#she's touchy about some inquiries too

[immajustvibehere]

Touch Starved Arthur x fem!touchy Reader (Part 2)

Pairing: hh!Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader (fluffly)

Part1 here!

summary: Arthur takes you and Jack out camping for two nights. Both of you have to battle your feelings for each other until you finally....

warnings: one bed trope, fluff, domestic bliss

6000 words

In the manner of Arthur’s approach, you knew he was up to something. His big hands rested on his gun belt, his expression was casual. His attempt to appear relaxed was almost perfect. You weren’t fooled so easily, though. By the smug grin that started to appear on your face as Arthur came closer, he understood that you had sensed his unease from a mile away. Your intuition was exceptional, and Arthur silently cursed himself for his own transparency. And suddenly, there were his subtle tells…the scratching of his neck, the scrunching of his nose, the restlessness of his fingers caressing the leather of the belt.

"Hey, what's up?", you asked and propped your head up with your elbow resting on the table.

"Uhm...I have a proposition to make", Arthur awkwardly sat down at the table. Thankfully, barely anyone else was around to witness this encounter. The sun hadn’t risen yet and people were only slowly crawling out of their beds. In fact, Arthur still saw the remnants of sleep in your features but the steaming mug of coffee in front of you suggested that you were diligently combating it.

"I'm all ears."

Arthur couldn’t help but detect the playful undertone in your voice. You had grown more comfortable around each other the last few days and weeks and some banter and teasing were commonplace by now, particularly in the presence of others. But when you found yourselves alone, which hadn’t really happened since last time, you’d feel like there was a more genuine connection and care for each other than either of you would normally let on.

"Ya can say no if ya don't want to but-...well, I already talked to Abigail. She said she was fine with it", Arthur started. You had no clue what he was on about, but he pressed on, "I suggested we take out Jack for a night or two. The boy needs to see something aside this patch of land and I thought...if you would wanna tag along? You know, I was fine fishing with him but I'm not sure if I'd be any good at the other stuff."

"Yes, of course", you immediately replied. Arthur wasn't sure why he had expected a rejection or a dismissal that he was stupid to suggest such a thing. You actually looked pleasantly surprised about the idea.

You smiled: "It's not just Jack, you know? I haven't left camp since we moved here, so I'll get to see some of the country too!"

"Okay, sure", Arthur said, still somewhat in surprise about what you had just agreed to. But his surprise soon gave way to a sense of anticipation, especially when he noticed enthusiasm. He couldn’t supress a warm chuckle, evidently relieved that everything had worked out.

You briefly discussed the logistics, and Arthur settled on a plan: a night between Dewberry Creek and Ringneck Creek for the first stop, followed by, if Jack was up for it, a night in a room at the Rhodes Saloon.

The following day, you were all packed up. Your horse carried a rolled-up tent, large enough to accommodate the three of you. Jack rode with Arthur, he was the experienced rider after all and would be much greater use in keeping the child from sliding off the horse. It was a fine day, the morning sun was veiled behind some clouds, offering a respite from the usual stifling heat. Rain wasn’t to be expected, the clouds looked like they would clear sooner or later.

For the ride, Jack was dead silent for ten minutes at a time but then asked any question he could come up with. Arthur appreciated your willingness to respond, particularly when faced with Jack’s more challenging inquiries that needed to be tailored for a child’s understanding. Arthur was outright impressed at your skill in addressing his questions, and kept silent, even if Jack wanted his view on something specifically.

It was a smooth ride. Once you had passed the first creek you kept looking for an ideal spot to build your camp. You watched happily how Arthur pretended to discuss the area with Jack, granting him the final say in where to put up the tent. Arthur was responsible for the tent while you went off with Jack to look for firewood. When you returned, the tent had been putt up and Arthur had already gotten out the fishing gear.

"Are we fishing again?", Jack asked with curiously.

"Well, we gotta eat something", Arthur answered.

"But fishing's boring!" Jack said back and Arthur chuckled warmly. The last time he took the boy fishing, it was anything but uneventful, though he understood that a four-year-old wasn't so keen on standing still and waiting.

You squatted in front of Jack: "Why don't you take your toys with you to the water? You can play and Arthur and I'll do the boring waiting."

"Mh, okay."

You walked over to Ringneck Creek. Arthur settled on the same spot he had been to while fishing with Javier a while back. It had a good overlook of the place, so Jack could play in the distance, while still being in eye- and earshot. You and Arthur sat down next to each other, not saying anything and prepping the fishing rod. Even when there were no words exchanges, both of you felt comfortable in each other’s presence. Arthur felt your eyes on him as he pierced a tiny bit of cheese through the hook and handed the rod to you.

“The fish get cheese for lunch? That’s mighty fine, don’t you think?”, you joked.

“This cheese? It has been mouldy for days now. It won’t do us any good. But for fish? The stinker, the better”, Arthur explained and added in a mumble, “Or so I’ve heard…”

You both threw out your line and before you quipped: “So you keep your mouldy cheese in your satchel with the rest of your food?”

Arthur watched the rings expanding around his line, then swallowed quickly before looking you in the eye. Not very convinced he answered: “No…?”

He had expected a lesson on proper food hygiene, but you only grinned cheekily: “Glad I took care of food for this trip. But you really shouldn’t do that, you know? Next time you leave camp for more than a day, I’ll pack you something.”

“Ya don’t have to do that, really”, Arthur replied out of politeness, but the idea of you walking up to him with a sandwich to take on his journeys sent tingles to his chest.

“Mh. I insist”, you said, “I’ll have to take care of you if your stomach goes mad, so I’d rather prevent that. Not that I wouldn’t like to take care of you. Don’t you never keep an injury or sickness a secret in front of me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am”, Arthur said, “You sound like Miss Grimshaw, it’s good yer away from camp for a while”, Arthur joked. Deep down, he knew that you didn’t want to control him, but that you sincerely cared for his well-being. Something Arthur couldn’t quite understand. Of course, he would do the same for you – but that’s different because he had already figured out that he liked your attention more than anyone else. No, that he liked you more than anyone else. Arthur got a little lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t yet entirely sure about his feelings for you. Mainly because he wasn’t sure how you felt. You were so kind and caring for everyone in the gang, he sadly doubted that he was anything special.

“I missed spending some time with you. Sorry that it’s so hard to sneak away from camp”, you said after a while, bringing Arthur back to reality.

“Doesn’t matter”, Arthur mumbled. He was embarrassed that he felt his cheeks getting warm, “We got away now, didn’t we? I feel almost bad that I take up so much of yer time.”

“Please don’t”, you laughed, looking at the man next to you with a smile.

“I think I saw Sean shed a tear when he heard that you’d be away from camp for two days”, Arthur mentioned.

“Yeah. I think he’s sweet on me”, you said so casually, that Arthur was caught off guard, staring at you in disbelieve.

Arthur cleared his throat before he slowly said: “I thought he and Karen…?”

“Well, Karen is good for one thing”, you said with an ambiguous smile, not meaning serious offence with those words, “I’m good for another.”

From the distance, you heard Jack calling for ‘uncle Arthur’. Arthur sighed with a smile and handed you his finishing rod.

“Yer okay to watch that?”, he asked.

“Sure, go ahead”, you encouraged him.

Jack wanted Arthur’s help to balance on a dead tree. It was wholesome to see how Arthur helped him up on the trunk and then held his hand so he would have an easier time balancing. Then the boy would sit on Arthur’s shoulders and break a smooth looking branch from a tree, using it to play swords fighting with Arthur. You knew that Arthur was gentle with Jack and compared to some men in the gang, even to John if you were honest, he was doing a great job. Still, you hadn’t dreamt that he'd be ready to take on a whole swords fight, pretending to get stabbed when Jack’s twig poked his leg. You noticed Arthur’s stolen glances in your direction. It was as if he wanted to make sure you were watching, though you didn’t have the impression that he only played along to impress you. Arthur seemed to genuinely enjoy it.

“Caught anything yet?”, Arthur’s voice woke you up from your daydreams when he walked up to you after a while.

“No…”, you answered and admitted, “I was a little distracted.”

“Ain’t blamin’ ya. We gave you a hell of a show”, Arthur said and took his spot next to you again. Luckily, a few fish bit later on and by the time you walked back to your tent, a fire could be built and the fish were grilled. A lot of time had passed, and the sun was already low in the sky. Jack demanded to be read to from his favourite book. After you had read a few pages and Jack had settled in to listen to some more, you handed the book to Arthur. He had been busy with stoking the fire and cleaning the grit, so he was a little caught off guard by the action.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”, he asked.

“Read to the boy”, you answered with a grin.

“Why can’t you?”, Arthur asked, his eyebrows raised in wonder.

“My throat is starting to feel sore”, you lied so obviously, that even Jack could have seen through it, “besides; I want someone to read to me too.”

Arthur considered the situation for a moment before giving in. The last time he read a book to someone…well, he wasn’t sure. Was it to Jamie when he was still a little boy or to Isaac? Did he ever even read out to Isaac? Arthur was prompted into opening the book when you suddenly snuggled up to him. But that alone made him lose his voice for a moment, so he had to collect himself before starting to read.

You loved how raspy Arthur’s voice would get when he was nervous, but it soon smoothed out and he had barely read for ten minutes when you had to stop him, because Jack had fallen asleep.

“’s barely even dark…”, Arthur commented after he had carried the boy to his bedroll in the tent.

“He did have an eventful day”, you said, and Arthur had to agree. The bottle of whiskey Arthur had brought was soon opened up and half was gone by the time you could make out the first stars in the sky. A lot of your conversation was just recollecting the day or commenting on happenings on the last few days, but after some silence, Arthur started a new conversation.

"Maybe, if ya told me what the other men ask you to do, I'd feel less a fool for asking ya fer something", Arthur suggested. The undertone of his voice revealed curiosity, but he had tried to keep that intent hidden. You were surprised that he remembered what you had talked about the last time it was just the two of us.

"You're unbelievable!", you exclaimed and giggled so light-heartedly. Arthur's heart melted when he saw the crinkles around your eyes. "You just want the gang's gossip!", you accused him.

"No! I'm just sayin'", Arthur shrugged with a smile, "It would really help a lot."

You looked at him, his blue-greenish eyes staring right back at you. You were an avid eye-contact holder, it was required for your role in the gang. But no pair of eyes ever compared to Arthur's. It was his turn to catch your gaze wandering to his lips, he also noticed how your eyes fluttered, when they looked up again, and then briefly away, as if you considered something.

"Fine. I'll tell you some. But I won't tell you who asked me for what."

"Sure."

"Mhhh...it's not the craziest stuff, if you’re expecting that. Most men like when I play with their hair. Or head scratches. I told you I was good at them! Someone likes it when I feed them. Like...you know...we go pick some berries and I feed them. It can be really,...domestic, I suppose. But then it becomes a lot of fun because we try to throw the berries into each other mouths, trying to catch them. It’s great..."

You got slightly embarrassed. When you spend time with other men from the gang, you always tried to give them an experience that made them happy. Some of it was oddly intimate. It didn't bother you much, but now, speaking about it with Arthur, you somehow started to worry that you'd be worth less in his eyes. Just because you have done those things with his friends. It wasn't like you slept with them. No, none, with very few exceptional instances, have ever been inappropriate.

You were silent for a while, those thoughts taking over quickly. And yet, what should it matter? It’s just Arthur, it was okay if he knew that side of you.

You sighed deeply, still finding Arthur’s eyes glued to your lips.

"Some of them like to show off to me. It's real stupid stuff. Like 'look how quick I can draw' or 'check out this piece of wood I whittled'. I suppose these are just things they are mildly proud at...but embarrassed to show someone. I...like that, though. It's really cute and reveals something about the person. There is always something to praise or enjoy about it. And they really appreciate it."

Arthur stared into the fire, nodding his head slowly.

After a while, he started with: "I ehrm-..." Then he pulled out his journal.

"It's nothing special either...", he flipped through some pages, only to reveal a double-sided sketch of Clemen's Point. A beautiful sketch, well-observed with depth and detail. You knew Arthur kept a journal – you never knew he drew in it! And from all the sketches the other men had ever shown you, most of them could have been done better by Jack, this was honestly impressive.

"Arthur-"

"I know, 's silly", and he was about to close the journal when you snatched it out of his hand and placed it in your lap. Not daring to flip the page but studying the sketch in front of you.

"Are you kidding? It's fucking amazing."

When Arthur looked at you in disbelieve, you doubled down: "Fuck you, man. I can't even pick out things I like to praise because the whole damn thing's just-!"

"Yer teasing me..."

"Am not! When someone shows me a drawing, I often have to guess, like ‘Oh, that’s a nice bison you drew.’ And then they correct me and go like ‘It’s supposed to be a dog.’ and we have a good laugh about it…but this…Is that Dutch's horse?", you asked, pointing at the little white stallion. Arthur confirmed it. You started to point at things, accurately identifying what it was. John's tent, the chicken coop, even the figure in the distance, that only was a vague outline of a person, you identified as if you had been there when it was drawn.

"You have more drawings in there?", you asked.

"Sure. But- wait", he took the journal back, carefully skipping the pages where he had sketched you, which had happened suspiciously often recently, and only showing you the landscapes and animals. You never expected that Arthur had an eye for things like that. A doe was captured perfectly in its shy manner. A funny looking cabin, a crooked tree. For all those things, Arthur stopped and took his time to draw them. It was stunning. You felt like he had given you a better idea of what sort of a man he actually is. To say you liked that version of him, was an understatement and you started to realise this with every sketch of ducks or fish he presented to you.

"When you find someone, someone you really like. And start a family...you could draw and sell those pictures, you know?"

Arthur was shocked. Firstly, why you knew about his wish to start a family, and secondly, that you suggested his drawings are nearly good enough for anyone to pay money for.

"Y/n", Arthur lamented, almost with a painful voice. As if you were that naive girl that had no idea about how life works. That there could never be a family for him, never a different life than shooting and robbing to get to some money.

"Have you ever painted? Like with colour and a paintbrush?", you interrupted.

"Ain't worth it. I'd be no good with colour. And it's too expensive."

"When's your birthday?", you asked out of the blue. You were determined. If you had to work your ass off for it or drop to your knees in front of Miss Grimshaw, you'd get this man a paintbrush.

"No", Arthur said firmly.

"Come on!", you quipped.

"Stop it. It's just a stupid thing I do to pass some time it ain't-"

"But I love them!", you interrupted, "I really do. Every single one you showed me."

"Clearly, something ain’t right in your head then", Arthur joked and put his journal away.

"You are a charming man, Mr. Morgan," you teased back, bumping into his shoulder.

As if your words had confirmed Arthur's accusation, he comically tapped your forehead with his index finger: "Really messed up, aren't you?"

"Why?", you said, switching gears and skilfully capturing Arthur's finger that had went for another tap. It took both of your hands to open Arthur's hand, not that he resisted, but his hands were huge. And with your guidance, Arthur's hand cupped your cheek. "Is it because I like to spend time with you? Do you think one has to be mad to enjoy that? Because if you do think that...I have to give you ten reasons why you are wrong."

Arthur barely listened to your words. His senses were hyper focused on his hand which was touching your cheek. Warm and soft. Not smooth like a perfect hide, but skin isn't perfect. Hell, his hand must be mighty uncomfortable. It was calloused, beaten up, scarred. There was no rational reason why you would snuggle your face into it like it was a pillow you readied for a night's sleep.

With pleasure you watched how often he blinked, how flustered he became, how his hand twitched in excitement under your touch. As careful as you were some butterfly, Arthur’s thumb dared to caress your cheek. The movement was so small, it was like he didn’t even want you to notice that you he had dared to do that. Somehow, this rough and hardened outlaw was a real sensitive guy. A sensitive guy who made your stomach flutter.

"I'll head to bed and join Jack, you coming too?", you asked, guiding Arthur's hand into your lap and holding in lightly with your two hands.

"Imma...t-take care of the fire a little longer", Arthur answered with coarse voice, his throat entirely dried up.

"M'kay", you smiled and stood up without letting go of Arthur's hand. Halfway in the process of standing up you halted, pressing a light kiss on Arthur's cheek and whispered good night, before finally letting go and walking off to the tent.

Though you were exhausted, it was tricky to sleep. You listened to Arthur who was still attending the fire, walking up and down, whispering to the horses and occasionally took a swig from the bottle. Jack slept at the side of the tent, you had taken the spot in the middle. No matter how long it felt until sleep finally took over, Arthur crawled into the tent ten minutes later, only to find out that you had messed with the sleeping set-up. It wasn’t the way he had arranged it, namely, a very inequal distribution of blankets and ‘pillows’ (rolled-up jackets or other garments). Arthur had planned to spend the night without a blanket, so you and Jack had two. But you had given up one of yours, which neatly waited on Arthur’s bedroll for him.

“She ain’t gonna make this easy for me”, Arthur thought, before lying down.

-

“Uncle Arthur!”, Jack squatted next to the man who was still fast asleep. Well, until the boy started to shake him with all his might, though it barely rattled the man.

“Aunt y/n told me to wake you”, Jack smiled innocently. Arthur was trying to grasp the situation. For a fleeting moment, he thought there was danger nearby. Then he had been confused about why Jack was there. Only slowly, as Jack left the tent and the rays of sunshine hit his face, he remembered that he had went out camping with you and the boy. And clearly, he had overslept.

Arthur crawled out of the tent and stood up with a groan, stretching his tired limbs. The smell of coffee had reached his nose before he looked down to see Jack walking towards him, a half-filled cup in his hands.

“For you”, he exclaimed. Arthur took the mug and mumbled his thanks, looking up a little to finally lay eyes on you. The fire was on, the percolator boiling with water, and he saw that you were in the process of readying a little pan for some eggs you had apparently taken from camp.

“Good morning”, you said with a big smile.

“Sorry I overslept…”, Arthur grumbled, sitting down by the fire.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you could catch up on some sleep.”

Breakfast was nice. You scrambled some eggs, garmented them with herbs you had collected earlier and re-filled Arthur’s mug. Jack was happy after eating a few bites and then playing with his toys in the distance. Arthur and you discussed the rest of the day and decided you would take your time, see if Jack was up for a ride and a stroll through Rhodes and spending another night at the Saloon.

Later, Jack helped you with washing the dishes at the creek. You managed to talk him into throwing a wet rag at Arthur, which he answered by throwing the rag back at you. This started a game of dogde or catch the rag. You laughed a lot. By mid-day you were on your horses, carefully navigating the shadows to escape the relentless sun. After one very slow hour of riding, with breaks whenever Jack discovered something interesting on the ground that needed further investigation, you arrived in Rhodes. After restocking on groceries, you made your way to the saloon, finding it relatively quiet and peaceful still.

“Can I help you, folks?”, the bartender asked, leaning on the counter.

“A room, please”, Arthur stated briefly. The bartender considered you for a moment, his eyes wandered from Arthur to you and finally your hand that rested protectively on Jack’s shoulder.

“We have a special deal for families. Spacious room, enough beds and a discount on a bath”, the bartender explained, opening the ledger where he kept track of which rooms were taken.

“Sounds great!”, you chimed in happily before Arthur could do as much as open his mouth.

“There you go. Walk up the stairs behind there, first door on the right”, the bartender handed you the keys, “Just let me know when you want the water heated up.”

“Will do, thanks!”, you answered. Your free arm was quickly intertwined with Arthur, who was taken by surprise. He stiffened a little but walked off with you and Jack rather convincingly.

“Whoa! This bed is huge!”, exclaimed Jack when you walked into the room.

“Ain’t for you though, little man”, Arthur chuckled. The room was equipped with a bed that was big enough to fit a couple and a toddler, but there was still a children-sized one in the corner. Arthur noticed how your arm slipped away from his as you entered the room, dropping some of your luggage onto the floor.

“Luxurious, isn’t it?”, you smiled. It was definitely better than the rooms you’d get in Valentine and probably even cleaner than the other ones the saloon had to offer. Jack was settling in, testing how bouncy his mattress was and unpacking his toys while Arthur walked up to you, clearing his throat.

“Yer fine with sharin’ a bed?”, he asked.

You raised an eyebrow: “We shared a tent last night, and that was a much tighter fit, wouldn’t you say so?”

“I guess…”, Arthur felt a little helpless. Sharing a bed felt more domestic and intimate than sharing the same tent. Also, Jack wouldn’t be all snuggled up to you, but in his own bed at some distance. Frankly, Arthur was excited. You watched his frown, not quite sure if its origin was because of discomfort or simple nervosity.

“Are you okay with that? I could bring my bedroll and-“, you wanted to suggest, but Arthur was quick to interrupt you: “I just didn’t know if you were fine with it. I don’t want ya to feel uncomfortable.”

“Don’t worry about me”, you smiled, “I’ll go down and ask for a bath. Abigail will be glad I we bring the boy back cleaner than he was before.”

Arthur was alone in the room for nearly an hour, before you and Jack appeared with damp hair, smelling of soap. It was decided that Arthur would also make use of the warmed-up water, and as he went off to the bathroom, you and Jack set your plan in motion.

By the time Arthur returned he was met with a sight that initially puzzled him. The two of you had transformed the little corner with Jack’s bed using the limited resources available to you, creating a makeshift fort out of pillows and blankets. Jack’s small bed had been turned into a cozy cave of sorts, sheltered from the outside world to the point where you needed a lantern to read a book within.

Arthur didn’t even see you at first, he only heard Jack’s bubbly giggle and you shushing him. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to play along and pretend that he didn’t know where you were…like some sort of hide-and-seek. But he decided against it, instead sighing happily, and sitting down on the big bed.

“I can hear ya, ya know?”, he said gently.

“No you can’t!”, Jack said back.

“Should have built it bigger, doesn’t look like I’ll fit underneath there”, Arthur commented. Now, you peeked out. Arthur saw how you opened a mouth, but something stopped you for a moment. His hair was wet and slicked back. He hadn’t even bothered putting on his shirt, but instead only wore his pants and union suit underneath. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to button it all the way up. It hugged his muscles perfectly. You knew he was in good shape, but you hadn’t expected THIS.

“Shouldn’t have grown so big then”, you finally said, a fine blush on your cheeks.

As the evening advanced, you had read several chapters to Jack, lulling him into slumber. You then quietly slipped into the bed beside Arthur. After some casual conversation which both of you skilfully and awkwardly used to get closer to each other, Arthur asked something that had been on his mind for a while: "What do you get out of it? All the nurturing and caring for everyone in the gang? Has any one of them ever done right by you?"

"Well...I have a place to stay and sleep. I don't have to worry too much about earning money. And I like making others happy."

Arthur didn't like that. A place to sleep and food, he felt like, shouldn't be things you had to earn by listening to the complaints of others all the time.

"All you get is hearing the troubles of some dirty, foolish outlaws. Ain’t really a life, is it?"

"Some make me happy too", you admitted, quietly. You realised how Arthur tensed up slightly.

"I get to know y'all. Don't you think that's a privilege? For a woman my age? Others can't simply walk around in the street, offer some hand-holding a listenin' and expect this to pay for their meals."

"You want to do this for the rest if your life?", Arthur asked. You scanned his body, focusing on the dark hair that grew on his chest.

"No", you whispered, and gently, you put your hand on his chest. You felt his heart, no, you saw how it beat, the skin of his chest swiftly moving in an up and down movement.

Arthur...was different than the others. You didn't know if it was that there was an actual difference, or if it just felt differently. But the way he treated you, the way he held you...it was so gentle. Like it was touch meant for a lifetime. The others were slightly more prudish, because they knew they had a couple of hours with you and maybe they'd be shot and die the next day. Somehow...not Arthur. When he pulled you closer into a hug, it was always the same, as if it was a welcome back, a coming home. There was no holding onto it, because he sorts of knew you would always be there. And you wanted it to be like that too. Because you, as tricky it was to admit, had feelings for this man.

Now it was you who caught Arthur staring, staring at the unsure movements your lips made as you searched for something to say. Maybe to explain what this all meant to you.

"Do you think it's ridiculous, what I do?", you asked. You wanted to know Arthur's opinion, truly.

"What? No."

"Really?"

"Hell, we'd be a bunch of degenerates if ya didn't keep us together. Yer ignoring Micah. For good reasons, I gotta say, and look what a slimy no-good he is. We'd be all like that if it wasn't for you", Arthur said. There was humour in his voice, but he meant what he had said. You smiled slightly.

"I wish I had come to you earlier", Arthur said.

"We are making up for the lost time, aren't we?", you said and leaned into him. The gesture seemed so familiar that Arthur wrapped his arms around you with barely any thought. Arthur watched your fingers as they trailed through his hair on his chest, never resting somewhere for long but tracing lines from his collar bones to where his beard started on his neck.

“Do you mind?”, you whispered, your fingers resting on a button of his suit.

Arthur subtly shook his head and watched how you unbuttoned one button after another. You had him slip out of the sleeves so the suit could be pulled further down, now exposing his entire abdomen to you.

There was no way he could hide his hitched breath. Your touch tickled pleasantly as your fingers explored his skin. He was enjoying those careful attentions, you'd trace around bruises and old scars, Arthur was focused on how it felt differently, the abused flesh and the scar tissue that had lost sensitivity. He noticed, either for the first time ever, or he had forgotten in the meantime, how ticklish he was on his side, under the ribs. He had no urge to laugh, but his body reacted to your touch differently, squirming when your skin brushed over his. Arthur noticed that you took a liking to those reactions, because he felt the corner of your mouth, which was pressed into his arm as you leaned into him, curl into a smile.

It was quiet. Sometimes the yells of a bar fight could be heard or someone hammering on the piano, but that aside, it was only Jack's silent snores that disturbed the peace.

"Arthur?", you whispered and sat up.

"Mhm?", Arthur looked sleepy. It wasn't even that late yet, but something about the situation was making him sleepy in the best way. You said nothing more. You only put your hand on his cheek, briefly caressing his stubble.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?", you asked.

For a few moments, Arthur's mind went completely blank. He only breathed a shaky "Yeah" and your lips brushed his already.

Instantly, Arthur's hands pulled you in closer. You were close, lips brushing, breathing each other's air. It was all you needed, before both of you finally pressed into each other.

You knew Arthur was gentle, but this sort of tenderness took even you by surprise. And Arthur- well, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. When was the last time he had kissed a woman? No, when was the last time he kissed a woman and felt like his heart was about to explode in his chest. He had craved this ever since the night you spent together. And by the way your hands wandered to his hair, fingers running through his strands, he knew you had wanted it just as much.

It was a soft kiss and both of you looked sort of surprised when it had ended. Arthur sat up slightly and pulled you on his lap, which earned him a happy grin. You started to pepper the man in front of you with kisses. Super light, as if a breeze was brushing his forehead, his cheek, his nose, under his ear, the corner of his lips. You had lost count, stirred on by a blushing Arthur underneath you.

"D-don't ya think that's enough?", Arthur said, kind of trying to dodge your kisses, but not really.

"Nope. You deserve this!", you said, but when you headed for his nose, Arthur managed to turn it into a proper kiss again.

Then you sank on his chest, lying on top of him with his arms wrapped around you.

For Arthur, this was a weird feeling at first. But he loved how your weight pressed him down into the mattress and how your hands always found a piece of his body to caress and tickle. He was embarrassed about how dry his mouth and throat became again, all of a sudden. He was convinced you realized how often he had to swallow and how hesitant he still was to move his hands any further down than the small of your back. Though if you noticed, you were very understanding. You clearly heard his heart hammering in his chest and waited patiently for it to calm down before speaking again.

"Can I tell you something silly?”, you said, lost in thoughts.

"Sure"

"I liked it when the bartender referred to us as family."

"Me too", and his hold on you became ever so tighter.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

@eyelovie @t3rritorial-piss1ngs @daenerysluvrr @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @tem60 @freshoutthewomb2 @itswormtrain @ineedyoubadly @lea-khena @anawkwardartistandgamer @pheesupremacy @tahitiansiguesss @c2ss1e @alyxhasonsocks @kagemaruzest69 @agaritas @lonesome-ranger @joelmillers-gf

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Typing: Dissecting 'One Son' (Part I)

In answer to one of my Typing Topics (that I put out to see if readers were interested), One Son's "You're making this personal" was one of the first requested. So, I doubled down and rewatched the episode (frame by frame) to get premium quality for this analysis and definitive answers for the angst floating around this touchy conversation. It was an enlightening experience; and has since become a favorite episode of mine (if I ignore the canon bugs.)

I will list the explanations, as close to frame-by-frame as I could fit in this post, and then a summary of Mulder's Hows and Whys by Type at the bottom.

Now, onto the episode analysis--

ONE SON

One Son begins with Mulder and Scully being separated from Cassandra and spirited away to Fort Marlene as part of an interception mission.

Fort Marlene

In the showers, Mulder takes a prolonged "is this allowed?" look while Scully errs on the side of deniability with a "blink and you'll miss it" peek.

After they've gowned up, Scully deduces their location based on travel time and quarantine capabilities (and impresses Mulder); but all her suspicions are dialed up to 10 when Diana Fowley walks through the door.

Although Diana "begs for forgiveness and understanding", Scully grills her for reasons why they were quarantined and huffs at Fowley's explanations. When Diana claims Cassandra's condition was immediately infectious and severe, she rebuts: “What?”; but politely nods along as the woman continues.

Mulder is immediately satisfied when Diana's basic answers (stating that Jeffrey Spender had called the information in);

but Scully gears up for a full-frontal assault.

She refutes Diana’s claims, stating Cassandra was already hospitalized for days and that they’d met with her, they hadn't been infected, and that Fowley had scooped her up on a whim. “It’s unjustified and highly suspicious as to motive.” 

Mulder starts getting tense and tries to deescalate with a "Scully."

Diana plays into the tension by asking Scully what she is implying, treating her like an idiot for positing basic medical inquiry. Scully insists no one else in infected, basing her assumptions on the fact that Diana “walking in here dressed to the nines to offer apologies masquerading as explanations.” 

While Mulder appears to be tuned out-- whispering to the med team,

and wincing at their bloodwork tests--

he immediately “Scully--”s at her blatant insinuation of Diana's motives, making a mild “we’re on the same team here” face.

(This is a prime example of Mulder's Se Trickster showing-- he can't accurately read the motives of others and assumes that Diana would never do something like that. See Missteps below for more info.)

Scully gently reiterates: “Mulder, I want to see Cassandra.”

When Fowley refuses to permit Scully, and Scully keep pushing with "I'm a medical doctor", Diana sharply spits out: “Who is suspended indefinitely from her position at the FBI.” 

Scully gets angry, rips off the arm cuff, and storms out.

Mulder doesn’t comment,

but also looks away from Diana’s “I tried, it’s your turn” eyebrow. His face is resolved to some course of action.  

In the lockers, Mulder tries to diffuse Scully’s tension with a “gray is the new black” joke, 

and even agrees with her “Mulder, this stinks” opener.  

But his candor drops when she calls Diana “that woman”, crossing his arms and tightening up his face. 

Scully sees him tense and drops her rant. “Well, I think you know what I think that woman is.” 

Mulder tries to recover the mood again with a second joke-- “No, you hide your feelings really well”--

but it falls flat because there are too many brewing emotions between the two of them.

Nonetheless, they are still talking amicably to each other, even when Scully tries to poke holes in Diana’s story and Mulder backs it up with confirmation from Skinner (who had called about Jeffrey Spender.)

Her gut is telling her she’s right, but she has no proof; and when she tries to insist that Cassandra was miraculously healthy, Mulder asks: “Well then why did she come to my apartment demanding to be killed?”

He is taken aback by Scully’s impassioned speech:

“Because of everything that had been done to her. Because of the tests, because of the men the medical experiments, and the implant in her neck….”

It dawns on him that this may be how Scully has been suffering; it disturbs him that she might have considered the steps that Cassandra did.

From this point on, Mulder is convinced that Scully is taking this case too personally, projecting her own trauma of the men who abducted her onto Cassandra and vilifying Diana by extension. He understands being twisted by the men in shadows because of the endless stories they've fed him about Samantha; but Scully has gone through so many variations of her own story that it's not clean cut for him anymore.

His tone moderates, but his heels dig in further. He believes his assessment is further bolstered by Scully stating “The same thing that was done to me. She just wants it to stop.” 

Mulder realizes Cassandra is “the one” for the Project, and that is why she wanted to be killed. Scully willingly accepts this explanation; but it only digs up further questions.  

After Mulder is released and gains information from Marita, he answers Scully's call to meet up at TLG's for something important.  

TLG Headquarters 

When Mulder arrives, Scully quickly says: “I’ll ask you to hear me out before you launch any objection.” He nods, perfectly fine with that stipulation. But when he realizes it's about Scully's suspicions of Diana, he gives a huffy "of course" sigh.

Interesting to note: my memories of this conversation were tainted by my hatred of Diana and my disbelief at Mulder's refusal to believe; but rewatching it was... enlightening, to say the least.

While Mulder at first tries to dismiss the conversations (“I don’t have time for this"), he then switches to a plea with Scully (“I… know her, Scully." *softer* "You don’t") before resigning himself to what the boys have dug up for him.

At first, he deflects Diana's records by fake gasping-- snippily remarking on their lack of concrete evidence, then convulsively nodding so that they hurry up and get to the point--

but he becomes alert and intrigued when Scully brings up Diana's weekly trips to Tunisia (since it was a constant Consortium hot spot.)

He asks intently for more evidence (“For the purpose of what?”) and expects a GOOD reason.

(Ti Hero needing SOLID, irrefutable, and TONS of evidence to change its mind, or not at all.)

When TLG present him with European MUFON visits, all his suspicions vanish again, and his slightly condescending attitude returns, placing all of their conjectures into the realm of conspiracy theories.

This whole conversation, Mulder has been harshly dismissive of any point that TLG bring up, since they're the boys who are poking into his personal decisions; but now Scully takes over, and his demeanor shifts down a few notches. While annoyed, ("Scully, you’re reaching")

Mulder respectfully and empathetically listens to her speech recapping her experiences with her MUFON groupies. His worry for her still peaks through his defensiveness (scrunched in brows, screwed up mouth, etc.) But what's interesting is: his anger is not directed AT Scully, but FOR Scully-- that she had to live through these horrors, that the men who ruined his childhood have mangled her happiness; and further, that they're weaponizing her pain to turn them both against Diana. He senses manipulation; but misdiagnoses its source.

Mulder remains convinced Scully has become too blinded by her personal experiences; and he overcorrects in an attempt counteract her outright dislike and distrust of Diana.

Scully becomes insulted when Mulder sums her claims up by saying she's "suggesting" that Diana is monitoring abductees-- flicking her tongue out (which is her verbal tick for "biting her tongue.")

Scully tries to compose herself before launching into the firsthand experiences of being an abductee; and repeats Mulder's words back to show that she'd respected his opinions enough to recall them. Mulder returns that respect by easing up even more on the pressure, seeing her emotions are uncontrollably near the surface. His concern over her personalization only increases as she places herself in Cassandra's shoes, proving to himself that her rationality cannot be relied on in this scenario.

Mulder may be giving her full lead, but he is not giving up ground. As she continues to argue her points, he follows her logic, half-hoping she will change his mind just like she and TLG hope she can though the thought of Diana's betrayal cuts him to the quick (more furrowed brows, tightening of the jaw, etc.)

Scully desperately needs his belief; but loses him when she inadvertently touches on his greatest fear:  

“Mulder, ask yourself why there is no information whatsoever on Special Agent Diana Fowley; why she would suddenly happen into your life when you are closer than ever to the Truth.”

His open-minded willingness to listen is quickly shut down, and he swivels away from the conversation with a final toss of his head.

Mulder's raw fear-- that he won't be accepted (Fe Inferior) is blinding him to Diana's actions (Se Trickster), afraid to look deeper into her motives; and satisfied that he hasn't been given enough data to change his Ti Hero's mind.

At Scully's “I mean, you ask me to trust no one and yet you trust her on simple faith" he becomes offended and angry.

“Because you’ve given me no reason here to do otherwise.”

Scully is devastated-- “Well then I can’t help you anymore"-- and immediately starts to leave.  (her immediate "cut and run" Ni Demon Function rearing its head.)

Mulder swings around, tracking her with his whole body, and shows the first real sign of his insecurity and teeming emotions. And this, while vulnerable and starting to get scared, is when he says the line:

“Scully, you’re making this personal.”

His brown is furrowed in worry, his mouth is loose, his jaw is unclenched, and his posture is tight as he pivots in Scully's direction. If he had been dismissive, or rude, or belittling, Scully would not only have never called him (which she does later in this episode) again, but she would have walked out forever.

He moves in closer as Scully responds: “Because this is personal, Mulder. Because without the FBI, personal interest is all that I have. And if you take that away, then there is no reason for me to continue.”

Unlike the Fight the Future confrontation, she is unshaken, knowing her worth and value. She is letting Mulder make his permanent choice, and is prepared to respect whatever he decides, even if he believes Diana is a better fit.

Scully's Si Hero has led her all these years on Mulder's quest: placing her in the Starbuck role naturally to a cause greater than herself, feeding him Te Parent information to give his mind constant hoards of verifiable data. She has set all else aside, believing this quest to be more important that her own Fi Child comfort, and trying to save the future and bravely face the unknown with her Ne Inferior. But as much as this life with Mulder has fulfilled her completely, Scully needs someone to LISTEN to her: if she is not listened to, then she is not valued. And if she is not valued, she will use her Ni Demon to cut ties and permanently walk away. As much as she sacrifices willingly and without reciprocation needed, she expects to depend just as much on that other person; otherwise, there can be no trust.

The scene ends on Mulder's resolved face, setting up his next step (to prove if his own biases are true or false by interrogating Diana.)

He chooses to see if Scully’s right or wrong (his Te Nemesis using its worries for good, see Missteps below.) 

Now, onto the Type information--

Mulder's Missteps

For a full breakdown of Mulder's Type to better explain this post, see my Mulder, The Spooky INTP post (linked here.)

Mulder's dominant Function, Ti Hero, is all about the Truth: what can be proven, not what others SAY is true. It's pure, unadulterated logic; its flaw, however, is becoming immovably fixed in its convictions (having weighed the pros and cons meticulously to reach whatever conclusion they believe in.) It requires mountains of evidence, and continents more of firsthand accounts as well as repeatable research to budge them into a new direction. Much patience and verification is needed. (We can all see where this is trending.)

In this case: Mulder REFUSES to budge from considering Diana a trustworthy friend or person at all. Although he is at least willing to listen to Scully's concerns (because his Ti Hero knows that his Te Nemesis-- fear of faulty information-- is always demanding he check his biases), there is not enough evidence to point to as irrefutable evidence. And, although Ti Hero is willing to weigh all information in the balance, it will not implement it as Truth unless it is given enough time to prove itself beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Mulder's vanity and insecurity Function, Fe Inferior, is always seeking acceptance from others. It makes him one of the easiest to guilt and exploit of all the Types, because Fe believes that it can earn trust and love from others by bending over backwards. They will do ANYTHING for those they trust, including letting themselves be continually used as a rug mat for others' treacherous feet. (It is not until INTPs mature that they realize they must find self-acceptance instead of over dependence on others; and because of their high Si in their stack, this is fairly easy for them to achieve through self-reflection on what they've achieved and overcome.)

In this case: Mulder's low self-esteem coupled with his emotional abandonment as a child and his isolation at the FBI makes him lean heavily on the few people he trusts. This is easily used against him by bad faith actors wanting to bring about their own end goals. Diana twisted it by calling upon their long time friendship(?), leaving enough doubt in his mind of her innocence. The horror that she would have never accepted him or his mission, even as a loyal friend, was such a blow that it would take that mountain of evidence for Ti Hero to accept it as fact.

Mulder's worry, Te Nemesis, keeps him continually fact checking all information that he believes in, reinforcing his Ti Hero with constantly updated data. He is afraid that others are feeding him wrong or biased sources, and thus continually peer reviews the thoughts of those around them to see if they pass muster.

In this case: It saves Mulder's bacon. When Scully lays all her cards on the table-- about Diana, and MUFON, and her personal interest-- Mulder decides to heed his Te Nemesis's warning, and checks on Diana, his source, to see if she is still reputable. Which leads him right to the CSM (who further muddles his mind and sends him into apathetic Fi Demon.)

Mulder's blind spot, Se Trickster, not only blinds him to his own weird quirks and inadequate reactions or behaviors; but it also prevents him from accurately reading the actions of those around him (being led around by Pheobe Green, having his work stolen by Jerry Lamana, misinformed by CSM and informants, etc.)

In this case: every action Diana made was never suspicious to Mulder, because he interpreted all of them in good faith. His trust in her is already established, and it blinded him to her end goal and obvious double motives.

Mulder's most powerful and corruption Function, Fi Demon, leads him straight into apathetic debauchery. If they are exploited and beaten down and unappreciated, INTPs can only take so much before they toss the whole world aside and collapse into self-indulgent destruction. The only way to snap them out of this mode is to awaken their Fe Inferior by slightly manipulating them ("you're hurting my feelings", "you're not meeting my needs", etc.)

In this case: Mulder finds out that not only has Diana Fowley been using him-- or misdirecting him-- for her own purposes; but that he'd been used and placated for years by the very people he was trying to expose and depose. As CSM weaves his tragic, hopeless tale of self-pity, Mulder sinks further and further into apathy, finally punishing himself by resigning himself to being with Diana, fellow nihilist to the cause in an attempt to right the wrongs he'd "done" to Scully. Thankfully, Scully snaps him out of his apathy and gets him to drive with her to Potomac Yard.

End of Part 1-- Part 2 coming soon-ish.

Enjoy!

Disclaimers: This is a self-assessed analysis. This information is not based on the abominable MBTI system (which has been butchered from its original Jungian typology since ~WWII); instead, it’s a combination between the works of Jung’s type psychology, Dr. Linda Berens’ Communication styles, Dr. Dario Nardi’s EEG brain scan compiled research, and others’ data and practices as compiled and simplified by CSJoseph. This system is based only on the Nature side of Nature/Nurture; and each “type” is not a “box” to fit everyone into– simply a tool to help understand the basics of the human mind that science has only begun to fathom in its limited scope.

[puddle-nerd]

Just Feel

Summary: “We can try it, Ma’Jake,” Neytiri interrupted her skxawng’s near incoherent babbling. (Jake/Neytiri)

Prompt 6 (Blindfolds) for my submission for LunasKinktober2023

Na’vi Translation: Skxawng – moron | idiot Tewng – loincloth Story Tags: Blindfolded, Established Relationship, Fingering, Teasing Between Spouses, Mentioned Baby Neteyam, Mentioned Baby Kiri

“Hey, baby?”

Being mated to Jake Sully for almost a year now, Neytiri knew by now that if her mate used those two words in that particular tone, something was on his mind. It could be some inquiry that was plaguing him or it could be just something he found amusing and wanted to share. However, taking into account how touchy he had been – more so than he usually was, which was actually quite often, normally – it probably wasn’t as bad as her initial thought was that he had done something stupid and needed to tell her so she wouldn’t be surprised when she found out about it.

“Yes, Ma’Jake?” Neytiri asked, looking up from where she was nursing Kiri.

Jake smiled warmly, watching his wife feed their adopted daughter while he held a sleeping Neteyam against his chest, one of his fingers in the baby’s grasp. “I have an idea,” he answered her query, a sly smirk crossing his lips, “and I… I think you’ll like it. Something to make you feel even better when we… y’know?” He waggled his hairy brows, causing the Na’vi woman to flush a little, grinning slightly. “May I offer my suggestion?”

“Ma’Jake, the babies still need tending to,” Neytiri reminded him, glancing down at her suckling daughter and giving him a meaningful brow raise.

Jake nodded. “I know,” he replied. “But ‘Teyam’s asleep, and she’ll be too soon so that gives us time to play like before they were both born.” She stared at him and his look was so hopeful that she couldn’t help but roll her eyes and sigh, giving in with a smile. The way his golden eyes lit up, seeing her reaction made her smile even more at her skxawng husband. “So, again, it’s supposed to make your sense of sensation heightened so it’ll feel even better. What I’d like to do to make that happen for you… is to put a blindfold on you.”

Neytiri blinked, freezing.

Jake looked at her, hopeful.

Her ears and tail twitched and watched as her mate began to lose confidence. He quickly explained, “Yes, you won’t be able to see but if you don’t like it, we can stop or take it off. I just wanted to try something new and I wanted you to feel g—”

“We can try it, Ma’Jake,” Neytiri interrupted her skxawng’s near incoherent babbling.

It was adorable how quickly he perked right back up with a grin.

“But first, the babies must be completely settled.”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Neytiri was beginning to doubt her decision as she skeptically took in the thick piece of fabric that was supposed to cover her eyes. She shot him a side-eye but allowed him to gently wrap it over her eyes, trying not to grumble as a braid got caught in the fabric and tugged a bit painfully. At least he was tender and careful with his neural queue, making sure it was not caught in the cloth.

“Can you see, baby?” Jake asked.

Neytiri turned her head back and forth and hummed. “I cannot,” she replied softly. “Is that not the point?”

“It is,” Jake replied and she could hear the smirk in his voice. Behind the cloth, she narrowed his eyes but allowed him to lower her into their bedding and settle her so she would be comfortable. The next thing she felt was a gentle, if callused, hand on the inside of her calves moving slowly moving up her legs, her husband’s thumbs stroking every few inches. His fingers moved higher and higher, oh so slowly, only to withdraw right before he reached the juncture her legs met. “Ma’Jake,” she whined, earning only a chuckle in return. She gasped as he bent down, his dreads falling upon the outside of her legs, his breath ghosting across the side of her knee. He kissed the inside of her knee and she could feel his grin against her striped skin. Then his fingers, those thick, long digits brushed at where she needed him most and lifted her hips into his touch. He drew back. Neytiri’s voice came out more sharply, needily, “Ma’Jake!”

“Relax, baby,” Jake chuckled. “I always take care of you, don’t I? Just relax… and feel. Feel what I do to you. And enjoy.” He dragged his fingers over the entrance of her cunt, catching the slick that was beginning to trickle out of her. He dipped one of his fingers inside, smirking as she clamped down upon him. “See? Told you, you’d enjoy yourself.”

In retaliation, Neytiri kicked at her husband, her foot connecting with his hip, smirking as he grunted. “More,” she demanded, fingers itching to take off the blindfold but also enjoying the amplified sensations.

Her tail flicked, showing off her enjoyment.

“As you wish, baby,” Jake replied, grumbling under his breath, “abusive.” She hissed and he pushed her knees further apart so she couldn’t repeat her earlier actions. Reaching forward, he instead slid two of his fingers into her damp channel, giving her a moment to adjust before he sunk them inside her even deeper, causing her to moan and rut up against him. When he curled his fingers, pressing that spot inside of her on the front wall of her insides, she keened and humped against his hand harder. His thumb upon her blooming button, her pussy clenched harder, juices beginning to trickle out of her faster.

Neytiri panted, “Oh, Ma’Jake, yes!”

Her arousal perfumed the air and made his cock ache in his tewng. The feel of it running over his fingers and down his hand made him begin to shift his hips, searching for friction. However, he refused to release his grip upon his mate’s leg or to stop the movements of his fingers deep within her. He buried his face into his wife’s naked tits and licked at her nipple, earning himself a breathless chuckle.

“Like a baby.”

Jake chuckled, nuzzling the soft swell, his fingers continuing to move as he suggested, “We could always have a third…”

Any response Neytiri may have had for that cut off as he pressed that spot inside her again and she tightened almost painfully upon his fingers as she neared her end, her gasps and moans becoming more desperate. “Ma’Jake! Ma’Jake!” she chanted. “Don’t stop! MA’JAKE!” Liquid, warm and musky, gushed from her, her limbs shaking as her climax raced through her. “Oh! Oh. Ohhh…”

Jake eased his fingers out of his mate’s warmth, licking her essence off his skin and reaching up to remove her blindfold, a brow raised and a questioning smile upon his lips. “So… did you enjoy, baby?”

Neytiri hummed. “I did,” she admitted, curling up into his arms as he laid beside her. “I suppose we can use it again.” Then she got a calculating look in her gaze, adding, “Or maybe we can use it on you, next?”

“Oh, I’d be game for that,” Jake chuckled, leaning down to kiss his beloved mate.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 06 October 2023

Word Count: 1,164

AO3

@pandoraslxna, @eyweveng

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: So, I'm a fem INTP in my early 20s. I've recently befriended another fem ISFP. We clicked off well due to shared life experiences (changing majors twice, neurodivergent, LGBT, same age, etc.), interesting ideas and similar interests. I think she's extremely attractive and we had this weird atmosphere, especially during the first month we met. We're also fairly touchy with each other. It comes mostly from my end, but she reciprocates it. I asked her if it's a bother, but she denied it. There are few times when she initiates, so I'm not sure if she's just indulging me or smt.

Once, she asked me why I don't talk much about relationships and I said I don't have much to talk about that since I don't have much experience and that love wasn't something that came easily to me because I have issues with vulnerability. I also mentioned briefly that I have sexual trauma, but that I wasn't asexual, just a bit shy/fearful about it. I know that this may come off as "undesirable", but I thought I should be honest as she should know what she's dealing with.

Since that day, the atmosphere kinda died off, but it still happens in some very specific moments (mostly when we're alone together or off-uni). I never pulled a more direct move on her (despite the touching and telling her once or twice I think she's a real pretty - which made her a bit flustered, but she shies easily when being sincerely complimented, I've noticed) because we almost always meet in a academic context, so it doesn't feel right. And the timing is a bit weird since we're both trying to get into med school and are always together.

I want to let her know that I'm into her, but I'm not exactly sure how to do it because of that. I'm also not that confident in my social skills and not sure how to pull it off without being ridiculously blunt and/or repellent. My main priority is to not make her uncomfortable since I like being her friend. I don't want her to think I'm just trying to get in her pants. She doesn't seem shy about romance and since she's a confident ISFP, I thought she'd probably be more forward if she was interested. So I actually have no idea if she's simply not interested and just sees me as a friend, had interest but after seeing who I am lost it or have crypid reasons to not act up as I do. Do you have any tips? Thanks. Have a nice week.

------------------------

An important aspect of having good social skills is being able to communicate well and ask for the things you need (aka assertiveness). Of course, people aren't obligated to fulfill your requests, but you at least have to give them the chance to know what you need and make an informed decision on the matter. When you don't speak up for yourself, you rob people of the chance to know you for real, and then the relationship can't really move into deeper territory.

Examples: Since you are inexperienced with relationships, you should not only disclose the fact to people, you should also request that they be a bit more patient and understanding in the event that you make a misstep or unwittingly do something "repellent". You could also nurture open-mindedness and request regular feedback about your behavior so that you can get a better idea of what people like or prefer from you.

The issue in your case is that you don't know how she really feels, so you're just speculating to yourself. A good communicator should always know how people are feeling, if not through observation, then through inquiry. Perhaps a lesson you can take away for future reference is to ask people how they feel about your self-disclosures, so that you always have an idea of how to proceed, rather than rely too much on guesswork.

The reason self-disclosure can be scary is that it makes you vulnerable to negative experiences like failure, rejection, or humiliation. It's risky to let people in, but you can't win if you don't play. You have to keep taking emotional risks in order to get the reward of a fulfilling and meaningful relationship.

If you want to make wise relationship decisions, it's important to be in possession of the truth about people. If she's as cool as you believe she is, she shouldn't be put off by your self-disclosure. A good person should feel for the pain and suffering you've been through and try to behave more sensitively regarding it.

If anyone ever shows you a blatant lack of empathy or an unwillingness to understand your experience, you should take it as a red flag that they're not relationship-ready. When you look at it from this angle, the vulnerability of self-disclosure is a win-win: Either they enjoying knowing you better and the relationship progresses as planned, or they reveal their true colors and you have the opportunity to protect yourself from a potentially toxic person. Yes, you'll have to deal with some hurt/disappointment, but better to do it sooner rather than later, after years of investment.

Good communication also involves properly preparing people to hear what you have to say. You shouldn't just blurt out facts without warning, you have to offer some context or explanation behind the facts that help people understand your perspective and where you're coming from. It helps to remember that humans have traditionally learned to process information through narrative, so use this quality to your advantage. Whenever you talk about yourself, try to deliver the information in story form.

For example, you could explain yourself from beginning to present. Start by describing how you felt when you first met her. Tell her you've really enjoyed spending time together and getting to know her. As you got closer over time, you started wondering whether it could become something more. Due to inexperience and not wanting to ruin a great friendship, you weren't sure whether to bring it up, but you also didn't want to give up on what could be an interesting opportunity. Provide insight into your thought process by saying you believe it's better to talk it out in early stages when it's easier to recover from. You also believe that it's better to be truthful so that the relationship moves forward properly, rather than clinging to weird ideas or false hopes behind the scenes.

After you've told the story of how you came to be in this position, you can shift the perspective to her and show consideration for how she might be feeling. For example: Tell her that you're prepared to accept any reaction from her. Tell her that you're willing to be patient if she needs time to formulate a response. Apologize in advance if you inadvertently overstepped any boundaries. Assure her that you genuinely appreciate the friendship and it is absolutely your first priority to keep and maintain it.

If you feel the timing isn't quite right yet to confess, another thing you can do is spend more time with her in order to verify that there is enough trust in the relationship to handle this sensitive topic. Invite her to hang out more often and see how it goes. Establishing a bit more safety and intimacy in the relationship may help to soften the shock.

That being said, remember that relationships are messy. The best thing is to be adaptable and accept mistakes as part of the learning process. Be responsive to reality rather than getting lost in useless ideas about what should/n't be.

[tlacehualli]

An impassive gaze settles onto Sombra, crimson eyes boring into her from where Reaper, who simply stays quiet while the thoughts churn in their head, stands. With the latest mission report in their hand, they simply allow their gaze to drift away from Sombra and onto the holo-pad. Should they bother? They ask themself that- they don't know why they ask themself that, but they do- and the inquiry is something that they can't seem to find an answer to.

But the answer is simple enough, isn't it? No, they shouldn't bother. But then why do they even consider the notion? ( What do you care? Why does it bother you? ) Reaper thinks, and they think and think, and yet, despite all the thinking, they find no answer to any of the questions that bother them. ( It's because of Gabriel Reyes, isn't it? Because of his memories? ) Yes, it is because of Gabriel, because of his friendship with Amélie, that everything that's happening feels like a knife being ground right into their very heart, over and over and over.

Moira is a cruel, cruel person- if this is all happening to them, with so much more freedom in their movements; their right to act out their inner 'turmoil'- they can only imagine what Widowmaker must be feeling inside. But why should they? Why do they?

"You know your interventions only make things worse for her." they speak then, taloned fingertips digging into the screen of the holo-pad with such force that it threatens to break. They don't care. Their gaze is dragged away from the report and onto Sombra yet again, "Wanting her to 'live a little', feeling sorry for her- none of it will help her in the long run." they pause, and the holo-pad cracks into pieces under the newly strengthened force of their grip at last.

Did she think nobody was watching them? There's always someone watching, Sombra is just lucky it was them, this time, and not Moira.

"This is the only time I'll let this slide, Sombra. Write up a new report and keep her out of it. Unless you want Moira to think Widowmaker's work efficiency is going down." they say coolly, dropping the pieces of the broken holo-pad onto the ground. ( She probably already fucking knows, though. )

She's aware of the fact she's still in shock; generally, the hacker is good about suppressing little signs at her mental state but there's a shakiness to her fingers and a sort of anxious tendency to squeeze them into fists that very rarely shows - yet here they are, in all of their glory, in from of them.

She is aware too of their state. They're usually more withheld with their emotions - not to the degree of the Widow, of course, but that wasn't the nature of their modifications. The report is having some sort of impact on them and Sombra for all of her intelligence isn't really sure why - she's barely cognizant of what she managed to put in the digital document, there were too many trains of thought in her head, and even now every single one of them was screaming at her for attention -

The soft glow of magenta snapped up at them suddenly when their gruff voice interrupted the silence and every thread of attention silenced as she scrutinized them with something uncharacteristic and cruel in her gaze. "Is that so, Gabito?" The name drips like acid from her mouth and she stands up, her hands on either side of their desk and she looks at them from below with all the fierceness of a cornered animal.

"You imagine I'm just gonna stand still, do nothing about anything, and rot. Like you." She scoffs and it's cruel and dismissive. "I was in Los Muertos, compa. Doesn't mean I'm dead." The hacker turns, as if daring them to strike her from behind; her circuit hand with it's pretty purple nails makes a rhythmic motion and something small and pink zooms out of the destroyed holo-pad into her circuits - the file that was her hastily written report.

"It'll be done." Her voice is a little quieter now, almost as if she was rethinking her earlier venom - but not too much, she is pretty touchy when it comes to the strange bond that's formed between her and the Widow. She does, though, appreciate the...news that she'd mentioned Angie in the report. That could have been bad.

"Gracias." With that, she leaves.

[excessdrive]

closed for: @fvckthepctriarchy ― ( sage ) where: local library when: 11:42 pm.

ending up in a library on a random thursday night had never been in the cards for killian. actually, it was a specific thursday for someone else. sweet natalie had an upcoming project at school and it just so happened that it was an emergency and she was in desperate need for a certain encyclopedia. usually you'd find the trainer already lightly snoring in their bed at such late hour, but when it comes to their goddaughter, killian was more than willing to bend a rule or two if that meant they'd get to save the little girl's day at school.

so here they were, arriving in quite a rush only to find themselves completely lost in the building filled to the brim with all types of books. how can anyone even begin to nagivate through this maze? thankfully, it didn't take long until what seemed like library assistent's desk came into view and the trainer gained a sense of relief. and, as it turns out, they might have relaxed way too soon. because why would a quick trip to the library go as smoothly as they'd imagined it in their head? nothing ever goes according to the plan and despite countless of situations proving exactly that, killian still found themselves being reminded of that simple yet unfortunate fact time and time again. it's like they never fully believed in it. well, until this moment, that is.

the disgusting frown reflected in moody assistent's face upon their inquiry about the layout of the library told them as much as they needed to know. the bastard did not want to help out and given the fact that the library was supposed to close in roughly fifteen minutes only added more reasons for killian to believe that the asshole decided to brush them off on purpose.

❝ oh, for fuck sake. ❞ a barely audible irritated mutter left them as the trainer quickened their pace in hopes of having the quickest possible tour of the place which will, inevitably, lead them to their destination. ideally, since they were racing against the clock and the odds didn't seem to be in their favor so far.

by some miracle, around ten minutes later, killian stopped at what appeared to be the correct row of bookshelves that included various types of encyclopedias. ❝ bingo. ❞ they whispered to themselves while marvelling at the scene. you'd think they discovered some kind of a treasure. taking a couple of steps closer to the bookshelf, killian swiftly fished out a sticky note with the name of the book and mere moments later their eyes fell upon the desired item. ❝ come here. ❝

now that they managed to find what they were looking for, the blond was way more at ease than before and was no longer in such a rush to exit the building although only a few minutes were left before the closure of the calm research space. still, they made their way towards the main staircase and couldn't help but direct their attention towards someone in particular. a person seemed to be resting or even sleeping on one of the research desks. it was obvious enough given that their head was lowered and rested on their arms like they were nothing but a comfy pillow.

a part of them did not wish to intrude or disturb the resting soul, yet the previous interaction with annoying library assitent refused to leave their mind. if it was up to them, killian would take up all of those people entering the library and would guide them themselves. that's how rude of an arsehole this one was. ❝ hey, ❞ killian addressed the person after getting close to their desk, however their approach did not evoke any reaction from the other. the trainer glanced around the place for a second or two, deciding their next move.

they were not really the touchy type, at least not when it came to strangers. so, the thought of potentially touching the other made them hesitate as scenarios of how the person would take their gesture plagued their imagination. then a faint sound of movement ahead reached their ears indicating that the assistent was preparing to close the library and that it was time to make their next move. the blond's glance returned to the other as killian let out a small sigh, leaning closer to where they were resting.

❝ hi, ❞ they tried again, slightly louder than before as the trainer now gently placed their hand on the other's shoulders, applying a bit of preassure in hopes of waking the person up. ❝ sorry. didn't mean to disturb, but the place is closing up and... yeah, it's pretty late. ❞ as soon as they felt movement, killian took a step back, letting their companion assess the situation and remember where they were. ❝ i'm gonna get us a cab. it's too late to be travelling alone, anyway. ❞ with a clear goal in mind, the trainer pulled out their phone with an intention to book them both a taxi, allowing the other to gather their bearings during that time.

[miqojak]

Layers Upon Layers

one: outside layer

[Name:] "Jak." [Hair Style & colour:] "Black and orange. I wear it pulled back and braided." [Eye Color:] "Gold and jade green." [Height:]  "Fuck if I know exactly. Under five fulms." (4'9") [Style:] "Depends on the day. Maybe the hour. Leather and mini-skirts are always a good bet, though. Sometimes a nice suit, sometimes my bike gear, sometimes a little something more form-fitting, elegant and gilded - 'desert chic', I suppose." [Best Physical Feature:] "Definitely my ass...though my legs cut it close, on that one. What do you think?"

two: inner layer

[Fears:] "You ask that and actually expect people to tell you?" (Small/enclosed spaces with no readily available exit, levin, Garleans, people getting too close to her/seeing who she really is) [Guilty Pleasure:] "People feel guilty for what they like? Who's going to judge me, the sheep who can't come up with a single original thought of their own, and feel guilty if they do?" [Biggest Pet Peeve:]  "Biggest...that's tough, actually. Probably blithe optimism, or naivete. People too ignorant, or unwilling to ask questions and look deeper - or those simply unwilling to face hard truths. There can never be any growth if you aren't honest with yourself, after all. Unmotivated slackers. If you have no goals, why are you wasting this star's air?" [Ambition for the Future:] "To be feared and respected in equal measure. I've been pushed around for a long time, and now it's my turn."

three: thoughts

[First Thought When Waking Up:] "Probably...my to-do list for the day? That or wondering what the weather is like, and whether or not I'll be going on my usual morning run or be stuck working out indoors. That or 'Huh, they haven't killed us all yet.'" [What You Think About the Most:] "What my next step is in life - how I want to pursue that power I'm after without compromising who I am...and how the fuck I ended up with someone who actually cares about me in my life while distinctly trying to avoid that type of thing...and why he stuck around. I wonder about the 'why' a lot." [What You Think About Before Bed:] "Depends on the day, and what's happened, and if I'm headed there alone. If I'm not alone, it's probably something to the effect of 'I still can't believe he wants to be here/wants me to be here'. And whether or not I'm alone...there's always the nagging, ugly reminder that Garlemald's towers sit hunched in the sky, ready to end everything for everyone - predator and prey alike. It could be the last night for any of us." [Your Best Quality Is:] "My ass. But other than that...well, I'm honest, and my loyalty can't be bought. I'm not a good person, but I have my own...'code', in a sense, I guess."

four: what’s better

[Single or Group Dates?] "Group dates sound like a punishment. I can barely stand the slack-jawed idiots around me as it is. Though undoubtedly the punishment would be upon the others, considering who my date would be, and the fact that we'd probably spend the time verbally destroying the other couple." [To be Loved or to be Respected?] "Respected. Love without respect is horrifying. I've been there, I've suffered it, and I'm still recovering. But I still...don't know that I believe in love. At least not how most people do, I guess. Love makes people do stupid shit when they believe in it. Respect doesn't. Respect can stand alone, without needing love. Respect has to be earned. There's no claims of 'respect at first sight.' But like I said...love without respect is...ugly. Scary, even." [Beauty or Brains?] "Both, or no deal. Brains are essential, but I can't have a walking pile of dogshit on my arm, now can I?" [Cats or Dogs?] "Neither, I don't do pets - animals are food. But...I suppose I'd say dogs, though you'd probably incorrectly assume cats, based on the fact that I resemble one. But...there's been more 'canines' in my life in the last year or two than I care to recall."

four: do you…

[Lie?] "No. Not unless the situation is dire - my morals don't matter if my life is on the line. Survival comes first always." [Believe in Yourself?] "Much more than I used to. I've accomplished, and survived, more than most could even begin to imagine." [Believe in Love?]  "Not...really? Maybe? Though I'll admit that for all my vehement denial in the past, someone has made me re-examine my emotions in the last half a year or so. I don't think I believe in the sort of 'love' that the general public believes in. I had someone force his fairy tale romance down my throat and do me a lot of harm both physical and mental with those ideals, as he forced me to be someone I wasn't. If adhering to what society expects of love is all that someone cares about - hitting the expected gestures as told in fairy tales? That's about as real as a fever dream. I don't like the word 'love'. Not what it's come to be associated with, and what's expected of you along with it." [Want Someone?] "For the first time in my life...yes. Not that I don't 'have' him as much as I can claim such, but when he's not around, I find that I want him to be. So...yes?"

six: have you ever…

[Been on Stage?] "No? I mean, my organization does run a jazz club, and it's been various theaters before that, and I've...sat on the stage, basked in the spotlight of an empty theater? I prefer to be...less in the actual spotlight, however." [Done Drugs?] "I've only been clean and sober for...maybe a year now? So yeah. I've...done a lot of drugs." [Changed Yourself to Fit In Somewhere?] "I've been a con-artist to put food on the table, but I don't believe in changing who you are to 'fit in.' If you don't fit in...you don't fit in. You are who you are. Being anything else is a lie, and does you a disservice. It's also a pathetic cry for attention - for the other bleating sheep to accept you into their herd. I won't debase myself to 'fit in' with my lessers."

seven: favorite

[Favorite Color:] "Black, white, gold, and red. I don't have just one." [Favorite Food:] "Once more, I don't have just one. I like red meat, I like seafood, and I enjoy rolanberries quite a bit. Of late, I think my current favorite snack is takoyaki though - this fried dough ball with octopus inside...just thinking about it makes my mouth water." [Favorite Game:] "Breaking and entering."

eight: age

[When Your Next Birthday Will Be:] "No idea." [How Old Will You Be?] "No clue. I'm...twenty and four summers, roughly...give or take a couple." [Age You Lost Your Virginity:] "Care to lose yours to one of my knives, here?" [Does Age Matter?]  "Should it? I suppose I'd be a bit baffled to see an old geezer with a hot young thing, but even so...who cares? I haven't exactly had a lot of lovers, but I don't think I ever asked any of them their age. So long as people stay the fuck away from kids, it's a non-issue in my opinion."

nine: in a partner

[Best Personality:] "An unflinching realist who not only faces the truth, but deals it out themselves. Ambition, and the ability to be honest with themselves about who they are." [Best Eye Colour:]  "Who gives a shit? If I find them worthwhile, I'll like their eyes, I assure you." [Best Hair Colour:] "Who's out here checking people off a list because their hair is the wrong color? I mean, after some shit I went through, I might not want to ever see another red-head again, but realistically...who gives a single fuck? I think you're asking the wrong questions here. People often do - too busy dwelling on lust at first sight." [Best Thing to do With a Partner:] "Murder? Crime in general? ...Or a hot bath."

ten: finish the sentence

[I Love…] ...I just told you I don't do love. But...I do love the sun." [I Feel…] everything at once, or nothing at all, it seems." [I Hide…] who I am." [I Miss…] my family." [I Wish…] ...wishes are for simpletons. Actions achieve what you want." Thanks for the tag: @eligos-venator @placesyoucallhome @bek-sc @sundered-souls (I think I found you all who tagged me!)

I am late to this party! Tag yourselves if you want to do it, so I can read your stuff! I feel like most folks have done it, and I'm too brain-dead atm to root around in the bowels of Tumblr to see who hasn't, since I'm many days late! XD

[riddlecrux]

What is past is present: Azriel and Elain, Helion and Lady of Autumn Court

This post is going to be a long one. I will be talking about parallels between Helion - Lady of Autumn Court - Beron and Azriel - Elain - Lucien situation. How their relationships mirror each other, how the blood duel mentioned in ACOSF and ACOWAR will come to an end, but also how the first triangle was used as a plot device in ACOWAR. I believe it is not a coincidence that SJM decided to put these scenes and histories in the same book with such a short span of time passing between things happening on the pages of their story. I would like to say that this post is a pro Elriel meta, so if they are not your cup of tea please scroll past this. Many thanks to Gardening Tools, especially @silverlinedeyes !

We are going to start with the Lady of Autumn Court and the scene at the High Lord’s council. She is there with her husband, Beron and as the conversation surrounding Hybern increases in intensity, we are presented with a bit of background information about the Lady.

Lady of the Autumn Court had 2 sisters that died during Hybern's soldiers' attack. We got to see another family of three sisters, two of them dying for their sister. What's even more important is a mention of Hybern's war camps and how it's very unlikely for anyone to survive their time there.

Here Beron taunts Kallias by telling his mate that Hybern and his people probably torture and abuse women before killing them. (Please be sure to remember that because we're going to go back to this notion later in this post.)

Another big insight about Lady's life and this particular accident comes from no one else but Helion.

Few things that are very important to mention: - she had already given birth to a few of her children - Hybern directly attacked the estate they were in - her sisters let her run away because they loved her - she tried to fight and stay with them till they convinced her to run - the beasts sent by Hybern tailed her and finally cornered her in a trap

What Feyre says in this particular scene - about Helion knowing too many details holds great importance for the further quotes. We also get to know that, in fact, it was Helion who rescued the Lady - not only saved but found her. The setup, the build-up and the fact that it wasn't her "husband" that came for her are the main things I wish to bring attention to, as we are going to analyze different scenes from the same book with this knowledge.

He could have ended it differently, yet he didn't. Why? The question seems to be imprinted in Feyre's mind as she tries to connect the dots and points she was given, just like us readers. I do believe that what we are being presented with is the notion of the mating bond. Helion's rage at Lady's attack projects typical mate behavior - such as unnecessary violence against the ones who dared to hurt their mate. It also goes with the information of him finding her - how was that possible? Her husband wasn't there, it was Helion who essentially knew that something was wrong. How? Well, by applying the mating bond in this picture we can easily deduct few things: Helion probably felt her distraught through the bond, was able to locate her and save her.

Another insight given by Helion is about Lady's relationship with Beron. Not only it gives us information about her young age (cue to Rhysand's mother and how her young age was also brought up as something very disturbing and not in favour of some mating bonds), but also we get to know that her marriage was arranged. Just like the reader, Feyre is left with these very personal insights and detailed descriptions - so she presses Helion more, to speak, to see if her suspicions are correct.

Another person jumps into the conversation and it is Mor who hands the information of a possible romance between Lady and Helion. We learn that both of them met at an equinox ball before she was proposed with an arranged marriage with Beron. Feyre's curiosity is evident in the way she perks up at Mor's words. Helion on the other hand counter-attacks and provides us with the political background of the story. The Lady was basically left without a choice when it came to her love life.

Helion saved Beron's wife during the war. And Beron didn't know and still doesn't have an idea that it was Helion who saved the Lady.

Feyre tries to fish for more information - and Helion seems to be very reluctant to answer her question about his relationship with the Lady. It makes us think that, in fact, their relationship was somehow forbidden, being kept in secret. Moreover, what's even more interesting is the fact that we suddenly have a shift of focus on another person - Azriel. We are deliberately made aware of the fact that Azriel is listening to this important conversation.

We are starting to see Helion becoming slightly less humorous - Feyre can spot the difference between his usual self and the way he delivers his question. It suggests that the relationship and potential mating bond is a very touchy subject for him.

Their forbidden relationship went on for decades. They were secret lovers till Beron found about them. We see that contrast between the Lady with Helion - all brightness and smiles, Lady with Beron - withdrawn, timid, scared.

I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face. “Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.”

Helion reacts with anger at Feyre's inquiry about his lack of participation in the case of the Lady's wellbeing. "Dark fury rippling across Helion's face" is also an interesting word choice. Again we are reminded that their romance was meant to end that way due to the notions of choice and politics.

“Beron never called you out for it?” “To publicly do so would be to admit that his possession made a fool of him. So we continue our little dance, these centuries later.” I somehow doubted that beneath that roguish charm and irreverence, Helion felt it was a dance at all.

Helion reminds us about politics that bind different Courts - in this case, we can easily see that the matter of choice in this example ends with Lady choosing duty over love. It also supplies us with an idea that if Helion would have wanted to fight for Lady he would need to participate in a blood duel. Yet, the Lady chose Beron - we don't know why Helion probably was left alone with the same question. However, by analyzing this situation I believe that Lady knew about the possibility of a blood duel happening she didn't want her potential mate to be hurt. So, in the end, she opted for a life in a loveless marriage with Beron. Furthermore, we have Rhysand and Feyre coming to the conclusion that Lucien is Helion's son - and he is the fruit of the loving relationship between Helion and the Lady.

What does this mean, though? Nothing—ultimately nothing. Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir. And that … it changed nothing in this war. Especially not with Lucien on the continent, hunting that enchanted queen. A bird of flame … and a lord of fire. I wondered if they’d found each other yet.

The usage of the word "this war" is not a coincidence, as well as Rhysand's poor prediction of the future. Because as we know, right now - it changes a lot. Elain being his mate bounds him to the Night Court, so losing that relationship puts the Court at risk. Especially now, when Lucien doesn't know that Helion is his father. Another very important addition is the part about Lucien and Vassa. Feyre has prophetic tendencies and her thoughts about both Vassa and Lucien always focus on their... relationship. Not to mention that it was brought up after that whole conversation with Helion. With all these things above, I would like to move on to Elriel parallels. Starting with the Cauldron kidnapping Elain. Please bear in mind that this scene happens after the meeting with Helion, after learning about the story of Lady's and Helion's romance.

But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?”

The one who noticed that Elain was absent was Azriel, we can speculate whatever it was his intuition, his shadows, or perhaps some kind of feeling that made him aware of her absence. Yet, it's not a coincidence that another male character, the one who doesn't have an official mate is the only one who either felt/realized that she was taken. That's the first parallel I would love to bring to your attention - Helion was the one who found and rescued the Lady. Now, the situation is almost identical - Hybern attacks via Cauldron takes Elain to the war camps.

And what Hybern would do to Elain, might already be doing— From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

Azriel reacts with rage, a silent debate raging within him. He is battling something deep inside him, which is obstructed from the reader's point of view. I wonder why? He is the one who swears to find her and rescue her. Also, worth mentioning how Feyre seems to realize the graveness of the situation - as if she can remember the conversation she had with Helion about what happened with sisters of the Lady of Autumn Court. War camps. Nobody would walk away from them alive.

We looked to Rhys, to Cassian and Nesta, to Mor—right as she appeared, breathless, between the tent flaps. Her eyes went to me, then the shadowsinger, and flared with shock and fear—

In this scene we also have Mor. Mor was present during Helion's conversation and gave input about their love and forbidden relationship. Mor that possess the power of Truth. Is it possible that Mor knew about the mating bond between Helion and the Lady? Is it possible that Mor knows about the truth of the mating bond between Lucien and Elain? Does Mor know about the potential mating bond between Azriel and Elain? There are so many questions and we don't get an answer. Mor keeps secrets, which is understandable yet it provides a whole new aspect of Mor being the one who realizes what's happening. (Not to mention that Mor is always present when Elain is with Lucien, assessing them.)

Screaming. A shadow gripped my shoulder, reminding me not to run. Ianthe would not run—would not show alarm. My mouth went dry as that scream sounded again. I couldn’t bear it—to let it go on, to see what was being done— Azriel’s shadow-hand grasped my own, tugging me closer. His rage rippled off his invisible form.

It is Azriel who reacts once again with - rage. At the thought of Elain being tortured, abused, or being killed. Feyre can't stomach the idea of what is happening to her sister in this war camp.

I could feel Jurian’s smile against my ear. “She’s in his tent. Chained with steel and a little spell from his favorite book.” Shit. Shit. Perhaps I should have gotten Helion, who could break almost any—

The mention of Helion is such a beautiful parallel. We, as readers, are amidst a rescue mission. A situation that was very similarly described few chapters before, a situation in which it was Helion in Azriel's shoes. In the past it was - Helion and Lady, here in the "future" we have - Azriel and Elain. The same circumstances - Hybern attack/Hybern powers, three sisters, and the only one is targeted, a savior that isn't husband/mate finding and rescuing the girl.

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

I could write a whole meta about this quote because it's ridden with such enormous parallels and foreshadowing. Let's start with the simplest one, which is the word "devour". It has very strong connections to physicality, it basically means that Elain greedily took him in, he was her focal point at that moment. Also, the following addition of her not quite believing that, in fact, it is Azriel who arrived before her - she hadn't expected him to rescue her and you may be wondering why? It all beautifully goes with the idea of two mates/true mates theories - what is making me say this with so much certainty? Well, first of all, ACOWAR is full of descriptions of how a healthy mating bond works, for example, Feysand one. It's a bridge connecting two souls through which our emotions, thoughts can be perceived for the other person.

Find me, find me, find me, I tried shouting down that bond. But my mate’s wry voice didn’t answer. There was only the roaring void.

This happens at the begging of ACOWAR when Feyre tries to communicate with Rhysand through their mating bond. I find it very interesting that throughout the whole book the trope of "finding your true love, significant other" is very persistent. This brings me back to the theory that both Azriel and Helion heard their mates' cries of help and that's how they were able to rescue them and find them. In addition to that Elain's "you came for me" is striking so many questions. What does she mean? Why is she so docile and peaceful? As if she somehow had an idea that someone will come for her - did she perhaps inwardly call through the mating bond? This, again, brings us to another parallel - Beron doesn't know that it was Helion who rescued the Lady. Lucien doesn't know that it was Azriel who saved Elain - which, we really don't know if he even felt/knew that something has happened.

The hounds closed in, two breaking away—to cut to the side. To herd us. For that was a cliff at the other edge of the camp. A cliff with a very, very long drop, and unforgiving river below.

I'm bringing this up because the setting is oddly familiar with the run of Lady of Autumn's one. The isolated place, a trap etc.

Azriel’s roar echoed off the rocks as the hound slammed into him, dragging those shredding talons down his spine, his wings— The girl screamed, but Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast’s face. Its eye. Another. Another. It bellowed, and Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home. With a yelp of pain, it released its claws—and plunged into the ravine.

Parallel on parallel. We have Hybern's beasts, we have a similar setting again and fight. What is different, however, is that in Helion's case it was solely him that destroyed beasts while rescuing the Lady. Here, however, it is Elain that fights against beasts - she who had never trained, she who is a gardener is fighting against evil. She is kicking as the beasts hurt Azriel. She took the initiative and killed the beast at that moment when they previously hurt Azriel. Also, the most beautiful comparison in my opinion is the fact that after Elain knocks the beast it falls down the ravine, dying. It is somehow very symbolic that Elain kills the beast that falls into the ravine, whereas Lady of Autumn is stuck in the ravine as beasts approach her and it is the moment when Helion saves her.

The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time—a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out.

After that intense battle, they arrive in the safety, but Azriel still holds on Elain even if he himself is bleeding all over the place.

Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.

Another mention of Helion in that very parallel setting. He was very present during the rescue mission, which is a neat way of showering the audience with foreshadowing. If I wanted to indulge even more in the symbolism of this scene, I would point out that the chains on Elain are very symbolic as well. They could either mean the restrain of her powers, but also the chains of the "lack of freedom", "lack of choice". Being freed by both Azriel and Helion is something that I believe is very important to remember while waiting for the next book. Because even if Elain is a mirror to Lady - Elain will change the course of her story. Elain is going to choose love over duty, she will choose Azriel - which ends with them discovering that, in fact, the bond was there from the beginning. Helion getting rid of those chains is also a metaphor for what is to come. He will break Lady's chains by fighting with Beron during the blood duel. In this timeline, Azriel and Elain are symbolism of healthy love, mating bond, freedom of choice. Lucien doesn't mirror Beron, because he himself doesn't want to be with Elain since both of them don't feel comfortable with each other, they are making each other miserable. Not to mention the fact that their mating bond is... very weak and through the ACOWAR and ACOSF we see that it is different from the true mating bonds that are present in the universe. Azriel-Elain-Lucien triangle will break the past wheel of unhappiness and forced love, changing it by their own rules of free choice. As for Helion-Lady-Beron love story, if I may be so bold, the blood duel is going to happen and Beron will die - freeing Lady and Helion from him and politics that kept them away. If you are still not sure if these two situations are foreshadowing I would love to put this quote as the ending of this very long meta.

Azriel shrugged. “We—Rhys, Cass, and I—will occasionally remind each other that what we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength. And that the most unlikely person can alter the course of history.”

And as you can guess, that very unlikely person who altered the course of history in ACOWAR was Elain when she killed King of Hybern.

[gaeldricge]

Dialogue prompts #47 kyalin ^^

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I hope you like what I came up with... :)

47. Why are you whispering?

Kya wasn’t the jealous type. In fact, she prided herself in always having had enough self confidence to know her own value in her relationships.

She had been looking forward to this evening; a nice dinner among friends following some drinks in their usual club. It was the first time Lin had agreed to join them, she was finally ready to take the next step.

Kya wasn’t sure whether she still felt that happy about it.

Nuray had always been a touchy person and Kya had known that her friends would be awed by Lin’s presence. The Chief of Police had always been an idol among women, especially those of the queer scene. It had been the same when Toph had held the position. A strong woman, in a high office, could be like an aphrodisiac to women like them. And Kya knew, when her friends would get to meet the real Lin, her private person, the calm, clever and compassionate version, some of them would die out of envy. Yes, Lin was a special one, Kya knew that all too well and they loved each other so much.

Still, she felt on edge when she saw Nuray resting her hands on Lin’s arm for the seventh time that evening. Things were fine at the restaurant but once in the club the couple had been separated and now sat across from each other. Kya knew Lin was drunk – they all were – but she also knew her partner wouldn’t betray her. But why was she not snapping at Nuray? Why was she grinning and giggling (?!) when the other woman leant close to whisper something in her ear?

Kya was on edge. “Why are you whispering?” She shouted across the table, trying hard to make it sound like a casual inquiry but she knew from their looks she hadn’t been able to hide her irritation one bit.

Nuray laughed and didn’t move one inch away from Lin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Lin smirked at Kya. She felt caught and her irritation increased. The others at the table were either smiling or also laughing. One of them bumped her shoulder in a friendly manner, attempting to calm her down. She didn’t care for the sentiment or who it came from.

Annoyed she got up and climbed out of the booth. “I’m going to the bathroom!”

Coming out of the stall she found Lin leaning against the sink, bare arms crossed in front of her chest, parading her muscles.

“You okay?” She asked, still wearing that smirk.

Kya shrugged and went to wash her hands. When she threw away her paper towel, she felt Lin’s arms wrapping around her waist, her breath brushing against Kya’s neck as she whispered, “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me, that’s what she said.”

Goosebumps were spreading across Kya’s body as Lin nipped at the skin beneath her necklace. Kya turned around and pressed her partner against the wall, claiming her lips in a passionate kiss.

Being jealous wasn’t like her, but it was hard not to be with a partner like Lin, someone who could make her feel things she never felt before.

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 6

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.1k

Part 5 || Part 7 || masterlist

[a/n]

I’m sorry for the slow update (As you know, I finished my other mini series last week and I was just a ball of exhaustion, until now tbh)

I think we’re halfway along the story now. I think. Lmao. 

AO3 link is on the masterlist’s page.

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist uwu

No one budges - not Tsukishima, not the team, not even you. You scram the insides of your brain, trying your absolute hardest to come up with a panic-stricken solution on how to remedy the carelessness brought by your surge of pride from winning.

You can feel your heart pounding on your chest. Or maybe it's Tsukishima’s against yours. You can’t tell at this point and you don’t bother trying to. You push your cognitive skills to its maximum as you strive to think for a fix for your current predicament.

Luckily, you’re not a university scholar for nothing.

You release Tsukishima and open your arms wide to the next person you lay your eyes on.

“Kyou-kun! Good job,” you manifest the joy on your face as you come up to Kyoutani for the similar hug you just gave Tsukishima.

Like Tsukishima, Kyoutani also stills when you embrace his perspiring body. Kyoutani is not a touchy person, but unlike Tsukishima, you know he’s fond of you. So he doesn’t push you away. Rather, he awkwardly pats you at the back.

“T-thanks,” he says with his low, raspy voice. You beam at him and move on to the next player until you’ve hugged all six on the court.

When you come back to the benches, there’s an organized line of the rest of the Sendai Frogs.

You blink quizzically for a few seconds, wondering why, until you realize that they’re waiting for their turn as well.

“Aww, you guys!” you gush dotingly at how adorable they are. Yet, you can’t indulge them.

“Maybe next time? You need to line up already,” you remind them. They all groan downcastedly, but Coach Mira castigates them immediately.

“What the hell are you all sighing for? You won. Stop dawdling around and fall in line over there, not here!”

The guys snap out of it and do as they’re told. Before Coach Mira joins them, she shoots up an eyebrow at you, probably looking for an explanation for your behavior.

“Sorry, Coach.” You chuckle as you apologize for getting the team a bit sidetracked, but provide no reason why you did so. “Won’t do it again,” you supplement the apology.

She lets it go casually and lines up with the team as well.

Once the match is officially done, you head over to the restroom. You enter one of the cubicles quickly and lock its door, you knock your head on it.

‘What is wrong with you, you dumb bitch!’ you lambaste yourself while staring at tiles with petrified eyes as you replay the scene again.

When you made the deal with Tsukishima, you were confident that there wouldn’t be problems with hiding what you two have. He is one of your athletes first and foremost; that hasn’t slipped out of your mind. Yet for one moment there, you blurred the line that you and Tsukishima had established.

You got cozy with him when you’re not in private--when you’re not supposed to. It was just a hug, but still, it was something when you’ve made the whole Sendai gymnasium your audience.

You’re the one who even assured Tsukishima that no one will know about your set-up. Tough luck, you’re also the first one to mess up.

You bang your head on the cubicle door again. The sound of your frustrated groan echoes through the whole bathroom. After a while, you take a deep breath and unlock the cubicle. You go back out to the halls.

When you turn left to head for the bus, you’re startled at the presence of the blonde that was just in your mind. Tsukishima is there, leaning against the wall next to the door you emerged from.

“Fuck! You scared me,” you exclaim.

“Tell me about it,” he replies with a straight face. Despite the nonchalance, you know there’s meaning behind his short retort.

You scan the area, looking for any other member of the team who might be present. When you see none, you drag Tsukishima outside to a secluded area at the side of the gym. Once there, you check around again just to be sure no one will pass by.

Tsukishima just watches you acting in distress, waiting for whatever it is you’re going to say. Obviously it’s important enough to you that you tugged him all the way here. Once you’re done confirming that the coast is clear, panic sets in your face.

You clutch his jacket and start lamenting. “I’m so stupid, Tsukki! Oh God. They’re gonna find us out. We’re screwed!”

He thought that you were just going to explain and apologize for your slip-up earlier. He was stupefied when you did it. He’d probably be giving you an earful right now had you not resolved your mishap before it became an object of inquiry to the others. Admittedly, he was still planning to scold you a bit. However, seeing you this freaked out about it makes him change his mind..

“I’m so sorry!” you go on as you drive yourself deeper to hysteria.

He can’t understand why you’re having this kind of reaction. You solved the problem. You hugged five huge, sweaty men to make up for it. That was a convincing distraction for testosterone-filled players who just won a match.

“Can you calm down? I do-”

“Maybe we should stop it already,” you suggest strongly, cutting him off as perturbation clearly clouds your judgement.

This throws him off. The idea didn’t cross his mind at all. He was just going to reprehend you to be mindful, not call off the agreement you two made.

He doesn’t mind it anymore - kissing you. Sometimes, they’re more enjoyable than he initially anticipated them to be. Most importantly, they’re harmless. They’re just meaningless kisses born out of what little attraction you two have for each other. No one is getting out of line. You don’t go beyond kissing. You both act like the deal doesn’t exist unless it’s just the two of you in your room.

That’s why he is willing to let your mistake go, apart from the fact that you were successful in covering it up.

But instead of contesting your suggestion, he says, “If you say so.”

Even though he’s accepted that kisses from you are allowable, if you want to back out from it, why the hell should he stop you?

“Right??” you persistently convince him even though he basically said yes already.

“Right,” he presses on as well to satisfy your apparent need for him to agree with you.

His answer effectively calms you down as you let go of his jacket and sigh a breath of relief. You swiftly regain composure and face him with your trademark sassiness. “Awesome,” you say with a reassured smile.

“You go ahead first so Coach won’t ask me to chew your ass for taking too long to get on the bus.”

“And you?”

“I’m the manager. I’m always the last to get on the freaking bus.”

He turns around and walks back to the bus. That’s strange. He thought you love taking advantage of every opportunity there is for you to pick on him. He might be wrong.

He can be sure about one thing though: you really are the manager who looks out for everyone, including him.

Maybe that’s why it bothers you so much. Above all else, you are their manager. So when you acted upon something other than such in the court, you lost your cool.

Oh well.

It’s not as if scrapping the deal off is a loss of any kind. He’s gained some sort of fun from it. That’s that. Nothing more. Nothing less.

--

Tsukishima knocks for the second time. He wouldn’t have bothered knocking since it’s your scheduled time to meet today, but he also doesn’t want to barge in without your permission. So he knocks again.

Sure enough, it opens this time. Yet, no one’s there to meet him.

“Tsukishima...”

His eyes drop further down to where your voice came from. You’re on your knees, your head faced down on the floor, and your arm reaching on the doorknob where your hand is latched onto.

What is it this time? What kind of antic will you throw his way? He waits for you to do something unearthly again, readying himself for anything you might surprise him with.

But nothing. You just stay where you are while he stands still.

You groan weakly and ask, “Did you not get my text?”

He slouches down and gets on your level, still not discarding the thought that you have a trick up your sleeve, and you’re waiting to spring it on him.

“What text?” He didn’t check his phone on the way here so he doesn’t know.

You lift your chin to face him while he anticipates your big reveal -- your comedic idea of the day -- but it doesn’t come. What greets him are your squinted eyes, almost beet red cheeks, and pale lips.

“Not today,” you struggle to say which comes out raspy and frail.

He instantly reaches for your forehead to confirm his speculation. His eyes widen with worry when his palm touches your skin. Even without a thermometer, he can confidently conclude that you’re sick. Not just sick, you’re burning with fever.

He looks behind you and sees your laptop open with a mug filled with brown streaks of fried liquid he can only assume to be coffee.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. You really won’t fucking stop at nothing even if you’re literally sick already.

He peels your hand off from the doorknob. He scoops your legs and waist with ease and stands up.

“H-Hey,” you protest. You’re gravely debilitated so you do not move at all aside from a hand feebly clutching his shirt for support. He kicks the door close and walks over to your bed.

“Do you have a fucking death wish, y/n?”

Even with his harsh tone, he’s extra careful to duck down from your top bunk because he’s too big for the damn thing. If he’s not mindful, he’ll surely bump his bed on the metal frame.

He delicately lies you down on your bed as he manages to sit beside you without hurting himself.

Your eyes are closed and your whole face screams of discomfort. Your mouth opens as you scuffle the words to come out.

“Go home. You’ll get...sick too. Game soon,” you whisper hoarsely.

As usual, you’re still thinking about the team. Is it always everything else before yourself? Don’t you really know how to take a fucking break? It’s an eyesore. Watching you slowly but surely deteriorate yourself is more taxing than handling your childish nonsense.

He’d love to give you an earful of his thoughts about your pressing behavior, but it’s not what you need to hear at the moment. “Who should I call to be here?” he asks instead.

You force your eyelids to open and look at him. “No one. I can take care of…,” you trail off as your eyes begin to flutter close again.

He can’t decide if it’s funny or foolish that you think you can take care of yourself when you can’t even finish your sentence. “Right,” he says, unable to help himself from sounding sarcastic despite your situation. It’s just so stupid how this easily could be avoided if you didn’t push yourself too hard.

He’s in no way responsible for you. He should just walk out like you said. You did this to yourself. There’s no reason for him to stay there.

Yet, he puts down his bag and takes off his jacket.

“Do you have a medicine kit?”

His question is no longer heard. You’re already passed out. He stands up and starts looking around your room for anything that resembles a first aid kit. If you do have one, you didn’t place it where someone can easily see it.

He sighs as he’s left with no choice but to go out and buy the stuff you need. He can’t possibly go through your things. It feels like an invasion of your privacy.

When he comes back from the pharmacy, he’s expecting that you’d ease up even a bit since you finally stopped working. But when he sits beside you again, he can see the same worrisome distraught wrinkling your pretty face.

Alt hough he doesn’t want to disturb you, he has to. He needs to feed you, get you to take medicine, wipe you with cool compress, chang e your clothes, then tuck you back in bed. After that, he still needs to stay to make sure your stubborn ass won’t get back to working once you feel a tiny bit better.

He feels all his facial muscles droop down at the amount of chores he needs to do for you. He really shouldn’t bother. He can just turn a blind eye and go home, leave you alone since you brought this upon yourself.

But there he is, tending to your needs for no substantive reason other than him being a decent person. Well, he’s already taken the first step, so screw it.

He can still work on his own uni requirements while he watches over you anyways.

Although you resisted a bit at first, your own lack of strength makes you give in to his attempt to cater to your sickly needs. The feeding and the medicine was an easy task. You were practically a lifeless doll and just went with whatever he tells you to do.

Now that he’s in your bathroom with a small basin of cool water and a small towel hanging on his shoulder, he contemplates on how to proceed with the next step: a sponge bath. He should just hand you the towel along with a new set of clothes, leave the room, then come back after a few minutes.

Because he is not doing it.

He won’t be undressing you and wiping your naked body. Just no. You should gather whatever energy you have left because you’ll be doing that all on your own.

He dips the towel in the basin and squeezes the excess water out of it. He puts the moist towel in a container and goes back to your bed.

“Hey, sit up for a bit.”

You groan softly, but does as you’re told. He puts the small plastic case with the towel on your bed and helps you get up. “I’ll get you a new set of clothes, then wipe yourself down,” he instructs you.

You let out one short hum of approval, so he goes to your drawers. He pulls the first shirt and bottoms he sees. As long as you have your blanket, it should be fine if you’re not wearing thick clothing.

When he turns around, he finds you holding the wet towel to your shoulder, completely still as you rest against the wall by your bed. You fell asleep with the towel soaking up your shirt.

“Crap,” he curses as he rushes back to you.

He places your fresh clothes to the side and hurriedly removes the towel off of you. He’s about to shake you back to consciousness but aborts his plan as soon as he touches your other shoulder.

You look like you really want to do it yourself as well. Even now, he can see minute movements from your fingers as if you’re still trying to follow his directions earlier.

Goddamn it. It’s really up to him now, isn’t it?

He glances at you one last time, thinking of another way out. If you hadn’t gotten your shirt wet, he would have ditched the sponge bath idea already. Now he’s left with no choice but to proceed with it.

Whatever. It’s just a human body for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t be as alarmed as he currently is. He’s seen a female human body before. Yours should be no different.

He takes a deep breath and gently tugs up the shirt you’re wearing.

‘They’re just mammary glands,’ he repeats in his head but makes sure his eyes never land anywhere near the blob lump of fat on your chest.

He gets to work, brushing the cool towel starting on the sides of your face, then down to your neck. You must only be half-asleep because you lift your chin up a bit to allow him access to the column of your neck. He keeps his eyes on it as his hand travels down a bit further.

He spreads the coolness of the towel on your chest, but as soon as he feels a particular softness, drags his hands back up. With his hand still on your chest, he feels the pace of your breathing quicken a bit. When shoots his eyes up to your face, you’re already looking at him with dazed eyes and slightly agape mouth.

Beautiful. Too fucking beautiful for his liking.

It’s ridiculous. People are supposed to look like shit when they’re sick, not inviting.

A certain delicate temptation kicks in, urging him to back away a bit to reward himself with a quick sweep of your semi naked figure.

‘No,’ he grounds himself.

He’s not that barbaric. He’s not doing this so he has an excuse to ogle at you.

So why is he doing this?

With the turbulent thoughts reigning in his mind, he unknowingly squeezes the moist towel he’s holding against your skin.

The cool water drenching from his palm distracts him from his pondering. Reflex makes him look at his hand and involuntarily follows the slow trickle of water down the supple mount of flesh he’s been meaning to avoid looking at this whole time.

He realizes he’s been staring, but he’s too enthralled to stop. He lets his eyes wander further down, still watching how the droplet glides to your stomach. It gets absorbed by the fabric as it reaches down the waistband of your shorts.

The absence of the water he’s been trailing with his eyes snaps him out of his trance.

What the fuck is he doing?

He quickly moves on to your arms, patting your skin aggressively and haphazardly so he can finally get this cumbersome chore over with.

When you recover from this, he’s going to barrage you with a litany of fulmination on your self-destructive habits.

He’s supposed to wipe your thighs and legs too, but the idea is already tossed away as his train of thought is antagonizingly twisted today.

As fast as he can, he puts on the shirt he got for you. He was being gentle previously, but his priority at present is to cover up your exposed body away from his sight.

When he successfully clothes you, he gently lays you down again. He pulls the blanket to your shoulders and looks at your overall state.

You look a bit better now so he goes to your study table. He tidies up your stuff and puts them aside for him to set down his own.

Finally, he can get his shit done while he waits for your fever to go down.

He’s halfway through his elective course when he hears you whimper. He ignores it the first two times, but he hears it again louder the third time, he concludes something is wrong.

When he gets to your bed, you’re shivering frantically even with your blanket covering your whole body. He quickly searches for another one and piles it over the one you already have.

It only lessens your trembling but it’s still there. Your pretty face is still ruffled with unease. He touches your arm and finds out that you’re shaking way worse than you look.

In just seconds, he slips inside the blankets and draws you in to provide you the body heat you might need. You desperately cling onto him, pressing your body to share what he silently offered. Your fingers that are clutching the back of his shirt are quivering. You sink your face on his chest with agitation, badly in need for an additional source of warmth.

His displeasure towards your self-negligence dwindles when he feels your trembling body against his. Yes, this might be your fault, but he’s certain you hate this more than he does. Not only are you in pain, but you probably see this as a waste of your valuable time. You brought this upon yourself, but you don’t deserve it.

He encases his arm on your waist and tugs you even closer. He lowers his body a bit and gently nestles your face on his neck so you can feel the direct warmth of his skin on your cheeks.

Within a few minutes, you begin to relax within his embrace. The tremors become less and less until your fingers on his shirt loosen up.

You faintly pull back to look at him. “Sorry, Tsukki,” you mumble groggily with forlorn eyes.

“Shut up,” he utters without any trace of hostility as he cups the back of your head and buries your face on his neck again.

Your grip on him slackens but you don’t let go. You ease into him with your breathing getting even and your heart beating softly against his chest. When your chills completely fade away, he’s left with nothing but the softness of your body within the confines of his touch.

He becomes more aware of your bodies tangled against each other now that you’re completely still. The plumpness of your breasts are pinned on him. Your ample lips are grazing his neck. His pinky and ring fingers are hovering just below your spine, almost touching the curve of your behind.

To make things worse, you begin letting out small moans of succor which he can hear only because you’re too close.

He should be immune to this. He’s already had his fair share of kisses with you and sometimes, it involves a lot of touching. However, it is never as intimate as this. The furthest you two have gone was when he slipped a hand underneath your shirt before your friend barged in.

Before today, he had never seen your bare body. He had never held you to the point that almost your every curve melds with his. He has never thought about what it’d be like to do more than just making out. Only now when you’re not even doing so.

He considers himself a level-headed person driven by logic and rationality, but for crying out loud, your thigh is nudging on his crotch as if challenging his self-control.

As much as he wants to keep himself in check, his own body betrays him when his dick starts to nudge back at your right thigh.

‘Breathe in, breathe out,’ he reminds himself repeatedly to calm himself down.

“Hmmm,” you snuggle even more on his neck, your moist lips tracing his skin before you press it on him as you relax even further.

Fuck.

The shameful tent in his pants is becoming painful on his jeans as his imagination runs wild. How will you sound if it's the other way around, if it's his lips that’s traveling on your neck? How will you react if it’s his palms kneading the supple flesh pressed against his chest right now? Would you blush a deeper shade of red than the one you’re wearing if he slams his…

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t decide who is more sick: you or him, who’s lusting over you despite your situation. His plan to chastise you for your own inattentiveness for your own health is back in action. He’ll make sure it's ingrained into that irresponsible, beautiful head of yours.

To distract himself from his inane fantasies, he forces himself to recall the scientific names of all the reptile species he’s aware of.  And when he’s exhausted his mental list, he moves on to whatever animal species he can think of until he dozes off with you.

--

You haven’t opened your eyes yet, but as you regain consciousness, you can tell that you had an amazing nap. For the first time, you reap the benefits of a power nap. It feels like you slept for a complete eight hours or even more. You no longer feel sick. You celebrate the after effects of the nap, stretching your legs before you get up.

You look out your window and see that the light is still a dark shade of blue so you still have the whole evening to finish what you need to do.

When you turn your glance to your table, Tsukishima’s seated on the floor with his laptop in front of him.

Why is Tsukishima here? You texted him and called off your meeting today.

Something’s off.

You don’t really remember going to bed. You just remember doing one of your subjects when you heard someone knock.

“Tsukishima,” you call his attention urgently.

He turns to you, but you can’t see his eyes from the light reflecting on his glasses from his screen. “What time is it?”

He looks back to his laptop. “It’s 5 am.”

What?!

You didn’t take a nap. You fucking slept. A more horrid realization comes to you when you remember what happened before you did. You passed out and Tsukishima fixed you up.

Shit! He’s been telling you all the time to stop overworking yourself and he had to be there and clean up the mess you did to yourself.

You panic when he sits beside you. You sit properly, hands on your lap, pressed lips, eyes on the floor as you prepare yourself for a long, tedious arduous lecture from the blonde.

“Hey.”

You slowly turn towards him, anticipating the slew of curses about to unroll from him.

“Y-yes?”

You keep your eyes leveled on his chest, embarrassed of yourself for burdening him with your unwell ass.

Instead of speaking, he inserts a thermometer in your mouth, causing you to shoot your gaze up to him. Neither of you say anything and just hold each other’s stare until the thermometer beeps.

He takes it out of your mouth and checks your temperature.

“You’re okay now,” he announces, then starts getting ready to leave. “Don’t bother coming to training later or else I’ll tell Coach that I caught you extremely sick,” he threatens nonchalantly.

Your mind is running laps on how to process everything all at once, but you decide to deal with the most pressing one.

“Uhhhh..”

He glances at you, silently waiting for what you’re going to say, but you only gape at him as well.

What were you going to say again? Shit, you actually can’t remember what it is.

He disregards your quietness and proceeds to your door. “You should just stay in. One day of missing classes won’t cost you your scholarship,” he says before he closes the door behind him.

“Wait.”

He’s gone. It’s only then you remember you wanted to say thanks.

--

When you come back to the gym two days after, everyone expresses their worry about you. You assure them that you’re completely fine now. Even with the love and concern you are showered with, your eyes scan for someone who isn’t among the players in front of you.

There he is, dribbling the ball and is about to do a jump serve. Just before he tosses the ball in the air, he looks at your direction.

“Y/n?” Kogane’s voice pulls you back to them.

“What was that?” you ask because you didn’t hear whatever they were saying.

“He was asking if you’re really okay now,” Eiji says.

You nod enthusiastically. “So stop wasting your training time on me and practice instead,” you say with cheerful authority that they’re very pleased to hear again.

Once the crowd disperses, you spring your way to the middle blocker who didn’t welcome you back.

“Hello!” you greet him sprightly.

“What?” he asks with a bored tone.

You step closer to him for the next thing you’re going to say is for his ears only. “I really appreciate what you did the other day.”

Tsukishima sees the earnest, grateful expression on your face, but what grips his attention is how refreshed you look. You look brighter than you usually do.

He was almost sure that you were going to ignore what he said about going absent on both in classes and in here, but you seem to have taken his advice with how well-rested you are.

But most of all, he didn’t expect you’d bring it up during your working hours. Neither of you talks about what happens in private when you’re the ‘Sendai Frogs’ manager,’ not his classmate, or occasional kiss-buddy .

“I don’t,” he responds vacuously to your thankful sentiment. It was a very tough night for him. When he woke up, his erection was still raging through his pants. As undignified as it was, he got himself off in your comfort room just to ease the unbearable sexual tension that was still there in the morning.

As usual, you don’t take offense from his sour remark. You chuckle whole-heartedly and pat him hard on his shoulders. “Of course you don’t,” you say mirthfully before you walk over to Coach Mira.

It was a very tough night you made him endure, but he’s relieved to see you back on your feet.

--

The team is going to the fourth match of the regular rounds. Three more after this and you get the chance to have a game from the bottom two teams from Division 1.

As you and the team march towards the court, you hear someone call Tsukishima.

“Tsukki!”

You look at whoever it is and stop when you see Kotarou Bokuto, the wing spiker of MSBY Jackals, crazy energy on court, super clean line shot.

He’s waving energetically at Tsukishima while the latter just nods at him. You grab Tsukki by his shirt and stop him from advancing any further.

“You guys go ahead. We’ll be there in a sec,” you tell Kogane who’s the person in front of you. He nods at you then walks off with the rest of the team.

“Why did we stop?” Tsukishima asks with a frown.

“How do you know Bokuto?” you ask.

“I used to train with him during high school,” he says like it’s nothing because to him it really is not a big deal. Bokuto and Kuroo practically coerced him to join their free practices when he already wanted to call it a day. Training with them was a drag - a drag that pushed him to become a better blocker.

Among the four of them who regularly practiced in the third gym, it was him and Bokuto who went professional. Even if the wing spiker is in a higher division, he still sees Bokuto as the same person who told him it only takes one hit to be hooked on the sport. Bokuto just got better at it.

Other than that, he still seems like the silly guy Tsukishima knows him to be.

“Can you introduce me?” you say as you try to hide the zeal in your eyes, but horribly failing to do so.

“Shouldn’t I go warm up?” he counters instead of responding to your question.

“I promise to be very nice to you in the three succeeding training days. Introduce me, please, ” you beseech graciously at him, insistent on meeting the athlete.

“Make it five days,” he tests to see your conviction.

But you easily agree, “Deal!”

Seeing that you won’t let this go easily, he thinks it would be better to just give you what you want.

You both walk over to where Bokuto is. Beside him is another part of the third gym, Kuroo, who’s now the official promoter of the Volleyball Association.

“Hey hey hey, Tsukki!”

“Hey,” the lack of enthusiasm in his response totally contrasts Bokuto’s. “This is-“

“Hi!! I’m Y/n, Tsukishima’s manager,” you cut him off which makes him jolt. Why even bother asking him to introduce when you’re more than capable of doing it yourself?

You grab Bokuto’s hand and shake it vigorously. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” you dramatically state, your eyes twinkling with idolatry.

Bokuto, as expected, is exceedingly glad from the adoration. He uses his two hands to shake yours and reciprocate the same energy you gave him.

“I’m such a huge fan. Personally, you’re my favorite player from Division 1. I don’t care what others say. That chest bump. Flawless save!” you drag on, endlessly showering the spiker with compliments which Bokuto is totally eating up.

He’s egging you up even more by constantly nodding, laughing, and agreeing in everything you’re saying.

Meanwhile, Kuroo and Tsukishima are just standing there watching the whole exchange.

“I’m sorry if this is a stretch, but can I hug you?” you ask almost like a tame puppy.

He’s been disregarding the entire conversation, but really? A hug? Have you no shame? Not that he cares but should you be ogling at another athlete when you’re wearing the uniform of Sendai Frogs?

Great. Go worship a big brawny dude from Division 1 minutes before your own team’s game. How thoughtless.

He imagined it would be a civil hug but then you open your arms to Bokuto and envelop him in the warmest hug he’s ever seen you give. His eyes drop to Bokuto’s limbs which are ensnared around your waist as the spiker hauls you closer to his body.

How imprudent. It was a mistake bringing you to Bokuto. You should have known it’s unwise to mix up your personal agenda with your work. You should have known that it was better if you just ignored Bokuto and made him warm up, than make him introduce you to your favorite player.

What is wrong with you?

Kuroo’s attention slips from you to Tsukishima’s change of demeanor. Tsukishima is usually unbothered, but as soon as you embraced Bokuto, Tsukishima’s mood became sour. It is an amusing sight to watch.

He never thought Tsukishima would associate himself with an individual as lively as you. But who could blame him?

He, himself, has just been watching since you fanned the ego of his old buddy. You have not graced him even a glance since you approached them. Your eyes were all set on Bokuto. You’re probably not aware that another presence is also there.

So he’ll make you be aware.

“Ehem,” he clears his throat to grab your attention, which works as you shift your gaze from Bokuto to him. “Hello,” he flashes you the best smile he has, but has no effect whatsoever at you.

The difference in treatment is drastic. While you revere Bokuto with adoration, you regard him like a nuisance. It’s not that palpable, but it’s there. You look at him like he’s an obligation to deal with.

Your smile is rehearsed and so is the cheerful “Hi” that you give him.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he introduces as he offers his hand. You take without hesitation, firmly gripping his extended hand for a brisk, professional handshake.

“Y/n, manager of the Sendai Frogs,” you respond in an amicable, yet refined manner. He gets his business card from his pocket and hands it to you.

“So, Miss Manager, how are the Frogs doing?” he asks to strike up a conversation.

You scrutinize his business card for a quick while then pockets it. “I believe as their manager, I, myself, represent the team more than my words can. So what do you say, Mr. Promoter?” The professionalism chips off and reveals a real slice of you - sly and mischievous, as you compose your stature and put a hand on your hip, accentuating your curves.

He crosses his arms as he eyes you from head to toe without any reservation, then back up again.

“I say the Sendai Frogs are looking hot this season,” he says with his own grin that’s just as devious as yours.

“There’s your answer then,” you give him a wink that almost makes his heart flutter.

‘Geez, lady. Take it easy on unsuspecting men,’ he thinks to himself but easily recovers as his grin spreads out.

“Oy, we should be getting back,” Tsukishima says, breaking Kuroo’s trance towards you. You snap out of it as well, agreeing with Tsukishima as you give the blonde a nod.

“It’s so nice to really meet you, Bokuto,” you tell Bokuto before turning around. Even though you’re treating Kuroo as if he doesn’t exist, he can’t help but be intrigued even more by you.

“Bye, y/n,” he says a bit loudly for you to hear since you’re already a few steps away from them.

You’re about to look back but Tsukishima puts a hand on your shoulders and starts talking to you. Kuroo would have disregarded it, but he doesn’t miss the quick glare Tsukishima throws at Kuroo and Bokuto. What’s even more eye-catching is how Tsukishima’s hand travels down a bit on your back.

You don’t take notice of it though. It might because you’re preoccupied or because you genuinely don’t mind. But for Tsukishima to do so, it’s a different story altogether.

“Hey Bokuto, did you see that?” he turns to his friend.

“Uh huh. She’s so pretty!” Bokuto squawks out, obviously not catching what Kuroo did. Kuroo just lets it go since it wouldn’t really do much even if he tries to explain. He looks back at you and agrees with Bokuto instead.

“Yeah, very pretty.”

--

Even though you’re the one who broke off the deal, you still feel the urge to kiss Tsukishima at times. He does too. You notice the way he glances at you briefly then returns to his work as soon you catch him.

It’s not awkward. There’s none of the tension-filled air, probably because you’re both aware that the impulse is there. You just silently agreed to dismiss it.

It’s all good though. It’s for the best. You don’t want another slip-up like the one from the Jaguars’ match. What’s weird is that even though you’re no longer making out, it feels like nothing has changed.

You still sit beside him. He still lets you lean on him. He still lets out nasty side comments but he’s not as rancorous as they used to be.

“You’re spacing out again,” he points out.

“That’s cause I’m done, Tsukishima,” you counter immediately while still gazing at your window across you. “Anyways, I’m gonna nap,” you announce.

He stops typing and looks at you. That’s weird. He’s always the one strenuously suggesting that you take a break when you’re feeling tired. What gives?

“Are you sick?” A bubble of unwarranted concern rises within him from your sudden inclination to take a nap.

“Oh, no. But I’m going to a party later so I need to recharge a bit.” You head to your bed and start straightening out the crumpled bedsheets.

Party? Are you out of your fucking mind? You could rest instead, make the most out of the night by catching up on sleep. But you’d rather attend a pointless party? Here he thought you were being thoughtful of your own health.

Not to mention, there might be perverts getting their hands all over you again. Obviously you can protect yourself, but wouldn’t you prefer not having one ogling and harassing you?

“Mind enlightening me how a vomit-smelling gathering is of any benefit to you?”

“Mind enlightening why it’s any of your business?” you retort instantly.

“It’s not,” he responds just as swiftly. “I’m just curious because I honestly don’t get it,” he says calmly. If you want to go to the damned party, then by all means. He really doesn’t care what you do with your free time.

“If you’re so worried, Tsukishima, you’re very welcome to come,” you tell him, mockery dripping from your invitation.

“I’d rather not,” he says dryly.

You shrug as you slip under your blanket. “Lock the door when you leave.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters.

--

‘Truly unbelievable,’ he tells himself again as the smell of cigarette and alcohol tickles his nostrils while he sits at the bar, mulling over whatever the hell possessed him to come there.

It definitely isn’t because of you.

He’s not looking for you either nor is he worried about you.

It’s worse than he remembers. There are more people than last time and the music is banging on his eardrums.

“Are you getting anything?” the bartender asks him.

Although he absolutely detests alcohol, he feels like punishing himself tonight for lack of better judgment in coming there.

“Your worst drink.”

--

Even though you slept that afternoon, you still don’t plan on staying out too long for the party. You just wanted to catch up with some uni friends and instead of meeting them all one by one, it would be efficient if you attend this party and meet them all at once.

Although you would prefer if you just slept or watched a documentary, you think it’s necessary for you to be here. You almost don’t have any time to spend with friends. This might be your last chance to do so since it’s almost graduation.

As usual, you avoid drinking since you hate dealing with hangovers. You learned that the hard way when you had to keep up with who’s scoring points in an official match while an invisible hammer pounds your head.

So, despite the endless free shots given to you, you persistently decline. You also did not pay much attention to the dance floor to save your energy.

After a while of talking to everyone you know, you look around to check if you missed anyone. That’s when you catch a glimpse of a familiar blonde slouching by the bar.

‘ No. It’s not possible ,’ you say to yourself but you’re already smiling hard as you saunter to where he is. It’s very unlikely that it’s him but on the rare chance that he is, you’re not going to let it slip by.  

He’s facing down his glass which is joined by two empty shot glasses. You lean back with both your elbows on the counter.

“You new here?” you playfully ask. If it’s not who you think it is, you’ll just dance awkwardly to throw him off.

“I actually am,” he says as he encircles the rim of his glass with his index finger. Then he raises his face to turn to you.

When he reveals his face, you confirm that it is indeed Tsukishima, but at the same time, he looks nothing like his usual self.

The tips of his ears up to his neck are burning red while his eyes are dazed like you’ve never seen them before. But that’s not the weirdest thing.

He’s smiling. He’s fucking smiling like a happy idiot.

“Tsukishima?” you ask him for confirmation in any case that it’s just someone who looks extremely like him.

“Hmmm?” he asks with a little bit of a slur that throws you off.

As if you’re not astounded enough by the scene unfolding before you, he grabs you by the waist and lugs you until you’re situated between his thighs.

“Who did you think it was, manager?”

Part 5 || Part 7 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

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[bella-caecilia]

#21 pink please!

Thank you so much for the prompt! You sent this a while ago so please, forgive the late response. Here is finally some young Cobert angst! Contains (light) smut. Probably M-rated

Pink – Immature, Timid, Unconfident

1890

Cora had to leave. She had to get out and walk; walk away. Ideally, she would like to run. But she knew best that this wouldn’t do. It was pity enough that she had had to call her maid and wait for her to make her ready to go outside. Everything was so unnecessarily complicated in this world.

The tea with the family had grown to be unbearable. Being there with him as he nibbled the tiny but countless teacakes so totally unbothered. Mama displayed her practised cheerful tone whenever a topic was discussed that excluded Cora for the mere fact that she didn’t understand enough context to be a part of the conversation. If the discussion did include her though Mama’s eyebrows arched high on her forehead and her voice was monotonous and grave. As if everything regarding the young daughter-in-law was a touchy and serious topic. Papa usually stayed silent during these discussions. Sometimes his jaw clenched visibly. A sign that he was thinking about something that posed a difficulty, a challenge. Robert either averted his look, glancing out the windows across the carefree land or mustered Cora with a critical expression. His brow furrowed, sometimes his eyes squinted a trifle, and he regularly took sips of his tea to avoid having to add something directly addressed to his wife. It was so plain and it didn’t hurt less with every day it was repeated. Cora was a problem nobody quite knew how to handle.

She huffed and clutched the fabric of her coat with both hands, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her breath escaped her lips in tiny clouds of warmth. She stalked down the path leading away from the estate. She didn’t want to believe it. She was no problem. They didn’t say it out loud. None of them did. But, oh, how she felt it in their looks, their tones, their sighs. Cora was hard to integrate and hard to teach. Cora was slow on what she was expected to deliver. Cora wasn’t easy to love.

She pressed her lips together as her pace quickened. A futile attempt to run away. Away from her thoughts. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they thought like this. Because it wasn’t true. She easily integrated and learned. She did her best to quickly realise every request and task directed at her. And she tried so hard to be loveable. She blinked her eyes. She was not a problem.

No one said so, she told herself. But why then couldn’t she help but feel as if she was whenever in the presence of her new family?

“But you were raised to be a mother one day, weren’t you? It’s not that they taught you something different in America, right?” Violet had asked dead serious, her eyebrows raised in a challenging expression. Cora hadn’t anticipated such a low dig and had turned her slightly open-mouthed face to her husband. What was she to say? Was this really how a daughter-in-law was treated here? But Robert’s reaction had stung even more. He had looked at her curiously, seriously considering Mama’s inquiry an interesting question. It had taken all of Cora’s well-trained composure to suppress an outraged gasp.

“Well, of course,” she had given back simply and calmly. She had tried to chew on one of the pink-iced teacakes but the crumbly sponge cake had gotten stuck in her dry throat. The sweet sticky icing had tasted traitorous as she observed Robert casually licking it from his fingertips, thinking no one was looking at him. She just hadn’t been able to stay a minute longer in this room. So, she had put the pastry aside instead and had smiled a sugary smile at Mama while saying, “You’ll see it when the time comes. If you may excuse me now. I’m tired.”

She was tired. Tired of it all. Still, she wandered the grounds restlessly. Because she couldn’t bear the stifling silence of the spacious halls. She couldn’t comprehend how there could be such a huge distance between Robert and her. How was it that they hadn’t managed to grow closer by now? She tried to push away the rising images of last night but after the first flash of his bare vision hovering over her, she was lost in the spiral of still fresh memories.

There had been the usual knock on the adjoining door. Brisk and inquiring. Cora knew he wouldn’t come in if she gave no response. He didn’t disrupt her sleep and wouldn’t invade her privacy. One time she had been dozing already, and rubbing her eyes it had taken her a while to realise she must have been woken up by his knock. Her reply had been groggily, and he had only popped his head in tentatively. “I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll let you sleep.” She had told him he didn’t have to but he had insisted. A few times she had considered not letting him in. Being on her own would maybe be less alone. But she hadn’t had it in her. If she was awake, he was welcomed in her room. It had been the same last night.

“Come in!”

He opened the door soundlessly and pulled the strings of his dressing gown belt tighter as he closed the door behind him. Cora sat propped against the headboard of her wide bed, her hands clasped over the closed book on top of her covers. Her full attention was on him, her gaze following his every move. Robert’s eyes didn’t meet hers. He took quick steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge with his back to her.

“Do you have a new dressing gown?” Cora inquired. She couldn’t stand the silence in the room. It seemed he was avoiding her at all cost. He was about to take off his slippers but paused to lift his right arm and muster the fabric of his dressing gown.

“Could be,” he gave back with a shrug of his shoulders. “Have you never seen it?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Cora kept her tone light. The dressing gown founds its place at the feet of the bed. Finally, Robert turned to her. He looked at her for the first time. Shortly, he acknowledged her face, sweeping his eyes over her features, before he settled his gaze on the book in her lap.

“Did I interrupt you? We don’t have to if you don’t like to.” He stayed seated on the edge of the bed. A safe distance between them.

“No, I haven’t even begun reading yet,” she quickly replied. “And of course, I like to have you here.” She smiled softly because it was true. No matter how awkward it sometimes was (mostly because of his absence of mind) she preferred to have him with her. That maybe was the problem.

“Well, if you say so,” he sounded little enthusiastic. His former question seemed a bit like an excuse to her. As if he was looking for a way out. But he got onto the bed fully now, and she was quick to put her unopened book to the side. She brushed the loose curls of her dark hair behind her ears, trying to push them into the night coiffure her maid had applied with a simple silk ribbon at the back of her neck. Robert moved over the mattress, lifting the light upper covers to slip beneath them. Suddenly, Cora felt a hit of his breath at her neck as he shuffled closer and a rosy blush spread on her features. She lowered her gaze. God, he wasn’t even doing anything and she was flustered already! What this man did to her!

“You look nice tonight, Cora,” Robert spoke softly. His palm cupped her cheek and slowly wandered down under her chin, lifting it lightly. She looked into his pale blue eyes cautiously. Her lashes fluttered as she was searching for some warmth there. His gaze dropped instantly when his hands wandered to her waist. His touch was gentle and distant. But she had missed the opportunity once again to come closer to her husband’s warmth. She knew it was there, enveloping all his tender feelings. But for whatever reason, she was being kept away.

Robert now fought with the constricts of Cora’s dressing gown. The dusky pink garment was wrapped at least once around Cora’s slender body. She had gone to bed with it for the chilliness of her room. The smouldering fireplace was much too far away from her lonely spot in the big bed. Robert huffed when he didn’t get the soft material from his wife’s torso.

“Let me help you,” she whispered and struggled from the offending piece of clothing less elegantly than planned. With a sweet and encouraging smile, she turned to her husband beside her and reached out her arms to start unbuttoning his nightwear but as if it was a serious battle, he grasped one button after the other, trying to do it faster than she. When he was about to untie his lower garments, Cora’s hands laid idly in her lap.

“May I?” he turned to her and his hands hovered over her thighs. She only nodded. Robert pushed down the blankets a little and grabbed the exposed material of her nightgown. He gathered it in his hands until he had reached the lower seam and one of his hands sneaked underneath, seeking the waistband of her drawers. His lips connected with her cheek as he loosened the string of her waistband. He pressed a kiss to her lips as he pulled down her underwear. Cora returned his kiss heartily before she helped him getting the drawers off her legs. Now Robert moved above her, taking off his pants completely and then pushing her nightdress up, revealing her full nude vision. Right before Cora took the dress to pull it over her head, she saw his eyes wandering over her body as unrestricted as nearly never. She was very eager to throw the nightgown aside if he was to devour her with his eyes like this. His hand dropped between her legs again, cupping her down there and gently beginning to stroke. Cora sighed. He could do this more often she thought. His eyes had locked with her chest and he seemed to be considering something. She could practically see him taking heart. And then, his mouth descended on her breasts, kissing them extensively one after the other. Cora closed her eyes. Her head sank weakly back into the pillows. Her silent sighs turned into soft moans. At first, she laid there passively and savoured his passionate attentions. After a moment, her hands found his head and her fingertips disappeared in his sandy curls. She drew light circles on his scalp, gently scratching the back of his head. His lips travelled up her chest and neck and connected with her open lips. Cora pressed her mouth to his hard and sucked his lower lip between her teeth. She felt him shuffle between her spread legs until his hardness pressed against her. He broke the kiss and his eyes searched hers questioningly. She returned his intense look and nodded.

Pushing inside her, his eyes fell close and his lips parted slightly to let out a low moan. Cora tried to relax, wanting to give in to the pleasurable experiences that, at this moment, were right in her reach. Being this close for her to grasp. But since the moment Robert had broken their fiery kiss, he was distant. Their skin only touched barely. They were about to absolve this task with minimal contact she feared. He began moving above her slowly but Cora felt cold. With his hands and lips on her, it had been as if her body had forgotten the freezing temperatures of her room. But now, his hands were pressed into the mattress on either side of her chest and his lips were up there, high above her. Far from her reach.

Cora didn’t want to force more closeness on him. She didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. So, she did as she did so often and laid there beneath him, trying to make it work the way he predefined. But today, the cold took hold of her and it made her panic a little. It had started out so nicely. So much closer and more intimate than usual. She had liked it. It had been thrilling, it had made her nervous but she wanted to explore it. As the fear formed in her head that he might not touch her again during the whole act and that it would turn out less satisfying than ordinarily, her hands sought at least the slightest contact and wandered up his tensed arms. Her grip grew tighter around his biceps, and he looked into her eyes. For a second, she wanted to ask him for a kiss because she felt like this was what his pink lips called for. But she didn’t. Instead, she pushed her hands onto his back as he began moving faster. And it worked. Robert buried his head into her neck for a moment and she held him in her arms as he rocked them both closer to the brink. It felt better this way. Cora was able to enjoy it more. And then, he started kissing her shoulder, and the warmth spreading from her core expanded with a much quicker pace. Cora mirrored his actions and his skin felt so good beneath her lips. When he was close, Robert lifted himself and they were able to look into each other’s faces again. And everything Cora saw from that point on was his flushed nude body moving eagerly above her. The blood rushing through his body coloured his skin light pink. He groaned. She only saw the rosy colour of his skin. She moaned. Skin on skin. Low moans and breathy sighs. Pale pink bodies holding on to each other so close… until… It was over. It was done, and the closeness was gone. A few moments later, he was gone as well.

“Goodnight,” he said with his back to her. How could he get back into his clothes so fast? “Sleep well.” He stood up. Only a brief look over his shoulder. So fleeting he couldn’t have seen anything at all really.

“Goodnight,” she breathed silently into the sound of the turning door handle. Over and done with. That was how they went to bed so many nights.

And now, as she walked down the gravel path, all she saw before her inner eye was skin. Rosy skin. A pale pink body. An innocent colour. She snorted. Innocent yet intimate. And in truth, it was none of it. Again and again, she herself created the appearance of intimacy between them. Yet there was none. Not for real. But she was sure that every time they had been a little closer last night, he had enjoyed it just as she. And still, he had escaped her. Cora was hurt. She opened her arms for him again and again, and he was running away cowardly. She saw glimpses of longing in his eyes, she was sure. Why when it sometimes seemed as if he did enjoy her company as if he revelled in her closeness, why did he chicken away like a moody young boy? Cora was frustrated. What made him doubt? What made him insecure?

Cora halted when her feet had made enough steps away from the estate. Her thoughts paused for a moment too. She looked into the pink sky, illuminated clouds drawing pictures of her lost home. Cora had spent endless moments marvelling at the spectacular Ohioan sky and practising her painting hand at the romantically pink and lilac cloud formations only a few years back. The vision now, hanging over her who she stood on the cold and harsh English land, made her eyes glassy with a yearning for a time lost. She used all her willpower to keep her lip from trembling. It would mean defeat and perhaps – a tiny but growing part of her mind feared it – it would also mean regret. She didn’t want to regret her marriage. She didn’t want to regret any of it. But more often than not it felt like everything she needed for her heart to be filled, filled with energy to live, had been taken from her.

And then, as her mind and eye resumed wandering, there was again skin, only skin for as far as her eye could reach. His light pink body being close to her. He was the only thing on her mind. And she wanted him to be her energy to live. Craved to be his energy, his reason for living. But she had to get these presumptuous dreams out of her head if she wanted to survive here.

...

if you want to send another prompt, here is the prompt list: Colour symbol prompts

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hmmm yeah, so this is a random (wayyy too long) snippet from a oneshot I’ll post down the line a bit. It’s probably not gonna make a lot of sense out of context but 🤷🏼‍♀️😅. It was fun to write. 🥰 and why would we write if we’re not having a good time. It’s also unedited so I may be creeping back in later to re-edit a lot of word choice here. 😘 Hot mess express here.

“How long?” I murmur quietly, feeling somewhat obligated to break the awkward silence since I’m the one who created it. But my voice is unsure and I’ve never been very good at speaking to just about anyone and the inquiry comes out strained.

“What?” His head snaps up, my voice apparently yanking him out of the deep trance his grief drowned him in.

I clear my throat, more than a little awkward. “How long were you and your wife together?” I ask, clearer this time.

Comprehension flickers across his face. “Oh. A few years.” He sucks in a shallow breath that closer resembles a choke, to be honest. “It was complicated at first. For her.” For some reason he smirks a little now. Like he’s remembering the dead girl he loves. Like he’s caught up in a moment with her and the rest of the word has completely disappeared from beneath his feet.

“For her?” I pick, not even caring in the slightest that I’m prying.

His pretty blue eyes rise up, meeting mine and almost instantly growing sad. Again. “She wasn’t sure how she felt for a while,” he explains simply, his voice suddenly quiet and distant. “She needed time to let her head catch up to her heart.”

“But you didn’t?” I guess, having the oddest intuition about this mysterious stranger in front of me.

A ghost of a smile haunts his face now. A smile that must have once beamed bright looks more forlorn than blissful. “No,” he whispers, looking past me and out into the horizon. “I didn’t. I loved her from the moment I first saw her.”

And I know I should just quit asking questions now, as he’s clearly in pain and talking about his dead love clearly isn’t helping in the least.

But I’ve never known when to leave well enough alone and before I can chicken out, the way I always seem to, I prompt, “when was that?”

He chuckles and, inexplicably, I feel my chest ache. I don’t like hearing a happy sound come out so broken. “First day of kindergarten.” He blinks twice, as if to hold back tears, looks at me for the briefest of seconds and then flits his eyes away. “She sang for the entire class. And…” He sucks in a breath, his eyes falling back onto mine. Blue bleeding into gray once more. “And I was mesmerized.”

“You were a goner?” I say lightly, intending to lift the heavy mood, even a little. Just wanting to say something to make him so much as smile.

But somehow my remark has the opposite effect and his blonde brows furrow in shock.

“What do you mean, a goner?” He says, his tone abruptly serious.

My fingers fiddle with my dark braid as I peer up at him curiously. “I-It was just a word? I didn’t mean anything by it,” I stumble out, unsure how I unintentionally offended him. To my relief though, his face smooths out after only a second.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a throaty chuckle. “I’m sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just over-sensitive and…” His gaze flits once again from the sky to the trees to me to the distance again. “And I have no business telling you any of this. I’m sorry.”

“No!” I exclaim as he turns to leave. I reach and grab his arm, to assure him somehow, to at least try to make him feel better. My touch is gentle, in my personal opinion, but he acts as if I’ve electrocuted him the moment my fingers lock around his forearm. “No, Peeta, I wanted to hear all this. I think your story with your wife is beautiful.”

He shoots me an incredulous look, in obvious disbelief. “You don’t know our story,” he refutes, a little too defensively, I feel. But I know this has got to be a touchy subject for him so I let the edge in his tone go.

“You’re right, I don’t,” I say agreeably, wracking my brain for the right words to give him. “But I can see how much you love her. How much you still love her.” At that, he looks down at his feet, as if I just called him out and now he can’t bear to even meet my eyes.

“More than anything,” he whispers finally.

“And she loved you?”

The ghost smile reappears. “Fiercely.”

“You’re lucky. No one has ever loved me like that.” There’s no self-pity, no desire for sympathy in my tone. Because I don’t feel sorry for myself, I can’t imagine having any other life. I wanted to make him feel lucky, not feel bad for me.

But the glint in Peeta Mellark’s cloudy blue eyes is as if I just stabbed him in the knee.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Heyo! I was wondering if you could do a scenario during the uprising arc where the reader starts to realize she has feelings for Levi but at first he rejects her? Then during the night before Shiganshina he realizes about her feelings and ends up returning them knowing he doesn't want her to get hurt or die? Some angst fluff please and thank you!

Okay anon you have no idea how much I enjoyed writing this. It's super long and I love how it came to me so naturally. I hope you enjoy

Warnings: a little angst!?

Tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Promise

It all started at the sight of his wet fingertips grazing the broken rim of a teacup. A flutter, a feisty spark in your heart that seemed to drown it in full might had made its presence known to you in a very particular, unwanted moment. The flicker of a tiny flame danced before your eyes, sat at the frame of the window near the sink where you proceeded to rinse through washed dishes.

Levi's pale, chapped skin pulled on his knuckles leaving an unnatural yellowish white tone behind, indicating his involvement with excessive amounts of cleaning products. And for the first time, the sight really pulled a string in your poor heart in a way that was enough to convince you to break the dense silence in the room.

But maybe, you thought, Levi wouldn't want to talk to you.

With an unforgiving steel gaze he stared at your face, blinking in soft, yet erratical paces as you stopped plumping the water from running. In response your tongue was forced to slip inside your mouth and push any unspoken word back to its source, in the depths of your brain. All of a sudden you felt so afraid to talk, so petrified by the general idea of a three syllabus word that wouldn't ever spare the misery off of anyone.

Rejection

Captain seemed to be on the rejective side nevertheless so nothing regarding your newly discovered feelings would matter to him anyway, so in a way you blamed yourself for getting overwhelmed with this whole situation. A dark cloud of doubt shadowed your mind with the intention of interrogating your heart's intentions; perhaps you were mistaken. How on earth could you have been in love with the short man, you didn't know. There were far too many differences between the two of you, be it in appearance, mannerism or even -and more importantly- experiences. Supposing you had lived through similar occurances in battles outside the walls was enough for anyone to consider the two of you to be very alike, it was at least dishonorable to compare your childhood or teenage years to his.

"Nice hands" Of course you had managed to utter the most embarrassing choice of words to him, your mind could never cooperate with you when it came to such serious situations, something you hated so very much. The obnoxious dryness of your eyes was slowly migrating in the caves under your tongue, you could feel your mouth drying more and more by each passing second, yet you did nothing to prevent it.

Judging by Levi's puzzled expression which included his head slightly tilting forward as if to hear you better you knew he was as awestruck as you were at your own words. "I don't really understand where you're coming from but thank you, I guess." He spoke, the usual monotone tint staining his voice. You whipped your head back to a fixed position -on your hands this time- to stare down at the sink. The awkward glances you would throw at him went seemingly unnoticed and as time passed by you felt your tention overwhelming you, this time, completely.

Levi wasn't dense to any body language thrown at him and you were painfully aware. His cold eyes never spared you not even a half cornered look as he rubbed the little sponge on the soap bar next to him. His fingers danced on the ceramic plate, cleansing it in fast and very effective movements, leaving you staring in awe. Whether he was ignoring you on purpose or not you didn't know and you didn't want to seek an answer as to why but at this rate he would probably be the one to inquire why you were burning holes in his hands with your gaze. Again.

"I'm so sorry I'm fixated on your hands" Your mouth run, ignoring your mind's orders to stay shut "It's just-" Dammit think quick for once "You have nice nail beds."

There it was. The evidence that your words had actual brains and that they formed the most improper sentences on their own, just to torture you and push you deeper into piles of goowey, mushy shit. If Levi was anyone else he would have been laughing his ass of at the stupidness of your speech, you knew you would be laughing too if this wasn't as serious. Just as you were sure you heard a chuckle Levi placed the sponge on the bar of soap carefully and extended his arm, fully displaying his hand.

He seemed to study it like it was the first time he had ever even noticed it. The slick, long fingers, the oval shaped nails, his torn open knuckles. Perhaps you were kidding him for the lack of hair on the base of fingers he used to hold his blades with, those were burnt with years of being worn out by the steel triggers of the blades. He speculated this was common among most soldiers, so it didn't seem like a reason to be kidded for and in addition you never were the person to just spit senseless insults as jokes to your comrades.

"Is there even a point to talk about my hands? They're normal hands to me."

You bit your lip as your eyes widened in shock. Realisation hit you that this was probably more that absurd to Levi as it was to you, seeing you had started to talk about his hands out of nowhere. Your mind, in a state of panic, was in the midst of attempting to process every idiotic sentence you had the audacity to blurb out, but it never seemed to find an answer. Boiling with embarrassed, you wiped the water of your hands to your pants, an act that caught Levi's eye, and went to grab the first wooden chair that was in your path. You needed to sit down, to process whatever this was.

Yet, the only explanation you could find was that there was a raging wildfire in the pits of your stomach everytime your thoughts wandered on Levi. Yes, it was possible that what had started as an admiration, a tiny spec of a crush for the slender featured man had been growing on you since forever, but you had always burried it deep, in any hellhole that should accommodate such emotions as this was war and not the plot of sappy romance novel.

The air was cut down short in the room when Levi sat at a chair beside you, watching you over in such demanding manner that only he could master. He proceeded to light the only candle that stood at the middle of the table, possibly in hopes of flaring a conversation or causing a sane sequence of sentences to finally fall from your tongue. It was still unbeknownst to him what had caused you to trip over words as if you were a learning toddler and he yearned to find out, as a sole friend, not as the stern corporal he presented himself to be.

"(y/n)" His voice was tender as he spoke either much mindful to the teens who were sleeping in the next room or unwilling to let a private conversation between the two of you be heard. "If you think I can help with whatever is going on quit acting like a brat and tell me what's on your mind."

Momentarily, you wondered whether he'd stick to his words in case you spilled your heart's infatuating agony but you felt unable to think of a possible dominating scenario in the chaos of your mind. As self destructive as it sounded, you'd prefer to be the one to break your own heart rather than having to stand back and be a martyr to him tearing it off your chest and tearing it. Knowing Levi, this wasn't anything physically impossible, but you doubt that he could ever be as harsh with you.

"I'm just stressed. I have a lot on my mind."

"Erwin's trial and the future of the scouts, huh? Or is it that Hange works your ass off with those experiments?" You scoffed in denial to all of his inquiries, knowing full well that you could have used them as excuses. Levi's sharp hand began a short trip with sole purpose to land at the top of your head, through your loose locks, in an affectionate manner, a little something you had picked up he would do when he really cared for someone. Everyone knew he wasn't particularly touchy, except for some emotional moments with his closest people; a hand on a shoulder and a pat in the head were mostly what you had witnessed him indulging. His hand ruffling with your hair wasn't profound and new at all, he had done so many times after the two of you would strongly disagree over formations and orders, showing you how much he appreciated your strong wits and your clever ideas. What was new was that the lone touch burned your sculp like hot iron and made your insides twitch.

"I'll make us some tea" the screeching creak of the chair being pushed back shook of your train of thoughts enough to form a reaction to his hand that still rested on your head. Almost as if he didn't want to take it off "We can discuss your problem in a-"

"Sit down" you demanded, voice stern, masked with seriousness that caught him off guard. "Take your hand off my hair, it hurts." You pleaded with your eyes to stay as dry as they were before but you were certainly unsure of whether they'd listen. "Can't you see?"

What was there not to see really. Levi probably knew of your fondness of him way before you managed to realise, as in second thought every move you had ever made in his presence betrayed you. He would have never tried to provoke a confession just to laugh at you, that you were sure of, but he had never made a move in reciprocation either, that alone made you sure of your confessions future's end and caused your gut to spit even more fire to the rest of your insides.

Levi was not perplexed, not even for a single moment, at your words that seeked to stab like daggers, he wouldn't allow himself to be toyed by his own emotions just this once. This is an erratical reaction to his touch, a rejection of his affections towards you and he feared he knew the reason. For someone as bright and emotional as you he never would have thought that you could have hid such tormentous emotions so well inside you, only to end up at this moment of snapping.

As much as he'd like not to be hurt in the slightest by your demeanor he couldn't help but feel a tiny string of his heart being pulled. Suddenly it was evident to him why you couldn't take part in normal conversations around him or why you acted so tense in his presence, why you were so rejective of his touches and he wondered if he should have done anything besides unknownably torture you for so long. Whether his heart wanted to hear a confirmation out of your mouth to it's pained pleading for reciprocation, his mind ignored. The time would never be right and as egoistical as it seemed he couldn't bear to lose someone else that close to him, let alone a significant other. From his experience feelings of love and adoration should never be spoken out loud in this cruel world, amongst soldiers, especially. It wouldn't lead to any good.

When you proceeded to speak the pit in his stomach was already welling in frustration and denial. "Levi we've known each other for years and whatever's forcing me to much on my words should stop."

None can do, this couldn't happen here, now, while being on the run by military police as collective criminal. Levi wouldn't allow you to speak those earth shuttering words, even if wanted for them to chaste kiss his ears and echo through his head. "Not like you haven't figured anyways. I'm so pathetic. To fall for my Capt-"

"Don't you dare utter any other word of that sentence. I won't forgive you if you do." His hand reached out to grab yours by the wrist, tightly, as if he didn't know you couldn't stand the intensity of the grip. The silence that towed over the room was freezing, irrational even; it made you want to puke your intestines right onto Levi's shoes. Your heartbeat was so fast, so unrhythmic that you felt like the vital blood red organ would burst out of your chest in a massive mess.

Τhere was an excessive amount of agony emitting from your eyes, slicing through Levi's chest, searching despairately for a sign he had a heart, just to remind you that it didn't belong to you. Your mind traveled through every possible scenario to find a reason as to why you had to endure this, did his affections belong to someone you didn't know of? Hange? Erwin? Nifa seemed to be close to him lately as well. Was he heartbroken before and swore to never love again? You hated that there was not a tiny little space in his heart for you.

Just as this tense moment began, it came to an end when Sasha burst into the room, shotgun on her shoulder and chestnut eyes as sleepy as they could be. Fatigue was overpowering her whole form and it was as evident as ever before your eyes. With a quick, exhausted salute she announced her self, unsure of if you and the captain could see her face under the shadows of the night.

"It's guard change sir!" She spoke.

"I'm coming sweetheart." You got up from the chair you were sat at, breaking your wrist away from Levi's grip in a harsh manner. You didn't spare him a second look as you took another deep breath and locked it in your chest in hopes of seeming a little more mighty. "Go take some rest. You deserve it."

With increasingly fast steps you storm outside the little cottage trying your best not to look back. You wouldn't bear to check if there was still light coming from the kitchen that should indicate Levi's persistent presence. Your knees trembled at the imagery but you wouldn't let your eyes rest behind you not even for a second. He would probably be drinking his tea, unbothered, thinking of anything but you and you would be lying if you were to day that it didn't hurt you. It hurt so much that it sent you on your ass, on the stone tile pattern under your feet. Your heart forced suffocating waves of pain through your whole body only to push out of your eyes in the form of hot, salty tears. As your sobs grew louder and your heartache became unbearable to the point you though you could feel your heart break in two, you pushed the ends of your palms into your eyes sockets to squeeze the pain and itchiness of the tears away. You promised to yourself this was the first and last time you would cry for him.

____

After that night you barely speak with Levi. Aside from following his orders with the eventual 'yessir' as a reply, you have managed to successfully establish a thick barrier between him end you. Your nights of accompanying him in his late hour tea sessions, or teaching him how to knit and embroider were no more. The times you would share your food with him after you'd hear his stomach growl from the small portion he would get were also no more. You had made sure to claim your small acts of affection back to yourself, how could you move on from him if you were trying to be nice.

You would profoundly ignore his gazes, his calls for you at his office at late hours of the night by random cadets. You wouldn't answer to him if it wasn't for something military related and you intended it to keep it that way until the announcements of the feast that would take place before the attempt of retaking wall Maria.

As you passed by a narrow street heading to anywhere away from the crowd of cadets with your drink in your hand, you bumped lousy into the onyx haired male. It was the first time in days or even weeks that you had spared him a glance but your eyes averted his upon impact. You couldn't stand this. It was suffocating you. The clicking of your ankle boots colliding with the ground might have been heard as you turned on your heels to flee the scene but Levi's stern clearing of the throat overshadowed it.

He wasn't having it anymore.

"Oi, wait! Stop on your tracks, this is an order!" He spoke, eliciting a groan out of you as you turned to face him. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Captain, I seek to relax before a very hard mission, spare me with your punishments, I beg of you."

His blood boiled with your every word "Cut the damn crap (y/n) and talk to me like normal." It probably sounded more harsh than he intended but he couldn't find himself in a position to turn back time and rephrase those words. The drained look in your eyes tolled him as well. The fact that you were both so tired by this game of cat and mouse was profound and everywhere in the air around you and Levi didn't know if he could take it anymore.

At first he thought that it was for the best. If you both forgot about your feelings or found ways to distract yourselves by this distance then it would be so much easier for him to push through the upcoming events of Shiganshina, but he was surprised to know he was mistaken. Masking his feelings must have seemed easy when it came to grieve and loss; he'd spent hours in his room, with you, letting everything out and occupying himself with trying to improve his handwriting while doing paperwork, but infatuation, love, was different. Instead of fading by each passing day like anger and grief it only ever became stronger, fonder and more agressive, chewing on his insides in despair. He really did hate that he had allowed himself to feel that way but it was way too late by now. There was nothing he could do and the fact that you ignored him after almost squeezing out that much, much wanted confession was only making him feel more hollow and in pain.

But Levi knew how to control himself, he trusted his ability on that.

"What is there to talk about? Let me live my last day in peace." You barked, your eyes starting to dance towards his direction, landing on his chin, then at the curve of his unfairly full bottom lip, on his button upwards nose.

"Look." He paused, unsure of how to put his words into non hurtful sentences. "If you could just tell me why or share a few words with me. We could damn die tomorrow and I'd regret not ever talking you out of this unfair treatment you're giving me."

You wondered if you should open up your heart to him completely, without accepting any interruption from him just to cleanse your coincidence off of this weight. Upon deciding that there was truly nothing holding you back except for a silly fear of another rejection that could die with you tomorrow you opened your mouth to speak any words that came to your mind.

"Levi, I'm in pain. You rejected me. Plain and simple. I've spent so many nights wondering why I am unworthy of your affections but I can't wrap my head around you anymore."

"Is that the way you feel about me? That you're the one who's unworthy of me?"

"You always think so lowly of yourself. Makes me wonder how you trust your own abilities in battlefield. But yes. So I just want to know who is it for you? Who do you feel you're unworthy of?"

He paused for a moment, to regain any shattered piece of his heart you had thrown back to him with your statement. You didn't hate him, be always knew that, but hearing those words fall out of your mouth engulfed the matter into reality unlike before. He was ready to face it. Even if he was unsure of tomorrow he knew that if he was to stay alive while you were dead he would have torn his own brain out as to avoid overthinking this particular moment.

"You want the truth honestly, brat? I happen to think I'm the one unworthy of you. You've taught me how to write and read, you came into my office to check up on an underground scum like me to see if I was asleep. Dammit you even gave me portions of your food to help me withstand the long nights of sleeping in my chair. What have I done for you? Boss you around? Or is it my looks you're after?"

Your eyes widened at his last statement, momentarily preventing the tears that had gathered in the corners from falling. This wasn't a time to misunderstand his words and act foolish, this was the closest out of a confession you would get from the man and you were awestruck, amazed. If he wanted to know a reason you would give him one.

"I'll admit, you might have the face of an angel Levi and maybe that would initial draw anyone to you, including me but I didn't fall in love with you for that." You could tell he was taken aback by the raw nature of your words only by the small whimper that escaped his throat.

"Over the course of this relationship between us you have been there for me when I couldn't be there for myself, you've helped me improve, your hands are stained with blood and so are mine, but you've knitted with me, you've stitched my wounds, you've let me sleep in your bed when I found a giant cockroach in mine, you're so much more than what you paint yourself to be."

He stared at you with ogling, soft eyes. Had he looked at you like that before you were oblivious but there was something in those steel eyes that magnetised your own gaze, something you couldn't let go off. It was calming the knot in your chest with reassurance, bearing promises of the future but he didn't dare speak on them to ruin the moment. His head closed the distance between the two of you in sharp shiftings and now your lips were brushing his in the most suggestive manner possible. It had all happened so fast that you didn't have a chance to react.

"You realised" he whispered, voice soft as the melancholy of the theme of his words captured your breath "that if you happen to die tomorrow, I, myself will hunt you down, resecure you and then proceed to beat the living shit out of you every single day of your shitty life, right?"

He was so beautiful panting with desire under the moonlight and you would never forget. Out of all times this could have taken place it happened now, hours before a deadly expedition. The feeling of regret flooded your form, his as well for not acting upon your feelings sooner and Levi fought an internal battle as to whether he should kiss you or not. He desired to keep that kiss as a reward that you stayed alive for him but on the other hand he feared that this could well be his last chance to taste you for the first time.

"That's a weird way to say I love you" as his lips brushed closer to yours his heart felt like it would explode, he had pained to claim your lips, just once, just to know the taste of a beloved and he was sure he would be more pained to lose you.

As he pleaded that you came to him tomorrow he pressed his lips on yours, sealing the promise he demanded you to make to him. Your heart melted under the soft lights of a thousand stars.

____

As his arms wrapped around you, tears run down his eyes. That was it. You had fought to keep your promise nail and tooth. You had never managed let him down and to see that you were among the tiny amount of survivors lifted his soul to heaven. The touch of your skin, the salty taste of your neck, it all was real, you were indeed alive and safe in his arms. He wouldn't have to go insane over that fact that he would never get to look into your eyes again.

"I will always keep my promises to you." You hitched with tears running down cheeks, the shock in your core still trembling as ever.

"I know" He panted

"Besides, have you seen yourself in action, I wouldn't want you to hunt me down, oh Lord."

I am. In tears. Also I'm sorry (?) for such in depth descriptions of Levi's hands?

[samingtonwilson]

Apartment 8C - Chapter 1

Telling the Kids About Your Separation

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe. 

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language

A/N: SHE’S BACK, LADIES. the only tag list i’m using is the permanent one, nothing specifically for this series sorry!

“You guys said it wouldn’t last…” 

Natasha looks between the two of you. Steve’s beer is at his lips but he doesn’t take a sip. Wanda’s fingers pause in the bowl of popcorn she’s placed in her lap. Only Sam has a visibly emotional reaction. 

He’s on the verge of bursting— maybe in frustration as the two of you are blocking the television, maybe in laughter. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve hidden your hands behind your back. Nor does it help that you and Bucky are both grinning like giddy idiots while you stare at your friends who now sit with pin-straight postures on the sectional in your living room.

“And you were right!” you shout once several awkward beats have passed. 

There is a loud POP! when you bring your hands forward to twist the bottom of a party popper, iridescent confetti falling over the coffee table and tangling itself in Natasha’s hair, and a triple air horn sound effect cuts through the silence when Bucky opens the app on his phone. 

The two of you are laughing and high-fiving one another, but the four before you continue staring. 

That is, until longsuffering Sam— fingers pressed into his temples— speaks. “You called us over here to tell us you broke up?” 

Bucky shrugs and takes the empty party popper from you. He turns it over and shakes it, disappointed when more confetti doesn’t fall out. After all, he’d purchased the ones from Target just for the extra confetti. “We have consciously uncoupled.”

“That term refers to divorce,” Wanda says as she picks the confetti out of the popcorn and lets it fall to the floor. When she looks up, her expression is equal parts exasperation and amusement. “And, as far as I know, you two were never married.” 

Natasha, fingers combing through her hair, frowns. “I actually forgot you were even dating.”

“Yeah, so did she,” Bucky says as he jabs his elbow into your ribs with a snort. “We didn’t want you guys finding out from somewhere else.” 

“Like where?” Sam asks. He scoots over to let you sit beside him, eyes narrowed at Bucky who falls into his usual spot— the worn barcalounger you’d begged him not to bring when he moved in. “You think they’d send out a campus-wide alert that you two broke up? Or that E! News would be reporting it after they talk about whichever Kardashian is having another baby?” 

That steals Wanda’s attention from the popcorn bowl. “Speaking of, how is one of them always pregnant?” 

There’s a fair amount of indistinct chatter to answer Wanda’s question, but it is all loudly interrupted with a simple: “Does this mean Bucky is moving out?” 

It seems that everyone turns to look at Steve simultaneously. Squeaks of leather as you all shift around, the click of a bowl being placed on the wooden table. 

He understands the question in all of your gazes, and shrugs with a sigh of defeat. “They’re probably just genetically very fertile— Kris has had, like, eighteen children herself. Now, does Bucky have to find a place?” 

Then all eyes slide to you. Your eyebrows furrow and your nose wrinkles. The absolute picture of disbelief. It has Bucky fighting a smile. “Why would he need to do that?” 

“Living with an ex is hard,” Sam replies. He sets his hand on yours and gives your fingers a light squeeze. It’s meant to be comforting, but it isn’t necessary. “It’d make sense if you couldn’t—”

“Bucky moved in a while before we started dating,” you tell them, each word said in an imploring tone. “He still has his bedroom, I still have mine. Besides, we didn’t break-up because we can’t stand being around each other.” 

“Then why did you break-up?” 

The inquiry is directed at Bucky, who everyone shifts to face. The piercing attention draws a light blush over the bridge of his nose and at the highpoints of his cheeks. You hold back a soft laugh. “We’re just better as friends. The romantic compatibility wasn’t there.” 

“Romantic compatibility, conscious uncoupling,” Natasha repeats with a surprised laugh. “Does this man have a Goop membership, or something?” 

Despite your own laughter, you nod at Bucky. “He’s right, though. It just— Something was missing.” 

As inarticulate as it is, it’s the truth. There was nothing wrong with your relationship, at least at first glance. You kissed each other hello— when you remembered— and you kissed each other goodbye— when you remembered. 

But you often forgot— you usually forgot. Which might be explanation enough as to why the two of you didn’t last. 

— 

“Was the sex bad?” 

You nearly choke on the sip of wine you’d taken. Glancing at the boys in the living room to confirm they were blissfully unaware of Wanda in the kitchen, you set your glass onto the counter and narrow your eyes at her. “You should increase your volume the next time you ask something like that.” 

“It couldn’t have been too bad,” Natasha says from the barstool beside Wanda’s, still frowning. She’d managed to remove every piece of confetti from her hair and it now sits in a small pile next to her glass. “You two weren’t exactly virgins when you met.” 

Your answering smile is sarcastic. “Hilarious. The sex wasn’t bad. He’s— He’s good at it.” 

“Yeah, that was convincing,” Natasha snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “For his sake, I hope none of us let it slip that Barnes’ dick is trash.” 

“It isn’t trash! Okay.” You wiggle a finger at Wanda. “You. Imagine having sex with Steve.”

Her nose immediately wrinkles, her scowl instantaneous. “Understood. But then why date in the first place?” 

“Remember the night my ‘friends’ from high school were in the city?” 

The smile Natasha wore due to your finger quotes gives way to a deep grimace. “The night that girl with the bad bleach job pranced around here showing her ring off? I wish I could forget.” 

You nod. “All night, she kept telling me someone might be out there for me. That I probably won’t be too late, that some people end up alone and it’s okay. Like I’m tofu and she’s apple pie.” 

“You lost me with that one.”

“Like I’m an acquired taste and she’s universally appealing.” 

You smile when they laugh to themselves, but shake your head seconds later. “I don’t care if I end up alone. I’ll be fine either way. It’s just the insinuation that I’ll fail if I try to find someone. Like it’s prom all over again.” 

“D’you punch her teeth in? Can I punch her teeth in?”

You roll your eyes at Natasha. “I drank my weight in whatever bullshit wine she’s stupid enough to pay for, texted Bucky to pick me up, and fucked him on the couch to make myself feel better.” 

Her features twist in disgust. “The couch we all sit on?”

— 

While Sam yells at the television as if the New York Giants can hear his admonishments and advice, Steve sits back against the sofa cushions. His sigh is heavy and pointed, meant to draw attention, but it fails. 

So he places his feet on the coffee table. He crosses his legs at the ankle. And he glares. 

An unsuccessful moment later, he speaks. “I’m not gonna let you crash on my couch.” 

Unable to stop himself, Bucky smiles but otherwise focuses on the game. “That’s a fun psychic premonition. Do you read palms, too?” 

Steve attempts to look more threatening and narrows his eyes to slits. The blue is icy, menacing. 

However the elephant cushion he’s clutching to his chest? Not helping his cause. “So she dumped you because you’re a pain in the ass? Is that it?”

“She dumped me because I’m too good in bed and it was starting to become too much for her.” 

Sam pauses the game just to join Steve in looking at Bucky skeptically. 

He just rolls his eyes. “No one dumped anyone. We both decided we’re better as friends.” 

“S’usually a lie when people say that,” Steve remarks. He sticks his tongue out when Bucky narrows his eyes in offense. 

“It isn’t this time.” 

Sam, wearing a sly smile as he turns his attention back to the game, asks the next question: “Were there tears?” 

“She was stone cold.” Grinning as he holds his bottle of beer to his lips, he adds jokingly, “I cried like a baby, though.” 

Sam hums. “Not surprised. You fuckin’ sobbed at Inside Out.”

“Oh, so you didn’t cry when Bing Bong said ‘Take her to the moon for me’?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow. “What, are you a fuckin’ monster, Wilson?” 

The grinding of Steve’s teeth is almost audible, his irritation painfully evident when he tosses the cushion aside. 

Yet he still straightens it to make sure the elephant is sitting up straight, trunk pointed to the ceiling. 

“I’m being serious, Buck. Living with an ex... It’s touchy and awkward. How are you gonna feel when she’s got some guy over?” 

“The same way she’ll feel when I’ve got some girl over,” the answer is said with ease. “Hell, I’ll give her a condom if she needs one.” 

“And your feelings just turned themselves off?” 

His shrug is a bit reluctant, the smile he offers Steve hesitant. “Hers did.”

—

Hours pass before it’s just you and Bucky in the apartment. 

Natasha and Wanda leave first to get enough sleep before their eight-AM class, and Steve only manages to coax Sam off the couch once he has watched the game highlights and coverage twice over. You think you might scream if you ever hear the SportsCenter theme again.

Leaning against the door after it shuts behind Steve and Sam, you offer Bucky a sleepy smile as he rummages through the refrigerator. Judging by his sour expression, there’s nothing good to eat. “That was easier than I thought.” 

“Yeah, I’m real glad I read that ‘Telling the Children about the Divorce’ article for it.” He slams the fridge shut. There is desperation in his voice when he asks, “Are you hungry, too?” 

Dish rag tossed in his direction, you flip the faucet on to wet each glass. “When am I not hungry, Bucky?” 

“Are you more willing to pay for pizza or Thai?” 

“S’too late for Thai.” You set a washed glass atop the counter and get started on soaping up the next one. “We’ll get Thai when it’s your turn to pay.”

Three glasses sit on the counter before Bucky sets his phone down and begins drying them. He peers over at you with attempted tact.

But, to his dismay, you smile and meet his blue eyes with a playful glare. “What?” 

“Steve’s dead-set on me moving out.” 

Your frown is immediate. You stop scrubbing the popcorn bowl for a moment. “Do you want to move out?” 

His reply is instant. He stops drying a glass for a moment. “No. Do you want me to move out?” 

“No.” You resume scrubbing. “I can’t live here with anyone else.” 

Chewing on the inside of his cheek to avoid a grin, Bucky nods. He decides to change the subject and bumps his hip against yours. “Sam thought we were gonna tell everyone we got engaged.”

Startled laughter and you hand Bucky the washed bowl, switching the tap off and leaning your hip against the counter’s edge. “After, like, four months of dating? No wonder he looked so terrified.” 

“Should’ve played it off that way just to see what they’d say,” he muses as you help him put the dishes away. “Tasha would’ve hosted an intervention for you.” 

You hum in agreement. “Steve would’ve definitely called your mother.” 

“Would Wanda faint or is that too dramatic?” 

“She was ready to faint when I told her we had sex on the couch.” 

Eyebrows raised, he watches as you walk to the living room and fall into that exact couch with exaggerated relief. “You told her that?” 

Another hum. “Nat almost threw up.” 

“At the thought of us having sex in our own home?” he snorts, adding in a deadpan tone, “Oh, the horror.” 

Bucky collapses onto the couch beside you and smiles when you drop your head onto his shoulder. He toys with the stray pieces of confetti littered over the cushions. “Went all the way to Target for the more expensive poppers and they had even less confetti than the Party City ones.”

“Just because something costs more doesn’t mean it’s better.” 

He gasps playfully. “We have a genius in our midst. Someone please embroider everything she says onto pillows.” 

“Yeah and I’ll use those pillows to smother you in your sleep.” You lift your head and set your chin on his shoulder instead. You try to glare, but his smile is contagious. “I know where you live, Barnes.” 

“You won’t for long if Steve has it his way.” 

“If the world operated according to Steve’s wishes, we’d all be required, by law, to eat Pop-Tarts for breakfast and wear shirts two sizes too small.” 

--

CHAPTER 2: FINDING YOUR INDEPENDENCE 

[mistresseast]

can you explain in more detail why you think the PT weren't good friends for akiren? i'm not asking out of hate or to start drama, i just never interpreted things that way and i'm genuinely curious. i don't think them being brainwashed by maruki makes them "bad friends", but i don't know if that's what you meant either. i'd love to read a proper explanation on this that isn't just people arguing in the notes of that post.

Hi! Yeah, I know the ~discourse~ climate is pretty touchy and not a good place to exchange ideas, so I’ll do my best to put my thoughts on this matter into words. 

Settle in, bc this one is long.

I’ll start off by saying I don’t dislike the PT, nor do I think they’re bad people, and honestly I think they love Joker a lot! Ryuji calling Akira after his fake death and talking about how his ideas on what makes a hero have changed because of Akira genuinely makes me emotional, along with dozens of other scenes with the thieves! They’re good kids who could be really good friends to Akira but that’s not what’s shown in the game. I don’t think it’s controversial to say Akira’s relationships with all of his friends are transactional. That’s kind of the point, all of his confidants arise out of deals, give and take, and in the metanarrative of the game, that’s how it works. You as the player help these characters solve their problems, and through ranking their confidants up, you get access to more gameplay perks. So it’s pretty even!! But like,,Akira, the character, isn’t the player. There’s no in-story mechanic by which he can cash in friendship points for being-good-at-killing-things prizes. Yes, he uses those abilities to not die in the metaverse, but there is no literal, in-universe way to explain how hanging out with someone translates to [insert gameplay perk here]. So you have to look at what is physically happening in the story. Akira hangs out with the PT, stands there while they have drama with another irrelevant character, and then one way or another their problems get solved and they swear to be Akira’s blood brother or whatever. Akira is a crutch for these characters, and they say multiple times that they wouldn’t have been able to do what they did without him. So all of their shit gets handled and Akira gets?? Like actually gets?? What? Inquiries about his well-being? Offers to help him? Questions about his life, his interests? No,,,not really,, But he gets access to a super powerful persona!! Yay!!! Bc everyone knows he’s just a little shadow-killing machine, right? And even the relationships he does get something tangible (as in separate from the mechanics of the game) out of, like Kawakami’s, are built on the notion that if Akira stops providing for whatever reason, the relationship will end. So essentially, Akira is under the pressure of filling whatever role his friends need him in for however long at any time, and he’s been led to believe that if he stops or fails, he will stop receiving any reciprocal care and acceptance.

(And I know this is all gameplay stuff, I know it has to be like this to codify the complicated process of human relationships, I know all of that, I’m just trying to find a deeper layer bc that’s what I do.)

This whole thing comes into pretty clear focus for me during the third semester when you visit everyone in the false reality. Everyone is happy to see him, of course, but they’re clearly wrapped up in their own happiness. Which is understandable, again, I’m not saying the PT need to be attached to Akira to be good friends, but it all still feels off to me.

If they know Joker, then they’d know it’s weird that he just shows up and starts asking these pointed questions while they’re in the middle of something. All of their other interactions with him have been led by them. Yeah, Joker approaches them bc the player has decided to hang out with them, but the other character always chooses the activity and leads the discussion. Akira showing up out of nowhere and asking them to “remember” and “move on” and whatnot should be raising some major red flags. And it clearly does, since their memories do start to return, but they’re all too scared of losing their happiness that they nope out of the conversation as soon as possible, without stopping to consider why Joker might be trying to reach out to them like that. They’re his friends; they should know he wouldn’t just be trying to hurt them or make them unhappy. After all, their entire relationship with him up til that point has been exclusively about Joker trying to help them. This doesn’t make the PT bad people, running away is a totally natural reaction in that situation. They’re just kids, and their minds have been manipulated to a point, but it’s not like they don’t remember Joker or the way they’ve grown since meeting him. In fact many of them mention how much they’ve matured recently, but they never actually relate that back to Akira, despite him being the primary driving force behind most of their personal arcs, even though they definitely remember him. Translation vagueness or deliberate nod to the idea that the PT don’t actually credit Akira with all the hard work he did after their initial lip service? Hmmm. Anyway, their failure to recognize that Joker is struggling just demonstrates to me what was set up all throughout their confidant links, that their relationships are transactional and that they don’t necessarily consider Joker and his individual needs outside of what he provides for them. And when they no longer need him bc that hole has been filled, he simply doesn’t occupy the same place of importance in their lives. 

Makoto’s flashback in particular stood out to me, bc it was from a moment where she was specifically talking about feeling like she finally found a place to belong with the Phantom Thieves (and by extension, with Joker), but then she desperately tries to brush it off. Obviously that sense of belonging wasn’t meaningful enough to her for her to want it back. And I’m not blaming her, of course, any teenager would choose to have their father back over being in a vigilante group lmao, I just thought it was telling that the devs decided to show us a scene that was originally meant to be heartwarming as an example of the harsh reality Makoto wants to forget. All of the flashbacks are from defining moments for the thieves, but that one specifically got me like *thinking emoji*

So his friends are hesitant, despite the fact that they must know something is wrong. It’s understandable, they all stand to lose a lot if someone messes with the status quo. I genuinely don’t think I would react any differently. But there is someone who reacts differently and against his own self-interest. It’s Goro, the one who has arguably the most to lose, who doesn’t turn away from Akira. He seeks Akira out and teams up with him to uncover what’s really going on, even though he has every reason to believe that prodding too deep will literally mean the end of his life. He forces Akira and himself to face the truth because he knows anything else would just be an insult to what they’ve suffered so far. He’s the only one who never flinches, and that, more than any of his friends’ come-to-jesusing (which Akira still has to initiate) is what Akira needs in that situation. For the first time (outside of the brief instances in the tutorial levels), we see a situation where Akira is actually the dependent one, the one who needs help, who needs support. And the only one who has ever provided that, unconditionally, without demanding anything in return, is Goro. I could go into how Goro’s confidant blows all of the others out of the water in terms of building both himself AND Akira as characters, but it’s been said already and by smarter people than me. But basically, despite competition being a core theme of their relationship, Goro is the only character who is portrayed as Akira’s equal. Their contests are all in the name of improving not just Goro, but Akira too. Goro is the only character who expresses an interest in Akira’s inner life and development, and as such he knows Akira better than anyone else. So when Maruki tries to trap them all in a gilded birdcage, Goro won’t stand for it and he knows Akira won’t stand for it either. That’s why he’s so betrayed if you choose to accept the dreamworld. You’re negating the basis of your entire relationship with him and going against your own principles. Out of every character in the game, the one who knows Akira best and refuses to abandon him even when that could mean his own death is Goro Akechi.

I want to reiterate: I do not hate or even dislike the PT!! And tbh I don’t really think they “abandoned” Akira. That post, imo, is supposed to be kind of hyperbolic. Unless it’s referring to how many of them literally sprint away when he comes to talk to them lol. I look at it more like a commentary on how thoughtlessly the PT act as soon as their wishes are granted. I know it’s set up linearly for story purposes, but isn’t it kind of sad how no one checks up on Akira in the week he’s going around talking to people? Especially after he’s been acting so comparatively weird? It’s not unusual that they might be caught up in other stuff, but while you’re going around and visiting everyone, you don’t get a single text or call from ANY of the thieves, for a whole week!! Goro even comments on it directly with his pointed little “I’m sure you’re just as close as you were before” comment. God, he’s such a bitch. Ultimately, the PT do get their acts together, and it’s partially out of the realization that Akira is struggling alone against something and needs their help, which I love and appreciate. I think they are good friends who want to support Akira, but they can’t understand him past the role they’ve placed him in, and until they do, they’ll never be able to be what he needs. Akira loves his friends and knows he can rely on them in most ways, but those relationships will always be dogged by the pervasive fear that he must constantly earn the right to have the relationship at all. What he needs MOST is someone he doesn’t have to perform for, and from what we see in the game, none of the thieves fit that bill. Except Goro. 

I know this was long and rambly and probably pretty disjointed but I wanted to be as thorough as possible and all of my thoughts just sort of gushed out. Obviously ymmv about all of this depending on how you interpret the game, but this is what I arrived at thanks to my analysis so this is what I have for you! Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[royallyprincesslilly]

{Title: Love, Maybe? {37}*

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Fluff, Slow Burn

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought. 

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

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

Chapter 37: Revelations

-Vixen-

“Mama!”

 You dropped your bag and bound across the lawn as she ran to you. once you made it to her you dropped to your knees and pulled her into your arms.

 “Oh princess, I missed you so much.”

 “I miss you.” Ella spread her hands over your face and felt it as if she were trying to memorize it. you kissed all over her face until you stopped at her head. She hugged you and you just sat there inhaling the scent of her head. It was a scent you loved more than air. Studies proved that mothers were inclined to like the scent of their children’s heads no matter what. You remembered as a baby you’d just hold her and breathe in her scent. Nothing had changed even now.

 “Hey there, do I get one of those?”

 Ella pulled from you the minute she saw Chris and hugged him with just as much force as she hugged you. You smiled watching the exchange.

 “How’s my princess?”

 “Good.” He lifted her into his arms which allowed you to stand from the grass and dirt. They chatted quietly before he raised her into the air and twirled her around. She loved it and laughed with glee.

 “Hey.”

 Nex stepped beside you and watched father and daughter with a sweet smile. “Hi. How are things?”

 “Good, she was good. A lot better than usual when you’re out of town.”

 “That’s good.”

 You couldn’t take your eyes off the two of them. For some reason, this felt different than it had a few days ago. You didn’t know why, and you didn’t want to think about why. Chris glanced at you, but the look felt cold, distant, different. All morning things felt different, he wasn’t touchy, or flirty and it shouldn’t have mattered because it wasn’t like it was normal behavior between the two of you. It wasn’t. still, it tripped you up. his manners never faded but that extra warmth was gone. During the plane ride whenever you caught him watching you he was the one to break the gaze and every time he did you felt the chill of it.

 Turning from him and Ella you walked to the house. Maybe you needed space from him. maybe two days was too much to have been in close quarters. Lines were blurring for you.

 “Anthony still here?”

 “Yes, he leaves tonight though,” Nexus answered with a smile. Her happiness was so obvious, and it made you so happy.

 “Have I told you how happy I am for you this week?”

 She laughed and shook her head trying to shrug you off, but she couldn’t. She still had that smile. “Where’s mom and dad?”

 “On a date at some garden. They’ve been increasingly disgusting to be around, all kissy and hugged up. Uugh!”

 You smiled. Your parents were still madly in love. Some days you wanted to have a relationship like them when you were old and others you thought it was too impossible. Once in your room, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your purse on the bed.

 “So, how are things?”

 “Oh the restaurant is good, crisis averted. I was able to straighten things out. I didn’t expect to spend an added fifteen thousand dollars, but I think it’ll be an easy recoup,” you informed.

 “I definitely wasn’t talking about the restaurant. You and Chris alone in San Francisco, your stomping grounds. How were things?”

 “Oh fine. It all went fine.” You knew that was one too many fines, but you didn’t know what else to say. you really didn’t want to talk about things, not yet at least.

 “Okay.” The way she said it you knew she knew. The beauty with Nex was she knew when to push and when not to. She didn’t now.

 “Nex, I’m filthy and kind of just want a little time to digress.”

 “Yeah. Um, Anthony and I were going to make dinner. Any request?”

 “Nope, whatever you put together will be fine. Thanks, Nex.” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes.

 When she left you stood there in the silence for a few minutes then went into action. You needed to move. After changing into some leggings and a tank you went out the back toward the forest and took off. Traction beneath your feet always helped. It felt especially good now because it kind of felt like you were running away from whatever was giving you stress. You were running from him.

 Without knowing which direction you were going you just ran and focused only on the path in front of you and the music booming in your ears. you pushed yourself to go further and further even when you felt you’d reached your limit. Ignoring that alarm in your brain that always sounded when you were near overexertion you continued on until your legs gave out sending you face first to the ground and into unconsciousness.

 When you came to, the sun was setting and you were on the ground. Grunting you rolled onto your back and stared into the darkening sky.

 “Fuck.”

 Your forehead hurt as did your knees. As you were going to get up, you just decided to lay there a little longer and appreciate the beauty of the sky and the calm of your surroundings. there was something about being in the middle of nowhere that you liked. You liked that here you could hear yourself think even though you really didn’t like to these days. These days your thoughts brought more chaos than they were worth.

 When you made it back to the house it was night and thanks to you leaving your phone you had no idea what time it was. You did know you’d been gone for a while. When you stepped inside and made your way toward the steps Ella ran out.

 “Mama!”

 “Hi baby.” You stooped to meet her with a smile.

 “You doety.” She brushed her small hand across your cheek for emphasis.

 “Am I? Guess mama needs a shower, huh.”

 Everyone else came out with worried expressions.

 “Where have you been pumpernickel?” Your father’s authoritative tone was not missed.

 “Uh, I went for a run. Lost track of time.”

 “You’re filthy, and you’re bleeding. Are you hurt?” Your mother’s inquiry had everyone even more concerned.

 “Mama hoet?” You could hear the whine in her voice and knew tears were coming.

 “No, no I’m not.” Ella began crying as she boyfriend her face into Chris’ legs.

“Hey, no it’s okay,” he said as he lifted her into his arms.

 “Princess I’m not hurt. See.” You wiped at your forehead, looked at your hand and saw the blood but wiped it on your already dirty clothes. “See, not hurt. I’m okay baby.” Ella examined your face, but her eyes remained on your forehead. “I promise princess. I’m okay.” You smiled hoping it would convince her. She leaned closer and kissed your forehead.

 “Kiss da boo-boo.”

 “Thank you princess. I’m going to go get cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”

 You hurried upstairs and in your bedroom then into the shower. You hadn’t even realized you’d hurt yourself. Taking the time to wash your hair you managed to be in and out in twenty minutes. When you walked out into the bedroom Chris was sitting on the seat at the foot of the bed.

 “What happened?”

 “I went for a run, lost track of time.”

 “How’d you get hurt?”

 You rummaged through the drawers for something to wear, ignoring his question.

 “Vix.”

 “I passed out, hit my head. I’m fine.” He was up and to you in seconds turning you to face him. He cupped your cheeks and intently stared at you.

 “Are you okay?”

 “Yes, I’m fine. I promise.”

 “I’m not a two-year-old. Are you okay?” Staring in his eyes you searched for something, anything. You didn’t know what you were looking for.

 “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll put on a scarf and she won’t even notice this.”

 He nodded then stepped back and walked to the door. “Meet you down there.”

 You were thoroughly confused with his hot and cold act. Dinner was eventless and relatively calm. You kept one ear on the conversation but got lost in your thoughts and watching Ella who seemed glued to Chris. She was completely attached and half of you felt relief but the other felt fear. Attachments were hard to break and get over, you knew from experience and though you knew you were making the same moves all over again as if you hadn’t learned a thing. You were growing attached to him all over again, this time you felt it may be more serious than that.

     -Chris-

He was going to lose you. he felt it. It was his biggest fear and he felt as if it were inevitable. Being in San Francisco with you seeing your life and everything you had and didn’t need him for really showed him just what he wanted. He wasn’t prepared to want it as badly as he did. He wanted you and Ella even though he had no idea how a life could work for you. Everything in San Francisco showed him how much he didn’t want to lose you, either of you. It showed him his greatest fear.

 Every time he saw you with Ella it only made him love you more. There was something about seeing you, the mother of his child love, and nurture his child that gave him this primal instinct to possess, protect and love. The days following San Fran only deepened the fear he had of losing you. Every time he tried to talk to you about it, it never seemed like the right time, none of his words seemed enough. There was no way of knowing where your head or heart was, you were that good at masking yourself. He thought to just spill his guts but really didn’t know if he could take the rejection.

 He kept his distance and fought the instinct to just fall into place with the two of you. he let you do your thing and he did his. At nights he laid awake thinking about you and everything you’d experienced together, and though he wanted to go to you he didn’t.

 The night was a beautiful one, the sky was clear and the stars were all out. He watched Ella play with her cousins and his sisters and a content sigh escaped him.

 “Oh, a content man is a happy man,” his mother from behind him.

 “Not always.”

 “Are you happy?” He thought about it for a few moments then nodded.

 “How can I not be? You’ve seen that little girl.” She smiled and nodded.

 “I have, she’s addictive and even cuter than you when you were a baby.”

 “That’s harsh maw, but I’ll accept it only because it’s her.”

Silence fell between them as they both watched Ella.

 “How’d the talk with Vixen go?”

 “There has been no talk,” he replied.

 “Why?”

 Again, he sighed but this one ended with a groan.

 “Talk to me, honey.”

 “It’s nothing maw, I’m good.” She studied him for a few seconds and he was sure she saw right through him but she nodded.

 “Okay.”

 It was then you approached holding Ella. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

 “Not at all, hello pretty girl,” his mother exclaimed to a blushing Ella.

 “She wanted to come over and sit with her da-da,” Vixen informed. A smile spread across his face as he held his arms out. You handed her off and she snuggled close to him. yep, she had him wrapped around her finger, he thought.

 “Vixen, wanna take a quick walk?”

 Your eyes were wide as you looked at his mother. “Uh—okay.” You looked at him but he was equally as curious as you were. The two of you walked off together and he wished he could be one of those stars in the sky to hear what that was all about.

   -Vixen-

 “Why do you look so afraid?”

 “Uh, no reason. Just—cautious I guess.”

 “Don’t be, this is a friendly walk. I like you Vixen. I really do.”

 Your shock was evident. “Really?”

 “God yes. You are one hundred percent different than any woman Chris has ever been with. They’re all usually so compliant, they bend backward and forward to please him and always seem as if they’re happy to be under his arm. You don’t give off any of that. You have a brain, you use it, and that mouth too. You don’t bend over to please him and it shows how strong your character is, how strong you are.”

 “Thank you, Lisa. I appreciate you saying that.”

 “As a mother, you don’t imagine any woman being good enough for your son. I’m not different, I have two of them too. Scott has found a great one but that always left Chris. I worried he’d never find the one, never experience what it’s like to have the kind of love that inspired Shakespeare. Here you are.”

 You pinched your lips and looked down. “Lisa, I don’t know what you think is going on but there is nothing--.”

 “I’m not blind Vixen. He may be, but I’m not.” The two of you stared at each other and you sighed. She saw right through you. You dropped your head back and stared up to the stars.

 “You realize Shakespeare's sonnets usually ended in heartache and death right.”

 She laughed and nodded, you joined in unable to stop. When the two of you stopped you sighed then groaned.

 “Then rewrite history. It’s your sonnet, your love story.”

 “Lisa--.”

 “Think about this. You met, fell out, found each other again and now you’re connected for the rest of your life. That sounds like poetic justice.”

 “I don’t think you’re using that right.”

 “Oh well. think about it,” Lisa emphasized.

 “I have, I feel like that is all I think about. It’s in my face way too much, with Ella, here, in San Francisco. I think about it, Lisa. I don’t want to anymore.”

 “You’re running. You see what’s right in front of you but you’re running,” she deduced.

 Fuck it, you were running. The thing with running is if you’ve done it for a while it’s hard to stop, you run without even realizing it.

 “Okay, I have one last unsolicited nugget. Fate only brings us what is meant and letting something go and it coming back should not be let go again especially if it's what you want. Fate does not take kindly to being shucked twice.”

Her words hit you hard. For years you’d felt like you were being haunted and then when you saw him again, it was as if fate was just getting more and more persistent. Now here you were—fate again. Lisa stood and walked away leaving you there to stare at the sky which was supposed to evoke calm but wasn’t working as you felt everything compounding on you.

 A few hours later, Ella was back in your arms and quickly falling asleep. You’d spent many nights like this, and you couldn’t imagine wanting to do anything else, ever. You slowly stared over every single feature and smiled to yourself seeing the similarities between her and Chris’ face. she was the constant reminder of your night of hope, opening up, and not letting go. While she was pleasant looking and an absolute joy, the pain you experienced because of it was not.

 “Vix?”

 You turned to see Chris standing there beside the gazebo.

 “Hey.” He was staring at Ella with a solemn smile.

 “I can’t get over how great you look with her. It’s like you were meant for her. Fate made you her mom.”

 You groaned at that word again. It was following you.

 “You’re an amazing mom to her,” he complimented. You looked back to her and smiled.

 “She’s an easy kid.” Chris stepped closer and paced in front of you before he looked at you.

 “Since meeting her and seeing you again—I don’t know I feel like I’m this new man, the man I’ve always wanted to be. A man I can be proud of, a man I never was because something was missing. She was missing, Vixen.” He stepped closer to you, looked down at Ella and back to you. the look on his face was pained but chaotic. He looked as if he’d been running for hours or his mind had run a marathon.

 “I honestly have been shouting to anyone who asks that I want a family, I want kids. I want to do the bedtime tuck-ins, family gatherings, tea parties, dress up, all of it. the other night she colored my nails with markers and told me not to wash my hands. I didn’t. I kept them on till morning so she saw how much I loved them. It’s like my heart is no longer in my chest. It’s outside my body. I would do anything for her Vix—anything for you.”

 The butterflies in your stomach were not quitting, neither was the flutter of your heart. Chris touched your arm, his hand was burning hot, but it made you shiver.

 “I fucked this up once,” he began.

 “Chris--.”

 “Please let me get this out. I don’t want to fuck this up again, not this time.”

 He looked like he was struggling as if he was at a loss for words but he had so much to say. You had no idea what to say to help him, you were struggling too. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. In your arms, Ella began to fuss and wriggle.

 “Da-da.” She groaned and began whining.

 “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here,” Chris soothed taking her from your arms. He stood there effortlessly rocking her as if he’d done it all her life. You watched him pepper kisses across her forehead and temple then your eyes met. You were still speechless.

 “I’ll take her to bed,” Chris whispered. You nodded and watched him walk back toward the house.

 You stood there for several long minutes just trying to marinate over what just happened. You couldn’t wrap your head around it, but you also couldn’t escape the feeling of a need for him, to be close to him. When you made it to the house and upstairs you peeped into Ella’s room and there he was in the dim light or her night light sitting at her bedside just watching her sleep. It was an action you’d done countless times. Time always passed so quickly when you did it—too quickly.

 Suddenly Chris turned to look at you then kissed the top of Ella’s head and turned slowly walked toward you.

 “God, he’s gorgeous.”

His lips lowered to yours for a sweet kiss, one that promised more. When he pulled back he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re the gorgeous one,” he whispered as he walked out the room and softly closed the door. You hadn’t realized you’d said it out loud.

 Chris took your hand and led you down the hall past your room to his. You walked in and stopped in the middle of the room and just looked around. When you felt him behind you, you melted into him as he kissed your neck and shoulders. Then Chris scooped you into his arms and carried you to his bed. As he gently laid you down he never broke eye contact with you, as he never spoke. You didn’t care words were overrated.

 As your bodies came together and expressed what your mouths couldn’t speak everything in you hummed from the pleasure he gave. He was gentle and went slow. It was as if he were whispering to your body, pleading with it to reveal its secrets, it felt as if he had a direct line to your pleasure and he mercilessly tapped into it. Before long you were panting and moaning his name trying to keep as quiet as possible. Even when the urgency in you reached its peak he still went slow, prolonging the sensations for as long as possible. Every time your eyes met you saw so much in the depths of the blue pools. You came with his name on your lips and hearing your whispered one in your ear.

His scent woke you. It was a scent you were already used to, a scent you smelled everywhere. You were hooked. You cuddled closer to him and heard the deep rumble of his moan in his chest.

“Good morning.”

 You smiled and looked up at him to see him grinning. “Good morning.” He kissed you once, then twice and pulled you close.

 “How’d you sleep?”

 “Good.” Chris slid down to come face to face with you his smile wide.

 “That’s good. I’m glad.” His lips met yours again and in no time he was rolling onto you.

 “Da-da!” The loud shout of your daughter had the two of you gasping and freaking out.

 Chris rolled off of you and looked around then to you clearly asking what you should do. You knew how fast her tiny legs could carry her and knew you had no time.

 “Act normal,” you whispered and piled the blankets over your head just in time for Ella to burst through the doors and in the room. She hopped and climbed onto the bed and crawled to him.

 “Good morning princess. How are you?”

 “Good.”

 From the feel of the bed, you bet she was tumbling or jumping on him. She had the energy of a kangaroo when she woke. You could hear Chris’ laughter. They even sounded alike when they laughed. Apple meet tree, you thought.

 “Mama no bed. Where mama?”

 “Mama’s not in the bed?”

 “No. Da-da eat mama?”

 You couldn’t stop the snort that came out because that statement was one hundred percent correct. You stifled it and tried to remain completely still. After a few seconds the blankets were pulled off and there she was. Her eyes lit up and she dropped onto you.

 “Mama! Ound her da-da. I ound you.”

 “You found me.” You glanced to Chris who had his lips pinched but his eyes looked to be asking if this was okay.

 “Mama, da-da, mama, da-da, yay!” She clapped her hands and buried herself between the two of you and continued to chatter. When you caught Chris’ eye he had a soft smile on his lips as he looked between the two of you. he then laid down and held the two of you cuddled close.

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

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