#my emotional streak isn't over as i thought

[suga-parade]

scene redraw: lovely complex edition

[or: you know when koizumi confesses and otani is there like "😝 hehet, i have no idea what you're saying"]

[ckret2]

Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.

####

Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.

Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.

He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.

The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.

He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.

He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.

And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.

And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?

Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.

There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.

Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.

No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.

I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.

Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.

Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.

####

"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed. 

"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.

He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."

"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.

"Okay but why on your bed?"

Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"

Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.

By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.

After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.

In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—

("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")

—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.

"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"

"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."

"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."

His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.

But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?

"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."

He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")

Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."

"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."

Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.

"You do?"

"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."

"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"

She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"

She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."

"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"

"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"

He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.

Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.

Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"

"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."

"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."

"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."

"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"

"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."

"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."

"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"

Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"

"Thaaat's probably not it."

"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."

There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"

"I can't remember anything else, though."

"Me neither."

They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"

The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.

Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"

"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"

"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."

Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."

Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"

Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.

Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"

"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.

"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."

"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"

"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"

Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."

"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."

"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."

"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"

Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.

"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"

"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"

"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."

"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"

"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.

"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."

Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."

"Close enough."

They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...

And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.

He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.

"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"

"He said something, didn't he?"

Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."

Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."

Mabel nodded.

Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.

As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?

Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.

Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.

####

"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"

The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.

"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.

"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"

"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."

"Aw."

"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."

Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"

"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."

Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."

"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."

"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.

Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"

"Sure, girl, just downstream."

"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."

"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."

"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.

The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.

He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.

He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.

He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table  under the bedroom window.

"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"

Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.

"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.

"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"

"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.

He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."

"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."

Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"

Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"

"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.

Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched. 

Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."

"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."

"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"

"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.

Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."

"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.

"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."

"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"

"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"

"Never in a million years."

"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."

Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.

After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"

"Sofa bed in the living room."

"Right."

And then there was silence.

Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.

A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.

He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.

That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.

Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.

####

(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)

[pickingupmymercedes]

"you know you’re stuck with me, right?”

with like pregnant trope, maybe finding out

Sure thing! Hope you like it

you know you're stuck with me, right?

Y/N stared at the tiny plastic stick in her hand, the two lines mocking her with their clarity. A very positive test. It felt surreal.

She and Lewis hadn't exactly been trying, relying on her cycle tracker and a somewhat carefree approach to contraception. And lately, the nagging feeling of "what if" had been growing louder and more constant in their conversations.

But now, with the confirmation staring her in the face, a wave of panic washed over her.

Taking a deep breath, she fumbled for the test on the counter, her heart hammering against her ribs. Lewis was outside, she knew, pumping iron on the balcony. Finding him mid-rep, Y/N walked out, clutching the test in her tightly closed hand.

"Hey," Lewis said, a smile splitting his face as he lowered the weights. "Almost finished here. Everything okay?"

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Her hands trembled, the plastic rattling against her palm. Frustration bubbled up. This wasn't supposed to be this hard.

"Y/N?" Lewis frowned, his smile fading as he noticed her distress. "What's wrong?"

Taking another deep breath, she thrust the test towards him, eyes stinging with unbidden tears. "I..."

Lewis's brow furrowed in confusion for a fleeting moment before his face broke into a wide, joyous grin. "Y/N! Are you serious?" He snatched the test from her, his eyes flitting between the two blue lines and her tear-streaked face.

"I, uh…" Y/N stammered, overwhelmed by his sudden elation. "Yeah, it's positive."

The realization slowly dawned on Lewis. His smile softened, concern replacing the initial joy. "Hey, hey," he said gently, placing the test down on the table and pulling her into a hug. "We want that, don’t we?"

Y/N finally let the tears fall, burying her face in his chest. "I don't know, I guess" she mumbled, voice choked with emotion. "It’s just… unexpected."

Lewis held her tighter, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It's okay to be scared, Y/N," he whispered. "But hey," he pulled back slightly, cupping her face, "we can figure this out together. This isn't just on you, alright?"

Y/N looked into his eyes, undescribed emotions swirling within them. Fear, yes, but also a flicker of something she couldn't quite define.

"I just… I don't know how I feel" she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Lewis smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "That's alright, babe. This is a big thing." he squeezed her hand, his voice firm but filled with tenderness "Just… you know you're stuck with me, right? Through thick and thin, happy surprises and unexpected turns."

"I never thought our lives would change on a random Tuesday" She mumbled into his chest,his lips finding his way to her hair before he agreed "The very best things come when we least expect them"

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123 @jajouska

If you’d like to be added/removed from my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[mechaknight-98]

Kan’t relax (NSFW) FT Sakura Miyawaki

Author's note: I forgot how close I was to done with this fic…so here it is. Milf Mommy Sakura inbound You have been warned.

Heroes are captivating in fiction because they always arrive just in time and defeat the villain with unmatched skill and power. In reality, however, heroes are often ordinary people who rise to the occasion.

While out getting breakfast for Saki, Daigo was confronted by an old acquaintance named Reborn.

“I am so sorry, Daigo, but I need your help,” Reborn said. Before Daigo could respond, Reborn shot him in the face.

Ten years later, Daigo's eyes snapped open as the smoke dissipated around him. Reborn stood over him and reached out a hand to help him up.

“Where am I?” Daigo asked.

“The same cafe, just 10 years later.” Daigo’s heart sank.

“Where's Sakura?” he asked.

Reborn sighed. “She's leading the Miyawaki clan, but I don't think you're ready to see her.”

Daigo's reply was both defiant and despondent. “I don't care. That's my girl. Take me to her.”

Reborn sighed, knowing Daigo wouldn't relent. So they embarked on a journey to Japan, where Sakura was. They arrived at her "day job" as the head of an idol agency, where she and the girls were still making music and moving forward. As they entered the building, Sakura was headed out. She looked as radiant as ever, but a deep sadness and a dour expression were etched on her face.

“Kura, is that you?” Daigo said weakly. Sakura, having long abandoned that name, turned to Daigo, and their eyes met. A wordless exchange happened between them as they ran to each other. Daigo held her tight, and Sakura readily accepted his embrace.

“Please tell me this isn't a dream,” Sakura asked. Daigo shook his head. “No dream. I'm here for you,” he said. Sakura smiled, and the mask of Saki fell away.

“Why do you look so young though? You look like you're 26,” she asked, confused.

“Can we explain over tea?” Daigo asked. Sakura's eyes narrowed as she looked past Daigo and saw Reborn standing behind him. She flew into a rage.

“You!” Sakura growled at the hitman. “I should have known you had something to do with Daigo’s disappearance.” Her anger flared like a blaze, but Daigo, being the more level-headed, intervened.

“Wait, Kura. He brought me here,” he said. Despite the time and distance from Daigo, she still always deferred to him. She got serious.

“Okay, but when you're done with whatever you have to do today, come find me. I need my stud.”

“How would I find you? Everything is different now.”

“Daigo, you are the most resourceful person I know. You can do it. Otherwise, I'll find you and be forced to punish you,” Sakura said. Daigo wanted to submit to her then and there and let her run wild, but he had responsibilities.

“God, I love it when you punish me,” he said.

Sakura smiled. “I always knew you had a bit of a submissive streak. Don't worry, Mommy will take good care of you. All those competing thoughts, Mommy is going to erase them, so all you can think about is Mommy,” Sakura said. Daigo smiled at her before nodding and going to train with Reborn.

While training Daigo asks, “So who killed me in this timeline originally?”

“It was Tobirama Ozunu,” reborn says as he shows Daigo a picture he recognized as Tobi

“Of course,” Daigo replied to his trainer annoyed as he got back to work. The combat training continued til right before sunset. Daigo said goodbye to Reborn before setting out to find Kura. It took an hour but he made it to her penthouse right after sunset.

When he reached her door his cock was already unbearably hard, and several different emotions flowed through him. The weirdest one is this intense longing despite literally having just been in bed with her this morning. He opens the door to see Sakura very nude on her couch. She grins wolfishly at him and without command he strips for her. Her grin widens. Kura marvels at how hard his cock is for her despite her not touching it. She approaches Daigo and caresses his face. She smiles before saying,

“Do you want mommy to ruin you?” Daigo nods. Kura smiles. She starts by guiding him to the bedroom. Her arousal scent is already melting Daigo’s brain. Having aged like a fine wine in all facets Kura’s control over all facets of her body has been refined and nurtured. Her breasts are bigger her body is more plump, and her scent is now deadly.

Sakura pushes Daigo to the bed and she slowly approaches watching him wordlessly writhe and squirm for her. Sakura loved how needy Daigo was for her, but she needed him feral she needed him rough and raw. She inched to his face and kissed him instead of being fast and aggressive like how she would be when they were younger. Kira’s tongue was slow and deliberate. She knew her Stud’s body instinctively and knew how to send him over the edge. Her first trick was forcing him to swallow her saliva to the point he almost drowned in her kiss. When he came up for air she began to kiss around his body. Paying special attention to his ears, especially one of his known weaknesses. After she’s finished she notices a change in Daigo. His eyes have narrowed and her scent has done its job. Daigo gets up and grabs Kura who moans as he roughly throws her on the bed and without warning Daigo plugs her with his cock. Kura moans as she hasn’t been fucked in ten years.

“Ugh, I’ve needed this cock for ten years,” Sakura whined as a wave of familiar feelings overwhelmed her. Mainly her submission to her stud. It caused her to release more of her arousal and her pussy became a sodden mess as Daigo thrust in and out of her. Now no longer bound by her contracts or obligations since she owned all of Le Sserafim she could fully indulge in her needs.

“Fucking breed that milf pussy. I’ve waited so long,” Sakura said with an almost frightening level of conviction that sent Daigo over the edge and he bred her pussy. Sakura moaned as she reached her peak as well, but her mind broke and her body took control. Her instincts forced her to start fucking herself into Daigo’s cock so it couldn’t soften. Daigo’s mind was also broken as Kura’s fertile pussy invited him to fuck her again. He was overwhelmed by her scent and swept away by the need to breed his bitch. He grabbed Kura’s waist and slammed into her. Kura moaned loudly as Daigo began to thrust again. Animalistic groans came from them as their instincts overwhelmed their brains. Daigo never felt this way before but he needed Kura. He needed to have her more than he needed to breathe, and Sakura needed to be Daigo’s. So they gave in. Sakura’s pussy became little more than a sopping fleshlight for Daigo as his cock slipped into and out of her insatiable fuck hole. Sakura moaned like the bitch in heat she was. Their minds became fogged over by their thoughts that they couldn’t feel their orgasms coming and it hit them both like runaway trains. As Daigo filled Kura up again she leaned back into his body inviting her stud to claim her her again. Daigo grabbed her left tit and cupped her ass as he continued thrusting into her churning his cum inside her before biting her collarbone. Kura’s pussy clenched Daigo. Wordless encouragement to continue on.

“Fuck Mommy your pussy is so tight,” Daigo groaned as he continued thrusting into her Sakura moaned, and said

“Oh, I’m mommy? well then breed me and make me one.”

“Huh that breeding kink never went away did it?” Daigo inquired

“No, it didn’t now slap my ass say how good mommy’s pussy is, and creampie me.” She shot back. Daigo smiled at how much he loved this woman no matter what form she took or how old she was. He slapped her ass and marveled at how it rippled for him then grabbed both of her tits.

“Mommy’s pussy is so filthy. All mommy wants to do is be my breeding bitch doesn’t she. This is all mommy is good for huh? Dumping my children into her womb. Is that what mommy wants?” Daigo says and Sakura is overwhelmed by her lust cums again squirting all over Daigo’s cock, and trying to milk it. She succeeded and Daigo fills her again with cum, but their still horny for each other so they keep fucking until Sakura’s stomach growls.

Daigo laughs and looks at the clock. “Fuck it’s midnight already?” He says dazed by the fact they have been going at it for four hours.

Sakura smiles and says “give me a minute let me order some food for us.” While she’s on the call Daigo keeps fucking her. She tries to give him an annoyed look but her body is so accepting of being filled that she lets him take her again. When she’s finished the order she glares at Daigo as he still thrust into her and then cums inside her. This causes the inner breeding cum slut that Sakura has been keeping at bay to fully cum out.

“Oh god yes. Fill me up again. I need your cum. Fuck keep me full.” Sakura said. Her words make Daigo even harder, 25 minutes later Sakura cums again, but before Daigo can reach his peak Sakura’s door rings and he has to pull out.

“I didn’t know you were holding out on me stud she said opening the door naked much to the surprise of the delivery woman who she winked at before going back to Daigo and starting their late-night meal. Daigo smiled and said

“Well it seems like you needed it, and I’d do anything for my breeding bitch.”

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 02

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, family drama, description of aggressive behavior

notes: somehow i just really love writing this. hope you enjoy this chapter!

series masterlist | next. the right husband

And so here comes the day of your wedding to Fushiguro Megumi.

The two of you stood before the shrine altar, surrounded by your extended families, as well as your clansmen, who were there to observe this union. You looked down at the white silk kimono you were wearing. The thought of being Megumi's wife was still surreal.

The sky was grey and cloudy too―just the perfect weather for some nice, depressing nuptials.

Megumi seemed to stand there with no expression, staring straight ahead, not really acknowledging what was happening despite the fact that this was his wedding. You wondered if he felt the same way you did.

At least he is a friend, you thought. Even if everyone here is against you, Megumi is in the same boat as you. The knowledge brought you comfort.

The priest stood at the altar, droning on about how your marriage was one of love and respect. Everything that proceeded afterwards became a blur―the purification rites, prayer, exchanging sake, wedding vows. Megumi was the one who recited the oath with clear voice, as your mind was tuning in and out, remembering the circumstances that had led you both here.

Have you done the right thing? By dragging a wholly innocent person into your mess?

You were having second thoughts about all of this right when you caught the sight of your mother, who was wiping her tear-streaked face at the forefront seat while watching you. And those doubts dissipated. Yeah, this is the right decision. Should you marry Naoya, you were sure as hell that he wouldn't allow you to see your mother ever again. Your father didn't really care which Zen'in you were marrying, and by dragging Megumi, you have dissolved your binding vow with him.

Everything should be fine and dandy now, isn't it?

You and Megumi had been asked to exchange rings as part of the ceremony. He stood there, staring down at the gold rings, and found his breathing to increase in intensity. He hated to admit it, but even though he found this whole ordeal tedious, he felt like he wouldn't do you justice if he fumbled this part. Your hand was soft and warm, and he tried ignoring the rush of emotions as he put the ring onto you.

His hand did hesitate for a brief moment though, wondering if he could just pull it back at the last second. You awkwardly slid the ring into his finger afterwards.

You are now husband and wife, as the priest said so.

With the ceremony over, came the reception party. Both of you took a seat at the main tables, surrounded by numerous guests.

You caught him stealing many glances at you throughout this ordeal, seemingly uncomfortable with being under the spotlight. Megumi was not one to show his emotions, but you could tell something was going on inside his head.

After a while, you excused yourself from the main table to the washroom, as greeting the well-wishers took out more of your energy than you initially thought.

“Well, if it isn’t the runaway wench.”

You stopped in your tracks as dread soaked you. Oh hells…

He flung his arms around your thick wedding garments and pulled you aside. You gave him the most offensive side eye. “Let go of me, Naoya.”

“Ah, don’t be like that, sister,” his tone was scathing, amused at how prickled you were. “We are family now, aren’t we? We should be cordial with each other.”

“No, we are not,” you gritted each word through your teeth. “You don’t get to do this on my wedding day, Zen’in Naoya.”

And suddenly his nails pierced the skin of your neck, and you gasped, almost letting out a yelp.

“You insolent whore!” he hissed in your right ear, and you really hoped no one would walk through this hallway anytime soon. “You think you can do this to me? Do you really think I won’t do anything but watch you and that bastard walk all over me?”

Of course you knew. Gojo Satoru had warned you. The very second Megumi put one foot in his ancestral home, Naoya would be after him, out for blood.

“Unhand me this instant,” you croaked out with steel. No, you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. “Or I’ll shout. Even your clansmen won’t take it too kindly if you murder me in front of them.”

Naoya spat at you, letting go of his hold. You immediately shoved him away, tried to control your trembling form, and took the chance to run.

“Enjoy this while it lasts, you wench!” he taunted as your thundering steps resounded throughout the halls. You shut the door of the restroom with a bang, trying to collect your bearings. You were so terrified. Even when you were the most overlooked daughter in Hara family that you hated, no one has ever manhandled you like that.

You wiped the trickling blood from your neck and washed it with the running water. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you took a deep breath and swallowed it. You can’t. You have gone too far now. You have to see this to the very end.

When you got back to the reception hall, your mother caught you and pulled you into her arms. Her embrace felt warm, and you sighed against her, finally finding peace. “Mom…”

“Sena,” she breathed out. “Oh, my baby, you are really beautiful today…” she pulled back to caress your face, and then she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry to put you in this position.”

You shook your head lightly, smiling at her. “No, don’t be, mom. It’s fine.”

“At least he seems to be a decent young man,” your mother dabbed her eyes with her kerchief, referring to Megumi who was sulking at his dais. “I’m still sorry, but at least I can rest easy, knowing that your husband isn’t someone who would treat you badly.”

Almost, you thought with a sigh, shuddering at the remainder of Naoya's hold against you earlier. Once again, this reminded you that you have made the right choice. Whatever it was that Naoya had planned, it was a problem for another chapter.

“Now I can visit you every time I want, mom,” you said heartily. “Father can’t get in the way between us anymore. We’re free.”

She shot you a scolding look. “You silly girl, you don’t have to focus on that. Even if he tried again, I would crawl my way back to see you.” You almost didn’t want to let go of her hand, as she finally untangled them from your hair. “Now go back to your husband. Poor him, I think he’s having a hard time there.”

Your mother was right. Megumi really seemed to be struggling with the inquiries of people who surrounded him. Reluctantly, you went back to your place at his side, and politely answered their queries.

Megumi was slightly relieved. With you back, he didn't have to speak as much. Soon it was time for the guests to have a chance to pour you drinks. A troublesome tradition, he sighed to himself.

"Honestly, it's the first time I've heard of her," an elderly woman said in a thoughtful manner behind the first line of crowd surrounding the two of you. "And doesn't Hara clan only have three daughters? Aren't all of them married already?"

"Hush, auntie!" the woman beside her rebuked in a whisper. "She's not the daughter from the main wife."

"Oh, really? A lesser daughter... How come she got the Zen'in with the Ten Shadows?"

Megumi blinked, the sake felt bad as it burned his throat. Did these guests just slight you right in front of your face? He found himself glancing at you to see your reaction.

But you kept smiling, tending to each praise of your grace and sipping the drink with positive attitude. You either paid those whispers no mind or just didn't hear it altogether. And as he wondered, he noticed the bruise on your neck.

He was sure that wasn't present up until just now.

When those two women who gossiped about you finally got the chance to pour you the drinks, Megumi suddenly felt the unbearable impulse to blurt this out. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about my wife like that."

You were surprised. The two women were too. As they bowed in apology, you threw him a small smile―a silent thank you. He averted his gaze, ignoring the blush on his face.

And soon, it was Naoya's turn. He looked unpleasant and had this sneer on his face that made Megumi uncomfortable. But when he saw you tense and shrink back in alarm, he immediately connected the dots.

"Should I say it?" the elder Zen'in murmured with a low cackle, concealing it through the trickling sound of the sake he poured into his cup. "Why a bastard daughter can marry into my clan―because she is lucky to be legitimatized by her sorry excuse of a father.”

At this point, you really didn’t care a whit about what Naoya said—you just wanted him to leave. But Megumi took offense, clenching his jaw. "If you disrespect her one more time―"

"What? What can another bastard like you do, huh?" he challenged.

Megumi was this close to flipping this stupid table of drinks before him when Zen'in Naobito took a hold of Naoya's shoulder, silently admonishing him. Naoya grumbled under his breath and moved away in disgust.

"Well, that's that," Megumi grunted as the last person went back. There were murmurs among the guests, perhaps talking about your status or Naoya’s antics just now. He looked at you again, suddenly finding the atmosphere quite oppressing. "Should we go now? It isn't like we're bound to drink through the night anyway. I hate alcohol."

"Sure," you snorted quietly. Both of you moved away from the main table. For appearance's sake, his hand gripped yours―and he was taken aback by how clammy it was.

Many things ran through his mind, but one thing he knew was that he didn't like this at all.

"Did Naoya do that to you?" he released his grip as soon as you were secluded away in the gardens. His dark eyes seemed to gleam with something as he had a good look at your neck.

You let out a resigned sigh. "I’m alright. Please don't make a big deal out of this."

"Sena, if I see something like this again, I won't stay quiet, you understand?" He would take matters into his own hands. What in actual hell is this? Why should their lives be haunted by Zen'in Naoya in the background?

The very idea made him angry.

"Don't think about it that hard," you rebuked with a grin. You wanted to lighten things up really, with all that had happened during the course of today. "So we're friends already, eh? You’re concerned about me.”

He threw you a look. "I suppose we can call each other friends for today."

"Not just today. From now on. Because you're the only one I can trust now, amongst people with agendas within our clans."

It wasn't your intention to say that. Maybe the many cups they poured you loosened your tongue.

"You really trust me?" Megumi asked, amused, his arms folding across his hakama.

"Out of those Zen'in who see me as vile and people in my clan who clap their hands as they ship me away?” you squinted, sighing. “Yes.”

He barked a satire laugh. If he had doubted it before, then after tonight he was certain that this marriage thing with you was indeed doable. "Well, good, because I don't not trust you either."

Both of you were getting somewhere, and you could feel it. Your wedding day might not go as smooth as either of you wanted, but you couldn’t care less about that. As you walked in the same tempo with him, you shared a laugh and company.

"Don't you hear what they were saying earlier? They told me to have your child as soon as possible."

"Huh? We haven't even been married for a day and they're already pushing us to have a child?"

"They mostly whispered it to me. It's incessant."

It isn't so bad, each of you thought to yourselves, unaware of what life has got in store for this marriage that had started with duty, lies and betrayal.

next : the right husband

🏷️ taglist

@moonmalice @hellothere9597 @qtnfer @firstplaidpeachnickel @waddlingwanderer @chilichopsticks @satorus-slut

[flightfoot]

Could you recommend good written rarepair fics?

Sure! I don't know what you qualify as rarepair, so I'll use my old standby of "everything that isn't Lovesquare". I've got a lot of these to recommend, so I'll split it up by ship, unless there's only one fic in the pairing, in which case I'll dump it at the end.

I've split this up by pairing. If I have multiple fics to rec for a pairing, I'll give it its own category, if not, then it goes into the "one-offs" category at then end.

I have categories for Adrino, Marigami, MarcNath, Lukadrien, Julerose, Chlobrina, DJWifi, Alyanette, and FeLuka, in that order.

---

Adrino:

Within Your Heart by Inkyibis

It’s Valentine’s Day and Ladybug just wants to her superhero partner to find his love. And what she wants, the Lucky Charm will create. If only she could remember what it is she did last night.

Adrino fic here! Marinette’s drunk and feeling awful that her superhero partner is alone on Valentine’s (she’s in a loving and committed relationship with Alya), so she creates a Lucky Charm to help Chat find love! In this universe, Ladybug’s Lucky Charms have the power to create new rules for the universe to follow, such as making one that demands that if you have any magic in you, you have to tell the truth or else you’ll freeze. Or in Adrien’s case, that he has to wake up in the arms of his true love every day XD. It’s very sweet and I love both Adrien’s and Nino’s relationship, and the relationship between the rest of the Miracuteam members as well, even though that’s not the focus.

---

I’ll give myself a name (something stupid and pretentious) by @bbutterflies

Nino looked at the number and didn’t recognize it. Usually he wouldn’t answer, but he had nothing better to do – and could still really use a distraction – so he did. “Hello?”

“Hey, Nino.”

Nino stood up quickly, chest tightening. He knew that voice. He’d been waiting to hear it again for over two years. “Adrien?” he whispered.

“Yeah. It’s me."

-

When Monarch is defeated (and revealed to be Gabriel Agreste), Chat Noir immediately goes missing. Adrien disappears not long after. When Adrien finally shows up in Paris again, Nino would do anything to make sure he doesn't disappear again.

Ah this is lovely, Adrien’s been in a lot of emotional turmoil since Monarch’s defeat, convinced that everyone would hate him, SHOULD hate him, for not realizing that his father was the villain, and should hate him even more for disappearing like he does. But slowly Marinette and Nino get through to him, convince him that they just want him back. 

And also Adrien and Nino smooch. Multiple times. So that’s a bonus XD.

---

Would Trust You With Everything by @kasienda

Nino breaks off, tears streaking down his face. Adrien wishes he was here as himself instead of Chat so he could offer a hug.

“It’s not like I don’t think she deserved her privacy. It’s just it felt like I was her last priority. And if I knew why, then maybe we could overcome it. But when I don’t, I’m not willing to be her last thought. You know? I always put her first.”

“Yeah,” Chat agrees, able to relate too well. He always put Ladybug first too, and he’s not sure it has ever been the same for her. “I’m sorry you’ve been so alone through this."

“I haven’t been totally alone,” Nino disagrees, holding up his phone. “My best friend has been keeping me company virtually most of the day.”

“Yeah? It helped?”

“I don’t know if any of the stuff he sent helped, but like, given what I know he’s up to, he totally had to move heaven and earth to talk to me so much, and that really helped. You know, just knowing that someone was thinking of me.”

“I’m glad,” Chat Noir said. “I wish he could be there in person for you.”

Nino sighs. “Yeah, me too, but at least you’re here."

...

Season 4 au - canon divergent from Rocketear Rocketear led to DJWiFi breakup.

Ahh, Adrino my beloved XD. I love the identity shenanigans in this one with Adrien being around Nino as both Adrien and Chat Noir, and both of them vaguely describing their situations to each other. It takes Adrien a bit to figure out that he has a crush on Nino, but once he does...

---

The moment I knew (I’d no choice but to love you) by @bbutterflies

“He’s dating me,” Nino said, taking Adrien’s hand in his own.

Adrien could only stare back at him in shock.

“How dare you all force him to come out?” Nino continued, glaring at the reporters. “That was disgusting.” He pulled Adrien over to the car, guided him in, and shut the door behind them.

In the relative quiet and privacy of the backseat, Adrien finally processed what had just happened. “So… when were you going to tell me we were dating?”

This Adrino fic is delicious XD. Reporters keep hounding Adrien about his love life, so Nino finally gets them off Adrien’s back by fake-dating him. Problem is, Adrien’s actually been madly in love with Nino for years but has never been able to tell him. And now as they’re spending more time together, Nino’s beginning to find that he’s enjoying all these “couple” activities more than maybe he ought to if it’s entirely platonic...

If you want to see Adrien and Nino PINING for each other while “fake” dating (is it really fake if both parties want it to be real?) then you’ve come to the right fic!

---

Chemistry With Him by @bbutterflies

It kind of sucked Nino was taking chemistry, but classes had filled up fast and he needed to take something and his advisor had said the credits would, somehow, count towards his major. It really sucked he was taking it first thing on a Monday morning (and Wednesdays, and Fridays, unfortunately). But he could get through it. He knew he could.

So no more boys. No distractions. He could do this all on his own.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Nino looked up to find the source of the voice. A blond, green-eyed, absolutely beautiful someone.

Okay. Maybe one distraction.

Ah, adorable Adrino. This is a universe where Adrien never went to public school, so while Chat Noir, Ladybug, Carapace, and Rena Rouge all know each other (and Marinette, Alya, and Nino all know each other’s identities) they’re unaware that they are all already friends with Adrien. I loved seeing Chat and Carapace excitedly tell each other about their awesome crush/boyfriend, not knowing they were talking about each other XD.

---

Awaken by InkyIbis

The previously white butterfly, now oozing black and purple as a conduit of the butterfly miraculous powers, flutters softly within the silvered-gloved hand.

It sits there for a long time.

"Go, my akuma," The soft sigh pushes the butterfly, the akuma, out towards the despair of a love not returned. The same ache within his chest. On a level so great that he's willing to sacrifice the city to mend it.

It's okay if he's the villain for now. He'll force the miraculous of creation and destruction to be revealed, and once he gets his hands on them, none of this pain, none of his loss, will ever happen.

This is essentially a canon rewrite for Miraculous (specifically seasons 1 and 2, with a bunch of the events mixed around) that focuses primarily on Adrien, with his relationship with Nino being the main driving relationship of the fic. (Don’t worry, Marinette’s still treated fine, she’s just not the focus). This is the best “rewrite Miraculous with more of a focus on Adrien” type fic I’ve seen, with it reworking the plots of the episodes so that they’re different enough to be their own distinct thing - it’s not trying to just rewrite the canon episodes but from Adrien’s POV, there’s a lot of lore changes going on as well, and things occur in different orders.

Like lorewise, Chat’s given a more important role in cleaning up the mess the akumas leave, with his power helping to cleanse akuma victims and he and Ladybug needing to use their powers in tandem in order to cast Miraculous Ladybug. There’s also no Miracle Box holding the kwamis. Instead, Chat sometimes surpasses his limits and ends up summoning kwamis, which is dangerous to him, but very useful.

What really makes this fic great though, is its focus on Adrien’s emotions. You really get a feel for Adrien’s insecurities, especially when it comes to not feeling like he’s good enough for Nino, with not wanting to bother him when he absolutely should, with feeling like he’s not a good enough friend to him, and then there’s dealing with all of Gabriel’s usual abuse on top of that.

Speaking of Nino, this is an Adrino fic (though several characters get crushes on Adrien, Nino’s the one who matters most for this), though a slowburn one. Nino’s clearly head-over-heels for Adrien, but Adrien has like, no context for what a romantic crush feels like and is basically viewing Nino the way he viewed Marinette in canon prior to season 5. He clearly cares for him a lot, including romantically, he just... doesn’t get it.

Anyway, if you want an interesting canon rewrite fic from Adrien’s perspective with Adrino as the main pairing, this is a good story to pick up!

---

If I hold you too close by @bbutterflies

Paris didn’t come to a screeching halt for akumas anymore. They were so commonplace, so frequent, no one stopped their lives unless they were in danger. They trusted the heroes to fix everything if something did go wrong, save them if they got hurt. Adrien was still fighting the urge to find Plagg and go running into battle. Plagg wasn’t here, though. --- Post-season 5 where Adrien got sent to London sooner and gave up his Miraculous to keep Paris safe.

If you know this author, then you've probably already guessed that this is an Adrino fic (seriously if you like Adrino, check out bbutterflies fics, though honestly if you ARE an Adrino fan, you probably already have).

So in this scenario, Adrien was sent to London and didn't get to return, so he gave Plagg the ring so he could find another Holder. In this case, Nino. After a few years, once he's an adult, Adrien manages to come back from London, but he's in ROUGH shape. He drinks a lot, he has a reputation for partying hard and causing disruptions, and is really depressed and hates himself, and hates Felinoir (Nino's Black Cat form) even more, for having what he lost.

But even while Adrien's pushing everyone away to protect himself, his old friends refuse to give up on him, even though he's given up on himself.

While Adrien's problems are the primary focus of the fic, they're not the entire focus. Nino gets a POV, and he has personal issues and insecurities of his own. He has trouble holding down relationships, he doesn't have a lot of close friends these days, and he's struggling to keep up in school with all the akumas he's had to fight. He and Ladybug are fine coworkers, but they aren't much more than that - they aren't friends like Chat Noir and Ladybug were.

Oh, also, Nino's a transman. That's also caused some issues in making and keeping friends.

It's a beautiful story of one person hitting rock-bottom and gradually being pulled back out of it again, until they can stand on their own and push themselves up the rest of the way, and of a friend who discovers their childhood best friend (and crush) has changed enormously since they last saw them, and not in good ways - only to find that their friend is, at their core, still there. They just need help seeing it themselves.

---

Marigami:

Plans Aren’t Everything by BeeRye

Feeling a bit fed up with constantly having her dates with Marinette cut short, Kagami sets aside some time in order to plan the perfect outing for the two of them. Despite being the holder of the Miraculous of the Black Cat, she believes one day of romance isn’t too much to ask for. As long as she treats it all like she does everything else in her life, the results she wants should come to pass. She doesn’t quite know what to do if that ends up not being the case.

This was adorable and captured Kagami’s mindset well, she decided, rather optimistically that she could just brute force the date into going well. Unfortunately, that’s not gonna stop Hawk Moth. Fortunately, Marinette has her own back-up plans…

---

Anchor by @liiinerle

“Marinette. Please take that sabre out of your neck.” “Right. Thanks. I forgot it was there.” She grabbed hold of the guard and pulled; the blade slid out like it had only been run through butter. After dropping it on the floor, she picked up one of the teacups and picked up a biscuit from a tin she’d brought in; she placed the biscuit on the saucer plate and handed the whole thing to Kagami, who could only really resign herself to accepting it. —– Marinette has raised Kagami from the dead, and also happens to be dead herself. It turns out some bad choices were made in the past. But that doesn’t mean they’ll lead to bad outcomes for them now.

I love this, Marinette’s incredibly blase about being a zombie - which makes sense, given how long she’s had to get used to the idea. And she’s waited so long, tried so hard to bring Kagami back as well, though if she didn’t WANT to be back, she’d accede to that request. Luckily, Kagami doesn’t seem to mind as long as she’s with Marinette XD.

---

Galaxy In Your Eyes by @liiinerle

Arriving in Paris, Kagami almost immediately finds herself assaulted by a dark, infectious butterfly. When she wakes up, a ladybug-themed superhero is standing over her, and her eyes are like holes into an empty, vast, and incredibly alluring universe… An AU where the two main Miraculous function differently from the norm.

Nice Marigami fic here! Or should I say, Ladygami - technically Marinette doesn’t exist, only Ladybug, who’s an immortal creation goddess, or something like that. But she still fights to protect Paris from Hawk Moth alongside Chat Noir, who is still a normal, squishy human underneath the suit.

Anyway, there’s a but of inspiration from Nimona here, with a lot of people being scared of Ladybug because she’s a bit… out there, especially when she shapeshifts to have like, 6 extra arms and a lobster tail. Kagami’s into it though XD

---

Accidents Are Also Miracles by @liiinerle

After a few turbulent days where four new people discover her secret identity, Marinette loses faith in her ability to keep the secret hidden. Wracked with doubts and insecurities, she pleads with Alya to take over as Scarabella, but she still can't let those worries go. Especially not once Monarch starts taking a particular, and personal, interest in her.

Along the way, she also starts to date Kagami, and has to deal with changing feelings about herself, Adrien, Alya, Kagami, and the idea of being Ladybug. At the same time, Alya works to uncover Monarch's secret identity, while Kagami struggles against a controlling parent, and a girlfriend who seems bent on destroying herself - with or without Monarch's involvement.

Fantastic Marigami fic here! You’ve got three major POVs in this fic: Marinette, Kagami, and to my delight, Alya. I loved getting to see Alya cope with taking over as Scarabella especially.

But of course, this fic centers more around Marinette and Kagami, with Marinette struggling with Monarch targeting her, and Kagami struggling against her abusive parent, as well as both of them trying to navigate their relationship together when they know that not everyone will approve. 

There’s also some other plots going on in here, like Sabrina breaking away from Chloe and becoming more independent (and closer to Adrien in fact), as well as a Lila takedown plot, though thankfully not one that involves demonizing other characters. While there are conversations about people believing Lila and siding with her, no one’s actually attacked for it except for Lila herself.

Oh yeah, and while this fic may not have much focus on Adrien, he’s still treated fairly and with respect, even when he messes up. He can make mistakes, but people understand where he’s coming from, and are still kind to him and want things to be okay, and to help him escape his abusive circumstances.

---

Marcnath:

Day 7: Book by Andromeda612

During one of his works, Marc comes across a rather interesting book.

MarcNath AU fic here! Basically Marc is a super powerful warlock, and is brought in to help with the case of a lying witch who apparently caused a lot of problems for people, using her magic to help fool everyone. She’s actually dead by the time the story starts, and everyone’s trying to go back through and figure out what she’s done and why memories surrounding her seem to be foggy. Meanwhile there’s a book she left behind which appears to be sentient, and which Marc’s taken a liking too...

---

don't you worry child by @mexicancat-girl

Marc and Nathaniel have a good life, married and living together in a cottage in the woods. But they consider having children at some point. Marc in particular really wants to start a family with his husband. He knows the fey are real, so he goes searching in the woods to find one to strike a deal. He may get a bit more than he bargained for in the process.

This is based on a tumblr post that’s been going around, which I think a lot of people will recognize as they continue going through the story. That post is credited at the end of the fic, so as not to spoil the plot.

---

Confession Plans of Questionable Sanity by yellow14

Nathanael Kurtzberg has a confession to make. He’s in love with his big classmate Ivan. With the help of Marc, Marinette, Adrien and Nino, he’s going to confess, using increasingly complicated schemes. Marc meanwhile, is busy coming up with even more complicated schemes to sabotage those schemes so he can confess HIS feelings for his redheaded friend. Nothing could POSSIBLY go wrong with this, right? Written for the March 2023 gift exchange on the Miraculous Fanworks Discord forum for CassieTheweirdWolf.

This fic’s just really funny. These kids love to make things waaaaay harder than they need to be. But hey, everything ends up working out in the end, even if it’s not the way they planned!

---

Evillustrator Reimagined by onewaywriteturn

A full, mostly-standalone rewrite of the episode "The Evillustrator".

Nathaniel never planned to tell anyone about his secret crush on his friend Marc, but his world changes when Chloe picks up his sketchbook and mocks his art in front of the whole class, inadvertently outing him as bisexual. Now as the Evillustrator, he has two objectives: to take vengeance on Chloe for what she did to him and to go on a date with Marc for his birthday.

At the same time, Marinette is already struggling to defend Sabrina from Chloe when she learns of the Evillustrator's crush on Marc, one of her good friends. And while getting Marc involved with an akuma fight is messy enough, the fact that Marc has secretly liked Nathaniel for a long time complicates the situation so much more.

If you ever wanted to see Evillustrator rewritten to focus around NathMarc, this is the fic for you! The two of them just PINE for each other so hard and are so convinced that the other person couldn’t possibly actually want to date them, even with Evillustrator making it uh. Exceedingly obvious XD.

---

I'd Do Anything For $20 (To Feel More In Control) by Shroomifyiy

Bee!Nathaniel AU one shot (because I think he's silly teehee) Nathaniel hated keeping secrets, especially from someone he cared about. But unfortunately, it's not up to him to decide that. Marc feels hurt from Nathaniel's actions. He just wants his boyfriend to be honest with him. Hawkmoth is a bitch ass motherfucker. Enough said.

Fun Nathmarc fic here! I love seeing Nathaniel's interactions with Pollen, and him cope with the strain on his relationship with needing to run off all the time to go fight akumas with only the flimsiest of excuses. He loves Marc deeply, as deeply as Marc loves him. But Marc's getting suspicious and wondering what's going on, and Nathaniel doesn't think he can tell him.

---

Handle With Care by @dragonchris

AU where soulmates can feel each other's emotions. But having a soulmate isn't always beautiful and romantic. Sometimes it's messy. Sometimes it hurts. Marc and Nath have to learn what that means for them.

This was cute, I loved seeing how Nathaniel and Marc both thought about their soulmate, and how they cope with the aftermath of Reverser in this AU. Helps that Alix is a platonic soulmate of Nathaniel's here (Nathaniel has two soulmates).

---

Lukadrien:

When feelings are too big for words by ClockworkCaptain

When Luka takes a gig playing for a drag show he's falls hard and fast for the drag queen Buttercup who uses her performances to work through her own emotions. Meanwhile Adrien's been using drag to work through his own emotions and thinks maybe Luka coming back into his life and showing interest might mean a second chance. Made for @mlsecretsanta 2022

One of the issues I tend to have with Luka shipfics, and with Lukadrien especially (though I think Lukanette actually has this problem worse) is how Luka tends to disappear within the fic and the pairing, feeling more like “The Love Interest” than his own person. Not so here! While most of the intrigue surrounds Adrien, I still got the sense of Luka being his own person, not just existing in the fic for Adrien.

I adored Adrien getting to display an aspect of himself through persona and performance - that does align well with how he approaches Chat Noir - and overall I just had a lot of fun with this fic!

---

forever (and a little bit) by @rainbow-arrow

Now the world was out of tune. It was messy and blurry and Luka could not fathom waking up tomorrow and accepting his new life. He had less than nothing. How could he care about anything when the better half of his melody was replaced with silence. --- see also: Luka's villain origin story

This is a tragedy, don't go into it expecting a happy ending. Adrien breaks up with Marinette because he's upset over her lying to him about his father's fate and not telling him he's a sentimonster, and gradually becomes closer to Luka instead, first as a friend and later as a lover. There are fragments of story from the future that let you know this love story isn't going to last...

It's rated M, though I think that's mostly because of Adrien's injuries. I can see why it's M rated, but I think most teens should be fine reading this.

---

Two is Company by Shadownoble

Adrien’s father wants him to play for an upcoming party. Only this time he won’t be doing it alone.

This Lukadrien fic's adorable! Luka's got selective mutism, which Adrien takes in stride. I love how their relationship develops, they're smitten with each other! Though of course while Gabriel brought the two of them together, he's an obstacle too. Because he's a dick.

---

Julerose:

How Could I Not? by SorryJustAnotherPerson

In fairy tale books, Princesses were saved by nights from ferocious dragons. Those books were not their story, but Rose was happy to flip over a new page with her Juleka every single day. Many years ago, she was put to this tower by her parents and her kingdom, along with a fire breathing dragon, so she could find her prince charming one day. How foolish for them to not calculate her falling in love with the dragon. I mean seriously. How could she not?

I love fairy tale type stories, especially fractured fairy tales. And Juleka being a dragon is awesome. This is just a fun and adorable story.

---

You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess by @mexicancat-girl

With Team Miraculous now full-time holders, Ladybug has them patrolling in pairs like her and Chat Noir. New partners Pigella and Purple Tigress get along phenomenally, their easy banter and similar wavelengths making working with each other a joy in and out of combat. But sometimes Tigress is surprised just how close she is with her partner. Sometimes she tries not to feel too guilty thinking about it.

There’s some nice Julerose here! I love them kinda getting into a lovesquare with each other, though it’s not as much of a problem as it is in canon since it’s reciprocal in every relationship and they’re both down for a poly. It’s fun, and I love the “Luka attempting to woo some of his love interests” plot going on in the background XD.

---

Chlobrina:

Tides of Time by JayJoy3000

Chloe, to her disdain, attends a prestigious university in London where she happens to run into her traitorous, ex-best friend who left Paris years ago without an explanation. But Sabrina is not the shy pushover she once was... Or, the one where Chloe Bourgeois absolutely does NOT spend months pining after Sabrina Raincomprix. No, that would be ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

I love how this fic handles Chloe, this is a Chloe who's realized her parents are crap and decided to try to be better, and made some real friends with Juleka and Luka (and seems to be on decently friendly terms with the rest of the class, but they don't come up much), but still has a ways to go, with not really understanding why Sabrina ghosted her, that Sabrina wasn't as happy as she thought.

Also at the beginning of the story Chloe still believes she's straight. Chloe is the ONLY one who believes Chloe is straight XD.

---

Hanahaki by @generalluxun

First fic: Late Bloomer

On what might very well be the last night of her life, Sabrina Raincomprix pulls out a very special scrapbook, pressed between the pages is the past, the past she has never shared with anyone. She relives how she got to this moment one page at a time, preparing herself for the end. A phone call interrupts her self-imposed exile and brings news that could change her life forever. Even if it does though the question looms... change it how?

I love this series, how it shows how both Sabrina and Chloe have changed, how bad Chloe's circumstances are, and how much she needs help. She's not in good shape when Sabrina reunites with her - she's got a pretty severe eating disorder, for one thing - and Sabrina can't just... leave things like they are.

I love the delving into of Chloe's and Sabrina's psychology and viewpoints, and them both growing as a result (this is solely from Sabrina's perspective, but Chloe's the focus of the plot, so you see a lot of her).

---

DJWifi:

Strangely Familiar by @sunfoxfic

Alya Césaire’s life is perfect. Indeed, between the success of the Ladyblog, how well she’s doing in school, and the fact that she’s a superhero who has never bore the weight of a crisis of epic proportions, her life almost couldn’t be better. Almost. But Alya has always been a go-getter, and so she’ll chase after that perfect life if it kills her. Which is how she ends up rushing to move out of her father’s apartment and in with Marinette, Adrien, and a complete stranger: Nino Lahiffe. And in fact, her life does seem perfect — she and Nino are fast friends. They spend a lot of time together and get to know each other really well. But in the end, fortunate situations will bear unfortunate truths, and she learns things about herself that aren’t quite comfortable. Like I said, though: Alya has always been a go-getter, and she won’t let new feelings deter her from chasing after her perfect life.

This is the single longest DJWifi-centric fic on AO3 (which is a travesty) and it is GLORIOUS. Alya and Nino are both well fleshed-out here, with their own problems and baggage they’re dealing with, but it’s easier together.

---

disconnected by just_an_ordinary_fan

Lady Wifi believes she might be the only one who does not want to obey Hawkmoth's orders. When she sees another akuma hesitate in the battle, she finds she might not be entirely alone.

I actually wrote my own fic, Nullius in Verba, based off of this one. It’s short but has an intriguing premise, with all the akumas being transported to this warehouse after the fight’s over, having been basically forced to do Hawkmoth’s bidding. The akumas also don’t seem to remember who they were before, or even that they WERE ordinary people before, which is an interesting twist.

---

Alyanette:

is it chill that you're in my head? by bringthestorm

Alya stared at the picture plastered across the homepage of every single tabloid and news site, whispering every curse she could think of under her breath. SHOCKING SECRET ROMANCE BETWEEN LADYBLOGGER AND PARISIAN SUPERVILLAIN REVEALED!!! the headline announced, casually shouting the words she had been dreading for all of Paris to read. --- Alya had always assumed that someday Paris would discover that she had secretly been kissing their most wanted vigilante, but she had never thought it would happen so soon. As the domino effects of her relationship with Ladybug go spiraling through her life, Alya turns her sights towards the one responsible: the elusive superhero Hawkmoth. AKA Someone outs Alya and her girlfriend so she retaliates by deciding to take down Hawkmoth 

I recommend this to anyone who either A. Loves Alya and wants to see more of her in a starring role, or B., wants to see an AU where Parisians could feasibly believe that Hawkmoth is the good guy, and that Ladybug and Chat Noir are, if not villains, at least reckless.

---

the best laid plans (of bugs and bakers) by @mexicancat-girl

Paris is buzzing with the appearance of a new ladybug-themed hero, Scarabella. Alya decides to use her second hero identity to help her best friend Marinette. A bit of her flirting with Marinette is bound to make Marinette’s crushes jealous and finally ask her out! Her plan is fool-proof…! Except when it’s not. Not enough people are talking about Scarabella flirting with Marinette. How can Alya properly help her best friend if the news can’t be bothered to cover Marinette’s budding romance with Scarabella and only posts things about Marinette with Chat Noir?! So Alya puts her all into her plan, upping up her flirting each time she appears as the newbie hero Scarabella. This totally does not backfire in any way.

I adore fics that center on Alya, I haven’t exactly been shy about that fact. This is a nice one for some Alyanette adorableness! (And some Scarabella and Chat banter, I really enjoyed reading that as well). “Fake” flirting to make crushes jealous tends to turn real very quickly, and this is no exception. It’s hilarious, Alya’s the last one to figure out that her romantic relationship with Marinette is very much real XD.

---

Feluka:

Boomer!Luka: FeLuka Ending series by @19thsentry-blog

In the Shadows (the first fic in the series) summary:

On one side is Luka, 140-year-old Snake Miraculous holder and keeper of the Guardian's secrets, on the other is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a relatively newly minted hero of Paris and Guardian of the Miracle Box. Each is looking to fulfill their promises to their now gone mentors to reunite the Kwamis and keep them safe. Sounds simple--until you throw in a rocky start, the Atlantic Ocean, Félix Graham de Vanily, and a whole host of secrets…and suddenly simple becomes complicated (story of Marinette's life, right?).

So this is obviously way outside my normal wheelhouse. I don’t typically read Lukanette fics, even ones that turn into FeLuka later on in the series (though boy it becomes apparent quickly that the author’s fascinated with FeLuka’s dynamic.) But this one is really good, with the best Luka-centric fics I’ve ever read, and some of the best Felix-centric content as well. I love how Luka has his own baggage here, with all the pressure of wandering around for over a century, looking after the few Miraculous he found, trying to keep what’s left of the Order alive, unaware of Fu’s survival or of the Miraculous user’s re-emergence in Paris. There’s a lot of focus on Luka’s own feelings and thoughts and problems, not just on helping other people with them. 

The plot works even without the romantic aspect, so even if Lukanette isn’t a pairing that draws you in, I still recommend this fic, so long as you don’t actively dislike the pairing itself. And even though it’s a Lukanette fic, Adrien and Alya are treated fairly and with respect. Adrien may not end up with Marinette and is bummed about it, but the narrative is still kind to him overall, there’s clearly no ill well towards him, or Alya for that matter. (There are later fics in the series that focus more on Adrien just healing and coping and living after finding out that his father’s a villain and his mom’s been in the basement this whole time, and in the multiversal travel fic, Alya gets some standout appearances as Scarabella which are fun).

And FELIX - it’s clear that 19thsentry has this whole conception about Felix’s psychology. He’s wrapped in a ton of self-loathing until it started to consume him, made him lash out. Him being a sentimonster, wanting to get the Peacock Miraculous, actually gave him some direction for that at least. And he’s just in this pit of his own making, until he meets Luka, who can see through him when no one else can, who cares for him even though he doesn’t understand why, who’d been through so much over the years and yet kept himself kind. He’s attracted like a moth to a flame, infuriated that he cares, yet not able to stop himself from caring about this mysterious, infuriating musician. 

Yeah if you can’t tell this is the series that really sold me on FeLuka as a couple.

Oh yeah, one of the fics in here is M-rated, and it does earn the M rating for sexual content, though it’s nothing too major.

---

See This Chance by @19thsentry-blog

Luka died in 2016. Yep. Crushed by the Arc de Triumph when Mayura’s Robustus slammed into it. It was kind of a big deal, but once you’re dead, you’re dead—especially when there’s no Lucky Charm to bring you back. Luka’s been dealing with it in the typical ways. Written for FeLuka week 2023.

Yes, this is FeLuka. Not one of the typical ships I read, but I ain’t opposed to it, and this is a nice foray into the pairing. I love ghost AUs! Luka’s just fumbling around, unsure what to do with his incorporeal existence, until he starts haunting Felix. It’s an intriguing plot and I gotta admit, I wish it was longer so it could be fleshed out more, but what’s here is good.

---

One-offs:

Come Take My Hand by @carelisswriting

Luka heard his soulmate for the first time when he was ten. All he knows about her is that she likes fencing. It's just a coincidence that Kagami likes fencing, right? (Lukagami Soulmate AU, written for the Miraculous Ladybug Secret Santa Exchange!)

I’m a sucker for soulmate fics, and this had an interesting take on it, with your soulmate able to hear you thinking only about the thing you’re most passionate about. Loved Kagami’s way of showing Luka she’s his soulmate especially!

---

Attack of the Crystal Zombies by @trainsinanime

Kagami had spent more and more time hanging out with Zoé, talking about things like families, expectations and crushes on Marinette. It was only natural, probably, that she would help Zoé practice flirting. That was definitely a great idea. Granted, the deadly Akuma battle around them was a bit of an issue…

Quality Zoegami fic here! I loved how Kagami kept thinking she was bad at flirting, but it was sure working on Zoe XD. The akuma attack going on around them, interweaving with their conversation, added a bit of spice to the whole affair!

---

All Of Them? Every Single One? by @liiinerle

It turns out that Marinette loves a lot more people than she’d initially thought.

This is hilarious and adorable. Tikki lays out how Marinette has a crush on basically every girl she’s met - and even girls she doesn’t know are girls yet XD. 

---

Emotional Mountain Ranges by @liiinerle

After Zoé’s attempted romantic confession to Marinette is interrupted by an incensed Chloé and Audrey Bourgeois, she’s left distraught and adrift, a crying mess in an alleyway far from home. Ladybug saves her from the incoming akuma, and tries to help her back on her feet - and Zoé wonders what she could possibly have done to earn this much attention from a superhero…

Lovely Zoenette fic here! I especially like how Marinette talks to Zoe, reassures her that she’s good enough, that she (as Ladybug) isn’t as perfect and composed as she thinks, and just… tries to get Zoe to have more confidence in herself. It’s mostly from Zoe’s perspective too, which I like since there aren’t a lot of Zoe POV fics.

---

Swimming in Circles by @generalluxun

Life has moved on for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s not where she thought she would be seven years ago, but she’s still in a good place. Classes, hobbies, friends, her life is full despite the lingering shades of her faded yet sweet middle-school romance. Then just as quick at the first time, someone drops into her life and turns her into an absolute mess once more. Love and crushes might be her undoing, but she’s got a little more experience this time to weather the storm. This fateful stranger stirs memories as well as emotions inside of her, and with a forthrightness her old self would be jealous of, Marinette takes the plunge.

So this is a Trans fic, with Marinette’s new crush being a trans version of a certain classmate who she doesn’t recognize, who’s changed a lot, for the better. I like how it deals with the baggage she has with that person, has her think that through.

---

Three’s company by @torvalvt

Kagami has been doing her best for years to ignore her feelings for her friends. It doesn’t help that Adrien and Marinette insist on spending as much time as possible with her, even going so far as inviting her along on their dates together. If only the affection she felt for them wouldn’t get in the way of their relationship. Because it is growing harder and harder to tamp down her feelings with how close they are getting to her.

This is adorable. Adrien and Marinette really want Kagami to join their relationship and she just doesn’t dare hope for it. If you want some adorable Adrigaminette from Kagami’s perspective, I recommend checking this fic out!

---

Stone Streak by kingxuppu

Ladybug and Violet Tigress had been fighting the mysterious Duskwing for eight years now. Through the years, the two have grown stronger together and even gotten married, they are waiting until they finally beat Duskwing to start a family. At least, that was the plan. When Juleka gets confronted with the realization that her friends are starting families of their own, she realizes just how badly she wants to be a mother.

Due to unfortunate circumstances, Juleka and Marinette get the chance to adopt Juleka's young modeling friend Adrien.

Maybe they aren't quite a traditional family, but with magic, rockstars, and fame, normal was never an option.

Via Discovery: There are actually two terms of venery for tigers, depending on the makeup of the group. The first is a streak of tigers and this refers to a female tiger and her cubs.

Now this is a rare pairing, there’s not a lot of Julenette fics! Adrien and Rose actually have some ship tease going on, the whole kid group in canon got broken up into two groups here, one that remained around canon age (so like 13) which notably consists of Chloe, Rose, and Adrien, and then I think everyone else are adults in their mid-twenties. It’s weird seeing Adrien as Marinette’s and Juleka’s son, but hey it works! I love how Juleka really showed Adrien the ropes on modeling and became a Mama tiger for him, the fic’s mostly just very sweet, though with a surprisingly dark final act. 

---

In Direct Opposition by @generalluxun

Alya Cesaire is a brand new student to Francis Dupont, to Paris even. The first student she meets is one Chloé Bourgeois, and Alya is determined to make a friend. Things advance Chaotically. Her new 'friend' is definitely a handful, and suddenly Paris has a supervillain and two brand new superheroes! Alya finds herself balancing a lot of things, trying to live up to her ideals and those of her icons.

And then reality seems to contradict itself.

As time progresses it seems to happen more often. Becoming a hero, battling villains, staying alive, working through friendships. Something is lurking, tweaking events at times, changing them, and no one seems aware. Alya will need all her wits to get to the bottom of this. Her investigative mind can only get her so far though, and then she needs to rely on her friends. This is not a foe you can beat head on.

I betaed this entire fic, it’s really good! I adore the focus on Alya’s philosophy here, her determination to be a hero, to help people and defeat evil - and that defeating evil means trying to reform the people doing bad things when possible, to try to save EVERYONE, even the “villain”. I thought it was really clever the ways Alya would redirect Chloe and subtly encourage her to be a better person, while also trying to get the people around her to give her a second chance and keep an open mind. 

Also Alya and Chloe are an adorable sapphic couple XD.

---

Herbs And Steam by @liiinerle

Juleka le Flor Blef, nature witch from near the forest of Couffaine, arrives at Eiffel Castle so she can partake in the Queen's Trials - a contest to determine the strongest witch in all of France. She wants to prove the strength of her magic, but when she arrives, her attention is quickly distracted by two very interesting women: Kagami, the princess, who seems to act nothing like a princess should; and Marinette, the blacksmith, who has created a magic all her own through metal, steam, and ingenuity. Juleka is immediately besotted with both of them, and needs to work extra hard to focus on her magic. Juleka also soon becomes aware that there is stronger magic at Eiffel castle than she had expected. For one thing, there's a tree in the courtyard put there years ago by a witch whose powers seem to surpass hers; for another, there's Alya la Pluvie Versaunt, who must be the most powerful mage Juleka has ever met...

Unusual poly here, there aren't a lot of Juleka/Kagami/Marinette fics! I love the world here, getting to see all these different witches honing their craft, and Juleka making friends with many of them - though especially the nonwitches Kagami and Marinette, of course XD. If you like some femslash or a good fantasy AU, this fic should scratch that itch!

---

Graveyard Love Series by @liiinerle

A brief two-parter series which chronicles what happens after Lila dies suddenly, and Marinette finds out that she's the one saved as Lila's emergency contact on her phone. In part one, Marinette seeks answers with Alya's help - and what she finds ends up testing their friendship. In part two, Alya seeks to rebuild their relationship - and perhaps build it into something more.

First fic in series: Absent Soul

Just for a moment, Alya seemed speechless, her eyes as wide as the hallway was long. “You’re really going to start to believe her now?” Marinette sighed. “It’s not her I believe. I just… I don’t think she could manage all… this if it was fake. And besides… me, her emergency contact? That’s too bizarre to be a lie.” Even more than that, it was too bizarre to be true. So what could Lila possibly hope to achieve? “I’m not sure I agree with you,” said Alya. “But I’m not gonna let you go this alone. And I’m pulling you away if I smell anything cooking.” The thing was, Marinette wasn’t sure she agreed with herself. Nothing made sense. Even just knowing more would help settle the tumult in her brain, which felt like it had been speeding up almost imperceptibly for every door she’d passed through since the balcony. --- Marinette suddenly learns that she's saved as Lila's emergency contact on her phone... the same day she learns that Lila has been in a fatal accident. She is then pulled through a week of responsibilities and discoveries she never imagined having before, and a growing fondness for someone she once hated.

So this is fascinating, I love how it explored the insanity of whatever bizarre situation Lila has going on. Marinette's great here, she doesn't understand why Lila did the things she did, or what her background truly was, but if she had no one else, then at least she has Marinette to make sure her remains are taken care of properly. Though perhaps to a worrying extent. Thankfully, Alya's here as well to give support, and perhaps an intervention if things go too far. The second fic in the series focuses around Alya giving that intervention, of a sort.

---

And Mark Ronson Can Get Stuffed by @liiinerle

Marinette gets a call from Vivica, Jagged Stone's guitarist, with a proposition. She wants a producer - and she's heard Marinette's the best one for the job. At least, that's what Jagged says, and well, the only real competition is Bob Roth... ... but Marinette still isn't prepared for the whirlwind of feelings she'll get spinning through her brain whenever she sees Vivica play. Or for the realisations she'll make about herself as she sits engulfed in a type of music that feels like it gets her, and gazes up at the angel who's holding the guitar.

So this is a RARE rare pair, I've never seen Vivinette before! Man though, is this a great first fic for the pairing! I love seeing Marinette's efforts to be the best producer she can be for Vivica, not totally realizing at first why she's so nervous and determined to be the best she can be for her... and then becoming all too aware of her feelings XD. I especially adore how enamored Marinette becomes with Vivica's songs, being deeply affected by them but unable to put her feelings into words well enough to give feedback.

---

Stop Time by @liiinerle

— she put her hand on the page, blocking it so the words wouldn’t scream so loudly at her. They had screamed more than enough already. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her fingers together, crumpling the paper slightly — just enough that it didn’t look so pristine and mocking. It needed to be full of despair, in every possible way. “Marinette —” started Mullo. “No! Never again. Marinette is… gone, forever.” She let go of the paper. Now it lay alone in the light, as the last thing she could ever tell them. That she loved them, that she’d miss them, that she would never talk to them again. A suicide note. Of sorts. ----- Fu accidentally names Marinette as the new guardian, and not Ladybug. She's forced to fake her own death and go into hiding in order to get away from Hawk Moth. She finds a hiding spot in the Louvre, but there she's forced to face the effects of her going away by a very unexpected source: her friend Alix.

Definitely mind the tags on this one! But if it ain't triggering to you, then I highly recommend reading it. You can really feel Marinette's struggles here, with basically making herself homeless, unable to reach out to her friends and family, needing to steal just to feed herself and the kwamis, and then dealing with everyone in her life grieving... and then moving on. Except for a few people who don't...

It's just... it's really good, really heart-wrenching.

---

The Only Love We Keep by @nemaliwrites

Zoé is used to wanting things she can’t have — loving people who do not love her back. She’s made peace with that. But as soon as she meets Scarabella, she’s a goner. Or, five times Zoé’s love wasn’t reciprocated, and one time it was.

I love this analysis of Zoe and her circumstances, her mindset, her philosophy based on how she's grown up. How she yearns for her mom to actually love her, but she just... doesn't. And how she finds friends who actually care for her, and someone who actually wants her.

---

The Black Cat of the Family by Anonymous

To Felix, Chat Noir is freedom. Pure freedom, unhindered by anything (well, except perhaps a little too much dedication to Ladybug). He goes where he pleases when he pleases. He acts so ridiculous, like no one was ever watching, even when everyone was watching. He chafes at orders and authority, even when the orders are coming from Ladybug herself. He's free to be whoever he wants, in a way Felix only wishes he could be. So of course he starts flirting with the catboy. It also doesn't hurt that the superhero is easy on the eyes. Chat Noir, meanwhile, is simply trying to figure out how to reject his cousin without revealing his own secret identity. But when has anything in his love life ever worked out for him? Or, in other words: Somehow the Fathom-Graham de Vanily-Agreste family becomes even more dysfunctional in brand new ways.

This was fun, I liked the natural way Chat caught Felix's attention with his kindness, wit, and hidden depths. It makes sense why Felix would slowly develop a crush on him, while Chat just thinks that he's having fun with his cousin.

Also Chat's reaction when he realizes that Felix is, in fact, confessing his crush on him, is just priceless XD.

[brewed-pangolin]

4Runner wingman

A scene inspired by the car sex scene in Say Anything. The scene isn't graphic whatsoever but it's their first time and it's very sweet.

Breathe

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes, Angst to start, fluffy smut to smooth it out (Tasteful smut. Not my usual filth)

Synopsis: Your first time being intimate with Soap is within the confines of his 4Runner and after a lengthy deployment. And he shows you exactly what kind of sessions you have to look forward to.

I decided to use this as a scene where Soap and reader become intimate for the first time. Because why the hell not. Nothing sexier than a good first romp in the back of a 4Runner to heal the wounds of heartache and yearning.

And this is another piece for @glitterypirateduck Soap It Up Challenge. I used prompts 16, 19, 25 and 26.. Let's steam up them windows a bit, shall we.

WC 1.6k (Oopsies)

You could feel it. Feel it in the marrow of your bones and in the ever growing ache bellowing out deep within your chest. An ache that grew with every shallow breath, desperately trying to cage the sob in your throat and put on that calm and stoic demeanor for him while your mind branded every ounce of his being into your memories.

You were falling for him. And you were falling hard.

Like a dense boulder listlessly plunging further into the depths of his soul. Unable to find purchase on any parcel of reality as the world around you disappeared and all your focus turned solely onto him.

John MacTavish. The man who pulled you out of your own manufactured hell just as you were about to be shackled in a realm of unending misery.

--

"Ts'alright, bonnie. Only gonnae be gone a few months, yeah?"

His soothing voice abruptly snatched you out of your downward spiral. Batting your eyes with a quick shake of your head to rid the sorrowful thoughts leaching themselves into your weakened mind.

"Only a few months. Yeah," you replied.

Body silently trembling beside him in the passenger seat, fingers clawing at the denim of your jeans to take your mind off the loneliness you were about to endure in his absence.

And that debilitating ache burrowed itself deeper into your chest. Squashing out all notions of confidence, defeaning the electric cadence of your heart, and turning you into a hollowed husk of your former self as you slowly began to wither right in front of him.

"Eh. Look at me." His call yet again pulled you out of your tormented descent.

Gently placing his hand on your thigh to cement you back into the realm of unbearable reality.

Your eyes lingered on the calloused skin of his hand. Grit embedded underneath his nails, streaks of oil, and delicate scratch marks peppering over his knuckles.

In that moment, you cursed yourself for deciding to take it slow. Not giving him the chance to use those talented hands and work you over and over into a frenzied mess.

And you find your voice once more as the emotional toll ultimately breaks down the levee of your weathered composure.

"We haven't even had sex yet."

"So."

"So, what? What if you don't come back? What if I never get to see you again? Feel you again? Kiss you again?"

Mentally, you try to stop.

Breathe.

But the floodgates have burst. And your verbal torrent knows no bounds as the words of admitted misjudgment cascade like rapids over your quivering lips.

"I want to know what it feels like to have you, Johnny. To lose myself. To give in, let go. To feel you..."

You choke. Words trailing off into a breathless whimper as the lump in your throat threatens to swallow you whole.

Wrapping your fingers around his hand to feel his touch one last time in fear of him being pulled out of your crumbling reality.

"Aye. An' ya will," he replies in a promise that both soothes and breaks you entirely.

"It's not over, bonnie. This ain't no deep covert mission. More like, gettin groceries. Stoppin' at th'store, yeah."

You can tell he’s bluffing. Hear it in his voice. That same low rumbling hymn he uses to lull you to sleep now cradling your psyche within the verbal palm of his hand. 

And it works. Every time.

Eventually he forces you to pull your eyes from the aimless stare on your thigh to meet his gaze. Bringing your hand up to his mouth to gently caress your knuckles with his tender lips, muffling his words as they roll over your supple skin.

“Is now a bad time to tell ya I gotta go, lass?”

You're once again thrusted back into reality by the soft timbre of his voice. The world falling back into place, not realizing that within the walls of your own self pity you hadn't noticed that you had made it onto the base.

Your head moved on a swivel. Desperately focusing on any familiar piece of architecture while your mind raced to pick up with the pace of the sporadic beat of your heart.

“Johnny, I’m not ready-”

Your futile plea was quickly silenced by Soaps gaping maw as he swallows the whimperings of your despair. Cupping your cheeks within the palms of his hands, cradling your existence within his grasp as he breathes rejuvenating life into your lungs with a passionate kiss.

Time once again stops. Moments trickle by like slowly descending droplets off the rim of a rusted spigot.

You feel him steadily begin to pull away and greedily you lean forward for one last kiss. Searing the blazing fire of his soul on the tips of your lips to brand him into the deep recesses of your spiraling psyche.

“Stay n’th car til I get through th’door, yeah,” he mumbles quietly against your lips. “I cannae bare to see ya at the ‘elm of my Breagha.”

“You talk like you love her more than me, Johnny.”

“Shu’it, lass.”

With one final blissful connection, he pulls away and exits swiftly out the driver's side door. Your eyes watching his every move as he grabs at the duffel bag from the backseat.

“I’ll text as often as I can, yeah.”

It’s a statement more than a pull for more conversation as he shuts the door before giving you time to answer. Pushing the lump in your throat down into your chest to let in fester and seep through your veins over the coming months.

You do as he asks. As always.

Waiting. Watching him stride over the pavement and disappear from your existence beyond the doors that you are prohibited to enter.

And with all the strength he bestowed on you with his life giving kiss, you shift over into the driver seat and easily adjust it to your body’s specifications.

Pushing down the unfamiliarity of being behind the wheel of his precious ‘Breagha’ as you subconsciously begin counting the days to his return.

--

The next three months are tortuous. Calmed only by the sporadic texts from Soap when he has the briefest of moments on base. They're never more than a few words at length, generally referring to his mental status of him and his fellow squad mates than the actual status of their missions. 

You’ve grown fond of Gaz. He sounds like a true lad, one you’d like to share a pint with. And Price permeates the notion of a father figure to the team. A born leader not afraid to get his hands dirty when the line of duty calls for it. 

And Ghost is exactly that. A ghost. Hauntingly working his way into Johnny’s texts, barely perceivable yet you feel he lends himself to be a mentor in the field to your Scottish soldier. 

All these intermittent communications ease and soothe your weary soul until that final text jolts you out of bed at 2:30 in the morning. 

‘RTB, bonnie. Coming home.’

--

Soap Mactavish made a promise to you three months ago. A pact sealed with a kiss that gave you the strength to carry on in his extended absence. Finding meaning in solitude and letting your heart yearn for him in a way you had never imagined.

And as a true man of his word, he kept that promise.

By God, did he keep it.

--

The air within the confines of Soap’s 4Runner was heavy. Thick with the sweet scent of sweat and sex as it lifted and blanketed the tinted windows with a dense layer of condensation. Leaden and rounded droplets descended down the slick surface that mirrored the meandering motions of your hands down the curve of his sweat ridden back. Curling your fingers to claw at his flesh as he pulled yet another orgasm from deep within your pelvic core.

You had lost count at how many times he brought you to the peak of pleasured ecstasy. Time becoming a meaningless construct as you found solace in each others embrace and allowing the blazing bonds of intimacy to mold your souls into one conjoined entity.

Arching your back and tilting your hips to meet his stuttering thrusts as you gasped for air. The muscles of your abdomen spasming and denying the much needed life force in selfish desire of unending release.

“Breathe, bonnie. Jus’ breathe fer me,” Soap managed breathlessly through his own heavy panting. Holding himself up to hover and give your chest room for much needed expansion.

You take the moment in its entirety within your grasp. Lengthening your diaphragm to fill your lungs as the burn of multiple climaxes flows like flames through your trembling muscles. 

“Fucking hell, Johnny,” you exhale on a low, breathy moan. “Is it always gonna be like this?”

“Aye. It can be.”

“Jesus Christ. Only you would make me have to build an exercise routine around how you fuck me.”

His icy blue gaze bores into your exhausted and blissful expression with a smile that could electrify an entire city block.

“Nah, bonnie. This ain’t fuckin’ ya,” he mutters against your lips, leaning in for a passionate embrace as his muscular frame envelopes over you once more.

“I’d break th’suspension if I did that. Rather break th’bed. Easier ta replace.”

Your arms instinctually wrap around him to keep him firmly flushed against you. Fingers splayed out over the back of his skull to knead through his drench thickened hair.

An all too familiar lump forms within flesh of your throat, not out of anguish or loneliness. Something deeper. More meaningful. More affectionate. 

And without a thought to hold you back the words spill out of your lips by their own accord before your mind has a moment to register the immensity of their meaning.

“I love you, Johnny.”

Soap pulls back immediately. A sudden silence bridging a gap between you as his blank expression is intensified by his piercing blue stare.

You hesitate to breathe. To move. Fearing your unconscious admission has created a rift that will ultimately pull himself away from you.

“Say it again,” he demands. The air of authority around him sending a pulse of renewed arousal coursing through your veins as all fears disappear within his commanding presence.

“I love you.”

There’s a sudden an enigmatic shift that sets deep within him. Eyes blowing wide as he lunges with an almost animalistic growl against your lips.

“Ah love ya, bonnie. So fuckin’ much.”

You had uttered those three words twice while he spent the next thirty minutes declaring his love for you by showing you the true power held within his hips. 

He’d eat the bill. Take out a loan rather than deny the love of his life what she truly wanted.

Auto repairs be damned.

All you had to do was hold on and enjoy the ride. And focus on one word that he so patiently repeated.

Breathe.

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @ghosts-goldendoodle @homicidal-slvt @jynxmirage @kkaaaagt @mykneeshurt @shotmrmiller @obligatoryghoststare @astraluminaaa @punishmepunisher @writeforfandoms @thetrashpossum @luismickydees @simpingoverquestionablemen @queen-ilmaree @havoc973 @foxface013 @haurasha @designateddeadend

[swimmingismywholelife]

The Only Reason

Summary: Even though your relationship with Christian has been rocky, neither of you are willing to go down without a fight.

Warnings: 18+, arguments, panic attack, a lot of crying, angst but a fluffy (if you can call it that I guess) ending, SMUT, some dirty talk, soft dom!Chris, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and make sure you're not allergic to your wrap!), fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is sweet tbh

WC: 4.4K

A/N: It's my birthday but this is a present for all of you! Inspired by "The Only Reason" by 5 Seconds of Summer. My first attempt at smut which lowkey I wasn't supposed to add but it fit anyway. This is a step considering I'm openly horny on main now so you might see more in the future 👀. I literally changed it 1274045923845 times but I'm happy with the way it turned out so I hope you guys think it's good-

"Even though my dizzy head is numb

I swear my heart is never giving up.

You're the reason

The only reason."

~~~

The front door slammed shut, indicating Christian was finally home from training. You sighed, praying this would blow over quickly so you could enjoy your dinner.

The past few weeks had been incredibly frustrating for the both of you. Chelsea had been on a losing streak with hardly any goals and Christian hardly got any play time. He was in the middle of trying to negotiate some sort of deal with the club, either to transfer or give him more playing time. Although it wasn't the option he preferred, it was likely he'd be transferred somewhere else soon, and with that contract talks had to be opened. He loved Chelsea, but the club didn't seem to return that love to him. It heavily weighed on Christian's mind, slowly draining him of the love he had for the sport, sending him deeper into a depressive and angry spiral causing him lash out on everyone.

On top of that, your own stresses had started building up. Your workload had tripled due to you being short staffed. Every time you thought you were done with a project, a modification was added or a brand new one was added to your list of things to do. You were working overtime almost every single day and you were close to ripping your hair out.

Between your work and Christian's training, you'd hardly seen each other over the past few months. He'd been extra short with you recently, something that was pretty unusual for Christian. You were typically the one who struggled to keep your anger in check, but these days it seemed your boyfriend could give you a run for your money. Most days you spent sleeping away from each other as opposed to being cuddled in each others arms. During the very brief moments you did end up spending time together, more often than not it resulted in some kind of an argument.

You both agreed earlier that morning that you were in desperate need of some kind of date night to ease your minds and to spend time together. You decided that a simple dinner would be sufficient enough. It was something small, you wouldn't have to go anywhere, and it was always one of your favorite date ideas since you'd gotten together. You were excited to finally spend time with your boyfriend even if it wasn't anything fancy.

But you knew by the way Christian slammed the door that he thought otherwise. He angrily threw his training bag to the side, grumbling to himself.

"Chris, it doesn't do you any good to pace angrily around the house," you sighed. "At least come eat and try to take your mind off things."

It seemed you only made him angrier.

"God, what don't you get?!" he snapped back. "Fucking food isn't gonna help the situation. Our team is shit, this situation is shit, everything is shit!"

You stood up from your place at the table, upset with Christian for yelling at you when you just wanted to help.

"I understand you're frustrated with everything, but don't take it out on me!" you yelled back. "All I'm trying to do is help you. I'm not a fucking emotional punching bag for you to take your shit out on Christian!"

He slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing throughout the entire house. It startled you. Christian wasn't one to express his anger through violence like this.

"Why do I even keep fucking trying with you?! All you do is nag and nag and nag! You keep 'trying to help' but you're not!" he screamed back. "All you do is get in my face of 'oh Christian do this,' 'oh Christian try and do that.' Get out of my face for once I'm fucking tired of it!"

You were stunned. Your heart with each word Christian spat out at you. You loved him, but you knew you didn't deserve what he'd been giving you for the past few months.

"Fine. I'll 'get out of your face,'" you said calmly.

"Actually you know what? I'll do it myself. Being in here suffocates me," he said venomously, grabbing his keys and storming out the house.

You moved into the bedroom the two of you shared. What once felt like home to you felt like a prison suffocating you the longer you stood in it. And you just fell to your knees and cried.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where it all started going wrong. You and Christian weren't perfect of course, but you just worked. You understood each other like no one else. You'd experienced things together that you'd never had with other people. You hadn't grown up with Christian in the past, but that didn't matter. He was your present and was going to be your future.

But that was then. Somewhere along the way, things changed. Nowadays he barely made time for you. He was gone before you woke up and you were asleep before he came home. Date nights were nonexistent, special occasions stopped being special. You couldn't keep begging for his attention, wondering if this time would be enough to keep it.

You didn't want things to end. That was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do. You loved Christian with everything you had. But you were the only one trying and you both knew that. Somewhere Christian just fell out of love with you while you were desperately trying to grasp onto something. But it was no use. He was gone a long time ago.

Christian was in the middle of figuring out the trajectory of his career, unsure if he was to wait out his contract with Chelsea for the next season or leave for a club that truly appreciated him. And pretty soon, he would be flying back to the States for international break. The last thing you wanted to do was add onto the stress Christian was feeling.

But how long would you have to keep sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of his?

Christian didn't come home that night, nor the night after that, nor the night after that. Not that you really expected him to. He hadn't been home all that much anyway, and even while he was there physically, he wasn't there. So sleeping alone in your bed wasn't that much of a foreign feeling anymore anyway. And the longer he was away, the foggier your mind became. The answer was right there in front of you. This was Christian blatantly telling you how he felt about your relationship. Right?

It wasn't until about a week later that Christian had contacted you, letting you know he'd be coming back that night. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

The door opened, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You could hear the clattering of the keys being placed on the table and footsteps heading up the stairs.

The lights flickered in your bedroom. Your eyes met his, startling him.

"Oh hey, I didn't realize you'd still be up," Christian said surprised, removing his jacket and placing it on a chair.

"We need to talk Christian," you said, trying to prevent your voice from wavering.

"We'll talk in the morning, Y/N. It's kind of late and I don't want another fight right now," he responded.

"I'm serious Christian," you answered, feeling your heart breaking already. "And I don't think this can wait until morning."

"Why do you keep using my full name?" Christian asked uncomfortably. "You only use it like this when something's really wrong."

You didn't answer. Instead you got up from your place on the bed and hugged his waist, completely breaking down. You felt like you couldn't breathe through all the tears and the pain you felt. Your body gave out as you fell to the ground, taking Christian with you.

For a second time that night, Christian was surprised. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

"Hey, hey, baby what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked.

You couldn't get the words out. You only cried harder as he led you back to your bed. You took in this moment with him, not knowing if this was the last night you would sharing with him. You tried to memorize the scent of his favorite cologne, how perfectly you fit into his arms, the way his kisses felt. You wanted to remember how safe you felt with Christian and how your heart longed for him to come home to you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm right here. I won't ever let anything hurt you," he said, trying to soothe you.

Little did he realize he was the reason you were hurting so much.

You held Christian close to you as the weight of your decision started to kick in. You wanted nothing more in this world than to be with Christian. He meant everything to you. You wanted it all with him. You wanted to marry him one day, carry his children, grow old together. You wanted to wear his last name to every game he played, to support him as he reached all his dreams. You could have nothing but Christian and you would be perfectly content.

Your mother had told you growing up that every scenario that came your way had three answers: yes, no, or wait. And you so desperately wanted to believe Christian was your sign that being patient was worth it. That waiting would be worth it. That one day it would bring you the happiness you craved and you deserved.

But how long were you supposed to wait? How long had you waited for him to fulfill his promises? How long had you been patient with him? How long had you stayed loyal every time he'd taken his anger out on you? How long had you been contemplating if you were worth saving? Was this just patience or were you holding onto something that you should've let go of a long time ago?

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier baby," he said, stroking your hair trying to soothe you. "I didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."

You couldn't get words out. You needed just one last night to call yourself his before you could make your final decision.

"Just hold me please," you sobbed out, gripping his body as hard as you could.

"I'll do whatever you need baby. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

Christian was scared. He didn't fully understand what was going on or why you were crying the way you were. But he knew something was off and something was wrong. So he just held you as you let out all the emotions you'd been feeling for weeks.

Christian knew it was more serious than he initially thought when you kept crying for over an hour. He didn't realize how absent he'd been from your life until then. How long had you been feeling such emotional turmoil? What else had he missed? Why were you crying this hard for so long?

Truthfully, he was afraid to find out. As shitty of a boyfriend he'd been over the past few weeks, Christian loved you with every fiber of his being. The last thing he wanted to do was lose you, the relationship you'd built up for years together.

But he knew the likelihood of a break up was probably looming in your mind. Was this it? Was this a sign that something was coming to an end? He didn't want to know. He knew you two needed to talk, especially after the way he walked out. But he was afraid of the outcome.

So he just held you close to him, praying this wouldn't be the last time he got to feel you like this. He took in your scent, trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms. He left kisses on your forehead, shoulders, and cheeks, wiping the tears away as he went.

You eventually calmed down, your grip on Christian never loosening.

"Christian I-" you gasped out.

"It's okay baby, take your time. You don't have to rush anything you don't want to," he whispered gently, kissing your forehead again.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," he said. "If anything, I should be the one who's sorry. I've been such a horrible boyfriend. I shouldn't have said what I said, I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Christian…" you trailed.

"Shh, it's okay baby. It's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk about this in the morning. Just let me hold you right now. Everything is going to be okay," he said softly.

"Chris I'm scared," you whispered.

His heart broke a little knowing you were scared of what morning would entail.

"I'm scared too baby. I'm so fucking scared," he admitted. "But we'll talk about this when it comes okay? Just be here with me now. Nothing else is going to hurt you tonight I promise."

The two of you were laying on your side facing each other. Your head was tucked into his chest, tears flowing every so often. Christian never once let go, not even when his arms started going numb. You were afraid to close your eyes, scared that Christian would be gone the moment you opened them.

Your body stopped shaking and you eventually stopped crying during the early morning hours. You were quiet. And if he didn't know you well, Christian would've believed you were asleep.

But he knew better. He knew that you couldn't sleep because neither could he. Just two souls barely hanging on by a thread not knowing how to fix it.

Did you want to fix things? Or were things so far gone there was nothing you could do anymore? Was this still worth it? Was a future still possible? Would love be enough to save this?

You were set on breaking up with him the night before. You were so sure that's what you wanted. But under the moonlight that peaked through your window, you didn't know what to do anymore. Your head was dizzy with thoughts and you couldn't think clearly anymore.

"Christian?" you called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?"

His body tensed at the question. He was quiet at first, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He knew this was it. His answer would either make or break your relationship.

"I don't know baby," he answered honestly.

You nestled your head further into his chest.

"I don't want to keep doing this. Guessing if you still want us. You're either in or you're out Chris. I don't want to keep playing your games."

Christian had to stop himself from letting out a sob and took a deep breath. You didn't trust him or his words anymore. And realizing that absolutely broke his heart.

"Can you look at me Y/N?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment before lifting your head. Christian cupped your cheek with his hand, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. He rested his forehead on yours.

"You don't have to say anything okay? Just hear me out. I know I've been a shitty boyfriend. I know I haven't been there for you. I haven't treated you well. I've lashed out on you when you've done nothing but love and support me. Through all the shit the world's thrown at me this season, you've been everything I need and more. And I haven't appreciated that. And you deserve so much more than what I've been giving you."

Christian stopped for a moment, taking the opportunity to look at you. How could he have hurt you so bad? How could he let everything slip between his fingers?

"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm sorry that you've lost trust in my words. You always tell me that my words, my actions, and my intentions need to line up and they haven't been and I'm so sorry for that. I'm sorry I've broken so many promises. And most of all, I'm sorry that you're hurting and I'm the cause of it when I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you. I failed to see what was right in front of me and I've taken you for granted and I'm so sorry."

A tear fell from your eye, quickly caught by Christian's thumb.

"I don't deserve you. I really don't. You know that and I know that better than anyone."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead further into yours.

"But please don't give up on us. I know you can't trust my words right now, but I swear to you I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I can't let you go. Not now and not ever. No more games. No more confusion. No more trying to guess where my head and where my heart stand with you. Right here, right now, forever and always I'm with you. My head is with you. My heart is with you. All of me is with you. And I promise I'll prove it every day for as long as I live. So please. Give me one last chance to be with you."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. How could you trust him? He was saying all the right words, but did he really mean it? Were they more empty words?

Yes, no, or wait. Just like your mother said. But you'd waited so long that it seemed almost futile. Had you been wasting your time? Or was this what you were meant to do?

And though your head was fighting with itself, dizzy and numb from the constant questions running around, you knew where your heart lied. So you did the only thing you felt could portray how you felt enough to give him and answer.

You lifted your chin and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip on your cheek was firm, bringing you as close as you could physically get. The tears wouldn't stop flowing from either of your faces, but none of that mattered. What mattered was here and now.

Yes, no, or wait. And you finally got your answer.

He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And truthfully, he needed you to breathe.

You pulled back ever so slightly, just enough for you to be able to talk.

"You get one chance at this Chris. Only one," you said breathlessly. "Don't waste it."

His lips were back on yours in response, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan as he pushed you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. He pulled back keeping his forehead to yours breathing heavily.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much you don't even know," he said. "I won't waste it. Not ever again."

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to your lips, needing to feel him closer. Your hands traveled underneath his shirt, nails scratching his skin lightly as they roamed his chest.

Christian pulled back from you for a moment to rip his shirt off before attaching his lips back to yours, giving you more access to him. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring you even closer to him.

"Chris," you whispered. "I need-"

"I know baby," he answered. "I know. Let me take care of you."

You whimpered beneath him as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of marks as he gave you sloppy but gentle kisses. He bit down on the spot just below your ear, causing you to let out a loud moan.

"Does that feel good baby?" he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine that resonated throughout your whole body.

"God yes Chris it feels so good please," you begged beneath him.

His hands grabbed the bottom of your shirt, bringing it over your head and pressing his chest against yours as he kissed your lips gently.

"So fucking beautiful. And all mine," he said to himself.

His lips returned to your neck, this time the trail leading to your breasts. You gasped as you felt his tongue along your nipple, pressing yourself further into his mouth. You only squirmed more as he moved to your other side, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging lightly. He kissed down your torso until he reached the band of your shorts.

"May I?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head frantically.

"Words baby." His fingers hooked into them, toying with the fabric. "You know the drill. I can't give you what you want unless you tell me."

"Yes please," you whined, wiggling your hips in the hopes of getting the clothing off you faster.

"Please what Y/N?"

"Please take them off Chris please. I wanna feel you on my pussy please, please, please."

"Good girl."

He slowly slid your shorts down, taking a little too long for your liking. He kissed down your stomach, loving how you were falling apart beneath him.

His fingers rubbed over the dark spot of your underwear. You gasped, hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He moved his fingers almost in a trance watching as the patch grew darker and larger.

"You're so fucking wet baby. You like it when I touch you like this?" he chuckled.

"Yes I love feeling you play with my pussy!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his fingers.

Christian pulled your underwear to the side. You shivered in anticipation as you felt Christian's breath on your lips.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, running his fingers through your folds.

"God yes! Please let me feel your tongue," you begged, lacing your fingers through his hair to bring him closer.

"As you wish princess."

Your back arched the moment his tongue made contact with you. He licked from the bottom all the way to your clit, lightly sucking on it. You moaned tugging at his curls. The louder you moaned, the faster he went alternating between licking and sucking. Your thighs closed around his head as you pushed him closer to you.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you were surprised when Christian inserted two of his fingers into your folds. You moaned even louder at the intrusion.

"God Christian more please. Please I need more!"

You were begging, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. You just wanted him to keep going.

Christian was enjoying every second of this. He loved watching you fall apart beneath him.

"You need more baby? So greedy. My tongue sucking on your clit and my fingers deep inside your pussy. What else could you want?" he teased, picking up the speed as he fucked you with his fingers.

You couldn't form any proper sentences anymore. Incoherent noises left your mouth as your body started shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Damn baby you're shaking. Are you close already? I've barely even done anything," he mused, inserting a third finger and fucking you even faster.

"God I'm so fucking close please let me cum! Please please please I need to cum please Christian please!" you all but screamed.

"Shh, it's okay. You can cum baby. Let it go for me," he said softly.

Your vision went blank as you came, your hands grasping at Christian's curls to anchor you to reality. Your legs shook violently as Christian continued coaxing your climax out of you, only slowing down as your body started spasming with overstimulation.

"Christian I need more," you whined, gasping for air.

"I know baby, I know. I'll take good care of you," he said. "I'm right here okay?"

Christian kissed your lips gently, making your heart flutter. He softly caressed your face admiring how you glowed under the moonlight. You melted under his gaze holding him close to you.

"You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. He moved back just enough to remove his bottoms before taking his place between your legs again. He placed both of his hands gently on your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. He looked deep into your eyes as his thrusted his hips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as he picked up the speed, grinding slow but deep.

"I love you Christian," you moaned breathlessly.

"I love you Y/N," he responded. "I love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving my worth to you."

The room was quiet except for the skin slapping against each other and the soft gasps you let out. You grabbed Christian's neck, bringing him as close as you possibly could. You needed him in every sense of the word, wanting to feel every inch of his skin on yours. He was yours and you were his. Your bodies intertwined in the same way your souls had all those years ago and that was all you really needed.

"Chris I need-" you were cut off with a particularly deep thrust making you moan, tugging at the curls on the nape of Christian's neck.

"I'm close too baby. Cum with me. Become one with me Y/N."

You had one of the strongest orgasms you'd ever had in your life. Your chest pressed into his as his cum filled you up, clenching your pussy around him. You held each other tightly, afraid to lose one another as space came between you.

The both of you laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of being so intimate. You gasped into each others mouths as your heartrates began to slow down ever so slightly.

"God you're so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Christian said in awe of you.

You flushed beneath him becoming shy.

"Babe you just came all over my dick. You really shouldn't be that shy," he said cheekily. You scoffed and hit his chest slightly.

"You're actually ridiculous," you said lovingly, pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

He pecked you once more before pulling out of you. He got up, grabbing a towel and gently cleaning your body. He left kisses as he went, worshipping your body. Once he was done, he laid on his back bringing your head onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you tucked yourself beneath his arm.

"Are we okay Christian?" you asked meekly.

"Yeah baby. We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

Taglist: @pulisicsgirl @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @masonspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @lovelynikol16 @bracedes @mortirolo @nyctophilic0vitnir

[yxstxrdrxxm]

SYNOPSIS: Kazuha, a well-known tailor in Inazuma, had a spouse. It's only a shame that his spouse is known for their 'infidelity' in his eyes. [ songfic ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking, minor and major character death/s, emotional manipulation in a way, gore, violence, fire/arson, sewing... questionable fabric, unreliable narrator, shifting POVs, dead dove: do not eat, dollification, delusional thinking, Kazuha progressively loses it till the end, beheading, oh God this fic and tws are long Im so sorry―

NOTE: During the fic, it is recommended to listen to "The Tailor of Enbizaka". It will make sense when you read through this fic :)

(also, I apologize if this took a while for me to write. I got busy and writer's block hit me :( anyways, second work and its the best boy! Though, I hope you all don't blame me for fucking him up. Also also!! This is very much a long, LONG fic— like 2k+ long, so 🫡 gl soldier, I'll see if I don't need to make this to a 2 part series)

(update: this fic took 6k words, good luck y'all, this one is a WILD ride)

In Inazuma, there is a tale that is shared by many about a crimson clad man and his lover.

The others never settled on what he looked during the day before his death, nor were they sure what his prior job was before he became a tailor. However, they always complimented him for his looks and his skill, knowing that whatever he used as his own special fabric would be tailored and taken care of well.

Even with one full of holes and tears, he is gifted with the ability to patch them up till it was brand new. In the village he lived in, he was regarded for having such a talent, and he had his shop open and full of visitors.

However, the only thing that made people question him was his behavior. Despite how mild-manner the tailor was, he often comments on how his beloved darling refused to come home and continues to cheat on him.

Many those that still lived during the time said the crimson-eyed tailor acted delusional, but just how far can those delusions go?

No one knows but the man himself... And the one who persecuted him, too.

It was that year since I've seen my beloved after the accident.

A year that, when I saw them, I've longed to see them and speak to them about our time together as a married couple.

To begin with, I am Kaedehara Kazuha, or― as the townsfolk here call me, the 'Crimson-Eyed Tailor'. Although I am highly regarded for my craftsmanship, many told me that I am odd for my adoration for my beloved maple.

Why is it that odd? I thought all married couples do this, even if some think that it feels off.

Besides that, however, my darling isn't quite aware of my... Endeavors. More specifically, their streak of getting out for hours, perhaps days and weeks, and not even coming around to speak to me.

I am bound to them by an oath when we were married: we both drank sake together under that faithful light of the moon, with only nature watching over us. However, it would seem as if they have forgotten that, and ended up cheating on me in broad daylight.

Like they had no such shame.

Alas, I am but their husband, and I can't simply get mad at my beloved spouse. I know they did no wrong, for they sometimes meet with others as an act of being 'friendly'.

So while I focused on fixing the kimono, I've began to hear something that had been passed around in the village.

Something related to my darling's little ventures.

"I have spoken to [Name] about the matters in their marriage recently," one of the ladies spoke, her voice not so soft enough to conceal who she was speaking about as I fixed the fabric in my hands.

"And from what they told me, they're getting their kimono fixed for when their lover returns home!"

I simply continued on sewing, but the lady's next words had me flinch.

"Ah, they've been married for years, aren't they? And it seems they even have their shiromuku ever since their marriage to sir Kamisato Ayato. How romantic!"

...

The blood continues to spill on my finger, with the needle that I used pricking it when I've lost focus and got too careless.

How uncouth.

From the tale shared by the folks of Narukami Island, they talked about the crimson-eyed tailor's marriage with his supposed 'spouse': an immigrant of sorts from Fontaine, traversing to Inazuma to meet with their lover.

Their relationship together is strange. From the accounts of those with prying eyes, they said that he was the only one putting an effort to their relationship, and they wished to take it slow.

However, there are those that disagreed, saying that it had been the other way around— and it was he who wished for them to slow down.

No one can decide what the tailor had done, for they can't even tell if his desires were to rush or to slow down. But what can be confirmed is one thing everyone kept saying.

He doesn't like his trust being broken.

It had been days after hearing what I did.

I hadn't seen my dearest beloved in those days, and the day I saw them had been when the heir of the Kamisato clan had returned.

I had been busy as ever in sewing till I realized that I'm running out of thread. I don't have any spares, and I'm well aware that there are a few shops that sell supplies for sewing.

And so, on a lazy afternoon, I've got out of my shop in the hopes that I can catch the store to buy the supplies I needed.

The soft sound of wood hitting the pavement greeted my ears, alongside hushed murmuring and discussing with the commonfolk. I greeted a few that noticed me in passing, but they were swift to return to the people they were speaking to prior.

It was a mundane thing, really. But it was the type that felt familiar.

Turning a few corners, I managed to locate the shop I was looking for. Walking up the stairs, I waved at the lady taking care of the store—

—not before my ears perked up at the soft chattering in the distance.

My eyes trailed over to the source, and then, I see them.

My beloved maple.

I saw that they were conversing with the heir of the Kamisato clan, his hand reaching over to hand them a small gift: a small box, with the ribbon being the color of purple. I spot the gleam of gold on top of the ribbon, which eludes me to think that it is the insigna of the clan crested in gold.

How tacky.

I had to hold back the urge to stop them as their conversation was hard to discern, my focus back on the woman running the shop with the supplies I require.

"Hello, madame," I greeted, making the woman smile and nod in greeting as well. "Do you need fabric again, Kaedehara?"

I chuckled, but it was only to mask the bits of instability in my voice.

"Oh, not fabric, madame. I simply desire thread. I have ran out of red and black, and I didn't want to delay the commission I had from monsieur Lyney. Do you have any right now?"

"Red and black thread, hm? I can check at the back. Please give me a moment to look."

With a bow, the seamstress turned around to leave. With that, I let go of the breath I held and turned my gaze back to the bridge, just a few ways away from where my beloved sunset was at.

Watching the two figures, I couldn't help but simply stared at the attire that the heir wore.

Montsuki Haori Hakama: that usually means black or gray. I've known that colored kimonos were not worn with this in mind, and he certainly didn't wore anything that would be too straining.

Still, that shade of black is made of high quality. I'm not surprised if he wore it so rarely, as though to preserve the detail and its intricate work from his very own seamstress.

...

I wonder if I can take it?

Watching the two descend from the bridge, my eyes wandered back to the lady as she returned with the spools of thread, all varying in degrees of color and quality.

"Here you are, Kaedehara! These are the best I can find that fit the colors you asked for."

My eyes twinkled as I took the spools to my hands, my fingers turning and nudging the thread to see just how strong it is.

Interesting. Good quality, too... Maybe I can use this to finish that outfit I've been saving for a while.

"Thank you, madame," I thanked her, making her laugh. "Oh, it's not a problem, Kaedehara! You've done so much for this little town of ours, this is but a simple thing to repay for your efforts!"

With a nod, I paid the seamstress and turned back down to descend from the bustling upper part of the town, the sight of what happened in the bridge a bit further away bothering me from within.

No matter, Kazuha, I mused, carrying the items I required as I felt myself walk back home. Even if you want to get rid of him, it will be much too complicated. You simply need to be patient and wait till the opportunity comes.

...

Although, whoever made his clothes... I wonder if I can speak to them to inquire about their techniques.

The first case that started this was a cold one.

One that is related to a person no one knew so highly about, be it by their background, appearance, and even their name. All they were known for is being the 'tailor' for one of the clans.

There had been a lack of evidence and information about this due to how many tailors had been requested all across Inazuma at the time. It was understandable that people chalked up to them being missing as nothing more than an unfortunate case, not one worthy of being dug into.

Others had suspected that it had been associated with something else, that something (or someone) had done this deliberately. There was no evidence to this, but their claims were loud as they were bold, making it difficult to ascertain its authenticity.

However, the masses have all agreed that this was a normal occurrence. It was not one worth noting, because there had been a lot more that spoke of the same tale, always eluding to their fate being that they were murdered.

It was, unfortunately, the 'norm' of the village in the legend. A norm that, if the people of Inazuma heard it today, would have turned their heads in disgust for how abhorrent it sounds.

Still, many remained curious of the biggest what if that seem to echo in their mind.

Was the tailor associated with his sins?

The Kamisato clan has had it's ups and downs, and it isn't strange to see that they were seeking out talented tailors and workers to work under them.

What was surprising (to everyone), however, was that the head of the clan hired me to work as the Kamisato Clan's personal tailor.

The reasoning behind it was quite simple, especially with what the heir spoke to me when he and I met in the morning when I was to be summoned in the estate— due to his personal tailor (a family friend, he said) going missing for days, they were unable to track down his whereabouts and presumed that he has gone missing.

I was only hired as a "replacement" for the clan's special tailor till then, and he made it extremely clear that there was nothing else to it. Nothing that would spell the fact that I will permanently stay in that position.

Of course, to many, this may sound as an odd deal. There are so many tailors such as myself that would die to be consulted on, to work as the head of the clan's seamstress and work for their outfits. And perhaps, in their naivety, they may consider it as their efforts finally paying off in some way.

However, I have been in a clan myself before. This is nothing more if not a business deal.

A deal between one rising clan, and one whose surname has lost it's widely known heritage.

This only benefits the Kamisato Clan in the effort to save face. To save face of the potential backlash they'll deal with should any information of the missing clan's tailor be brought to light to everyone who remain blissfully ignorant of the innerworkings of the clan.

I would normally deny this kind of offer, mostly because there is no benefit for me to join and work for them. However, times have changed, and I simply reconsidered denying Kamisato Ayato's offer.

... There is a few benefits to me joining. It may be minimal, but it is better than scrounging around in the dark.

And so, I agreed to the offer.

The arrangements set for me to move was quite swift. I'm aware that that he is a man of his word, so it was quite easy for us to prepare my living arrangements and move to the estate.

With the supplies I get from the clan, it's been easy to stay put and gather information to the person I'm targeting.

... That was, until that day came.

I remember it clearly: it was the ends of fall, where the maple leaves fell more and more around the estate's grounds. This usually signified the coming of winter, so I usually savor the season by having time off to admire the scenery.

And in one of my walks, I had travelled from outside of the estate to see if things have changed.

Which, to my luck, I've encountered my darling beloved.

But just like last time, they were not alone.

In the journey of my wandering, I have seen them speak to the sibling of the older heir, Kamisato Ayaka, as they sit on the table outside of the Komore Teahouse.

From how far I am to the entrance of the teahouse, it gives me enough space to watch them interact like friends. The way that the Himegimi raised her fan to cover her face, perhaps from her eyes crinkling in amusement from what they told her...

... It was intriguing. Very intriguing.

So much so that I've felt the claws of envy grip in my chest, clutching its metal nails and making punctures on my already bleeding heart.

What a nuisance. Must you hurt me like this, darling?

I can hardly remember what happened after that. After all, my focus had been set on the two speaking to each other like they were simply companions, unknowing of what fate may bring upon them.

...

"Oh? Kazuha! I didn't notice you came to the Teahouse as well!"

My attention was swiftly pulled away from the sight of my dearest gem, and it landed on the familiar sight of olive eyes. From the appearance alone, many wouldn't think that an immigrant of Mondstadt would be a fixer.

Not even I would be able to see it happen.

However, this man had the skills to prove of his worth— after all, being Inazuma's 'fixer', he's often the go-to man to fix any and every problem that the Narukami Island and others may face.

Which makes him a glass canon— one that is volatile and unpredictable, even under the guise of a friendly face.

That is what Thoma is.

But this "glass cannon" has his weakness, and I know how to use it to my advantage.

Letting a smile slip to my lips, I chuckled, raising my hand to cover my mouth. "Well, I've been foretold by others about Komore Teahouse and it's history. I've been meaning to visit it, but I'm so busy fixing kimonos and making them to have time to spare."

A white lie, but then again, there are many of those that have been foretold in the waking of this world.

What does adding one do at this point? I'm already damned by the heavens the day I've seen the 'truth' of this fate of mine.

Just one lie wouldn't hurt, right?

"Haha, I can't blame you," the taller blonde seem to answer my query with his own, albeit he did seem to look more like he was at ease. Still, I needed to be weary; he can change sides if he so much as sensed that something is wrong.

"After all, with what the missing tailor in the clan circulating around the others in the estate, I'm even surprised that you manage to fill up in their position for months!"

... Oh? So he's noticed my talents, hm?

I shook my head.

"Oh, please. I'm just a humble tailor, Thoma," I reasoned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have thought of asking them for advice on how they do their work, but since they're missing, all I can do is substitute for their absence."

He gave me an apologetic smile and nodded.

"That is true... I guess I'm just a bit too ecstatic to finally have someone that can fill in their role seamlessly. Lord Kamisato Ayato would've been panicking if we didn't have a replacement soon for his anniversary with his spouse."

... Spouse, huh?

"Hm... Is that so?"

I frowned in thought as I ponder over wanting to... Ask him for a favor. Sure, this one wouldn't do well on one's conscious mind if they knew, but it was simply for their sake.

It was all for them. I knew that.

It wouldn't hurt anyone if I asked Thoma to do this for me. At least, while I still have the chance to do so.

I can only hope the cannon does not think of shooting it's shot to me if I slipped up.

"Speaking of, Thoma, may I ask you for a favor?"

After the first missing case of the tailor, there had been more that were reported. The victims were all varied in their appearance, age, and even from where they used to live, be it in Narukami Island or even outside of Inazuma itself.

It was difficult to tell how many there were exactly, especially with how the legend is interpreted. Some said it was 20, while others said it was 50. This legend has been passed mouth to mouth, so details were not a key figure for a few to remember well.

However, every iteration has the same detail. The victims all had the same similarity as the tailor that simply went "missing".

All of them, in some way, were associated with certain individuals— one of them being his maple, where a few commented that they were the apple of the crimson man's eye.

From the legend and how it has been told, it is safe to assume that the motive was obvious from the first missing case.

It is akin of an open secret, if said secret was twisted to fit his ideals.

"Haven't you heard?"

"What? What is it?"

"The fixer, Thoma… He went missing just few days ago."

"What!?"

…

Ah, so he went missing like the others?

My ears had perked up at the news that we were told. Although Thoma is one many people never thought of being a 'target', the fact he went missing is... Odd.

"Perhaps he had done something," I heard one of the servants whisper amongst themselves, looking rather cautious. "After all, he's been very privy on a few things..."

"Yes, but he isn't the person I'd expect to vanish like that—"

"Shh—! People are going to hear you, you know! Keep it down!"

Hearing their footsteps echo as they take their leave, I turned back to what I have been working on. The sight of the kimono graced my vision as I raised the needle.

I began to sew the tears on it, letting out a soft hum while I fixed the black fabric from it's horrible state.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut—

"Sir Kaedehara? Someone is looking for you."

...!

I felt the needle prick my finger, but I didn't say anything. With a quiet hum, I raised my head to see someone speak to me, their face grim as they shifted on their feet.

Ah.

Despite the feeling of blood pour onto the fabric, I smiled and nodded, putting down the fabric of the kimono I was fixing.

"I'll be right there. Please tell them to wait for me."

"Really? Oh, thank Archons. I'll get going."

Watching them take their leave, my eyes flit over to my scissors.

Still as sharp as ever, I mused, pushing myself to stand up before fixing my attire. Mayhaps today won't need it to be sharpened.

For now, I had to see what the client wants from me. It would simply be a shame if I leave them alone for far, far too long.

Mayhaps they're here to inquire about the kimono I made. I made sure to add my personal touch to it.

...

As I walked to where my client sought to look for me, I see a familiar sight befell in the grounds of the Kamisato Estate.

The himegimi is currently speaking to my betrothed like they are close companions, and the magician (Lyney was his name, I recall), had been listening to their discussion at hand.

His eyes seem to lit up when he saw me, offering me a welcoming grin.

"You must be the tailor that my sister assigned, aren't you?" he asked when I was close enough to hear him, making me chuckle. Taking a seat across, I simply nodded, keeping my professional smile and demeanor in fear of offending him.

"Indeed, I am that tailor. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Haha, please, the pleasure is all mine!"

The magician shook my hand with mine, and the meeting went as smoothly as one may expect. Although, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander sometimes to where my lover is.

You were speaking to Ayaka like she's a friend of yours. I shan't stop you, darling, but perhaps you aren't aware of the pain you put me through.

Still, I couldn't afford to raise my voice, nor can I think of hurting you with my actions.

How unfortunate. Mayhaps I need to teach you a lesson myself, my angel.

If there was one thing that the legend failed to elaborate, it is the state of the missing people. However, there were... Creative liberties to those that began to see if the legend was true; or, pray tell, associated with any real life events.

To the eyes of others, going missing is a serious deal. It sparks a lot of ideas for what could've happened to them, and especially if they are alive or dead.

Albeit many shrugged off the prior cases, this one was serious. After all, the one that went 'missing' is the fixer of Narukami Island— Thoma, the immigrant in the nation of lightning.

It is, after all, what sparked the eventual downfall of the crimson-eyed tailor and his beloved. Many had thought this was the turning point, but those that did were found to be wrong.

This, after all, was simply the beginning of such downfall. But it wasn't to his lover, the missing residents, or even his companions.

It was to himself, when he used the blades to commit a sin undeserving of forgiveness.

The news that brought upon the missing Himegimi greeted the Kamisato estate that day.

I remember how people were in a disarray. They were much more shaken as they tried to get any sort of lead to where she is, and for some, they were already thinking of quitting.

The estate is already shaken from when Thoma went missing, but now that the young heiress has up and disappeared— especially in winter— it was in chaos.

While I sew the kimonos handed to me, there was an obi that laid on the pile by my right. It was a bit worn, but it can still be saved.

I needed to fix it, and give it my own personal touch. That way, it wouldn't look as though it had been abandoned by it's past owner.

Alas, the noise is getting to me. I could feel the silk resting on my bandaged hand slip every once in a while, if it weren't for how tight I've been holding the fabric.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I needed to put my focus on what I'm doing. I needed to focus on the job.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I mustn't let blood nor dirt stain my creations.

That is what my mother taught me.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, se—

"I apologize if the estate is in a disarray, detective," I hear a familiar voice speak amongst the hushed and panicked whispers. "The estate hasn't been the same ever since my retainer and my younger sibling had gone missing."

"Oh, it's alright! I'm sure this matter is too serious for you and the others to keep things organized."

"Haha... You can say that it is. Now, it's just right this way..."

... A detective is in the estate. How curious.

It wasn't right to snoop, but I was curious. Curious enough to have finished the kimono I was fixing before I stood to leave my quarters.

The others paid no heed as I followed after the two to Ayato's room, too focused to do what they were assigned to even bat an eye when I got close to where they were heading.

It was only when they were inside that I've stopped and simply bid my time, my focus set on what was happening by the shoji leading to his office. And it didn't took long till I hear things from the other side.

"Ah, so you think that someone is out for you?"

"Yes. Although I am normally adept in figuring out who it could be that's causing this to happen, I can't put heads or tails with how their presence eludes me."

"Man alive... And you said that it started when they went missing?"

"... Yes, detective."

"I see... Man alive, that sounds like it wasn't just a single, one-off case, then. I can help you, but this will take a while if there's no leads."

"I see. It's fine, detective. I'll pay you enough when you figure out where my retainer and sister are. I could hardly think that someone would take them without such consequence."

"Oh, no worries. With me around, no criminal will get out unscathed— I'll make sure to bring them here when I figure out who did this."

...

I see.

Perhaps its about time I have to settle this with him.

There was a time where I have thought that things will change.

Where these cases will be laid forgotten, perhaps even unresolved with the lack of hints.

I spent weeks on end, keeping my tracks short and erasing any leads that can lead towards me again.

I spent so, so long trying so desperately to hide anything resembling my crimes.

But alas... He found me.

It was the time where I had to dispose of those bodies. Although I had no heart to bury them under nature, I was not above treating them as though they were simply people.

Even in death, I wanted to make them feel like they look peaceful. Although, perhaps simply sewing their wounds left by my scissors was not something I can treat.

In the middle of the night, I was carrying the Himegimi outside of the abandoned houses I tend to with her retainer, Thoma. I had thought of letting her rest someplace else. Her attire has been sullied, and I needed to keep the two somewhere where no one can find them.

Corpses rot over time, and if it was possible, letting them turn to nothing in the likes of Tsurumi Island will be enough for my weary heart to rest.

With how adept I am of keeping my tracks hidden, I had thought no one would be able to tail on me. But alas, due to the missing cases I've caused, perhaps I wasn't expecting this to happen.

"I knew you'd be here, Kaedehara Kazuha."

I simply paused upon hearing his voice, my head craning back to see that it was Ayato. Despite how composed he looks, I can tell that the nights he spent trying to search for his beloved sibling and retainer wore him down.

His once flawless appearance was nothing but sullied, his attire feeling like its simply hanging off of him, and the way he staggered while looking at me without a shred of restrain is new. Raw for such a heir.

"And that body..." he murmured, his eyes glaring daggers when he found out who it was.

Perhaps it's her dress that makes her recognizable. Or the hair.

"... I thought I've erased everything that can lead back to me," I spoke, sighing as I placed Ayaka's body down. "What a shame. I was quite close to erasing any traces and signs of their whereabouts. It would be nice to only have them be marked as 'missing', not dead."

"So... You admit to it, then?" the heir asked, walking over with stride. "That you have done this, Kaedehara?"

I simply said nothing.

And I knew that was enough of a confirmation for him.

"I knew something was wrong with you," I heard him speak, which caught my attention. Turning my body to finally face him, I watched as he scoffed and continued, "After all, a man as serene as you often had the worst to hide."

"Oh? How curious. Why would you say that?"

I saw his lips curl to a smile.

"Why, I had someone tail after you," he answered, his tone sounding so blunt and his demeanor became more like he's simply 'teaching' me something. "Someone that is associated with the clan. I'm sure you know who it is."

... How uncouth.

"I see... And you confronted me now? For what?"

"A duel."

He unsheathed his blade, and raised it towards my direction.

"I do not usually participate in these, but I'd like to honor your tradition. If I win, you turn yourself in to the Tenryou Commission. Confess all of your crimes, and we shall call it even."

"... Very well."

I raised my own blade, as a sign to his own.

"I needn't state my own terms if I lose, as I can't let you get out alive. Now, let us settle this matter... To each of our graves."

Usually, such details cannot be recreated from interpretation alone.

However, this one was the few exceptions to it's inevitable fate due to it's popularity.

The legend had focused on keeping the existence and ties of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor up for the listener's interpretation. This scene, however, was directly associated to a case that had been tackled many years ago.

The case went as such: each resident of a town goes missing each week. No one knows when it happens, as the day is often random. The victims of these disappearances are also random, so no one could derive from it being a 'pattern'.

No matter how young or old one is, their gender, their living conditions, and even their past... When they least expect it, they simply vanish. Erased.

The only times where the victim was found, several eye-witnesses had different iterations. Some said that the bodies were buried, while others found it floating by riverbanks and the side of the sea.

But the most common— and widely known, of course— was that each victim were made to a doll.

Their limbs were nothing if not sewn with thread, cuts of various degrees being patched with thread of similar color to 'mask' it's oddity. Their eyes were closed, but those that were unfortunate to open it were only greeted with it being turned to the back of their heads.

In some victims, several pieces of their possession were taken. However, most kept theirs on their person, and were seen to not be tampered with.

No one knows what drove someone to this degree. No one can even comprehend such a fact that it was entirely possible.

But to someone who's mind was twisted to the point of no return... It was.

This case had a name, but every resident of Inazuma refused to speak of it. Each time one does, they were told of the legend behind this case.

They were told of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, and they were warned of one thing.

"Do not look at him or his betrothed. If you do, you're as good as dead."

...

It had been a year since our fight happened.

I remember the chaos that occurred back when I finally erased that man. Although it did left his body in an undesirable state, I still fixed and sew him up so that he didn't look as such.

Even in death, I wish to give the heir some form of dignity. That, in some way, I wish to give him his final respects.

After all, he had simply misunderstood my intentions. He didn't knew that I was out for one person from the very beginning.

The downfall of the Kamisato Clan was imminent at that point. I've seen many flee, and witnessed the tragedy befall on the Narukami Island. Many of the people I've met had simply ran off to seek refuge, the terror grasping and choking them like they were unable to think.

However, I remain clear. And I simply continued to do my work diligently.

I have been working on something... Special. And with one last snip of my bloodied scissors, it was now complete.

My final and life-long work, all laid across and now in my hands. The fabric I chose was rather difficult to sew. I should have known that human skin would be too hard, depending on where I retrieved it from.

Dying it in black, I wrapped the obi that had been sewn with the use of the Himegimi's locks, and retrieved the crest of the Kamisato Clan. Adorning it on my person, I viewed myself at the mirror to see my handiwork.

"Finally," I murmured, feeling an odd sensation in my chest as I wore the fruits of my labor. "It is now complete."

With the chaos guiding me and masking my presence, I fled to head by the mountain.

I knew where you were bound to go.

I knew of your crimes long before you knew me.

I didn't paid much attention if anyone saw me. I didn't care if blood simply poured from my attire and to the ground that I'm walking on. I could hardly give a damn if some realized of my crimes in that blasted estate.

I had my scissors with me, and I only wish to fulfill my last wish before I leave this cursed world.

You murdered my family, [Name].

You were the one who caused that fire all those years ago.

I remember those burns you gave me. I remember just how much of a coward you were, fleeing from the scene you caused yourself.

How could I lose everything? And how can you keep your family?

No. No, that mustn't happen. I must set this right.

As your 'lover', I'll make sure you understand what you did wrong.

The culprit of the legend was caught, at least by the end.

All of the townsfolk had banded over to help the detective figure out who had caused such a stir, and it was only because of one eye-witness that said everything. That simply told the truth of the man behind it all.

It was the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, the one who was gripped with envy, that caused such a massacre to occur.

When they found what became of the last victim, his 'lover', they became a doll of his own. After killing them, the legend proceeded to speak of how he had simply 'sown' their skin alongside his, making them his perfect beloved doll.

One of the iterations even mentioned that his unnamed lover was in a Shiromuku outfit, eyes gouged so they may "never look at another man". At least, from what the tale has concluded.

Because of the severity of his crime, the tailor was sent to be on his death row. When the detective tried to get information out of him, they found out that he has lost his mind.

He became a shell of the brilliant man they knew, laughing and speaking that he has finally fulfilled his desire.

Even when he was dragged onto the guillotine, that day was marked as the end of the massacre, and those who were alive spoke of the man's chilling laughter up until his head was cut off.

...

And that was the end of the "Crimson-Eyed Tailor" and his legend.

Or, more accurately, the history of the known "Dead Man's Heart" case, and how Kaedehara Kazuha murdered the one he "loved" for revenge.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Summary: You were a bet. Robin and Nancy bet Steve that he can get you to fall for him. Now it's your 1 year anniversary, and you just found out.

Steve had everything set up for the night. He was prepared to give you the most romantic night anyone could have ever imagined. You were out with Nancy and Robin right now getting your nails done and then going to find a new outfit for the evening. Steve checked the clock and saw that it was nearly seven, so he went and got dressed in his new shirt and tie before slicking his hair back just like you like it. Okay, Steve, just breathe. You got this. You love them. They love you, and it will for sure be a yes. Steve took a few deep breaths and checked his pocket to make sure the ring was still there. This was it. He was finally going to have the life he'd dreamt of.

It's been a whole year of nothing but love and you still can't believe it. When Steve asked you out for the first date you thought your heart had exploded but after the first date was the second, then the third, and it's been history ever since. It's been like a fairy tale and every day gets more and more magical with the man of your dreams.

When he told you that he made you and the girls nail appointments for the morning of your anniversary it was easy to assume that there was a possibility of getting proposed to later at dinner. You weren't wanting to get your hopes up but it was too hard not to.

"So do you think tonight the night?" Nancy asked with a shimmer in her eye, almost like she knew what was going on. "I don't know, I mean I would hope so! But it's only been a year" You tried to reason with not only her but also yourself. Just the thought of the possibility had your heart skipping a beat. The three of you went to find you a new outfit and shockingly as soon as you walked into the store you found stuff to try on. "Oh my gosh! You have to try that on!" Robin says grabbing your size off of the rack and handing it to you, "Go go try them on and let us see!"

You go try everything on and are quick to fall in love with how it looked on you, as you go to walk out and show the girls, the sound of whispering stops you in your tracks.

"Steve must really love her, who knew a wedding would come out of a stupid $20 bet?"

"I know right, I can't believe he actually won"

"I thought one date at most but a whole year? Damn"

You could feel your heartbreak. I...I was a bet? A $20 bet at that!? Your heart might be broken, but you aren't going to deal with this anymore. You change into your clothes once again and tell the girls that you had a new outfit back at home that you just got that you think would be better for tonight. They shrug, thinking nothing of it, and you all get ready to leave.

Back at home, Steve was going over the very last details as you pulled into the driveway. He smiles hearing you walk to the door and he feels his heart race and stomach fill with butterflies. He hated how you got together but he was so happy that he agreed to the bet in an odd way. If it wasn't for the bet he would have never got the nerve to ask you out finally, it may not be the way he wanted things to go but now that he has you he never wants to let you go. He grabs the roses he got you and walks to the door to greet you.

Steve loses his smile when he sees the angry tear streaks that are ingrained to your skin. "Baby? What happened? " Hearing the concern laced in his voice did nothing but anger you more. How dare he act concerned. How dare he treat you with a love that was nothing but bullshit. You get a stone cold expression and his heart drops so intensely it felt like it escaped his body. This isn't you. You were always an emotional person but never one to shut down.

You walk right past him and up to your shared room where you began to pack. At this moment, Steve was reminded he did still have a heart as it began to race, and he began to tear up.

"Princess? Please talk to me!" He asked in such desperation as he tried to undo your work and unpack your bag. A look flashes across your face that will haunt Steve for the rest of his life. "I'm a bet. I'm a 20 dollar bet!" You screamed so loud it was shocking the windows didn't shatter.

All color left Steve as those words left you. "You were never supposed to find out.... you were never supposed to know. " he kept mumbling this, making you scoff. "What a way to have a relationship. All of this was just what, just bullshit?" Steve physically flinched hearing that word, "never. This is real baby I do love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you" he pleads with you to stay, to listen to him and forgive him "I'm a stupid, stupid man baby please let me make this right, let me explain" you finished packing a small portion of your belongs and turn to him.

"You're right..." you pause and watch his face light up, "you really are so fucking stupid" and with that you walk out of Steve's life, and he watches his love leave him once again.

Tagging @emmyshortcake @sweet-villain @steddieandstonathansprincess @screammunson @eiightysixbaby @zestychili @lofaewrites @bloodthirstybreedingbunny

Authors note: I got inspired by a bucky fic I read earlier this week. I can't remember who wrote it. :( If I can find it, I'll reblog it, and you all better go love on it because it was amazing!

[milkb0nny]

If you write for Jing Yuan, can I request angst with him being in love with Yanqing's biological mother (Reader) but she died asking him to take care of him? If this isn't up your alley or violates any of your boundaries please feel free to delete!

××× my shooting star ×××

Jing Yuan x fem!reader

Note: Thank you so much for this request! It was a very interesting and saddening experience. I hope I met your expectations. Have a lovely day and feed yourself with some wholesome content as well. 🤎

The night was quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon and the occasional twinkle of distant stars. Jing Yuan stood before your grave, his heart heavy with grief, even after a year had passed since the death of his beloved. Even though he loved you more than anyone else, he struggled to visit your grave. Your death haunts him, as he wished to see your smile one more time. The times he approached your grave, covered in flowers, it was a clear night. He raised his eyes to the lonely night-sky, watching as shooting stars streaked across the heavens, each one a painful reminder of the love he had lost. Each one a reminder he had to take care of your beloved son.

“My love,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "My shooting star, my dearest sweetheart, my darling. How I miss you."

The memories of you were still vivid in his mind – the warmth of your smile, the sound of your laughter, and the way you had filled his life with light and love. You had been his confidante, his anchor, and the love of his life. Never did he thought to lose you one day. Tears dwelled up in his honey colored eyes, a hurting smile crept over his lips and his shoulders hung low. He never wanted you to be apart from his side, he desired you every day. He prayed, he screamed, he cried so much, only for a last kiss.

A year had passed, but the pain remained as raw as ever. He had made a promise to you on your very own deathbed, a promise to care for your dear son, Yanqing. The young boy, with his mother's eyes and your cheerful spirit, was a constant reminder of the love he had lost. Regardless Jing Yuan loved Yanqing, he always did. There was no moment where he cursed him or accused him of reminding him of his loss. Jing Yuan was mature enough to use that negative energy and turn it into anticipation. The general wanted to make Yanqing stronger, so at least the young boy would never leave Jing Yuan’s side.

Jing Yuan had taken Yanqing under his wing, teaching him the ways of the world and the art of fighting, just as he had promised. He loved the boy as if he were his own, and Yanqing had become like a son to him. But despite the joy that the boy brought into his life, the pain of losing his lover was a wound that refused to heal. After all, Yanqing often visited Jing Yuan, expressing how he also suffered from his mothers death. Both men loved you: one as a strong, confident mother, the other as a beautiful, faithful wife.

Tears ran down, down Jing Yuan's soft skin, as he continued to watch the shooting stars. One after another, all of them being a potential wish for you to come back. Each of them harbored the hope to wake up and see you. Jing Yuan missed the mornings where he woke you up with caressing your arms and kissing you. He missed the evenings you three strolled through the market. He finally knelt beside her grave, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The pain this man owned ate his soul day by day.

“I can't help but wonder… why you had to leave me so soon, darling. I feel so lost without you. I can’t, I really can’t. You were my little fragile flower and I tried so… so hard to protect you. I still love you. I love you so much that my heart’s been hurting, bleeding and wanting to join you. My love…”

Jing Yuan traced a finger over the engraved words on the gravestone, as if seeking solace in the cold stone. Your name was written there but it had already withered with time. The rest of your tombstone was covered in blue and white flowers that Yanqing had always brought to you. Your son, your partner cared for you but handled it their very own ways.

“But, sweetheart, I will keep my promise," he vowed. "I will always care for Yanqing, just as you asked. I will make sure he grows up strong and wise, just like his mother. He is such a good kid, so strong to deal with your death." He cried out loud, sniffling and wiping away his tears. There were rare occasions where the grown up man sobbed, but when it was about you he never refused to bawl his eyes out. Where were you?

As he gazed up at the sky once more, another shooting star streaked across the heavens, as if in response to his words. Jing Yuan took it as a sign, a message from his beloved, reassuring him that you were watching over him from the stars above. Oh, what bright shooting star you were this cold night.

With a heavy heart, he stood up again, kissing a flower, then wiping away his tears. "I will carry your love in my heart always," he whispered, his voice cracking and breaking apart like shattered glass. "And I will find the strength to continue on, for you, for Yanqing, and for our love."

With one last lingering gaze at the night sky, he turned around, his back facing your grave, and walked away. His steps heavy but determined, as he faced another day without his beloved by his side. Before entering the front door of his residence, he looked up, to the brightest shooting star that caressed the sky this night. Naturally he smiled at that.

“My shooting star. I love you.”

After saying these words, he opened the door to find Yanqing sleeping on a chair. He always waited for Jing Yuan to show up before he head to bed. To Jing Yuan, he treasured it deeply. He softly woke his apprentice up. Tired eyes met the reddened eyes of Jing Yuan, though the younger one didn’t question why he had cried. He knew, they both knew well enough.

[honeyhotteoks]

oh my god yesssss the most recent chapter of tnt had my tongue pressed to my teeth the entire time i was like entralllllledddd PLEASE !!!

not to be nosy (or pushy ><) but do you have any thoughts about rut for tnt? like for both the main trio and general world building im sure it would be a lot of logistics and potentially a lot of emotional labor to plot out (like one of them getting kicked out or something because the other is going nuts oof) but also its rotting my brain from the inside out and i need to tell someone else about it x_x

like for yunho, who is typically warm and affable, is now pushed to the edge when faced with the reality of his near insurmountable want. like he has such a finely controlled and cool grip on himself but its so obvious that hes like hungry for it in the force behind his grip. just imagining him like being an ever-present pillar behind mc, firmly talking her through what hes going to do as he chases after whatever his brain comes up with, that she can and will take his pace and whatever he gives because shes just the best and he just loves her so much because hes a romantic like that. yeah hehe haha hoo hoo lol maybe even an lmao im also tipsy and slamming my head into a wall over him have a good night

!! oh what a great question! but thank you for saying you loved the new chapter as well 💘

as far as yunho and mingi in a rut................ click below the cut for a few thoughts....

the lovely part about being in a pack, especially later on when they're actually bonded..... is that ruts wouldn't necessarily send the non-rutting alpha out of the house. with that being the case..... these are some of my rut headcanons for the boys.

yunho in a rut is possessive, protective and has a serious jealous streak. in the week leading up to his rut his hands are constantly on you, squeezing your hips, brushing along your back, and taking your hand in his. the only person that seems to be able to talk to you without him going just a little feral is mingi, even wooyoung isn't safe from his ire when he gives you a hug after practice. when his rut actually starts though, his resolve really starts to crumble, and you don't help him stay in control when you're begging him for a knot underneath him. he tries his best at first to be mindful of you, but he also knows that's what mingi is here for. he's watching over so that you can both lose yourself, and when yunho finally lets go it's with a bruising grip and his cock endlessly inside you. you stay stretched on his knot for days, his cum spilling into you over and over again, promises of pups on yunho's lips.

mingi in a rut is needy, times a thousand, but it doesn't start that way. it starts with him fussing over you in the week or so leading up to his rut in a way that you just know what's in store for you. he's cooking, he's refilling your water, he's trying to get you to sleep more, eat more, relax more. he's following you around constantly and subconsciously in an effort to prepare you for the week to come. ruts can be hard on omegas not in heat, and he knows this, so of course he's going to make sure you're as healthy and hydrated as possible before getting locked in bed. once it hits? he's a grabby mess, he needs every inch of his pack's skin against his. he wants yunho holding you open for him so he can see you both, feel you both. he kisses like its the last time he'll ever get to, and he alternates between coming deep inside you with a knot and painting your skin with rope after rope of his cum. he needs to see you covered by him, full of him, and fully owned by him for his rut to break.

[frienderbee]

I wish April was more Kraang-ish in 2012- like if you're going to make her half Kraang mutant whatever, don't just give her cool powers. Just imagine okay:

Her hair is constantly floating slightly, initially in a sort of static way, which confuses her growing up but isn't a major sign of alarm

As she starts to develop and connect with her powers it starts floating a little more noticeably

it reacts to her powers which tend to react a lot to her emotions when she's not consciously pushing for them

because of this the turtles have found great entertainment in annoying April to watch her hair twitch and float around.

They can always tell when she's really mad cause her hair looks like she's been shocked and starts to spark

Because of her emotions effecting her powers and hair before she got a good control of her powers she spent a lot of her time desperately trying to stay calm when in school or in public

Despite how annoying Casey knows he can be he tries to help her stay calm whenever he sees her start to fuss over her hair. (The hair tie she keeps in usually keeping it at bay but not stopping it completely)

The whites of her eye have always been more of an off yellow, green at the edges if you really look. Her dad decided not to mention the way they seemed to glow unnaturally in the dark.

As her powers grew, a pinker hue started to spread in her Iris till eventually her eyes were purple with pink streaks instead of blue

Sometimes she looks in her fathers own blue eyes and wonders if she still looks human enough to pass as his daughter

Her teeth are pointy. Like really pointy. She's never tested how sharp they are (despite Donnies inquiries) but they are definitely sharp enough for her to avoid smiling naturally her whole childhood.

The turtles end up being the first people she finds herself comfortable enough around to let her real smile show (They thought they were cool and didn't question them further)

The turtles actually didn't notice how abnormal April looked and seemed until they met Casey and it clicked that humans usually don't glow slightly when they're happy- yep that one's definitely the Kraang DNA then

Donnie and Casey both briefly had moments where they wondered if they just adored April so much that she looked like she was glowing at times till they realised that sure they love April but she's definitely glowing for real

She's got a weird sort of energy around her, Donnie believes it may actually be the sheer power she holds but April feels more like everyone around her can just sense she's different.

The strange energy around her stopped her from ever really making any friends growing up, even before any of her Kraang features were too noticeable. Everyone immediately picking up that she was "alien", even if they didn't realise how literal that was.

April has no idea how Casey is seemingly immune to this "off-putting vibe"

He's not immune, he felt it but was more intrigued than scared.

The turtles felt it too but just assumed it was cause they weren't used to having a human around that it felt so "off".

Eventually everyone got so used to it that they only really notice this energy when April is using a lot of her power or is using it directly on them.

A very basic drawing I made to try and get an idea of how much about her I'd change. (I am much more a writer than an artist and really this is just for fun and as a way for me to organise my thoughts. I basically traced as much as this as I could from a screenshot)

More sketches of her

[compressedrage]

*barges in* Your Hollow Head Siblings hc's, hand 'em over!!!! 🔫

(But fr, gotta love your thoughs, they're neat and scratch my brain juuuust right!!!)

YOU HAVE OPENED THE FLOOD GATES MY ANONYMOUS FRIEND

Keep in mind I am very tired rn so this will likely be very unpolished okay here we go–

The order of age goes Victim Chosen Dark Orange, we all know this, but I think for a long time Dark thought he and Chosen were a lot closer in age than they actually were. Chosen had to warm up to telling Dark about all the horrible things he went through, and that included the fact that he was alone for four years. (it's four years right? it might be five. I can't be bothered to look it up rn, its fine)

In between the Showdown and Wanted Orange is starting to think of Chosen as an older brother. He connected the dots to figure out that Chosen was also made by Alan and he saved them! He's so cool! This idea was only a little bit shattered when this older brother figure barged into the PC and kidnapped him and promptly got them both captured. But honestly what are older siblings for.

In canon Chosen does not let himself feel emotions enough for him to see Orange as a little brother, but the connection is there. He'll come around :)

SPEAKING OF CONNECTIONS– I recently had this idea that the Hollowheads had some sort of empathy-telepathy with each other. For example, one normal day out in the Outernet Chosen feels the exact moment Orange was created. He doesn't know what that feeling meant, and he never felt it again. Orange felt drawn to this new stick figure who saved their lives, and immediately follows him through the portal. Chosen felt something snap in his chest the moment Dark died. Orange and Victim lock eyes for a moment in the Box and feel something click. None of them talk about it, but it's there.

(that last one might qualify as an AU, who knows maybe I'll do something with it)

This one is more of a wish than a headcanon– Chosen takes Orange under his wing at some point, teaching him how to use his powers as best he can. However, since Orange's powers are rather different from Chosen's, it just results in a chaotic sparring session and setting a field on fire. The CG are not amused by the amount of bruises Orange gets, but Orange is having an absolute blast.

Orange is Chosen's "Second Coming"– surely that comes with consequences. I saw a hc where they shared portions of code and I liked that; something like Orange and Chosen have similar tastes in foods. Their eyes shine the same way when they smile. Sometimes they accidentally speak in unison because they each had the exact same thought. When stuff gets serious, they both narrow their eyes and make an expression that promises pain on their enemies.

Dark would be the best big brother and let me tell you why. Orange is often left with the Braincell of the CG. Have you seen how stressed this boy gets. He gets premonitions of his friends getting hurt. Dark allows him to mess around a bit more, in a "We might get in trouble, isn't that fun!!" kind of way. Orange has always had a chaotic streak, it just takes certain circumstances for him to tap into it. They would be able to get Red back for his pranking.

Orange would teach Chosen and Dark all about modern video games. They know video games, sure, they destroyed Angry Birds. But I think playing Minecraft would solve both of their problems. At least a lot of them.

I don't have many headcanons for Victim, I just haven't seen enough of him to get a solid enough foundation to make headcanons, but as an oldest child I can relate to him on a spiritual level. He may be gray now but with those three as younger siblings he's gonna get a whole lot grayer.

Gosh I love them so much, a house with all four Hollowheads would be the most chaotic house ever. Victim– the eldest with an actual job, no nonsense, the less-than-respected Holder of the Braincell. Since he is out of the house a lot because of Job, the responsibility falls to Chosen– older middle child, delinquent, failure of a cook and the only one Dark will listen to. Speaking of Dark– younger middle child, Chaos Incarnate, fellow delinquent and Escape Artist Extraordinaire, he is a terrible influence on the youngest– Orange. Orange is the black sheep of the family in that he is actually rather emotionally stable. He's in school, has friends, hobbies– his brothers just a bit jealous but supportive anyway. He also helps Dark prank the others; he's got great aim with water balloon catapults.

I cannot impress upon you enough how much they love each other. Their lives have been filled with isolation, suffering, rejection– but now they've found family in likewise people. None of them are alone anymore. Sure, Orange wasn't really alone to begin with, but surely he noticed how different he was from RYGB. He's not replacing them, not for a million dollars, but it is nice to have brothers who are similar to you.

[bandsandwristbands]

it’s me ur bbgrill tell me yuor 1-4 headcanons rn

gettin grilled by the bbgrill

Level 1!

hhhh i mean canon does not give much to work with imo

Firstly Lee and Gaara are massive shit talkers.

Lee got that chronic pain, dawg, like regular shooting pains and nerve issues but he doesn't say anything cuz he doesn't want anyone to worry or feel bad(👀Gaara *cough*)

Gaara ups his tai jutsu training (I think this is canon in filler lol) but Lee helps him out by sending over reference material all the time. The homies tell Lee that he's overdoing it but Gaara keeps and studies everything Lee sends.

Speaking of studying I think Gaara had to study hard for the bureaucratical aspects of the Kazekage spot. (Probably mostly shadowed Baki for a long time) Like strength is a given but he was totally on his own when it came to education and diplomatic stuff because he was pushed through the academy purely through fear and nepotism. Not to say he isn't smart, once he starts in on something he's similar to Lee in that he goes all in, it becomes a whole aspect of his personality.

Level 2 💥

Sorry but Gaara still has mood swings and struggles to regulate his emotions. He masks real well, king of compartmentalize and dissociate lol but mans lashes out sometimes. Especially before shukaku is extracted like he canonically is not allowed to sleep his neural pathways are fried. He does try to not let it on to anyone because it Freaks People Out for obvious reasons. (The gaalee here is that Lee doesn't gaf about moodswings because he is also TooMuch sometimes, just a very accepting guy so he's someone Gaara can be less under tight emotional control with and he tries to offer healthy outlets hiii gay thoughts and mushy feelings)

Also he cries way easily, sometimes he just chillin and he's like aw fuck not again, cuz the fatigue and stress manifests or just feeling generally overwhelmed(*references 1(one) scene in shippuden*)

Level 3 !

Gaara is a brat, a little shit, a bit of an instigator even. Lee is one of the only people who can really challenge him on his attitude when he's being a menace. Temari and Kankuro too but Gaara knows how to push their buttons too well loll

I mean the guy definitely misuse his authority sometimes (usually for the greater good but sometimes just to be sneaky)

Lee is spiteful and has a greedy streak in the sense that if he wants to go for something, he doesn't gaf if he 'deserves it' he'll earn that shit for himself and then rub it in your face but somehow be polite about it. Utilizes malicious compliance often.

Gaara is a picky eater, certain textures bother him and specific foods he just won't eat, he later explains to Lee that he's been poisoned a few times and even the smell of certain foods makes him feel violently ill as a result. It tasted fine when he ate it at first but his body remembers the pain and fear quite vividly. Lee goes out of his way to be courteous of this. Alternatively Lee will eat anything on principle of not being wasteful.

Level 4!! (The ones im slow cookin at all times)

HELLO RELIGION/CULTURE HCS Gaara gets into reviving old Suna traditions and sponsors more regular celebrations to rebuild a sense of community outside of the military state previous Kazekages had been building. (This wins over a lot of Old Head civilians because they remember when practicing and appreciating their religious figures was commonplace) In general Suna becomes a lot more colorful and lively especially in the years post war. Art and clothing and jewelry actually becomes a pretty decent trade asset. The regular big celebrations encourage more tourism, helps the economy and helps with their perceptions as this harsh, conservative village.

Also his Mom was from the aboriginal tribes of Suna and so getting connected with that part of himself feels like getting closer to her.

Lee Officially Courts Gaara following Sunan tradition (w/ lots of help from Tem, Kank, team Gai) in front of the whole village, my guy is a romantic and audacious af and really it sweeps Gaara right up off his feet.

Established relationship, Gaara is seriously outrageous with PDA, very much likes to flex his Lee because he didn't think he'd ever have anything close to a loving partner and Lee eats it up(blushing profusely). They're so gross and in love that whoever invites them anywhere will receive a formal warning about their behavior.

The sand sibs have a punk band together for funsies. It's mostly Kanks hobby, but post chuunin Baki shares a couple old man cd's with them and they just start banging out songs here and there to spend more time together and process their feelings in an abstract way.

(I project my gender onto Gaara a lil too; uses he/him cuz that's what everyone is used to but doesn't necessarily think of himself as anything specific genderwise, he was just a monster for twelve years afterall. Dabbles with feminity sometimes but doesn't think too hard about it.)

[chantsdemarins]

Find Tom: Part 2

(a little new art too)

The whole "soccer era" Tom was the push I needed to jump back into a Tom fic, although I am by far much more comfortable just sticking with Loki. I hope this isn't cringey. It’s not that great but I feel like it needs to be posted. 😑

⚠️It's mature so no under 18 readers!

❤️It's a love poem with not a lot of plot!

☠️I used some new smutty words

Lastly, I truly appreciate anyone who takes the time to read my work! No comment is too small, no reblog is unfelt. I wouldn't do any of this if I didn't have readers. You mean the world to me.

@lovelysizzlingbluebird @mischief2sarawr @five-miles-over @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @kats72 @fictive-sl0th @sailorholly @tbhiddlestan83 @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @goblingirlsarah @jennyggggrrr @mjsthrillernp @wolfsmom1 @lady-rose-moon @mygfloki @buttercupcookies-blog @lokixryss @simplyholl @eleniblue @kingtwhiddleston

Thank you-thank you-thank you!

Read Find Tom Part 1

He had stayed an extra week-you had called in to work with hope and a prayer you wouldn’t lose your job.

How could you have known that the remarkable business of bedding a movie star not only included being passionately taken on every mid-modern furnishing capable of withstanding Tom’s athleticism but also came replete with nuanced discussions of such things as little-known facets of British history?

A mere night with this man would have been impossible. His words alone filled the time so completely while his cock took up the rest of the hours left in the day. You needed a lifetime but would have to settle for a week. You also felt like Tom’s spare thoughts were enough to earn him a second Cambridge degree.

You often found yourself pouring strong coffee between glasses of Cab to keep your mind sharp enough to ask intelligent follow-up questions. Which you always did. It was impossible not to notice how his conversational ability effervesced through him, a surging sparkle that galvanized in his eyes, creating a disproportionate lure and the impulse to return the enchanting discourse in kind. Over the course of the week, you had time to observe how many of Tom’s features would appear as backdrops to his emotions.

Like the plane of his nose, its pristine alpine slope, when he was grinding his hips into you. Or how his smile consumed half of his face while his lips found yours.

His eyes were mesmerizing vehicles of his intellect like twin comets streaking the sky. You had to watch them. You couldn’t take your own eyes off them. He saw not only you but what was beyond you, possibly what you would become. He had a witchy sense.

Also, strangely when you least expected it, a pallor of sadness would also occasionally descend between your bodies. A departure from his enthusiastic nature that usually led the way. It was clear something had made a lasting impact on him. Was it another woman? A situation? Strife of the elite? Champagne problems that you could never understand. You wanted to ask him to tell you, but you let the sadness be a silent companion to your passion.

All this revelation was amplified in the vintage quiet of the Sea Ranch cottage you had all to yourselves.

That first night, he took you easily. Perhaps embarrassingly easy. After all, you’d been wet since you saw him from across the crowded room. An uncomfortable distraction while you talked about your lives and listened to the quartet play The Lark Ascending in the main room of the after-party. Something about the tender violin and his deep voice from a place far away. The details. The decorations, wild peach-colored streamers blowing in the ocean wind battering the rafters. A hum in your ears.

The way he leaned in closer when you knew he could hear you. You’d swallow him up if given the chance. Later at his Sea Ranch cottage, what felt like an eternity after so much conversation and ephemera, you were finally a crumpled passionate mess. You remember looking down and seeing him finally enter you, the implications, the spectacle.

You felt your breath leave and never quite return.

Later as dawn coursed through and put the evening to rest, Tom made sure to use the California poppy napkins to tidy you both up but stopped himself short of a full janitorial protocol. There was something a little wicked about his disregard. He liked seeing you wrecked. He liked seeing the lingering elements of the sex you just had, still on you. He didn’t want to make things too neat. You felt exposed but did not want to assemble a wall between you.

The instinct was that of vulnerability. Only sometimes found in casual romance. Only sometimes experienced by you.

By Tuesday, Tom’s effulgent historical discourse had fully found its way into your conversation yet again. You sat on the ocean-facing porch in two aging red deck chairs, a temptation for Tom’s fingers. He easily peeled off their flaking paint and collected it into a neat pile on the property’s 1972 glass Sands Hotel ashtray.

He would continue to move the small pile around with his long finger mixing the chipped paint with the singed tobacco and marijuana wrappings from the day for the hours you talked. Tom would grow quiet only when he rolled his own cigarettes one-handed.

You wondered if he smoked back in London or only when on holiday or business, or as an affront to suffocating California standards of healthy living. The sea wind picked up and moved through his rust-colored hair, salt air conjuring it into full attention.

Apparently, he had forgotten his blow dryer, but now, surprisingly, he seemed besotted with his curls. He ran his hands through them as he resumed your previous conversation.

You tried not to lose your concentration on the details. Tom’s mental ephemera began to have a companion in the details of his being you were collecting in the hallows of your own mind. Topics spun wildly from one to another but often fell back into history and philosophy. You prided yourself in keeping up, even if you had to use the cottage's old ethernet cable and early 2000s PC to look up “ontology.”

"British history is rife with privileged white opportunists, wouldn't you say?" His words were intended for both the relentless waves below and you as he stared off into the inky distance. That was quite the conversation shift. You had both just been talking about Steinerberg, Switzerland. He’d been while filming The Night Manager. He went on.

"Take William Bennett, for example, a complete ass."

"William Bennett?" Repeating his choice of subject often gave you a few vital seconds to collect your thoughts.

"Indeed. He essentially earned his fame from an aquatint print of the New York City fire in 1836. The untold story is that he bought the original sketch from an impoverished Italian artist, Nicolino Calyo. Calyo was there amidst the 700 homes succumbing to flames. Bennett essentially duplicated it, and therefore, as a wealthy, idle British artist, he managed to elude any consequences." You scrunched your nose in a silent response before replying.

"And Calyo?" you finally ventured, already anticipating Tom's reply.

"Naturally, he ended up dead and destitute. The old D and D, if you will.”

You laughed but felt a parallel emerge within you. Your life seemed uncomfortably akin to Nicolino Calyo's. Your mind raced - was Tom, beneath his casual Louis Vuitton button-down, a modern William Bennett? Your thoughts looped back to yesterday's breathy exchange after you’d gone down on him and where you confessed that after a long hiatus, you'd begun painting again. Was he secretly archiving the ideas you'd shared about your nascent series, ready to unearth them during his leisure in Margate - a place allegedly sharing the "spirit and design" of Sea Ranch? While Tom moved your things inside as the chill of the evening overtook you both, your mind was fixated on your previous conversation.

In your carnally vexed state, you'd unveiled your infatuation with the hues of mint green, adobe red, and translucent pink. His curiosity had been particularly piqued by "adobe," which led to a discourse on the disparity between the tangible "true adobe" and the digitized shade we've now associated with the word.

He reflected on his time in New Mexico during the filming of the first Thor movie, where he was first introduced to the color scheme of the American Southwest. It had been a captivating conversation that moved fast. An image of Tom as a reincarnated William Bennett, unveiling his own mint green and adobe masterpiece at a glitzy auction event eight years from now felt lodged in your mind.

Apparently, this emerging anxiety of trusting such a departure from your usual type of lover was hard. None of your other partners would still an idea you had for a painting and make millions from it, but of course, neither would Tom. You were becoming irrational. You poured yourself a new glass of wine, emptying another bottle. Closing your eyes for a moment by yourself while Tom assembled the next part of your evening with his usual intentionality intact, even if he didn’t catch your mood. He tracked even the tiniest details in the short time you’d spent together. You wondered if his sadness had descended, preventing him from noticing.

The next day you made love in the early morning hours, savoring his body. He was deeply asleep his naked luminosity shining against the white of the sheets. Tom still smelled like the rosemary he had picked from the bushes out front. You had watched him in his running shorts and nothing else, springs of rosemary in his hands.

He remarked about how wild rosemary doesn’t grow in England; at least, he didn’t think so. He joked he would take some of it back in his suitcase. He’d smell like California. He’d smell like privileged things like taking an extra week off. At that moment, you had felt his lineage as if a halo surrounded him - an impenetrable force field.

The afternoon found you both in the living room, wrapped in tartan blankets, partaking in an improvised indoor picnic. Tom had run a 10-mile round trip to Jenner's only grocery store. The sight of him returning with baguettes, ham, brie, and more wine bottles settled his existence in your mind as a true enigma. His sweaty, proud smile covered his face completely as held the baguette up to the sky in a triumphant cheer. You ran to him and held him around his middle.

You always loved the way tall skinny guys felt. It was a too-familiar gesture for such a casual situation, you tried to pull back, but he nestled his head into the crook of your shoulder. You closed your eyes and heard only the ambient sound of birds.

The morning of the sixth day, you dressed in his white undershirt and boxer shorts. You both reveled in the amusement of exchanging clothing items to create new outfits each day. The addition of Tom’s packed subtly luxurious clothing gave you both interesting options. His Armani suit jacket with just your black underwear. Tom amusingly in your skirt, paired with his unexpected choice of nude suede Herve ankle boots.

Your scarf and his sleek Ray-Bans. His running shorts were cleverly repurposed as a strapless jumpsuit. In the end, the clothes would always come off. You would be naked. You would have your hands consuming one another in a shocking discovery of hidden pleasure. The responses were the truth.

The thing you both could trust. In his sighs, in the warm breath that haunted your collar bones. In the flush of his cheeks. In the sweat on his forehead or the goosebumps on your arms when his fingertips traced the edges of your body with the precision of an engineer, you held on to the touches, the utterances of euphoria. With every orgasm, you felt the incredible raw honor of being human.

You wanted to slow it down long enough to feel it truly. To feel a king cuming inside you. To feel his cum and his claim while lost in the gravity of his eyes. Those magnificent extensions of his brain were a lifeline. Your bodies became sculptures, black quartz in the hot sun.

By Sunday, the end of your time together had finally found its way to you. He whispered in your ear after pulling out, catching any breath he could. He could only stay until Monday, he had to go back to London. You stared at the slow oscillations of the Casablanca ceiling fan. “I’ll miss this,” your words were an echo of the real words you longed to say.

His eyes closed, lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks.

The woman he would one day choose to marry, you thought, God help her. She would undoubtedly be transformed if your brief moments with Tom were any sign. However, for some melancholic reason, you knew it wasn’t going to be you.

You weren’t destined to be the lover who would eventually turn into a wife. He only had room for the ecstasy of passion and intellectual tête-à-têtes. This affair was incomplete, with no clear conclusion in sight. It wasn't a tale like that of William Bennett and his ill-gotten fame through art theft—a story with a beginning, middle, and end.

No, this was something else entirely. Suddenly, as if he was privy to the endless stream of inner thoughts, Tom spoke. "I met you at the right time, y/n," he said, his piercing blue eyes now open.

He jumped out of bed and casually dressed, slipping on a single item of clothing or, more accurately, an accessory — his Gucci belt wrapped sideways around his bare body. It was difficult to concentrate as he strolled past the expansive windows of the cottage. His muscles and his semi-hard cock were the only things holding that thing in place. Your cheeks grew hot. Tom followed up his emotional revelation with a more practical question.

"Shall I make us eggs on this, our final morning together?”

Without waiting for your response, he ventured into the kitchen, energetically rummaging through the cabinets in search of pepper before swinging open the refrigerator.

As he busily prepared breakfast, his underlying sadness was emerging, defying the rational part of his mind that wished it weren't there. Balancing a glass bowl against his stomach, he swiftly began whisking eggs, his intense gaze fixed upon you. This prompted you to inquire once more, "Why is this the right time, Tom?"

He continued whisking the eggs as he replied, "You found me, truly. Sometimes, we serve that purpose for others, akin to amateur archaeologists. Returning to London, I will be more whole, not less."

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of Tom's t-shirt you were now wearing.

"You desired this life you have didn't you? You wanted fame?"

"I don't know, y/n. I wanted to do what I loved," Tom confessed, pouring the frothy mixture into the heated pan.

"I doubt it’s that simple, I'm sure you've had to make difficult decisions to reach the top."

"Like parting ways with a beautiful woman I met while on an extended work trip?"

"Yes, exactly like that,” you struggled to say.

"It happens all the time, love, all the time. Regret is my middle name. Thomas Regret Hiddleston."

With that sentence, he refocused his attention on cooking, his hands and mind engaged in a synchronized activity not unlike sex, serving a similar yet less emotional purpose.

You discovered a tablecloth tucked away in the back of a cabinet and spread it over the aged blonde table. Professionally, he placed the plates of food before you.

"Quite the last supper we have here," you remarked, attempting a joke to mask your emerging underlying sadness, though failing in your intended delivery.

Your gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet the sunlight streaming through the windows or Tom's eyes. He continued in his relational eulogy, "Its breakfast, y/n, and many more will come. Someday, you'll have a partner, and I'll have someone too. We'll be enjoying meals with them, and something will trigger a memory. Perhaps we'll be by the sea on vacation, and you'll remember me, and I'll remember you."

So he was thinking similar thoughts as you. He did not feel he met his future wife at a Bay Area film festival after-party. It was a long shot at best. You nervously tried to continue talking.

"Of course, not simultaneously. How could we possibly know if we remember each other at the same time?"

"We will never know, y/n. We will only remember each other out-of-sync for the rest of our lives."

With that bittersweet but strangely truthful statement, he reached across the table and gently took your hand and kissed it. You wouldn’t watch him leave late that night. You skipped the coffee after the wine, and poured yourself another, watching the moon reflect off the darkness of the glass.