mother ever fell in love with him, but then you remember Bradley before you fell in love with him. Even the other day, the fire you’d seen in his eyes had sent ice through your veins against your better judgment.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention Zam, I’ll take it into consideration. I appreciate you entertaining my company for the last few months.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding at Cyclone’s even tone. You stand to excuse yourself back to the mountain of work that you have waiting for you back in your office. Beau doesn’t try to stop you but speaks up as you’re about to exit his office. “Your mother would be very proud of the woman you’ve become.” Your stomach twists at the words and when you look back at him, for a moment you catch a glimpse of the dark-haired prince from your mother’s stories, the man she fell in love with and you wonder to yourself if there’s another lifetime where he grew up into something else.

You can’t stop the words falling from your lips. “She loved you, but she moved on. She’d want you to do the same.” His eyes widen in surprise but you don’t give him a chance to ask you anything before you’re disappearing down the hallway.

When you get back downstairs, you find Dragon waiting in your office. She gives you a tired smile when you sit down at your desk, before pushing a cookie across to you. You return the smile, taking the offering. Neither of you speaks as you eat the cookie silently. “I talked to him.” You say, breaking the silence finally. “For both of your sakes, I hope he does the right thing.” She snorts, and you watch pain flicker through her eyes as she stares off into space even as her lips twist into a cynical smirk.

“I appreciate it Zam, but if he was going to change, it would have happened by now.” You see it then, the exhaustion in the tight set of her shoulders. Atlas with the world on her back.

“Just because he won’t doesn’t mean you’re alone,” you say softly and she turns to look at you, surprise dancing in her expression. You shrug. “This team is a family, albeit a messy one, but we’re here for you when you need it. Bob too,” you add and you watch her cheeks heat as she averts her gaze. As confident as she appears with her relationship with the shy goalie outside of these walls, she’s still young and confused and you’re fondly reminded of yourself when you were her age.

She doesn’t answer, just giving you a terse nod and you slide the other half of the cookie back across the table before you turn to continue your work. You know you’re not getting more out of her right now but you extend the shoulder for her to lean on. Your family is growing every day, and now that you’ve opened that door, you’re eager to shepherd any stragglers into it.

[jaays-moon]

ghostbusters👻☎

heeseung x reader (afab) genre: friends to lovers, conducting a seance, spooOooky, friends having fun!! synopsis: what is better than a sleepover after the dreadful exams? a game of calling ghosts at a sleepover! where y/n and her friends play the game of seance with candles. word count: 2.6K 🖤🖤 DISCLAIMER‼️ i do not intend make fun of the practice or anyone who believes in such things. this story is purely for entertainment. continue reading....༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

"dude we are still having the sleepover right?" hearing heeseung's voice over the phone was just the moral boost i needed to protect myself from the eventual bed rot.

"yeah... we do, don't we..." however, nothing could stop me from the self-loathing that ensued after our exam results were published.

"y/n are you still sad about your grades? dude... you literally topped the class. so what jay beat you to rank 1, you know that nerdball is always trying to one up you."

ha...was it that evident in my voice "no, haha no its... ugh you know what, yeah i am upset. LIKE HE LITERALLY TOLD ME HE DIDN'T DO WELL IN PHYSICS, BUT THAT HOE??? this is why i hate toppers."

"oh? is it so?"

JAY??? what- omg did hee just put me on a three way call??

"HEE?" what is this guy doing. gosh way to go. he sure does know how to put me on the spot!

"no bestie it is I. the topper. you know you should actually let me know how crude your true intent is. and here i thought you were a friend."

"oh well good cause i can't be friends with LIARS! i wasn't the one who pretended to not know about the exam and then proceed to get an A! that is actually being an asshole. also that you never told me about getting tutored by jake."

"wait what you were getting tutored by jake? is this how you steal peoples friends jay?"

"WHAT? NO I DIDN'T? THAT LIL SHIT HAS BEEN TELLING EVERYONE THAT? JAKE-"

*the line cuts and the doorbell rings*

who could that be?

"hee?" "yes? who else? its time for the sleepover girl?"

"its 7 o' clock in the evening heeseung, who comes this early anyways-" i mean how does it even matter to scold him cause either ways, he barges into the house.

"well technically i do live here. its like my second home. do you need to take permission to enter your own house love?" of course. the only reason why i am friends with hee. he is unapologetically himself. it puts me at ease to have a person who thinks of me so dearly. or thinks of my home so dearly...

"ok fyi i also sent the invite in the gc"

"oh i know, jay is on the way with jake, maybe after he beats him up tho."

i chuckle at the thought of those two bickering. obviously jake hadn't told me anything about tutoring. it was just fun to watch them bicker after all! "and for you, i also invited leah over." a wicked grin decorates my face as i watch hee's jaw drop and eyes go wide in horror.

"Y/N??? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO what? why? how could you do this to me? YOU ARE VERY AWARE OF HOW CLINGY SHE IS WITH ME. she is like obsessed with me or something! please no y/n. i am so sorry!! Y/N"

"hee be nice! she is my friend! and everyone has tiny crushes. she just likes you a bit. as the good friend that i am, i am just helping her out! she also has something planned for the night. she was recommending some game? i don't know."

*bell rings*

"i guess that must be the two actual friends of mine. the ones who TRULY care for me!" i chuckle as i approach the door.

however nobody stands as i open the door. i look outside to check my surroundings but it is as quiet as a night full of mysteries could be. the sudden noise of thunder fills the ambience as it starts pouring heavily. i shriek as i run back into the house, locking the door. "hee...?" i look over the kitchen counter, the sofa, and knock on the bathroom doors he doesn't respond. "ugh where did this kid go? hee, hees- AHHHHHH!

something black just covers my eyes from the back as a scream for my life. "geez, if you didn't know how to defend yourself, you sure can make a serial killer go deaf. you know you should audition for those roles of screamers in the slasher thrillers."

"HEESEUNG! NOT FUNNY. I WAS SO SCARED!" "aww pookie was scared" "ew-" but his warm hug makes up for it. as the cold from the rain starts creeping into the room, heeseung offers me his jacket.

"what about you?" "don't worry. you will be warm and smell nice in it." he adds on with a wink. this guy. my laughs cover how blown out my pupils look. it isn't fair. how he gets to have this effect on me. i mean we are friends but moments like these, make me question otherwise. why can't i reciprocate the flirtations? why am i defeated dumb by this gorgeous guy?

"ok leah justed texted me. jay is picking her up" "you text leah?" "sometimes, when i think my charm is wearing off." "you are such an asshole! i am going to tell her." "no you won't." "and why is that?" "cause you care about me. cause, you like me." a grin of victory. i wave my hand to dismiss the words thrown out in air. is it that simple for him?

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

our boisterous laugh fills my apartment. if it weren't for these people i genuinely wouldn't make it through college. but as we talk, as we laugh, heeseung keeps falling all over me.

"HEESEUNG WHY DO YOU HAVE A SERIOUS CASE OF IJBOLITIS YOU WILL SQUISH Y/N." jay's boisterous accusation fills the room when jake ends up becoming a water fountain spitting out the cola he was drinking. "omg y'all!! now i need to get tissues" shaking my head isn't enough for the amount of chaos these people cause.

was i saying something about them saving me throughout college? never mind that, it is in direct proportion to the headache they give me. stealing glance from hee i move towards the kitchen "y/n could you also get...um..five! yes five candles!" "candles? for what leah?" "remember?! i told you we have to play a game. i mean we are done watching a movie. it is raining outside. IT IS 3 AM! this is the perfect time to have a seance!" "ah what now?"

"a seance jake. wouldn't have expected you to know however." "please do explain jAy. wHat is a sEanCe"

"well you see in ancient times-"

"it is a ghost calling game!"

"it is NOT a game leahhh." wow... i have never seen jay pout?

"wellllllll none of us are mediums."

"what would you know baby i could be a medium?"

"BABY??" "BABY?" "you both-"

"what y/n? as if you aren't hiding something?! *giggling* you and hee... aren't you also dating? you may not tell your dear friend-"

"what? no no you have it wrong leah. y/n and i. i would never date her. we can never date. we are friends. right y/n? y/n-"

i rush to the kitchen as soon as possible. i have nothing to do with that conversation. i should have known. it was just heeseung being heeseung. he is just nice to everyone. it shouldn't mean anything that the way he looks at me is any different. it was just my perception. it was my fault i thought that heeseung could love me any more than a friend. it should have been me who answered that. of course. like he said we could never date. why would he date me. why would i date him. why am i hurt-

"y/n? why did you leave like that?"

as i feel my throat burning at the familiar sound. my eyes are about to spill the truth. "didn't leah ask to get the candles though? why are you worried." as i shove past him in my annoyance which almost turned into guilt. reaching up to open the cabinet heeseung comes closer, hovering over me to reach the matchbox. "y/n" oh i know that timbre of his voice. the low, soothing tone, prying to know if i am hurt. i am not. definitely. "what?" "i am supposed to ask you that. i know you have something on your mind. i mean i know you were trying to set me up with your friend-" oh. he wasn't even thinking about me. good lord. this is pathetic. i am pathetic. "no i wasn't worried about that. matter of fact i wasn't worried at all. first you three way call jay to "prank" me. and now you think i am unlovable. pick a side lee heeseung. do you even care or not."

"woah. government name... if i didn't know you better, i would say you are mad right now." "that is the point heeseung. you don't. know. me." "baby-" "DO NOT CALL ME THAT!" as i push him back to the kitchen island i feel his round eyes on me filled with concern and guilt. i am unable to pull him back before he bumps into the glass as it shatters to the floor.

"ayo? what happened-" jake's concerned voice broke both of us from the intense glare we shared.

"DID THE GLASS JUST BREAK? LEAH BABY! ISN'T THIS A BAD OMEN. WE SHOULDN'T BE DOING THIS!" "jay.... baby relax it didn't fall on it's own."

"ew, get a room." leah rolls her eyes as she speaks "i guess heeseung bumped into it. right?" "yeah. that is exactly what happened."

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

"so that is basically it. we hold each other's hands and ask if any spirit is out there who wants to contact us. and i know how hard it is for us to remain silent, calm and composed we HAVE to. the candles will flicker and we can then start asking questions! only ask yes or no questions. also, no questions about death, money or future! ok y/n babe light the candles in the center please!!"

as leah instructs all of us we get into position. i immediately scurried next to leah's side and held her hand as we all sat down. i could sense heeseung's intense stare on me but for the sake of my sanity, i choose to ignore him like all my problems in life. didn't know he would someday fall on that list. am i being dramatic? maybe. i am just a girl! 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎀

"wow that is cool and everything but, sorry y/n i don't want to hold sweaty ass palms?" "excuse ME-" "i said what i said!" jake dashes of to sit next to jay who was happily seated next to his gf. this jake had one job. heeseung awkwardly shifts to sit next to me. my hands go cold with the tight feeling in the pit of my stomach. i try to be extremely nonchalant about it. but in the shuffle i almost skid on the stupid floor which makes him snort. i look up to squint at him but it elicits only a response of a smirk from him. oh.

"oh also if the candle assigned to each of us flickers then it is a yes and if all the candles remain still. well, a no." "aw babeee you are learning so well!" "the best is teaching me" as jay shoots a wink at his partner we all physically groan with jake audibly gagging. well this is going to be fun...

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

as the rounds went by the questions became stupider. you would think that all of us had a collective braincell count of negative 5.

"am I the smartest in this group"

" *cough* nO *cough* "

"shut up jake!"

"whaaaat it wasn't me :("

this is what i missed the most, laughing, having fun with your friends. i also long back started to feel at ease with hee's warm hands melting into mine. i had gone overboard with my feelings and it wasn't fair to hee or me... i just had made assumptions. i wished to clear the air. as my other friends continued to bicker i turned towards hee.

"hee...i am sorry for pushing you earlier. i just... it did sting when you said you would NEVER date me. i mean i am not that bad of a person am i" i laugh trying to cover the underlying connotations of my ask. " *chuckles* im sorry y/n. it was actually on me that i assumed you would be averse to dating ME. i mean who would want to date their friends, right?" his response caught me off guard so did his tone. he ended the question with some unsaid hope. i tried to decipher what he meant while trying to study his eyes. his eyes were locked into mine the similar way. trying to uncover the surface and delve deeper.

"i guess there are two other love birds here!" leah's voice broke us from a trance like state. " ahha leah. so its my turn? ok i would like to ask whether i will be rich- "HEE DO YOU WANT TO DIE LEAH JUST SAID NO QUESTIONS ABOUT MONEY!!!" " well...if it means it will be in your arms-"

"ohh my godddddd"

"i think i just barfed in my mouth-"

"YOU are actually the perpetrator of such CRIME!"

"EXCUSE ME-"

no amount of eye rolls can save the redness that creeps into my face. this guy- but this time i try to play along. "well why are you trying to be like romeo-juliet, when we can be hee-y/n alive and happy." i add on a wink feeling extra feisty.

the silence which fills the room could be cut through with a knife. i was about to back track when hee's jaw dropped like never before and a howling laughter ensued.

"oh heeseung she DEVOURED YOU SO BAD!!"

"damn y/n should flirt more often!!"

hee was just as dumbfounded as i was at my response.

"oh yeah? are you sure y/n. don't make promises you can't keep." his voice dropped to a soothing volume. his head tilted with the slightest smolder in his eyes. not to overpowering. just enough to hypnotize, mesmerize. as he turned towards the the candle circle his voice become bold and clear.

"dear spirit just y/n like me?" is he for real!!?? did he just ask that in front of... at that moment it felt as all the air in the room had left. a chill ran through my spine. i could see my friends start to feel uneasy as it seemed something, or someBODY else had joined our little gathering. i could see leah's face drop as she held my hand's tighter than usual. even jake and jay feel completely silent with the ambience in the air which dropped the temperature.

" ok... um so heeseung your candle isn't flickering-"

"but baby look... y/n's candle is flickering."

it felt like time had stopped. the room felt eerily filled with various other auras. feeling intensified. the tension was rising. as if as an instinct i held onto hee's hand tighter than before. from my periphery i noticed him glance towards me. he reciprocated.

"ok that is enough, thank you spirit for joining us." leah broke the tension as she blew out the candles and all of us sighed. as if everyone was holding their breathe expecting the worse.

all of us looked at each other. "ok... well the spirit didn't have to expose me like that..." everyone started giggling. this experience was something else.

"so you do like me?"

"well we all knew that before you two idiots knew."

"for once I agree with jake. you both are so blind, imagine, a LITERAL SPIRIT had to come and expose y'all."

"wellll THIS WAS FUN. and, i beg you y/n. NEVER second guess MY intuition. mwah mwah. you both are soooo adorbs!!"

and all i and hee could do in laugh and fall in for each other all over again.

omg this was long af😭😭 i had so many doubts and second thoughts with this buttttt, i hope you like it‼️‼️ please do show support and love by reblogging🖤and sending in asks in the mailbox💌thank you ‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

[ftwdb]

Don’t Say Go.

Chapter 17.

Summary: Soulmates find each other through what is known as The Pull. A sense within a persons body that their soulmate is within reach that guides them to find them. You find yourself following this Pull, guided by vague dreams of a man you can't quite see, until you collapse in the wild and are found by Troy, your soulmate, who has been following the same feeling toward you for days.

Once connected soulmates are able to share emotions through their bond, as well as being able to sense where the other is. But how this force works is very much a mystery still, it can vary from soulmate to soulmate, and just sometimes a connection too deep can lead twist a bond from something beautiful to, well...

Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content, violence, non-graphic description/implications of SA, child abuse and domestic violence. References to addiction. Unhealthy love/obsession/relationships. Soulmate AU. Eventual smut.

Time seemed to pass by both so slowly it was unbearable and with such speed you couldn’t keep up with what was going on. You eventually moved from the bed beside Troy to a chair at his side. You kept your hand in his and you focused everything onto the bond you shared. You could feel it growing stronger, pulsing, and you weren’t surprised when you finally felt his fingers twitch in your grip.

You called Jake over immediately but he kept his expression controlled and his voice calm as you were sure this was a sign Troy would wake up soon. You could feel it. But when you tried to explain that to Jake he only looked at you with sympathy.

You refused to acknowledge the other part of your heart. The one that was like a steady throb. An ache. You knew when the people at the gate had left because you could sense the Pull like a tight wire being stretched until it almost snapped.

Your hand clamped harder around Troy’s when Jeremiah walked back into the tent, looking tense and tired.

“Why aren’t they dead?”

You say bluntly, catching the look Jake gives you.

“Because it ain’t that simple.”

Jeremiah replies, his voice stern but not filled with the usual loathing he has for you.

“Not simple?” You repeat in disbelief. “Which one was it? Which one tried to kill Troy? Because that seems simple enough to me!”

Jeremiah looks at you now and his eyes are… soft. You blink, confused. It almost like he feels sorry for you.

“Dad,” Jake interrupts. “What really happened?”

You look at Jake. Cooper had already told them. They found survivors who were hostile? What more did they need to know?

Jeremiah cocks his head for Jake to follow him outside but you stand up quickly.

“Oh no you don’t. I have a right to know too!”

Jeremiah snaps at you impatiently.

“And what right is that missy?”

You grit your teeth but ignore his condescending name for you.

“I’m Troy’s soulmate!”

Jake looks at you and his face is filled with understanding. If anyone knew what it was like to be at the bedside of a sick or injured soulmate, it was him. But Jeremiah looked almost amused.

“Yeah. So you keep sayin’. Fine, you wanna know so bad? It was because of you.”

You blink, shocked and more than confused.

Jake gives his father a strange look but Jeremiah continues.

“Troy opened fire first. Apparently he didn’t want to risk bringing anyone back, letting anyone find the ranch. You got any suspicions as to why that might be, little lady?”

Jake looks appalled at his father’s words.

“Dad what happened before wasn’t-”

You sit back down in your seat. Troy had shot at innocent people based on the chance that they found their way to the ranch… because the last time he had shown mercy to a survivor it had been the man who had hurt you.

You shake your head and look at Troy. You could understand the desire to protect him from anything. Even now, knowing those people had acted in self defence, you still wanted to kill the person who had almost stolen him from you.

“But why did they follow the militia back? Surely they l’d expect to be killed or taken prisoner at least?”

Jeremiah’s lips are pulled into a thin line.

“Their reasons are irrelevant for now. They asked for a truce while we clean up Troy’s mess. I agreed until we know exactly what, and how many, we’re dealing with.”

You swallow as your stomach turns. A truce with these… savages?

“And then what? What happens to the person you tried to kill your son?”

Jeremiah’s eyes grow dark for a second before he turns and walks away, muttering to himself.

“Troy… has to take responsibility for his actions.”

You stare after him. How could he just not care?

Jake looks torn. He knows who his brother is, maybe even more so than their father. It wasn’t hard for him to believe that Troy took the first shot. Could he blame these other people for just trying to survive? No.

He watches as you turn away and press your head on Troy’s hand. And honestly… Jake wonders if he actually wants his little brother to wake up again.

XXX

Your feet carry you back to the bunkhouse. You can’t stop thinking about what Jeremiah said. The woman’s face at the gate and how she’d looked at the ranch with an almost hungry expression. And the boy… the messy haired boy at her side.

His face flashes in front of your eyes and you shake it from your head.

“Go away.”

You grumble to yourself as you step inside the bunkhouse.

A voice makes you jump and spin on the spot.

“So that’s a “No” for that haircut today then?”

“Mike?”

Troy’s best friend is sitting at the small table, watching you, his eyes looked red. Your stomach drops. Of course it shouldn’t be a surprise that you’re not alone in your grief right now. It doesn’t surprise you that Mike seems to have more of it than Troy’s own family though.

You sigh.

“Now’s not a good time.”

“No shit. But I came to tell you something.”

Mike says flatly. He leans forward on the table and gestures for you to come closer.

“A group of us are going out after dark. We’re gonna find the assholes who did this… and we’re gonna finish what Troy started.”

Your heart begins to pound.

“What? Does Jeremiah know?”

Mike shakes his head. You stare at him before you continue.

“But the truce…”

Mike makes a dismissive sound and sits back.

“Who gives a fuck? When they’re all dead we won’t need a truce.”

You can feel the heat in your veins flooding through you. It’s calling for you to take action. But your head is saying something else.

Stop.

Think.

“Jeremiah said… they weren’t hostile…”

Mike shrugs.

“They are now and that’s all that matters. You think they’re gonna let it slide that our people attacked theirs? No. They’ll come for us. So we need to strike first.”

You sit on the edge of your bunk and take it all in. Mike can sense your doubt, your trepidation. He leans forward again.

“It’s what Troy would want. It’s what he would do for this place. To keep it safe. To keep you safe.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? The only need for more blood to be spilled was because Troy had acted in haste to protect you from something that might not have been a threat at all.

“That doesn’t mean more people have to die…” you say slowly. And you wish you were only speaking from a place of goodness. With humanity. But honestly, all you see now was the boy with the white flag.

“… maybe just the one who almost killed Troy then?” Mike says slowly.

You shake your head. That would never happen. There would be a bloodbath no matter intentions they went in with.

Your eyes snap to Mike’s and your voice is set when you speak.

“You know where they are?”

Mike smiles. He pulls a map from his pocket.

“Cooper showed me.”

You hesitate… and then you reach out and take it, examining it.

“What time?”

Mike looks at you. He’s sure you’re behind this plan now.

“Midnight. Let everybody settle into bed, then we sneak away. Just a few of us. We end it quick. We end it quiet.”

You nod your head.

“Yeah…” You throw the map on the table. “I got it.”

XXX

You figure it’ll take a few hours to get to the location in a vehicle. The main problem is leaving the ranch with said vehicle to get to where you need. You check the guard rota. Tonight is one of the fairly new members of the militia, you might have a chance at blagging your way out without raising suspicion.

You know where Troy keeps his keys and you take his jeep as the sun starts to go down. As you approach the main gate you smile casually as the guard on duty approaches.

“No one in or out the ranch for now. Jeremiah’s orders.”

He says flatly, sounding board.

You nod your head and keep smiling.

“Of course I know that, but Jeremiah gave me permission. It’s just a quick trip, I’ll be back before dark.”

It was a total lie of course but you kept your expression controlled as you sat with one arm leaning out the open window, totally relaxed.

The guard looks at you with a frown.

“I’m not sure if…”

You roll your eyes.

“You know who I am, right. I’m Troy’s soulmate.”

The mention of Troy’s name and your position as his soulmate seems to be enough to almost convince the guard.

“Look,” you continue, “we need supplies for Troy from McCarthy’s. You wanna stop me and let Troy die? You’ll be next and I’ll do it myself.”

There must have been something in your voice that convinced the guard to let you go. He opened the gate and waved you through. You nodded and started your drive, pulling out the map and the gun Troy kept in the glove compartment. Just in case.

You set your path in the right direction, barely having to use the map as you felt The Pull in your chest growing stronger as you drive closer to the location Mike showed you on the map…

[destinygoldenstar]

No spoilers for later, but the biggest reason I can't stand Jake is because the plot treats him like a victim.

But he's completely unlikeable. Him being a victim is not a warranted description because very few audience members are gonna sympathize with a character that is unlikeable. It also completely excuses all of his negative behavior and actions by saying such.

As a victim of pretty intense mental abuse myself, I disagree.

Not that he's unlikeable though. He is. I do not deny he is unlikeable.

But that's also why it works. There's no such thing as a perfect victim.

For some reason, there's a myth that a lot of outsiders think that the victims are not victims if they're doing something wrong, or coping in negative ways. That's not true. Victims are just as capable of poor behavior as everyone else. But that does not lessen the explanation of what happened to them or make them 'not victims' or 'it was their fault all along'. All it does is make it harder for outsiders to understand you and/or like you.

Trauma does not make you stronger. It makes you a pain in the ass to deal with.

We the audience have SEEN Jake's trauma for ourselves. Season 1 is canon. He lost everyone he ever cared about (except Miriam), because of the nature of the game. And then they went and said these devastating losses were Jake's fault. On National TV. Multiple times because of those interviews.

After all of that, you expect him to be endlessly kind and selfless and understanding all the time? NO. That's INSANE to me. Especially since it's very consistent of build up from his character in Season 1.

This is actually one of the reasons WHY his story is really resonating with me. Because it's written like this. And I understand.

Again, as someone who is a survivor of abuse, coping with it, I was a lot like Jake actually. I was ill tempered, snappish towards people who didn't deserve it, quick to accuse people of things (regardless if it was right or not), distant towards my peers, very intensely self loathing, and venting a ton towards people who would listen to me. All to 'take back my power'. I got help. I'm in a better place now. I don't do this stuff as much anymore.

As for the 'the story always treats him like a victim', I would argue the opposite, actually.

Aiden and Allyson are the 'victims' of this plotline. The story never portrays them as in the wrong aside from 'being too angry in the heat of the moment'. Which isn't that bad. (Not that they should be portrayed as in the wrong. Not what I'm saying.)

Jake is sympathetic, we know what he's been through and we see what he's feeling, but that's not the same as the story excusing all his actions. He's still in the wrong. They say explicitly he's in the wrong. And the story punishes him for his poor behavior and actions. (Losing Ashley ; Being Outcasted By Everyone) He wants out? He has to put in the effort to be better, even if it's hard and nobody is willing to give him another chance.

That is the OPPOSITE of 'excusing him' and 'treating him like the victim'. 'Excuse' would be if they never addressed any of Jake's faults in the story and treated him like the best person in the world. That's not what's going on.

Again, victims are still capable of coping poorly and doing wrong.

It's not as black and white as you think it is.

And btw, for everything I've said here, this also applies to characters like Aiden, Tom, Grett, Connor, and (I guess) Allyson.

Thanks for sharing your opinion though. Even if I don't agree with it.

[taylortruther]

I just listened to him on i think smartless, the podcast, and seems like he’s maybe just opened up a bit on his career qualifiers. The hosts even asked why he would do something like roadhouse and open himself up to injury etc and he was basically like well it’s to push myself. That’s what all my roles are; pushing myself outside my comfort zone. He also said he totally wants to do a rom com but he never gets offered them because people don’t think of him as funny lol. As someone who’s been a fan of his since before Taylor when I was a teen I do agree that he is himself in promo. Some of that is a bit try hard but also he’s really just a bit zany, eccentric in ways. I do think he’s maybe stopped chasing that Oscar and actually means it when he says he’s just doing what pushes himself and I think you can see that in his more recent filmography of the last five years or so. It’s know varied and less serious and prestigious. I think this happens wjrh a lot of actors who are pursuing some specific dream award or prestige or critical acclaim and then either achieve it or realize it might not come and they either work on themselves or have a revelation that the work itself has to be the prize and only they can decide what’s worthy of that. Made me happy to see for him that he seems to be there professionally cause personally…well lol

anon it took me way too long to realize you were talking about jake and not travis 😭 and yeah, i agree, jake is kind of an oddball. not in a truly outlandish way, but i think he can be both dry and zany for reaction, and it can be offputting.

i agree with your assessment of him completely. he's at an age/point in his career where if the prestige comes, it comes. if it doesn't, he's at least doing a variety of things. and i would love to see him in another romcom, love and other drugs is one of my all time favorite movies - i frequently wish it had touched more on his character's self-loathing, because he portrayed it so well.

[puckhq]

been lying to myself too long, been trying by myself too long || SELF-PARA

featuring: Noah Puckerman and his mama THE Nora Puckerman

mentions: Jake Puckerman, Eva Anderson, Morgan Weston, Santana Lopez and Gabe Puckerman

date & time: Monday, October 21, 2024 around 9:00 pm

location: Puck's house on the back porch

warnings: dissociating, allusions to depression, self loathing

song inspiration: Time In A Tree by Raleigh Ritchie (listen here!)

summary: Nora Puckerman is worried about her son and she sees if she can get the truth out of him this time.

word count: 1,149

The noise in his head was louder than he could ever remember it being. So loud he knew nothing he normally did, not even the bad stuff, would turn it down. So instead of trying (and failing) to go to sleep, he went outside on his back porch, sat at the table and he focused his eyes on nothing in particular until he wasn't in his body anymore. Until his the noises in his head was drowned out by the distinct lack of anything. No light, no warmth, no sound, no feelings. Like floating in statis in a void. Unsustainable but for a few moments he was nobody, he was no where.

He was nothing.

"...Noah!" A sudden falling sensation pulled him back into himself and his eyes focused on the figure leaning into his space, hand waving in front of his face.

"Shit, my bad, mom. Didn't hear you." He quickly apologized, before getting up to pull out a char for her to sit in. "You heading out or you staying another night?" He asked, keeping the conversation light, and preferably short.

"I think I'll stay another night." His mother smiled at him and he nodded and smiled back as she sat in the chair beside him. "Where were you just now, that you couldn't hear me?" She asked innocently enough but Puck knew better.

"Uh, no where really, just zoned out. Been a long day." All technically true statements, but it also wasn't really an answer to her question and he knew she knew that. The look on her face now was one he didn't see often and when he did, his defenses immediately went up and he tried to just stonewall his way through whatever conversation she was going to try and have. But instead of saying anything, Nora just reached a hand out and pinched the back of his neck, nothing painful, more like a massage and she continued up to his nape and all the way to the crown of his head. It was something she'd done since he was a kid and he didn't know why or how but it calmed him down. Made him feel light again, even if it was only for a couple minutes.

"I'm gonna say something. I'm gonna say several something and you're not going to like any of them but you're going to hear me, you're going to let me talk, you're not going to brush me off and you're going to talk to me and I do not care if you don't want to. Am I understood?" Even at thirty-two years old that tone could stop him in his tracks and have him holding his head in shame for whatever it is he did.

"Yes, ma'am." It was the only response she'd accept.

"I know that your father asked you to bail him out of jail in August. I knew you would do it and I knew you wouldn't be okay after because you are never okay after dealing with him. It has been two months, and no only have you not bounced back like you use to, you are worse than ever. Getting drunk on lockdown, punching a wall, sleeping with some random woman and now you're dissociating. I think you forget I'm a nurse and where you're headed, you aren't going to be able to pull yourself out of it. So I need you to tell me what's different this time. What happened this time." She finally finished and she was right, Puck didn't like what she said, would ask how she knew about lockdown but she probably overheard Santana and Jake. And he want to get up and leave or tell her to stay out of his business, or tell her he was fine but he was tired, decades of exhaustion weighing on his chest and he just wanted to breathe east.

So he told he did what he said he would and he spoke, and the truth is what came out. "I don't see myself the way that y'all see me. I see myself the way that he sees me and his voice is in my head telling me over and over again that I'm worthless and I'm useless and it get louder the closer I get to feeling worthy. And mom, since I found Jake and Santana came back into Maya's life and mine and I met Eva and Morgan and fell in love with them, I was doing better and then I bailed Gabe outta jail." He put his head in his hands and rubbed his neck but it wasn't the same as when his mom did it.

"I don't talk to Jake, I won't let Santana help me and I keep pushing Eva and Morgan away. I guess, what's different this time is I don't want to lose any of them. They make my life feel full. But I don't know how to fix it because I don't know how to fix me." He looked over at his mother, eyes glassy from tears he refused to spill, and he fiddled with the Star of David around his neck, praying his mother could fix it for him, that she had the cure.

As soon as she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, the tears began to flow and he couldn't remember the last time he just cried. For several minutes, his mother soothed him, held him and let him cry on his back porch on a random Monday night.

After a few minutes, he stopped and lifted his head up, and was greeted by his mother's soft smile and she wiped at his cheeks with her sleeve. "You have always just taken hit after hit without giving yourself time to heal. You are the strongest person I know, but you are not indestructible, you are not invincible. You need time to heal." He just nodded, feeling like something in him, clicked, like there was this obvious path forward that he'd never seen before.

"You need help." She looked at him and he could feel all of the love in her heart for him in those three words and he didn't argue. "I saw all those resources on your desk that the veteran's group gave you. You need to utilize them and you won't be going through any of this alone. You will have me and Maya and I bet if you let them, you could have Jake and Santana too. And I don't know Eva and Morgan but from what I've overheard in this house, they would probably want to be there for you too. But for now let's just do one thing at a time, okay?"

Eventually they both got up and went to bed, and for the first time in years, the noise in Puck's head was so soft, he couldn't even hear it.

[yeahwhatdidisay]

The Body Series Book 1: Ch 12 'Strength'

18+ please!! minors DNI (For other chapters) [Prev. Chapter] [Next Chapter] [First Chapter] [Ao3 link]

Summary: Your current state leaves you feeling helpless! Why had you been so careless? What was this entity inside you? Why was this happening?

Khonshu could only explain so much and didn't help to ease your worrying...thank god for Jake.

Pairing: Steven Grant x F Reader, Marc Spector x F Reader, Jake Lockely

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of pain/being unable to move. A/N: (Please let me know if I forgot to add you to the taglist.) This story has taken me in a direction I never anticipated! I hope you all enjoy the direction it's taking and thank you again for all those who stop by to read my little story!

Enjoy!

The hushed but familiar sounds of the world just outside your window had been seeping into the flat since you’d woken up early the next morning. The muffled calls of the traffic coupled with the sounds of people slowly filling the streets on their way to work would usually help to calm you, but you were in no way close to feeling calm.

The sun had yet to fully rise, leaving a blanket of soft blue to barely light the room around you.  

You loved this time of day.  

Waking up next to your sleeping boyfriends handsome faces just before the responsibilities of the day took over was something you cherished as often as it happened.  

Today, though, today you found yourself alone. Greeted by the pains and aches that lingered in your still injured body.

You had managed to shift yourself so you were facing Steven and Marc’s side of the bed.  Their absence was heavier today than it had ever been.  You found yourself imagining them turning to look at you.  Steven peeping out of one eye and pretending to still be sleeping  while the smile on his face grew before you would lean in to ‘wake’ him with kisses all over his face.  Marc, just opening his eyes and turning to stare at you before you would whisper a loving ‘hi’ that he would reciprocate before taking your hand to kiss the back of it.

The tears began to fill your own eyes as you continued to imagine them at this time of the morning.  

You missed them.  You wanted to hold them, kiss them, tell them you loved them more than anything.  

You just wanted them.

Slowly you tried to move your hand to rest it over their empty spot but was stopped by the handcuffs still coldly wrapped around your wrist.

A deep hard breath left your body as the realization of their existence added to their weight on your body.  

You found yourself pulling and pawing, trying to move this way and that in an effort to get them off even though you knew you couldn’t. Your lack of strength making it far too difficult to even lift your arms let alone get close to getting them off.  Leaving a shot of pain after each attempt.

Quickly you decided to stop moving altogether. Instead you found yourself falling into a self loathing you hadn’t felt in a long time, your temper flaring up within you.

You wanted to yell out from the aggravation.  

Why were you so careless?!

You should have left as soon as those first mummies attacked!  Why did you keep going?  Why did you let your curiosity get the better of you?  You should have just turned into your fog form and made your way back over…wait!

Your fog form!  

With all that had been happening you forgot about your secondary ability! You would be able to move freely through the flat using your fog form!

A taunting laugh came from deep within at how stupid you had been to forget something that had become second nature to you.

You took in a deep breath and while you exhaled your body began to change.  Dematerializing into the wisp of fog like you had done so many times before, starting from the top of your head and working your way down.

The transformation was slower than it usually was.  Taking an extra few seconds to fully happen, which wasn’t too uncommon. Especially if you were feeling weak.

All seemed normal until you tried to actually move as the fog.

That’s when the searing pain, worse than what you felt before, coursed through your body in an almost shockwave, through every appendage and joint.  

It felt as if every nerve was being pierced by spikes causing so much pain that you instantly rematerialized.  Falling hard back onto the bed.

You let out loud and pained whines.  Gasping for air as you struggled to find your breath, more tears collecting and falling back down the side of your head.

“Wh…what the hell is wrong with me?!” you managed to almost growl out once your breath had caught up with you.  

“At least your attitude is still intact.” Khonshu teased, appearing in the corner of the room. “How are you feeling, Little Bug?”

“Like I’ve been broken and glued back together!”

Khonshu let out a hushed chuckle as he watched you continue to catch your breath.

“Where have you been?  Where’s Thoth?”

“Thoth has been taken with another task.  He sent me to check on you.”

“What happened?  Why am I like this?  Why can’t I move and why are my abilities not working?”

“So many questions…the short answer, you were cursed.”

“Cursed? What!? How?”

“Don’t strain yourself.  Your healing ability isn’t working properly, remember?  You would not want to cause something that cannot be reversed.”

Khonshu extended his hand, resting it over your forehead.  A heat began to resonate from it and although your body was still weak and in pain, you felt instant relief.

“Oh my gods…thank you…” you gasped out.

“It is the least I can do considering,” Khonshu said, his voice softer than you were used to.  “It would be wise for you to let your body rest.”

“What’s going on?!  Why can’t I fully use my abilities?  What curse are you talking about and why hasn’t Thoth come to check on me?!” You demanded, mostly ignoring his warning to rest.

Khonshu let out an annoyed sigh.  Even though this was something you were used to hearing from him you couldn’t help but think that the annoyance wasn’t meant for you. 

“What happened in the shrine?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself enough so you could recount the events that took place.

“The…shrine…the shrine had thousands of canopic jars in it.  All containing only the hearts of people.  I was attacked by hundreds of mummified guards and was able to lock myself in the main chamber but before I could find a way to escape I was…I don’t know what happened!  All I know is I was hit by a strong gust of…dust, sand?  I don’t know but my body was overtaken by a searing pain…something I’d never felt before…”

Khonshu watched as you spoke, his head bobbing from side to side, looking more bird-like than you’d ever seen him before.

“Where did the dust come from?  Did you see anything?  Say anything?”

“There were murals of executions, carnage…mayhem all around the room.  Their remains were offered to a serpent, a serpent who dominated the images.  There was a massive statue of the serpent, coiling itself around the sun and carvings…carvings that read ‘hail, hail to the mighty… Apoph…”

“Shhh…”  

Khonshu interrupted you before you could finish saying the name of the god the shrine had been dedicated to.

“It’s worse than we could have imagined…don’t repeat his name…you cannot speak his name. We suspected you brought with you a curse but hoped…it would seem the situation has become more dire than we had originally thought.  Is there anything else?”

The breath hitched within your chest and a shiver resonated through the rest of your body.  Your fear rose within you before you closed your eyes and swallowed it back down.

“I’ve been blacking out. There’s something else within me and it can take hold.  While it did I was sent to…I don’t know, somewhere that looked like the field of reeds but it wasn’t…it was…it made me hurt Jake!  I don’t know when it’ll take hold again or if I can even stop it…am I still cursed?”

Khonshu shook his head before stopping then shrugging his shoulders.

“It may appear so…for now though, you need to focus on getting better.  My influence should help to kickstart your healing ability, but Thoth may wish to keep you from using your other abilities for the time being.”

“You mean my fog form?  Well I already can’t use that so he’s a little late to the party.”

“It would seem so…get your rest, Little Bug.  I will return when I am able.  For now, just rest.”

A door closing in the distance followed by heavy footsteps interrupted your conversation.

“It seems your knight has returned.  Rest up.”

“Wait Khonshu, what…”

Khonshu was gone before you could finish your sentence just as Jake walked into the flat.

Jake walked in, holding a large brown bag but froze before fully closing the door behind him.  Instead pausing to watch you, a suspicious look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you whispered.

“¿Eres tú?” He finally asked.

“Yeah…it’s me.  Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jake let out a sigh of relief before closing the door and taking off his flat cap. 

“You’re out of the handcuffs.” he said, taking off his coat after placing the bag on the kitchen counter.

You raised up your hands and saw that he was right.  You were no longer cuffed and the marks around your wrists were looking better as well.

“I take it you’re feeling better?  You raised your arms without much shaking.”

Whatever Khonshu had done earlier was already starting to heal you.  Although you still felt the aches in your body and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to fully move around on your own just yet.

“Oh...” you replied, resting your arms back down, “Where did you go?  I thought I saw you walk in with something.”

“Al mercado.  I needed to pick up some things…how about you?  How long have you been awake and how long were you out of the cuffs?”

“Um…I guess a little over an hour.  I don’t know when I got the cuffs off.  I tried to turn into the fog…they must have fallen off then.”

“You’re fog, huh, were you able to change?”

“Only for a minute or so…I tried moving but the pain was more than I’d anticipated.  Rematerialized and fell back onto the bed.”

“Sounds like a productive morning.” He said, with a laugh.

“Careful, Jake.  Your Marc is showing…”

The mention of Marc’s name left an awkward air between the two of you.  You immediately regretted it and hoped that Jake wasn’t feeling the same way you were.  

Luckily you weren’t able to see Jake’s smile fall, or you would have felt worse.

“Yeah, um…I’m going to get started on the food.  Is there anything you need before I do?”

“A body that works?”

Jake let out a soft, gravelly laugh.

“Settle for a different position?” he asked.

“I’d love to be able to sit.”

Jake turned and began to collect any pillow he could from the flat.  Stacking them at the head of the bed before moving down to where you were laying.

“Let’s see if we can get you sitting.  Let me know if this is too much for you.” he said, bending down to wrap his arms around your torso, just below your arms.

He was sure to take his time, slowly bringing you in close.  So close his cheek was now right beside yours.  

His skin was rough with the beginnings of a beard and his body was warm.  You found yourself leaning into his hold and wrapping your arms around his neck as best you could.

Your body ached from the movement but he was sure to be as gentle as he could to keep the pain at a minimum.  

He maneuvered you up onto the mountain of cushions and pillows so you were resting in a more seated position.  Letting you down as gently as possible.

“How’s that?” he whispered, now realizing how close he was to you and how tightly you held onto him.

You didn’t respond at first, instead letting out a contented sigh.

His grasp on you tightened slightly as you fell deeper into his hold on you.  

“Remember when you would have hated being this close to me?” Jake said, now the one to regret something he’d said.

He cleared his throat trying to hide it.

“No…” you whispered, your voice noticeably hushed by choice rather than ability.

Jake let out a soft sigh, no longer worrying about his remark.

He loosened his hold around your waist.

You loosened your hold on him and slowly let yourself sink into the new position.  

Jake pulled away, sitting beside you on the bed, staring down at you with his usual stern expression.  Although it was noticeably softer than usual.

“Es mejor?” he finally asked.

You nodded, letting a small smile form across your face.

Jake responded with his own crooked smile before closing his eyes and shaking his head.  Looking away and bringing his hand up to his chin.

“You can’t do that, Preciosa.”

“Do what?” you asked.

“Smile at me like that.  Look at me like you…just…”

He let his words trail off. 

You stared up at him, hoping for more of an explanation but you knew what he meant and you knew it was unfair to so many people you cared about.  But you couldn’t help it…he was Jake and although your feelings for him were complicated they were there.  

“Jake…”

“I um…I better get started on the food.”  

Jake stood up and walked into the kitchen without another word.  

He began to take out your largest pot, filling it with water and setting it on the stove to heat up before taking what he needed out of your cupboards and from the bag he’d brought in.

The next 30 minutes or so were spent chopping up vegetables, prepping the meat, and measuring spices by eye before adding them to the now boiling pot. 

You watched in silence taking in each ounce of movement, especially noticing that while Jake worked you could hear him humming to himself.  Singing the tune to a song you couldn’t quite identify.

You could tell that Jake, most likely, had a beautiful singing voice.

This surprised you, considering Steven could only be described as an okay singer and Marc couldn’t hold a tune to save his life.

You watched him continue to work on the food he was making.  Taking in every movement, every move of his messy hair as it fell around his face.  The way he clenched his jaw while he focused on what he was doing.  Every furrow of his brow when something needed extra attention or focus.

Everything about him, you took in.

“I can feel you staring at me, Preciosa.” He finally called out to you as he placed the lid on the pot  and began to clean up.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook…or sing.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” He laughed, walking over to the bed and taking a seat beside you. 

“What are you making?”

“Sopa de Pollo.”

“Chicken soup?  I think I might be suffering from something a little more than a cold.” You laughed.

“Maybe…but it helps me feel better when I’m not my best…so I made it for you.”

You could feel a blush begin to form on your face.  You looked down at your hands as they fiddled with the blanket.

“Jake…”

“I got your message.” He interrupted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the post-it you’d left for him before going to Cairo. 

The paper was bent slightly with curled in edges, as if it had been in Jake's pocket since you’d left it for him.  Even though the paper had already started to look weathered, the message was still as clear as it was when you’d written it.

‘I’m sorry’

You looked up at Jake who stared down at the little message in his hand.  The sadness shining through on his stern face.

“Khonshu told me why you have to be kept a secret.” “He did?” Jake said, sounding less like a question than he intended.

“I didn’t realize what could have happened if I told anyone about you.  You know…you could have told me?”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me.  I felt like you would have thought I was making it up to keep you quiet.  Even after you started…after your feelings changed, I still worried that you thought I would say anything to trap you.”

You reached out resting your hand on top of his.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that.  I’m sorry for a lot of the things I did to you.”

Jake moved his hand so he was now holding yours and gave it a tight squeeze.

“In your defense, I deserved most of it.” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t think you deserved half of what I put you through, or half of what I said to you.”

Jake said nothing for a moment, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand against his better judgment.

“Apology accepted.” he said, getting up and letting go of your hand to go and give the soup a stir.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed slowly.

Your strength started to come back bit by bit and before you knew it you were finally able to move somewhat without so much pain coursing through your body.

Walking still proved to be a bigger task than it should have been, but knowing Jake was there to let you lean on him made it less aggravating. 

Living with Jake was something you could only describe as nice.  Even with his occasional sour attitude and his want to keep to himself he still went out of his way to make sure you were taken care of.  Make sure you were happy with him.

And you were. 

Even though you still missed Marc and Steven immensely you would be lying if the thought of a life would Jake didn’t make you feel light.   

This night was spent with another amazing dinner prepared by him. Jake would always sing or hum while he cooked and this quickly became one of your favorite things about him.

Something that he himself became more comfortable with doing in front of you.  Sometimes even belting out and dancing around where you sat.

Which is how you learned he was also a great dancer.

Definitely something you would have never thought he would have done before, but you were beyond grateful he felt comfortable enough doing it now.

The longer you spent together the more things you learned about one another.  

You learned each other’s favorite and least favorite things, like movies and food.  You learned how much he liked listening to sports on the radio but didn’t much like sitting and watching unless he was there live.

He learned how much you preferred plays to movies but still enjoyed both.

You both learned how an actual argument would go between you two and how you both would struggle to apologize before blurting it out almost at the same time.

Jake learned how hard it was for you to rely so much on him to do a lot of things and he also learned how much he enjoyed your love language…touch. 

You loved how he would get annoyed at the drop of a hat but immediately soften when you would smile at him a certain way.  And you loved figuring out that his love language was quality time and acts of service.

The two of you were comfortable together.  So comfortable that you insisted he sleep in the bed beside you.  

So comfortable that Jake never contested, especially knowing that as soon as you fell asleep you’d be snuggling up beside him…something that became his favorite thing about you. 

You hadn’t blacked out since the first initial night.  A concern that lingered in your minds, but tonight you were both happy to try and forget that something like that had even happened. 

The hours thankfully just seemed to linger on.  The two of you were sitting in your bed after another wonderful dinner, talking and enjoying each other's company well into the night.  

You, now lying beside him as he sat, resting his arms on his stomach.

The conversation was the same as it had been.  Mainly Jake complaining about how boring Steven’s job was and how hard it was for him to ‘be nice’ being surrounded by idiots.  Both co-workers and guests.

Feigning sickness was starting to lose its luster as an actual excuse to his co-workers for the change in attitude and demeanor but they were so ‘focused on their own bullshit’ that no one questioned it further.

You were watching intently as he continued to complain about ‘today’s idiot’.  Taking in all his movements and the inflection in his voice when he would say certain words like you had started to do often. A smile on your face as he would move his hands around in fron of him and switch back and forth between English and Spanish.   The Spanish being mostly cuss words on this particular day.

This made your mind wander back to your boyfriends.  How this movement reminded you of Marc, or how he spoke about Donna reminded you of Steven.  How they were all so similar and yet so completely different.

Different minds in the same body.  All three of them the people you care immensely for. 

A life without any of them was something that brought a twinge of sadness to your mind and heart. 

It wasn’t until the lull in the conversation that he finally noticed how you were watching him.  The contented smile on your face leaving a light shade of pink on his.

“I’m lucky you can’t hurt me with that deep stare of yours.  I’m sure you’d carve a hole into my skin.”

“Does it hurt?”  you whispered.

“Does what hurt? The hole in my skin you’re making?” 

“No…” you laughed, “Does it hurt to keep them hidden?”

Jake’s smile faded.  

“Sometimes it’s hard…they’re strong…but it doesn’t hurt.”

“How do you keep yourself hidden from them?”

He shrugged.

“It’s just something I’ve always done.  I’ve existed as long as Steven has but I guess I wasn’t needed.  Not till Marc got older.”

“Were you there when Steven and I met?”

Jake took a deep breath and slid down the bed so he was now laying beside you on his back. 

“Yeah…I was there.”

“What did you think of me?”

He turned to face you but said nothing, angling his body so he was now resting on his side like you were.

“I thought you would be trouble.  I remember thinking we should stay clear of you.  Didn’t want to complicate our already complicated lives.  I was relieved when Steven forgot to ask you for your number.”

“Really?”

His words might have hurt you in the past, but the way he looked at you now made it easy to overlook any negative feelings.

“Yeah…but I was also relieved when we saw you in the museum again.    The way you moved, the way you went from display to display, stopping every now and then to write in your notebook.  The way you took in all the information from the plaques, your fingers lightly trailing over the words so you wouldn’t miss a single one. You were beautiful…you were just… so precious.”

You found yourself reaching out to him.  Taking his hand and giving it a tight squeeze while you held it close to your chest.

Jake just let you.  Staring at you with that intense glare of his own.

“So now you know how I felt…how about you?” He asked, his gravelly voice becoming more so because of his hushed tone.  “How did you feel when you first saw me?”

“I was scared.” You admitted a soft smile on your lips. “You were…you were everything Marc and Steven weren’t.  You were just so…rough.  Everything about you was rough…and I didn’t want to have anything to do with you.”

“Brutal, Preciosa.” Jake laughed.

“Just being honest.”

“And now?” he whispered.

“Now?  Now I just want you near me.”

Jake stopped smiling as you started to inch closer to him.  You reached for his arm so you could rest your head on it and brought your body close to his.  All while never letting go of his hand. 

You lifted your head, intending to go in for a kiss but was stopped by Jake. Who let go of your hand and placed it on your cheek, holding you in a way that was tender but he was able to stop you from pushing further. 

“This is as far as we go, Preciosa.” He whispered. “I don’t want you to regret me in the morning.”

Your heart broke slightly, but you knew he was right.  Instead you moved yourself so you were resting your head against his chest, just below his chin.  Holding him in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Jake…I wish we could be more than just…this.”

“No you don’t…not if it means hurting them.”

Jake fell into your hold, taking you in his as well. 

“I’m sorry…” you repeated. 

“No lo sientas…now, get some sleep.  I’ll see you in the morning. 

~~~~~~~

Tag List: @delicatespiritualitysciencebat, @ahookedheroespureheart

[ivystoryweaver]

Which Moon Boy Gets the most worried, the fastest, if you're not home on time?

from Moon Knight Asks

Based on this ask by @xbellaxcarolinax I NEED to know your thoughts on 3! Which one of them gets the most worried?? I feel like it's Marc, but I dunno!

Content: It went straight to angst, sorry babes

Word count: 567

Steven the sweetest boy starts to have doubts if you don't come home. Before Marc, he begins to wonder if you're...real.

How could someone so wonderful really be his? Maybe he conjured you. He can't tell his waking life from his dreams.

After Marc, he gains understanding and surety in his life. When you don't arrive home on time, he always starts calmly with a text. "You alright, love?"

If he doesn't hear from you, he will try to talk himself down. After all, he's been a mess all this time - surely, he must have missed something you said?

He calls you, but if you don't answer, he does NOT trust voice mail anymore.

Steven is reasonable. He will contact a few friends and your work. If he gets overly worried, one of his alters will likely take over.

When you arrive home, he's attentive, affectionate, grateful. He wants to touch and feel you - his real life love.

Marc feels a spike of cold fear right through the center of him.

When you're late, he punishes himself. He has to be the reason you don't want to come home.

Everyone leaves. Everyone. If he doesn't leave them first.

By the time you're significantly late, he's filled with so much self-loathing, having convinced himself you won't be coming back.

He sees your picture hanging on the fridge. One of the few printed images of you together. The light in your eyes soothes his soul. Suddenly he's afraid of that light in you going out.

His focus shifts to you instead of himself.

Marc knows and understands the world. He knows how to hide, and every reason a person would want to. He can find you.

He's told himself every terrible thing he believes about himself and planned an entire rescue mission by the time you walk in the door. (It only takes him 20 minutes to plan it)

His concern will come out as anger. You'll try to explain - he won't be mean to you, it will be directed inward. This can explode into passion or do a 180 and put some distance between you.

"I can't lose you," he finally admits, in a defeated whisper.

If it’s your mistake, you will spend some time apologizing and reassuring him. It will get physical. In the best way.

If someone has hurt you, well…

Jake is independent. He respects that you are too. He can take care of himself - you can take care of yourself. He trusts you. He gives you time to be late, to need space, to explain.

If he gets too worried, he will find you, pretty quickly. He has all the same skills as Marc but hasn't used them as often - not in the same ways. He usually steps in when Marc is at his maximum.

It's simple with Jake. He'll let you know he's waiting for you and wants to hear from you. If you're stuck at work, he's waiting outside with his car to give you a ride and glare at your boss.

If your phone is dead, you'll have an extra charger bought for you the next day.

If someone else is the reason you're late, he'll have a very short conversation with them and it won't happen again.

If someone has hurt you, they will have breathed their last.

So the answer is.... ??

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

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[janatm]

been lying to myself too long, been trying by myself too long || SELF-PARA

featuring: Noah Puckerman and his mama THE Nora Puckerman

mentions: Jake Puckerman, Eva Anderson, Morgan Weston, Santana Lopez and Gabe Puckerman

date & time: Monday, October 21, 2024 around 9:00 pm

location: Puck's house on the back porch

warnings: dissociating, allusions to depression, self loathing

song inspiration: Time In A Tree by Raleigh Ritchie (listen here!)

summary: Nora Puckerman is worried about her son and she sees if she can get the truth out of him this time.

word count: 1,149

The noise in his head was louder than he could ever remember it being. So loud he knew nothing he normally did, not even the bad stuff, would turn it down. So instead of trying (and failing) to go to sleep, he went outside on his back porch, sat at the table and he focused his eyes on nothing in particular until he wasn't in his body anymore. Until his the noises in his head was drowned out by the distinct lack of anything. No light, no warmth, no sound, no feelings. Like floating in statis in a void. Unsustainable but for a few moments he was nobody, he was no where.

He was nothing.

"...Noah!" A sudden falling sensation pulled him back into himself and his eyes focused on the figure leaning into his space, hand waving in front of his face.

"Shit, my bad, mom. Didn't hear you." He quickly apologized, before getting up to pull out a char for her to sit in. "You heading out or you staying another night?" He asked, keeping the conversation light, and preferably short.

"I think I'll stay another night." His mother smiled at him and he nodded and smiled back as she sat in the chair beside him. "Where were you just now, that you couldn't hear me?" She asked innocently enough but Puck knew better.

"Uh, no where really, just zoned out. Been a long day." All technically true statements, but it also wasn't really an answer to her question and he knew she knew that. The look on her face now was one he didn't see often and when he did, his defenses immediately went up and he tried to just stonewall his way through whatever conversation she was going to try and have. But instead of saying anything, Nora just reached a hand out and pinched the back of his neck, nothing painful, more like a massage and she continued up to his nape and all the way to the crown of his head. It was something she'd done since he was a kid and he didn't know why or how but it calmed him down. Made him feel light again, even if it was only for a couple minutes.

"I'm gonna say something. I'm gonna say several something and you're not going to like any of them but you're going to hear me, you're going to let me talk, you're not going to brush me off and you're going to talk to me and I do not care if you don't want to. Am I understood?" Even at thirty-two years old that tone could stop him in his tracks and have him holding his head in shame for whatever it is he did.

"Yes, ma'am." It was the only response she'd accept.

"I know that your father asked you to bail him out of jail in August. I knew you would do it and I knew you wouldn't be okay after because you are never okay after dealing with him. It has been two months, and no only have you not bounced back like you use to, you are worse than ever. Getting drunk on lockdown, punching a wall, sleeping with some random woman and now you're dissociating. I think you forget I'm a nurse and where you're headed, you aren't going to be able to pull yourself out of it. So I need you to tell me what's different this time. What happened this time." She finally finished and she was right, Puck didn't like what she said, would ask how she knew about lockdown but she probably overheard Santana and Jake. And he want to get up and leave or tell her to stay out of his business, or tell her he was fine but he was tired, decades of exhaustion weighing on his chest and he just wanted to breathe east.

So he told he did what he said he would and he spoke, and the truth is what came out. "I don't see myself the way that y'all see me. I see myself the way that he sees me and his voice is in my head telling me over and over again that I'm worthless and I'm useless and it get louder the closer I get to feeling worthy. And mom, since I found Jake and Santana came back into Maya's life and mine and I met Eva and Morgan and fell in love with them, I was doing better and then I bailed Gabe outta jail." He put his head in his hands and rubbed his neck but it wasn't the same as when his mom did it.

"I don't talk to Jake, I won't let Santana help me and I keep pushing Eva and Morgan away. I guess, what's different this time is I don't want to lose any of them. They make my life feel full. But I don't know how to fix it because I don't know how to fix me." He looked over at his mother, eyes glassy from tears he refused to spill, and he fiddled with the Star of David around his neck, praying his mother could fix it for him, that she had the cure.

As soon as she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, the tears began to flow and he couldn't remember the last time he just cried. For several minutes, his mother soothed him, held him and let him cry on his back porch on a random Monday night.

After a few minutes, he stopped and lifted his head up, and was greeted by his mother's soft smile and she wiped at his cheeks with her sleeve. "You have always just taken hit after hit without giving yourself time to heal. You are the strongest person I know, but you are not indestructible, you are not invincible. You need time to heal." He just nodded, feeling like something in him, clicked, like there was this obvious path forward that he'd never seen before.

"You need help." She looked at him and he could feel all of the love in her heart for him in those three words and he didn't argue. "I saw all those resources on your desk that the veteran's group gave you. You need to utilize them and you won't be going through any of this alone. You will have me and Maya and I bet if you let them, you could have Jake and Santana too. And I don't know Eva and Morgan but from what I've overheard in this house, they would probably want to be there for you too. But for now let's just do one thing at a time, okay?"

Eventually they both got up and went to bed, and for the first time in years, the noise in Puck's head was so soft, he couldn't even hear it.