#As time passes I feel more and more unwelcomed in the fandom?

[kyouka-supremacy]

//

[queers-gambit]

You Might Think It's Foolish

prompt: meeting your boyfriend's family for the first time creates anxiety, so, you stick to his side. at dinner, his mother calls out your clinginess - and Aemond doesn't defend you. or when someone else calls you clingy and he doesn't defend you / agrees with them.

pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 3.1k+

warnings: short and to the point, angst, hurt and no comfort, drama, relationship angst, stand alone, cursing, toxic family, toxic relationship...? barely edited, author's tired of her drafts.

Fall. Autumn. A time of shedding the old and preparing for the new. Perhaps that was why this happened - the universe was trying to shed what was unwelcome in your life. Yet you wouldn't see it this way for several long months.

The trees grew over the winding backroads in a curved canopy; creating a golden tunnel for visitors to pass through on their way to remote destinations. You were no exception, cruising at a leisure speed while taking slow, deep breaths to attempt to soak in the beauty autumn in the Northern Hemisphere brought. It was impossible not to feel enraptured by the serenity of the country roads, music set so you could hear it but still have a conversation if you wanted.

Your passenger princess told you it was the next right.

"I can't believe we're late," you whispered, sighing in strained stress. "This is a horrible first impression, Aemond."

"We won't even be the latest," he smirked.

"Doesn't matter, it's still rude to show up when the party's already started."

"We were busy."

"You were getting a new tattoo," you deadpanned.

"Exactly as I said - busy. And you got your third ear piercing, so, I don't want t'hear it."

You swallowed, making the right turn. "That's the house?" You gawked.

"Mhm," he gazed out his window, "welcome to the Targaryen Manor, princess."

"I forget you're from old money," you muttered, finding a suitable parking space and pulling in. You gathered your belongings, including the flowers from the backseat you insisted on bringing for his mother, and vacate the car.

"You're gonna be fine," Aemond smirked, tossing his arm around your neck as you moved up the walkway. "Just be yourself, laugh at their jokes - you'll fit right in."

"I feel like I can't even afford to be here," you whispered, approaching the front door. He chuckled and took your hand, letting you squeeze it tight as he opened the door and lead you inward. "Jesus, Mary Mother, and Joseph," you gaped, eyes bugging wide as the interior.

The term "fancy" didn't even begin to cover it.

And Aemond just smirked at you, amused by your response; knowing your family grew up without money and the nicest thing you owned for years was a Wii that had been purchased from a family-friend for a third of the price. So to see you here, amongst luxury and money, was an absolute treasure to him.

However, that was short lived, because the next thing you noticed was the amount of people milling around. There was at least 13 different people in sight, and for some reason, you knew there was likely many, many more. Aemond lead you into the kitchen, and from there, you could barely keep up.

First, you met his mother, Alicent. She was a kind woman, but stoic and calculating; observant with a quick wit. She intimidated you, made you feel small, burned you under her stare; and since you were dating her favorite child, you knew she was scrutinizing you. You felt desperate for her approval, and when you offered her the large bouquet of flowers, she actually let her lips twitch in a small smile. She thanked your generosity and consideration, making you feel like you had some kind of breakthrough with her.

When Alicent went to put the flowers in water, Aemond assured he thought his mother "adored" you before introducing you to his father - the birthday boy. He was sweet; soft spoken and bright-eyed; all too happy to have a conversation with you. He asked how you and Aemond met, then what you were studying in university, if you liked it, what you wanted to do with your degree. He asked what food was your favorite, if you played sports, about your family, and if you had any hobbies. Viserys Targaryen had a kind soul, making you wonder how he and Alicent remained married.

Though they say opposites attract.

Aemond showed you around the house, stopping to introduce family members; then heading to the backyard where you were drug around to meet the hundred other family members. You were close to tears the whole time, knowing it was his father's birthday, but not knowing how bloody big his fucking family was - and that they'd all show up today. You felt blindsided, it felt like a deliberate withholding of information to convince you to come. You were under the impression it was a family dinner, but now, you understood, it was an actual celebration.

There was people everywhere you looked, everywhere you turned. Voices spoke over one another, children ran around playing tag or jumping on a trampoline; babies cried and screamed, the grill was loud with sizzling meats, and a radio played through intermittent static. Multiple dogs ran around, trailing mud everywhere, even going as far as to shake their coats out to shower bystanders. The smell of charcoal, smoke, and chlorine mingled with that tangy-good scent of BBQ; but it made your eyes sting.

It was a sensory overload.

It was a miracle you hadn't burst into tears yet, but you remained anchored to reality by maintaining a close proximity to Aemond.

You held his hand in a vice grip. You held his bicep with a curled-grip that left fingernail indentations in his skin through the fabric. You held his waist, belt loops, anything you could grab onto in a possessive grip. You constantly touched him to reassure yourself he was still with you; being your anchor to reality, tangible and real since your anxiety drowned you in a sea.

You didn't think it was an issue. Didn't think anyone would notice, so you obviously didn't think anyone would care if they DID notice. You liked touching Aemond, it kept you grounded; if someone had an issue with that, it was 100% just a personal problem. However, plenty of people did notice, and when you sat down for dinner, you were unprepared for the ambush.

Conversation was flowing; food passed around and utensils scraped plates. Drinks sweat into the table cloth, citronella candles twinkled, and laughter was in an abundance as each person found merriment in their family. You were feeling more relaxed, but the truth was, there was so many people here that you felt nauseous enough to only take a few small bites from your plate.

Aemond noticed and met your eyes, subtly opening his hand to you in an offer for comfort. You all but snatched his hand into yours, smiling in thanks as he only smirked broadly and continued eating. You tried to sample what you could, but it was impossible to stomach much of anything. You reached for your water, took a sip, and heard Alicent question your name.

When she had your attention, Alicent asked, "Have you had many boyfriends, dear?"

"Oh, no," you answered honestly, "no, I've gone on dates but Aemond's," you laid your free hand to his bicep, sliding down to take his hand with yours, "my first boyfriend."

She hummed and stabbed her fork into the salad set in front of her, muttering in a lower tone, "Then I guess I can overlook it all."

You cocked your head, setting your glass down, wondering, "Overlook what?"

"The clinginess," she shrugged, reaching for her wine glass. "You've been stuck to his side all day - never even parting to go to the restroom, it seems. So, because he's your first, I can overlook all this... For now."

Your head began to spin like in a bad cartoon. You felt your heart cement and drop to your stomach; throat swelling to suppress either sobs, vomit, or both. The entire table was quiet. "I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Targaryen," you offered in confusion. "I'm sorry if I've offended you, but it's not with malicious intent."

"No?" She mocked.

"No," your head shook vehemently. "I did not realize my actions could be interpreted negatively, and I assume you, it was not my intention to create tension."

"Oh, spare me. You haven't let go of Aemond once all night, and even now, as we all sit for family dinner, you hold his hand hostage; preventing you both from eating. Don't you think he'd like to spend time with his family without needing to make you feel included in every single thing he does or says today?"

You gulped, "I did not mean to offend you nor your family."

"It's not offensive," Helaena Targaryen, Aemond's only sister, tried to intervene. "If you feel uncomfortable in any situation, why not seek out that in which you already know helps comfort you?"

How had it come to this?

"I am not offended," Viserys croaked, "I find young love refreshing."

But this made Alicent rage, "It is offensive when you prevent Aemond from actually visiting with his family. It's his father's birthday for God's sake! We don't have an infinite number of them left! If you want to hang all over him when you're at university, fine, but when you're here? In public? Around family or elders? It's not acceptable behavior, especially when you prevent my son from participating as a member of this family."

Your mouth went dry as you remembered your parents did not raise you to ever tolerate disrespect. If someone offered insult, sure, walk away, but they also taught you to stand up for yourself in particular fights. This felt like one of those fights.

There were also vivid memories long since repressed that flashed you back to your own parents telling you, you were clingy. They didn't want you hanging off them, distracting anyone, being an overall nuisance; so they started fighting your fire with their own. They became verbally aggressive, constantly ridiculing and belittling you; attempting to keep you humble by insulting your character - saying nobody (be it man or woman) would want someone like you. Your baggage was too heavy and you knew it, your parents telling you it was why you felt the need to cling in the first place.

If you held on tight enough, the weight of your trauma would eventually anchor your person in place. It'd be too late to swim away once that anchor sunk.

You looked at Aemond, thinking he'd tell his mother to quiet down, but he never did. He just stared at the table, so, you tossed his hand into his lap - feeling disgusting by his physical touch right now.

It was evident he wasn't going to defend you, so, you defended yourself, "I know you might think it foolish, but the reason I was 'all over' your son was because I was caught off-guard by the number of family members who attended today. I was lead to believe this would be a small, intimate affair so I could properly meet his nuclear family, and when I realized that was not the case, yes, I held onto Aemond because I felt incredibly anxious. I cannot control what makes me uncomfortable, but I was expecting under ten people - not close to a hundred. So, truly, if me seeking solace with my boyfriend upsets you, I am sorry, but I will not apologize for feeling blindsided and misdirected - I will not apologize for feeling anxious and nervous amongst such a large family that I've never met before, and - "

Aemond snapped your name, silencing you instantly out of sheer shock; your eyes widening a fraction. He growled, "That's enough, do not speak to my mother like that."

"So, she's allowed to call me clingy, but I can't - "

"I told you to watch your mouth," he seethed, "and not speak to her like you just were. She made an observation - an accurate one - not out of spite, like you want to do in retaliation."

You scoffed, while glancing between mother and son, nodding slowly. You mutely used your cloth napkin to blot around your lips, swipe your tongue over your teeth as you pushed your chair back and slowly stood. "You know what? I don't need this shit. I refuse to sit here and let you speak to me as if you're holier than thou," you told Alicent, then looking to Aemond, "nor will some mama's boy gaslight me."

Helaena giggled behind her hand as you swiped your purse and phone, turned on your heel, and walked away. Aemond sighed and called your name, standing from his own chair, still trying to slow you down by calling out to you. "Aemond," Alicent snapped when he meant to move after you.

"You've done enough," he told her, jogging after your retreating form while calling your name.

"Nice one, Mum," Aegon scoffed. "That's one way to make sure he doesn't knock her up - just break them up."

"Aegon," Daeron groaned.

"What? Isn't that what she was afraid of? Aemond getting too serious with her?" Aegon snapped. "He's finally happy, and you what? Had to implode that?"

Aegon's words sunk into his mother's heart as Aemond rushed after you, nobody untouched by the things he said.

Outside, you rushed for your car while fumbling with your purse and keys. Aemond followed, still. He finally caught up when you made it to the car, his hand whipping you around to face him.

"I didn't fucking mean it," he rushed, holding you securely in his grasp. "Hear me? I didn't fucking mean it, I-I just wanted the arguing to stop, I know how Mum can get and I didn't want it to escalate. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my love, I didn't mean it at you - I just - I panicked - I don't know why. Perhaps we're both still very green to this whole relationship thing."

"Oh! Fuck you," you snapped, pushing him off you.

"Listen to me - "

"No, you're done talking," you raged with your manicured pointer finger jabbing the air between you in a dramatic fashion. "Your mother fully insulted me in front of everyone - your entire family, whom I wasn't even aware I was meeting, nor was I even ready to meet!"

"What?"

"I was willing to meet your parents and siblings. Not your entire extended family! You meet the nuclear family first and when ready to level-up, you bring your significant other around your aunties, uncles, cousins - whatever. You ambushed me," you snapped. "You totally caught me off guard - but instead of apologizing and acknowledging my discomfort, you just carried on on your high horse. You let me hold onto you - yet there was no word about being clingy - and you even reached for my hand a few times! Yet I was the one being slandered and labeled as 'clingy'!? But you know what? That's cool, really fucking cool, that's fine. Like I said before, fuck off. I don't need to be with someone who crumples like a wet piece of paper when Mummy Dearest starts to huff and puff. I need someone who's going to tell their mother to cut it out when they're trying to wrongfully insult me - your girlfriend. Better yet? I need to be with someone whose mother doesn't start on that bullshit! That has respect! Decency! Now get the fuck away from me!"

You shoved him back a few steps to give room for you to open your car door and get in - immediately hitting the automatic locks. You started the engine, put your seatbelt on, took one last look at your first love as he tried to plea with you through the rolled up window, then shifted into gear and pulled away.

You felt your anger boil to a new height when you replayed the entire day. How dare Aemond? How dare he try to manipulate this situation? He had no right to ask you to shut the fuck up while his mother was free to run her mouth! Well, first and foremost, how fucking dare Alicent insult and challenge you in such a public setting? How in the Seven Hells had Helaena been the only one to defend you? What the hell did you even need defending against? Why did you showing affection and needing reliable support upset Alicent that much?

Your phone began to ring, and when you glanced at it, you saw Aemond's contact photo displayed on the screen. You ignored it and put your phone on airplane mode, leaving it on for now. However, after a few long moments of stressful thinking, you turned the setting off and called your sister - knowing no matter what, she'd be your rock. When she answered, you told her a simplified version of events, and at the end, your tears had been triggered and she was encouraging you to come over to her house.

You agreed, shut your phone off this time, and drove to your sister's place. When you arrived, you were shocked to find her waiting in the driveway, opening her arms with a pout when you got out of the car. "C'mere," she cooed, enveloping you in her arms when you stepped into her embrace.

"Why do boys suck?" You whimpered.

"Because that's just how they were programed," she sighed.

"Sh-She called me clingy," you managed through your tears, "his mom called me clingy, a-and Aemond d-didn't defend me. So, when I had to defend myself, he just told me to be quiet 'cause his mother wasn't wrong - or what-the-fuck-ever."

"I know, honey," she sympathized, giving you a squeeze. "What're you thinking?"

"That I can't trust someone like that," you admitted. "And if I can't trust them, why be in a relationship?"

She nodded, "I think you know what you need to do next."

"I don't want to."

"Nobody really wants to, but it's necessary," she held your phone out for you after pulling it from your back pocket. "Don't let him or his mother disrespect you - especially in front of his other family members. I mean, shit, how're you supposed to face any of them again after that?"

"Exactly, his mom didn't exactly do it in private..."

"See?" She stared at you while you sighed, shaking your head. Your sister encouraged, "Make the call. This isn't a sustainable relationship, and Aemond shouldn't have to choose his mother and his girl - so, let's just make it easy on him, and you choose. Wanna be with someone who lets his mother say shit like that to you? Who tells you to be quiet, instead of shutting down his mother's insults?"

You frowned, whispering, "I don't think this is enough to break us up. It shouldn't be, right? This shouldn't be the end-all, be-all, should it?"

"No, honey, but the disrespect cannot stand, either," she shot back. "If he felt so comfortable to say that in front of his family like that, you don't wanna know what he's gonna get comfortable doing in more private settings." Tears filled your eyes as she reminded gently, but firmly, "Make the call."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

Clingy Baby masterlist

[saintsenara]

idk if you have ever talk about this before but in case you havent, what do you think of the infamous "Albus Severus" Potter name? overall how do you feel about Harry's naming his kids?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i'll be honest, its infamy always strikes me as a classic case of the fandom not being able to separate what characters would do from what they would do.

because i completely appreciate that most people probably wouldn't name their children after a teacher who bullied them and a man who sent them to the death...

but harry would.

albus severus makes perfect sense as a name on the basis of who harry is, how he understands honour and lineage, how he comes to think of both snape and dumbledore over the course of deathly hallows, and how those thoughts would expand and deepen as time passes after the end of the pre-epilogue canon.

i also don't find the james and lily thing weird. i know plenty of people who are named after their dead relatives, including a couple of people who are named after murdered relatives, and it's not something anyone i know would look twice at. nor do the families of any of those people have trouble understanding them as their own person. i presume this would be considered stranger - and/or more inhibiting to a child's sense of identity - in other parts of the world, but i just understand it as something families do.

what does strike me as odd, though, is how much of this fandom forgets two things: that there are generally two people involved in naming a child; and that ginny is not a doormat.

it always seems to me that - whether people think the kids' names are suitable or not - harry is assumed to have been exclusively responsible for them, while ginny is assumed either to have been railroaded into doing what harry wanted, or to have nobly forfeited any say in the naming process because her only goal in life is to sacrifice everything to make harry happy.

[when it comes to the boys' names, at least. people do seem to go for the idea that ginny's responsible for the luna part of lily luna.]

but i think this is nonsense - and it clearly puts enough of a bee in my bonnet that i've had her say so in two pieces of my writing...

in everlasting ink:

James will be born with the cord wrapped around his neck, grey and still, and there will be hours - or maybe just seconds which feel like hours - in which she doesn't breathe, skin going cold and vision whiting, until he roars, rattly and indignant, as though being born was an unwelcome disturbance in his otherwise busy day.   That's why she'll want him to have Sirius' name. His first cry will sound like a motorbike.

and [when i finally get around to posting the next chapter] one year in every ten:

'What on earth possessed you to agree to that name?' 'I didn't agree to it. I picked it. I hope you don't think so little of Harry that you think he'd deny me a say in the names of my own children?' 'But Albus -' 'He was very kind to me. Dumbledore. After what happened... It was like I was sleepwalking. Nothing felt real. It was like I wasn't fully in my own body. And everyone was acting like everything was fine - yay, Ginny's back to normal! - and I just went along with it. I don't know why... There was this afternoon, just before the end of term, and I was trying to go down to the lake, but I'd got stuck - I guess that's the word - on the stairs. I literally couldn't move... And then Dumbledore came round the corner and he said "are you quite alright, Miss Weasley?" and I said "oh yes, I’m right as rain" and he just looked at me - you know the way he used to look at you, like he could read your mind - and it all came bursting out of me. How I didn't think I'd ever feel happy again. How I thought a little bit of me might have been left in the Chamber. How I worried my whole life had been broken by what you did to me and it would never be fixed. And he said - I'll never forget it - "there is nothing wrong with being broken, Miss Weasley, if you try to see the cracks as how the -" '"- light gets in". I should have known that was a pre-rehearsed bit of sentimentality...' 'I remember thinking about it when he died. He was lying there, broken, and I remember thinking "where's your light now?" But it turned out that he knew what he was doing.' 'That's one way of putting it...' 'And then we picked Severus for his middle name because we thought it would annoy Snape and that would be funny. And it did and it was.'

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: all that glitters is gold

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: angst

pairing: lucifer x reader

summary: every one of your nightmares ended in gold…

you never thought that a ring glinting in the dim lighting of a room could feel so frigid and unwelcoming. never thought that just a glint in the low light could have your body freeze, your mind run itself around in a panic or cause your hands to shake uncontrollably. you were faced with this reality as you watched the ring glide through the air, attached to his hand as he spoke animatedly, the conversation sounding distant. like you were under water and people were shouting above you.

that’s what it felt like. you were drowning. drowning in the anxiety, fear, and hopelessness seeing that shiny piece of metal glint caused you. it was more than the ring itself. more than the hunk of metal attached to the body of a man that said he was yours, was meant to be yours, whispered soft and sweet things to you until your heart felt like it could burst. that ring symbolized everything you felt like you had to compete with.

the ring reminded you that you were constantly fighting for his attention, because somewhere, like an old, forgotten box in the attic from when you moved, contained the love he still had for her . it showed that you weren’t enough, could never be enough for him. maybe at best, you warmed his bed for him while he waited for her, while he was your everything. the ring whispered all of their vows, their promises, right back to you every time it’s unforgiving touch scalded your skin.

that’s why when you were pulled away from your thoughts, and the very same hand, with that gold ring grabbed yours, you flinched. you saw his eyes widen, a look of concern passing on his face, but all you could see was gold. your body felt like it was enclosed in the unforgiving metal, squeezing every bit of your life out of you. your skin feeling like ice, frozen in movement and to the touch. it had such power over you, making your mind fuzzy, your lungs seemingly malfunctioning as you couldn’t catch your breath. it was one thing to see it far away but it was an unexpected dose of reality to feel that band brush against your body, reasserting itself in your mind.

“darling?” you hear lucifer’s voice travel to you and penetrate the frozen shell you had become. his voice settling in your chest and melting all your uncertainty away, clearing your mind and calling your breath. you look at him. not realizing your eyes were wide and you were crying.

“darling…” he whispers, moving to take you up to your room, leaving the party behind as you seemed to effortlessly float behind, your feet moving on autopilot. that gold band still in your field vision, almost like you had tunnel vision. suddenly, you were in your room, your eyes not leaving his hand as he stood in front of you.

“did someone do something to you?” he asks, trying to see if you were wounded as you just stood there unresponsive. until his right hand cupped your cheek, his warm touch bringing you back to clarity as you felt like you were looking at him for the first time.

“no.” you murmur. his shoulders sag in relief.

“what’s wrong? what just happened?” he asks, trying to be calm, his voice wavering.

“i don’t think i can do this.” you whisper and watch lucifer’s face fall devastated.

“what-what do you mean?” he asks, both hands cupping your cheeks. “you said you loved me.” you flinch feeling the band on your cheek. you take his left hand off you and hold it between the both of you. the gold band glinting in the light like it was dancing, mocking you. tears gather in your eyes again.

“i love you more than i ever thought i could love someone. my heart aches to join yours at any chance it can find and with your hand in mine, anywhere could feel like home to me, because you are my home.” you explain crying, watching tears pour from lucifer’s eyes. you take a shuddering breath and gather his hands in yours, holding them between you and ensuring you weren’t touching his wedding band.

“i don’t believe that you feel that way. your heart still belongs to…” you swallow, trying to stop the sob stuck in your throat. turning your head to look at him makes everything worse, as your cry runs out of your mouth, shattering the room around you in despair. “lilith. your heart, belongs to lilith. and i can’t… lucifer… i can’t…” you trail off, shaking your head as you squeeze his hands. you go to walk off but he grabs your hand.

“is it this?” he asks, holding his left hand up, showing the wedding band to you. you look off, not able to look at it fully. he sighs and curses. he lets go of your hand and stands in front of you, waiting for your eyes to meet his.

when you look eyes with him, his eyes are rimmed in red, but they reflect a determination that wasn’t there before. he holds up his left hand, and takes off the ring. your eyes widen as you look between the offending metal and his now empty finger.

“i am sorry my actions caused you to doubt my sincerity.” he says, turning and placing the ring in a small box on his side of the bed that you knew held his memories of that time. “it’s a lot to just seemingly throw away almost 10,000 years of partnership with someone. my inability to heal quickly from that, was no reflection of my feelings for you nor how i saw this relationship. you were never second best.” lucifer sighs and walks up to you, drawing your pliant body to his. he thanks who ever is listening to him that he is actually conveying his feelings well right now, making a mental note to thank charlie and her feeling exercises.

“you are it for me. yes, i was with lilith. we had a child together. that does not mean i do not love you less. if anything i love you more i think, because i was so far gone. you and charlie were the only two people to get me out of the dark place i was.” he explains, as you start crying again. his eyes widen as he tries to wipe off the tears but they’re coming too quickly. you just reach up and hold his hands against your cheeks. his eyes widen as he looks at you, a little shocked, and then you lean in, kissing him.

“i just wanted to stop feeling like i was competing against her all the time. it felt like that damn ring mocked me for not being her.” you cry. “i’m so sorry.”

“no, i should be sorry. this is my fault.” lucifer says, hugging you closer. he pulls away and looks at you again. “how can i make this right?” his question leaves you silent for a while.

“i’m-i’m not sure. really. i guess, can we start but just having a movie night up here? i don’t want to go back down stairs.” you explain. lucifer smiles snapping his fingers and you both were already in soft matching duck pajamas. your smile stretching across your face as you laugh.

“consider it done.” he says, hopping on the bed and patting the space next to him. you eagerly crawl up and lay on his chest and he holds you close. together you pieced each other back together, and while it was messy, you knew you both could do it.

[ruukina]

WOLFISH

FANDOM: final fantasy xvi PAIRING: clive rosfield x reader ( gender neutral, afab ) RATING: explicit / 18+. minors dni. SUMMARY: After an exhausting week of running around Valisthea, you return home with your heart full and missing a certain outlaw. What you find upon your return is different... but not unwelcomed. WARNINGS: slightly rough sex, dirty talking, breeding kink, implied heat cycle. WORD COUNT: 7.7k

A/N: yeah i'm fairly down bad for this man. i normally don't write reader fics but i'm trying to expand my horizons so. here we are. gotta feed myself in this economy right?? expect more ffxvi stuff, whether its reader insert or other shit because the brainworms are very bad.

read on ao3!

It’s a silent ride back to Hideaway, as it always is on these solo missions of yours.

It’s not a common thing, but every so often you find yourself having to run around all of Valisthea with the job of making payments and collecting orders from the many kind souls that have been helping the cause that even keeps your personal home afloat. In fact, you could even say as Cid’s personal advisor, this was your main job; Otto was busy running the Hideaway and keeping it in check, so the job fell to you when you weren’t tailing after the man you worked under.

You also didn’t mind it, because it meant you had some time to yourself. You had the wind at your back, the smell of sea water to keep you company, and you could be in your thoughts alone.

Usually you didn’t mind it, at the very least. 

It’s not a long task to do or even a hard one, in fact you’d argue that most of your time spent there is arguing with the likes of Martha and Isabelle and even L’ubor to accept the gil that Cid himself has offered to give them, but this month’s mission of yours was different. It seemed like a certain boss of yours had racked up a few requests and the people he graciously helped either wanted to give him a reward or send a letter to ask for more help. And since you were unfortunately playing messenger, it meant that you were basically running around and doing his job… in the sense of gathering the requests and gifts, of course.

So, you were being a little delayed in returning. You made sure to send a Stolas, to let everyone know you weren’t dead - just incredibly busy.

But now you finally found yourself on the ferry back home and you were impatient to get back. Excited to get back to everyone, excited to finally be returning after about a week of having to travel by Chocobo to get to everywhere.

Excited to return back to him.

“Hey, Obolus, are we almost there yet?” You peer over to the ferryman, the wind wilding through your hair.

Obolus didn’t even look back at you, as he ‘tsks’ in response. “We’ll get there when we get there. Asking every five seconds won’t make the boat go any faster.”

You scrunch your nose at him, but he did unfortunately have a point. The trip usually never feels so long, but after being away for what seems like months, you were just anxious to get back and rest your feet. The silence of the ride passes, with only the sound of waves pressing against the exterior of the boat. 

You lean against the side and take the chance to reflect on all that’s happened. All that you’ve experienced. 

All that you’ve done.

You don’t really remember when you became Cid’s advisor. It’s had to have been years at this point, you remember only barely being what one would call an adult. You were a bearer without a brand, hiding your magic behind crystals. It’s what your father had taught you, to protect you from the cruel world you were born in. You were cursed, your mother refused to even acknowledge your existence - even more so after the death of your father. You only lived the way that you did because your mother loved your father more than she loved you, and made your father take care of you.

Your father never gave up on you. An idealist in a world of realists, he really thought you could be the one to change the world. 

He set himself up for failure, you bitterly had thought when news of his death arrived at your doorstep. He died for a cause he believed in, sure, but now he expected you to carry on that torch for him. And maybe there was a part of you that wanted to fight for a better world than the one you were handed, for those like you. You weren’t really sure what your true feelings were at that time.

There was one thing you did know, however; you knew you weren’t safe in your mother’s care, so you ran the day after your father’s passing and never looked back. You’re not even sure if your mother is even still alive or if she even misses you. Did she start anew, start all over with someone else and have a child she could be proud of?

As the years went on, you found that you didn’t even care. You can’t remember her face anymore.

You were crafty, a trickster, because that’s what kept you alive. Somehow, your paths with Cidolfus Telamon crossed. Not just once or twice, but five times. Four times, you rejected his appraisal and invitation to join him.

On the fifth path crossed, and the day he saved you from death, you finally joined him. You didn’t really expect to stay long in Hideaway, only thinking you would spend a few weeks or even a month before you jumped ship. You never stayed in one place for long, because it was always too dangerous for you to attach yourself to people. But everyone was so kind, so nice to you, and welcomed you with open arms. 

Especially Cidolfus.

You clung to him a lot, maybe because despite only meeting him five times he was the only person you really knew, and somehow you managed to become his advisor with your skills and your ability to pull him back to the ground. Otto was against it at first, not because he didn’t like you, but you were barely an adult. Yet, Cid had smiled and patted you on the shoulder, telling Otto that there was more to you than meets the eye.

It’s much more than what your mother gave you. Worthless, unneeded, dirty, sinful - that’s all that she had called you. Your own father would try and raise your spirits, but her words were sharp as a knife and they cut wounds in your wrists. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and you stayed. You stayed with the people who would become your family.

One day, Cid left with Goetz and the wolf he ( or rather, charon ) cared for, because of rumors of Shiva’s Dominant finally rising in a place where he can finally catch her, to give her the freedom she needed. He came back with Goetz carrying a girl on his back, and a branded man with the wolf practically attached to his hip.

Clive Rosfield.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but the man before you would change your life completely.

Cid introduced you to him, asking you to watch over him and help him adjust to the Hideaway. It’s almost funny to think about, because despite Clive’s grumblings about ‘not staying long’ ( words that echoed in your head as familiar, because you had said the same thing ), when you finally got track of him again, he was out helping the people of Hideaway. 

You made a joke about that and he quickly looked away, some colour on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was a cute sight, unsightly for a rugged man like him. Despite his appearances, he was kind and soft, albeit a bit cynical from the hardships he faced in his life. Then you ended up helping him help people, because there wasn’t much to do at that time and you needed to stretch your legs, and that’s how Cid decided on his great idea to make Clive your personal assistant.

Clive then realized when Cid told him you ran him ragged, he meant it, because once Cid assigned Clive to you, it didn’t take you long to get him working because as long as someone could move, they could work. But of course, you joined Clive on his journey to help him out. Some days you had to stay at Hideaway but for the most part, you were at his side alongside Cid. 

You and Clive bonded together. Quick whips with one another, long nights together trying to figure out your next course of action with the Mothercrystals and how to save Valisthea, and slowly he became someone you… well, liked, essentially. You don’t exactly make friends with people, because you’ve never really had the chance to do so, but somehow Clive stabbed his way into your life and heart. 

He became softer with you, and you did too. You found it was easy to smile with him, to laugh with him, to love him. It scared you, because Clive was a Dominant - the second, mysterious Eikon of Fire, and yet something so much more than that. It was basically a target on your back, even more so than the relationship you had with Cid.

But you found that you couldn’t stop loving him, that you would endure the burning world for him. Maybe that scared you more.

He held you when you sobbed and broke down over Cid - the first time your mask of being strong ever cracked. You hated it, you hated being weak, because Cid didn’t need weak people helping him. Cid needed someone who could put themselves back together, but this time you couldn’t. The pieces of you were scattered all over the floor like glass and every time you picked one up, you cut your hand and let the blood drip from your wound.

Yet, Clive held you. He held you close, he didn’t judge you, because he was crying alongside you. Cid meant so much to everyone, including him. You sat in his arms, and he didn’t leave until he knew he could leave you alone without worrying over you. His gentleness contrasted his roughened up look, he looked at you so softly and filled with fondness towards you. He was not afraid to help pick up the pieces, even if it meant cutting his hands in the process. 

He put you back together, and he didn’t complain about it. Not even once.

Your relationship with him bloomed. Your friendship with him became something new, something else. It was a dangerous love, because of who Clive Rosfield is - what he is. Yet, you never swayed. You never faltered.

No matter what, he’s Clive to you.

But in public, he is Cid and you are Cid’s advisor - like you always were. You two were professional on the outside, only sneaking away to shed those titles when you had enough time to. You didn’t get those chances a lot, but when you did he made sure to treat you like you were a deity. You’ve had lovers in the past, but they never made you feel like Clive made you feel. He made you feel loved, appreciated, cared for. You took care of him, but he always took care of you in return. He never simply just took, he always gave back.

No wonder you were anxious to get back to him; you’ve missed him dearly.

“We’re approaching the Hideaway!”

The ferryman’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You open your eyes, quickly looking towards the horizons. Even in the blackest of nights, with the moon being your only light, you could see the shape of the broken down airship that you and everyone else called home. You could feel the smile creeping on your face.

“I’m home,” you whisper.

To who exactly? Not yourself, but to the man who was waiting for you.

You thank Obolus for the ride home as you step off of the boat, quickly rushing up the stairs. Most people had turned in for the night so there were only a few souls still haunting the Hideaway, and they offered their greetings to you and a cheery ‘welcome back, advisor!’, to which you returned with a smile.

You feel a little silly rushing through the halls, like an eager child, but you were happy to be home. 

You were happy about seeing him again.

You skid to a stop when you reached your destination. The Tub and Crown was a bit of a ghost town around this time, but you knew there were still a few people aside from Maeve haunting the area.

And you weren’t wrong. There sat Gav and Jill, with Torgal laying at Jill’s side. The hound lifts his head up at the sound of your footsteps, and once he lays his eyes on you he quickly stands up and rushes over towards you with a happy sounding bark. Since becoming Clive’s partner, Torgal never really left your side either. If he wasn’t with his owner or Jill, he was shuffling at your hip and following you around.

“Torgal!” You greet happily, kneeling on the ground to pet him and spoil him with some treats you carried on hand once you got close enough to where the two sat.

The two break from their conversation to see what Torgal was barking at, both of them greeting you with a smile on their faces.

“Well, if it ain’t our favorite advisor!” Gav slams his drink down. He looks you over, peering at the basket of gifts and requests at your side - all for a certain someone. “Talk about bein’ fashionably late. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said almost everyone in Valisthea was keepin’ you away.”

Jill nods her head in agreement, cupping her own chin to look over the heavy basket. “It sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure yourself.”

“Oh, it was the same ol’ stuff I deal with everyday. Just this time everyone in Valisthea caught wind that Cid’s advisor was in town and decided to make it their problem.” You rub Torgal’s belly, to which the hound accepts with happy pants. 

Speaking of the aforementioned man… You look to the side of Gav. No handsome brooding man there. 

You look to the side of Jill. No handsome brooding man there, either.

“Where is Clive?” You stop petting Torgal for a moment. “I figured he would be hanging out with you.”

Gav rolls his eyes a little, both good naturedly but also in some slight annoyance. “Went right to his chambers to work on things when we got back. He’s been in a bloody mood all week.” The scout holds up a finger. “Scowlin’ more than usual, more antsy than usual, tappin’ his foot while he waits at the door.” Every reason is met with a finger going up. “Not like everyone is afraid of him here, but it felt like we had to walk on eggshells around him. Even Charon was tryin’ not to rib him so hard.”

You blink a little, a brow raised. “Has the missions been going poorly or something?”

“Fuck no,” Gav shakes his head in response. “Everything’s been going smoothly. He’s just been actin’ like a shite.”

“He hasn’t been that bad,” counters Jill. Though, there’s a slight pause of hesitation from her. “But Gav isn’t wrong, he has been in a bit of a mood. More than likely, he was just worried about you.”

Worried about you? It’s not like you can’t handle yourself, and you’ve definitely been on missions longer than a week without him. You can’t help but scrunch your nose in thought - as always, when you’re thinking hard. Something was up with him, clearly.

Jill reads you like a book, with a smile on her face. “He’s still up, last time I checked. He’s burying his nose in reports as to distract himself. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the visit from you.” She stands up from her seat, as Torgal also rolls over and trots back to her side. “I’ve got some work to do with Tarja, but it was nice seeing you tonight.”

You nod your head, standing up and dusting yourself off. “Tarja, huh? Try not to stay up too late with her, alright?” You laugh a little when Shiva’s dominant huffs softly at your teasing, giving you just a gentle nudge in return. The two of you have gotten quite close over the years, and she was supportive of you and Clive. You felt like you could sigh in relief at that, that you didn’t have to worry about Clive’s childhood friend coming after you.

Gav finishes his drink, standing up as well. “I’m turnin’ in for the night.” He pats your shoulder with a grin on his face. “Make sure you give our leader a nice, warm welcome!”

He only grins harder seeing your cheeks turn red like a tomato at the implication of his words, and Jill’s soft laughter only makes you turn ever redder. Ah, there was your punishment for teasing Jill. The three of them make their way out of the alehouse, your eyes following them as you think about your conversation.

He’s in a mood.

What could he be in a mood about? You’ll have to do some digging, which isn’t hard - if there’s one thing Clive is with you that not even a sour mood could change, it’s that he was honest with you. It’s one of his best traits, really, that he’s open with his feelings and doesn’t usually shy away from speaking his mind about certain things. It’s not always easy, because there are some things he keeps to his chest, but for the most part communication is always important between you two. You pick up the basket of gifts and quickly make it to the end of the hall, where Clive’s chambers were.

And well, they were technically your chambers too, you think with the heat growing at your cheeks once more.

Shifting the basket a little, you use your free hand to knock on his chamber doors - once, twice and thrice.

“The door’s unlocked.” Clive’s low voice fills your ears. He already has you sighing and letting out a quivering breath. Founder, you’ve missed him.

You open the door with a smile on your face. You take in the sights before you - his room is as you left it, with the man himself seated at the desk. He seems to be burying himself in his usual reports and paperwork, just as Jill said. He didn’t even lift his head upon you entering.

“Guess who.” You smile, as you close the door behind you.

The sound of your voice has Clive immediately lift his head from his work. Cerulean eyes widened, the quill he was using drops from between his fingers and clattering on the desk.

“You’re back.” He sounds almost breathless. His chest raises a little as he breathes in and out, those cerulean eyes of him looking a lot more puppy-dog than usual.

This was different, indeed.

You walk towards him, placing the basket on the edge of the desk not covered in scattered papers. “Just got back. Gifts for you by the way, I was hunted down by weary souls who wanted to give their thanks to the so-called Cid the Outlaw.” You peer at him with a gentle, loving smile on your face.

He laughs a little in response, a rare smile forming on his own features. “No wonder you’re late. Sorry about that. I’ll be sure to pen my thanks to them soon.”

You shake your head at him. “Oh, don’t even start with the apologies. It’s my job to aid you, it’s kind of in the title.” A pause, shifting your feet a little as you hold your hands behind your back, shyly. “And… you know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

The words you whisper made him smile a little more. “You have perfect timing. I’m actually finishing up and I could use your advice.” He nudges his chair back a little, gently patting his thigh. 

For a moment, you stare with a tilted head, until you realize the implications. Your cheeks turn red.

Oh, he’s inviting you to sit there.

Oh, this was different, indeed.

But you don’t hesitate or falter at all. You take a seat on his thigh, leaning against him. One of his strong arms wraps themselves around your waist, pulling your body flushed against his. The position is a little embarrassing, you have to admit to yourself, but it feels warm, comforting - loving. It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into place, flipping through the letters and offering your advice and help to him.

It also doesn’t take long for Clive to stop paying attention. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His hot breath tickles your skin, a shiver running down your spine, as his fingers draw circles in your hip. His lips ghosts around your skin, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your neck as though he was whispering forbidden words in your skin. The quill from his fingers once again falls onto the desk, the reports forgotten about as his attention shifts to you. It’s hard to focus when he’s like this, so you decide to also forget about the many papers that littered his desktop.

“Jill and Gav told me you were in a mood.” You finally shift the conversation to what was really on your mind.

Clive only offers a grunt at first. “I’m not really in a mood.”

“Are you? You’re acting a little differently tonight.” Your fingers run through his hair, out of his eyes. “What’s on your mind, Clive? You know you can tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitates, but he knows he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. You know he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. He pulls you close to him, finally lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“I was fine when you left, but after a day, it felt like there was a pit in my stomach.” Clive runs his fingers up and down your hip. “Hunger, I suppose, is the best way to describe it.”

“Hunger?”

“I felt like I couldn’t focus with you gone. It was worse when I was here alone. Your scent was so much stronger than it usually was…” Clive recounts, averting his gaze for a moment from slight embarrassment, but he quickly focuses back on you. “The more days you were away, the more the hunger grew.”

“And the grouchier you got?” You tease him, though your tease was cut short and replaced with a slight yelp when he pinches your thigh with a huff.

“I wasn’t grouchy.” He counters, but his tone of voice sounds like he’s not exactly fighting the accusation.

You think about what he’s said, though. A hunger he felt for you. It started happening when you first left. He found that your scent was stronger than normal, even when you weren’t there. The symptoms sounded fairly familiar to you, and you hummed a little in thought as you ran your fingers through his hair. He groaned in delight at that, leaning into your touch and burying his face in the crook of your neck once more.

“Maybe you’re going through a rut?”

Clive lifts his head up. “A rut? I’m not a dog, love.”

“I mean, you travel with a dog, you constantly have a permanent puppy-dog eyes look on you and you turn into a dog-lizard thing. You’re kind of dog-adjacent.” You shrug cheekily, with an equally cheeky smile on your face. “But I’m serious about the last thing. We don’t know a whole lot about Ifrit. Maybe it’s going through some kind of rut or something and it’s affecting you. It is springtime, you know. Maybe nature is just setting course for Ifrit, too.”

It’s a pretty plausible theory. Clive stops to think about it for a brief moment, his breath tickling your neck once more as you sigh. Still, he says nothing at first and pauses his movements, until he looks right back up at you, his gaze meeting yours.

“You do realize the implications of your theory, right?” His pupils are blown out, more than usual. His strong, calloused hands grip your hips, shifting you a little so your lower half is flushed right against his.

Oh, there’s something pressing against you. Your body warms up, a heat and ache pooling right in your core. 

You didn’t realize how much you miss his body pressing against yours in such a sinful manner, until he rolls his hips against yours in want and need.

“I meant what I said,” you begin to say, your hands gripping to his shoulders as you slowly grind against the bulge in his pants, meeting his hips’ movements. You couldn’t help but grin a little when he moaned lowly, a sound just for you. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

That’s all you’re able to get out at that point, because once you give him permission to do what he needs to do, Clive’s lips press against yours. It was only a sweet, soft kiss for a for seconds at best, because it quickly turned into something fierce, hungry. His tongue prods against your lips, wanting access into your warm mouth, and you gladly part your lips for him, because you need him as much as he needs you. Your tongue presses and swirls against his - it’s a small battle for dominance you never win, but you know he likes a small challenge. His own tongue presses and pins yours, until you ease away to let him completely take the reins.

The kiss is hot, wet, truly sinful. His hands grope everywhere he could, mostly squeezing at your thighs and hips with his fingers digging into your soft, plump flesh until they found their way to your rear. Squeezing and grabbing, groping in such a way that would make you flustered had you not been needy with your own arousal, he lifts you up as though you’re made of nothing but feathers, and truly you’re a little limp in his grasp. Clive’s strength always managed to make you feel dizzy, in a good way, and that doesn’t change here. He pushes his chair back, leaving the desk and the many reports he still has to do in the dust and makes his way towards his bed - your shared bed.

He only breaks the kiss to place you down on the mattress, gentle pants leaving both of your lips as a string of saliva connects the two of you. It breaks as he pulls away a little more, only to dive back in and press fluttering, wet kisses to your neck. Just like the kiss from before, it turns into something a little more hot and brutal; his lips suck at your skin to give it a bruising mark, teeth sinking into your flesh to draw just a little bit of blood from you. You groan hotly, your fingers gripping at his dark locks as your hips jolt upwards. Clive licks and kisses at the bruise and bite mark he left, panting gently against your flesh.

“You still taste so, so good.” Clive whispers into your skin, as his hands tug right at your shirt. He tries his best not to rip it, but unbuttoning your shirt during these kinds of acts was never exactly a cleanful tact, because you can already see a few buttons pop off just from him ripping it open. You chuckle a little; some things really don’t change.

Your chest is bared to him, and Clive wastes no time in pressing gentle kisses on naked skin. Trailing down, he kisses, licks and sucks on any skin he could latch himself onto and sinks teeth into your sink that leaves behind a delicious sting of pain, until finally reaching your left breast. Your breath hitches a little as his tongue swirls around the nub of your nipple, the hitched breath morphing into a needy moan once his lips latch around it to give it a gentle suck. His fingers tease and play with the unattended one, his attacks on you relentless and cruel - cruel in the sense he never slowed down.

“Clive.” you whine with a high-pitched voice, trying your best to roll your hips against his. But he doesn’t let you, pinning you down with just his pelvis. He lifts his head up, a smirk on his face.

“Just lay there and let me make you feel good,” whispers Clive. The way his low voice sounded so commanding, you can’t help but obey him. He was always like this, though; he was always chasing for your pleasure and never his own. He loved you, he wanted to make you feel good. It was never really fair! But at the same time, it truly was nice. He was so different from lovers you had in the past, who only cared about their own needs.

He attends to your other breast, giving it the same treatment - a lick here, a suck there, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in his wake. Once he’s satisfied, his lips start to trail downwards. He worships you like this, with his lips and his tongue, making sure there’s a patch of skin with his mark on it. His hands make work of your bottoms, pulling off the offending fabric until you were just left in your undergarments. You expect to feel his fingers on your skin so he can pull them down, but instead when you look down, you see Clive is using his teeth to pull them down.

Oh, this is different. Normally he takes his time with you; press himself against you, kiss you all over. Even as someone who prefers to please his partners more than please himself, it seems like tonight he’s impatient.

“Seems like someone’s been wanting this,” chuckles Clive as he spreads your lower lips a little to inspect you. “You’re already so soaked. All I did was tease you a little. Founder, you’re as depraved as I am.” His hot breath hits your wetness as he speaks, never once pressing his lips against you. You jolt a little at the feeling, a soft huff escaping your lips.

“You started this mess,” You tell him, your fingers already gripping in his hair. “You finish it.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips. Clive is impatient, though, and he wastes no time in pressing his lips right against your dripping entrance. His tongue is relentless here just as it was on your skin; it wastes no time in slipping inside of you, as he starts to drink your essence and fuck you with his tongue alone. It’s almost unbearable to you, in a good way - he drinks like a man starved.

Clive is so good to you, but he knows how to be so cruel, because he knows you enjoy it. He knows how easily you melt on his tongue, and he enjoys every single moment of it.

His fingers slip in as well, two of them pumping in and out as he moves upwards a little, finding your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks at it and you feel the smirk against your entrance as soon as you squeak and moan from his actions. He licks, sucks, his movements becoming faster with each second that passes. You’re trying so hard to swallow back your moans, but the moment his lips wrap around your clit and give it a hard suck, you can’t control your volume anymore. It echoes off of the walls, embarrassingly so, but your mind is so fogged that you don’t seem to care like you usually would.

The knot in your lower stomach painfully tightens, you can feel yourself reaching your peak as Clive continues to tease your clit and thrust his fingers in and out of you. Just as you’re about to find your release, though, he abruptly stops. He pulls himself off of you, his fingers are coated with your essence.

“Clive–” You begin to whine, almost in pain. You stop yourself short when you watch him lick his fingers clean - slowly, like he’s putting on a show for you. Once they’re clean, he looks at you as though he’s a predator who has caught prey in his trap. The slight darkness of the room makes his cerulean eyes have a glow to them. The knot in your stomach returns.

He intends to devour you, his way. He’s going to drag this out, until you’re begging and crying for release.

Clive crawls back onto the bed, his hands moving to undo all of the leathers and fabric of his clothing, until he’s as bare as you are. His cloak and shirt go first, dropping onto the ground until his chest is revealed to you. Greagor, you could probably write several missives about Clive’s chest and muscles, but despite what your lover may say, you’re not that depraved. You keep all of those thoughts to yourself, like a good advisor should. Your eyes drift down with his hands, watching as they fumble a little with his belt, stifling a laugh from how needy and excited he is.

You stop laughing once he finally does undo his belt and pull his pants down, revealing his hard cock to you. You’ve seen it before, it’s been inside of you multiple times now, but you still hitch your breath when you see it. The gods certainly graced Clive with something to brag about, for certain. 

If you ever do meet Ultima maybe you should thank him for giving his vessel something that would make you cross your eyes and forget your own name, but something tells you a narcissistic god obsessed with the purity of his vessel may not appreciate the sonnets a mere mortal would write about said vessel’s cock.

Pre-cum dribbles at the tip, his fingers coated in a mix of his saliva and your juices as he uses it to his advantage to stroke himself a little, to really give you a show now. You hear yourself panting, your chest heaving up and down as you watch the sinful sight before you.

“Enjoying yourself?” Clive smirks, smugness in his voice.

You huff a little in response. “I’ll only enjoy myself when you actually fuck me instead of showing off, Rosfield.”

He laughs a little, leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “As my faithful advisor commands.”

You have no time to respond, as he quickly flips you so you’re on your stomach, face slightly pressed against the pillow beneath you. He presses his front against your back, the tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds teasingly. Your needy whine and rear thrusting back to try and get him inside of you earns a laugh from him, but thankfully he’s not intensely cruel tonight. He presses inside of you, though it’s not as slow as he normally is. Normally he takes his time with you, but in just seconds he’s got his entire length inside of you. You feel the way his body shudders against your back, your soaked walls clenching around him. A sigh passes your lips, morphing into a moan. 

You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him.

His thrusts are slow at first, but it doesn’t take him long for him to pick up his speed. His hips meet your backside, a wonderful symphony of skin slapping against each other fills the room, loud enough to make your ears burn with embarrassment. You bury your face in the pillow to muffle your moans. A hand wraps itself around the back of your neck, though, to pull you up towards its owner. Clive’s heavy breath is in your ear now, worsening your arousal.

“Don’t hide your voice from me,” pants Clive, sharp teeth nibbling at your earlobe. “I want to hear you.”

And you find that you can’t deny him. Your moans are loud, needy, your knuckles turning white from how roughly you’re gripping the sheets to the point where they might tear. His other hand snakes down your stomach, reaching your lower half, and his fingers make work on your clit. It’s a slow rub, his thrusts contrasting the gentleness of his fingers. You can feel yourself reaching your peak, you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening until–

Until he pulls right out of you.

You whine, loudly, at the loss. Your walls clench at nothing, and you try to thrust yourself back towards him, but Clive doesn’t let you do that. Instead, he flips you both again - him on his back and you sitting on his lap. He looks up at you with a smile, his hand running up and down your stomach once more.

“I know exactly what you like.” The outlaw says, pulling you forward so his cock rests right against your stomach. You feel how hot it is, how hard it is, and how it throbs and pulsates against your skin. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Oh, he’s definitely dragging this out as long as he can. You can’t exactly blame him, you don’t want this to end either. 

But you also really need to reach your peak, otherwise you may burn the whole Hideaway down.

Your wobbly legs manage to hold yourself up, slowly moving down on him. Your whole body shudders as his cock fills you up again, the tip pressing against the deepest parts of your inside. You move up and down on his length, moans and pants spilling from your lips as you decide to not hide your voice any longer - because he wants to hear you. And you can’t deny him, because you don’t want to deny him.

“Founder, your voice alone drives me mad.” Clive growls, his hand squeezing your thigh as he thrusts upwards to meet your own movements. “Tried to focus on my work, tried to put you out of my head for days, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you blissed out on my cock–”

He’s rambling, his voice low and rough, and you love every second of it. Clive’s not much of a talker, but when he is, he makes you feel so depraved for him. Your legs were starting to shake and feel weak already, but you push yourself - you push yourself because you want this. Because you need this from him, just as much as he needed this from you.

“Clive,” you chant his name like a prayer, over and over again. You must sound delirious.

But Clive clearly doesn’t seem to mind, the way his back arches a little just from the sound of your sweet voice. It’s a powerful feeling, you realize, having such a powerful man like him weak at you - a mere mortal, a bearer but not a Dominant. Yet, it’s a good reminder that beneath everything, Clive is a mortal man as well.

“Can you feel me, sweetheart?” He places his hand on your lower stomach, feeling the way it bulges a little from the sheer size of him. You look down, shuddering at the sight as he continues to thrust upwards, your eyes following how the bulge disappears then reappears. “You take me so fucking well. It’s like you were made for me, the way you shake your hips like a woman at the Veil.”

You can’t respond, any time you try to all that fumbles from your lips are moans and whines of pure pleasure.

“I can get so deep into you like this,” groans Clive, his other hand grasping at your hip. “All the way into you. Fuck, I could breed you right here. I could make you swell with my child.”

Oh, that’s different.

And it’s clearly a good different, the way your body responds. Your walls clench around him, as if your body had a mind of its own, as if your body was begging for the man to breed you. He notices too, and he licks his lips and smirks once he realizes you may enjoy the idea as he did.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Another thrust upwards. His thrusts are getting sloppier and rougher, but Greagor does it feel so good. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, seeing you like that. I’d fuck you every single day–”

You moan, so lecherously. “Clive, fuck, I’m going to cum!”

Both hands grab at your hips, fingers digging and sinking into your skin so hard you know there’s going to be some bruising there in the morning. But you don’t care. All you care about is the man underneath you, and chasing after your own release. Clive makes you move faster onto him, a growl rumbling from his throat.

“Go on, let yourself go.”

You were already so overstimulated from the foreplay from before, and the way his cock brushes against your sweet spots and bashes against the entrance to your womb, you can’t help it. Your walls tighten around him, and you let yourself go.

Another growl rumbles from his throat, this time he pulls you right down onto him, hard. It doesn’t take him long to follow you into a blissful climax, his hot seed pouring into you and flooding your insides. It’s a lot, more than usual, to the point where it floods out from your entrance and onto him.

You collapse onto him, and he instantly takes you in his arms. Slowly, he flips your positions again, just so he can press himself deeper into you. Thank the Founder, because your legs were about to give out.

A moment passes, until he finally pulls himself out from you. His blown out pupils watch as his seed overflows from you, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. He shudders at the sight, and you can’t help but shudder as well.

You’re fading in and out of existence, but when you mostly come to, Clive has wiped you and him down, cleaning you up and gently pressing kisses against any marks he’s left on you. The sheets will unfortunately have to wait until tomorrow. Frankly, you could give less of a shit about that.

The outlaw slumps himself against you, pulling you into his arms. You both lay there in a comfortable silence, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you.” His voice trembles, a little embarrassed - that’s the Clive you know. “I’ll, uh, make sure Tarja prepares a herbal tea for you tomorrow, so that you don’t…” He trails off, hiding his face against your neck even more now.

You chuckle, feeling the hotness of his cheeks against your skin. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” answers the male as he lifts his head up with a smile. “Much better. You always seem to know how to cure my worries and needs.”

“What can I say? I know my boss pretty well.”

He laughs, and your heart feels so warm, so in love with the man before you. Clive leans in, pressing his lips against yours to share a sweet, innocent kiss that contrasts the sinful act you both just partook in. And you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him. You only stop when you feel something hard rub against your thigh, pulling back to see he was still pretty aroused. He’s a little sheepish at that, but he looks at you in want, in need - and love, as always.

“I don’t think one time is going to be enough for you, big guy.”

A sheepish laugh falls from his lips. “I don’t think so either. I might need a few more rounds. That is, if my faithful advisor is up to it.” 

He’s challenging you, clearly. The smirk on his face tells you all you need to know. You smirk back, bucking your hips against his to accept.

“Only if you do most of the work.” You tell him, a leg going in to wrap itself around his waist. “You made me weak in my knees, Lord Rosfield. A gentleman should take some responsibility for his actions.”

His low chuckle reaches your ears, as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. It’s a tender action, one that definitely makes you feel weak in the knees - if you hadn’t already. It doesn’t take him long to reenter you, and you can’t hide the shudder of your slightly overstimulated body. 

But you want everything he has to offer, the good and the bad of Clive Rosfield, and he’ll give it to you. 

Because he wants everything you have to offer, the good and the bad of his faithful advisor, in return.

“As you wish, my love.”

He claims your lips. The night goes on.

“Somethin’ seems to be on your mind.”

Jill looks towards the source of the voice. Gav stands next to her, arms crossed as he meets her gaze with a raised brow. The Dominant says nothing to him, only slowly returning her gaze to where she once was looking. Gav’s line of sight follows hers, landing right on the scene that was unfolding before them.

“Clive, I’m trying to do work!”

Hideaway’s poor advisor was currently trying to shake an overgrown Cid the Outlaw off of them, who has currently draped himself over you. It had been a single day since you had returned from your trip and needless to say, Clive was acting as though you had been gone for years. Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against yours.

“Nothing is stopping you from doing your work,” is all Clive remarks with, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Except for a fucking overgrown dog!”

Gav whistles at the sight before him. “Someone seems to be in a good mood.”

“Indeed,” nods Jill, her gaze never leaving the both of you. Right now you were trying to walk away, which resulted in you basically having to drag the second Eikon of fire around because he refused to let himself off of you. “But, I can’t help but wonder if this is worse than the mood he was in before.”

The scout shrugs his shoulders. “Our advisor has dealt with worse from him. And we don’t have to deal with him slobberin’ all over us, so I’d say a good mood is better than nothin’.”

The woman says nothing. She knows it’s going to be a few days before Clive will return to his normal self, if your theory about why he’s been moody all week rings true. Such things don’t end with a simple, pleasurable night. You’ll be fine, she knows that, so she’s not too worried that you won’t be able to handle Clive Rosfield.

It’s in your job description, after all.

( she’ll still pray to metia for you, at the very least, and hope you come out unscathed. )

[arendaes]

same ghosts in a new home

I've been trying to find some writing prompts to turn to when I want to write but don't know what, and when these prompts passed by my dash earlier I knew I found the list to pull from. I used a random number generator to pick which prompt to write. Up first we have:

same ghosts in a new home (961 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Rating: T for implied sexual activity (nothing graphic)

Ship: The Commander/Daeran/Woljif

Other notes: Second Person POV

In some of the books you’d read in the past, you’d run into descriptions of the lingering effects of an argument. You’d always dismissed them as poetic hogwash. But now, as you stand in the middle of the sitting room of our new home, you could swear there was an echo, the last vestiges of heated words and raised voices falling back through time to haunt you. 

Truthfully, you're not sure what you said to set Woljif off, or why I was upset with your refusal to apologize. We knew what you were like by now, and you thought you were being nice. Though, if you're being honest with yourself, you know how your words can land more like poisoned barbs than playful jabs. This fight might not be entirely your fault, but you're not completely innocent in it either. 

With a sigh, you turn towards the liquor cabinet, situated right next to the stairway you once sat in waiting for us to join you in. You remember the soft words and the heated embraces, reminders that your melancholy was as ephemeral as it was unfounded. Even now, the memory brings a small smile to your lips. “You will never pale into insignificance.” “You're stuck with us, Your Excellency.” 

To the hells with it. Abandoning your original trajectory, you turn towards the door. Judging by the light filtering in through the window, you have a couple hours yet before the sun goes down. Perhaps you have a plan, perhaps you just want some fresh air. Either way, you’re out of the house before you even realize it. 

****

Now, as for you, Woljif, you had stormed out of the house into the backyard. It was still mostly an overgrown ruin, a choking tangle of weeds and debris that I intend to one day transform into a garden bursting with life. The only thing of note was the small part of the Sellen River that flowed through it, a sliver of pure, bubbling water that you once spent an evening frolicking in with Daeran and I. The memories are pleasant, and the guilt that pervades you at their arrival is entirely unwelcome. 

With an aggravated sigh, you pull one of your daggers out of its holster. Even now it’s a habit to make sure you’re armed. Maybe there will come a day when you don’t feel the need, and when it comes, that’s how you’ll know you’ve truly lost your edge. With a frown, you toss the knife at a nearby stump. It sticks with a loud thud, not unlike the sound the door made when you slammed it come out here. 

Your edge…that’s what this about. Just two years ago you were still running with the Family and scrabbling to get by day to day. Now, here you are, married to two of the most prestigious people in the country and the beginnings of a home to call your own. This is something you should be happy about, and you are! But there is a part of you that feels like you’re betraying everything you’d ever known, stabbing the boy you once were in the back for the first shred of kindness and love that had been shown to you. 

You pull the dagger free, all the anger in your veins dying as the blade comes loose from the wood. Daeran didn’t mean anything by it, but the quip had been phrased just right, careless in the way only someone who’d never faced such hardship could be. Now you know that the wounds of your past still stung.

Taking a deep breath, you flop onto the stump, staring out into the sunlit water. Just a few more minutes, then you’ll be ready to go back inside. Whether it’ll be to make amends or fan the flames again, you’re not sure. But judging by the loose grip you have on your dagger, you are so much more tired of holding grudges than you realized. 

****

At least, I want to believe these are the thoughts that ran through both of your heads. Earlier, when Daeran’s comment landed poorly and led to the most explosive fight I’d seen you two have since the Crusade, I’d felt perfectly useless. All of us still carry the ghosts of our past, and we’d spent so long trying to bury mine that I’d forgotten that you two still had yours to deal with. Words cannot describe how inadequate I felt as a partner in that moment.

Now, the three of us are lying on the floor of the living room, my shortcomings only still plaguing my own mind. You two had made up hours ago, and we carried on our evening in the way newlyweds are wont to do. But as you two drifted off to sleep, I found myself lying awake, haunted by my own, brand new ghost - the one borne of fear that one day I’d lose both of you. I’d been so wrapped up in the tangible ways that could happen, I didn’t realize all the other ways it could happen. 

The two of you lie on either side of me, your hands clasped below my breasts as your breathing evens out. The floor is far from comfortable, and the throw pillows from the couch aren’t much better, but just being here with you two…it doesn’t make it more comfortable, but there’s no other place I’d rather be. The crackling fire wants to lull me to sleep, and I know I should rouse you two before morning comes and the housemaid finds the three of us lying here naked. But for the moment, I am just savoring this moment, and thinking of ways we can help our ghosts to play nicely together in our new home.

[demonicbaby666]

heya if u have the time could I request a jj x female bau member reader with hurt/comfort? I was thinking something along the lines of jj helping the reader bandage their own wounds. Thanks!

Bandages

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader

Genre: comfort/fluff

Words: 2k+

Warnings: mentions of neck wound, brief mentioning of blood

Summary: JJ helps you clean your wounds and looks after you after sustaining injuries in the field.

A/n: I hope this lives up to your expectations! It’s nothing too angsty and I tried to keep the mentions of blood and gore to a minimum and focus on the comfort side of stuff <3

The rain. It’s cold on your face. Raindrops roll down your cheeks, trickling down from your hair down to your chin. It’s refreshing, if not a little uncomfortable. It’s nice, though, to feel the roars of the sky fall upon your skin and coat it with a shimmer reflected only on the side of your face from the light inside.

Hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into a full chest, contrastingly warmer to your back, that is now soaking wet having collected each droplet of rain as though it were a rare coin worth millions.

“What are you doing out here?” JJ asks. Her hand rests over the cotton bandage sticking to your neck, “You can’t get this wet.”

Without meaning to, you flinch, then relax back into the body of the woman you know will always catch you.

“Hey,” you whisper your reply, turning in the warm embrace, making sure not to break away from it or tempt JJ to loosen her grip in any way. You’d never tire of looking into those azure eyes, feeling your feet tingle under their warm gaze. A gaze filled now with worry and wonder.

“Hey,” she scans you over quickly, not quick enough that you don’t notice, but you let it slip, “ready to come in?”

The rain begs you to stay with each pitter and each patter against concrete. You want to stay, yet it’s something else inside you that says no. It’s the feeling of knowing something that feels this good, in excess, can do more harm than not, like candy.

JJ hadn’t likely meant to instil this message or the sudden revelation you were having when simply asking whether you were ready to come back in. Nonetheless, she had, and it wasn’t unwelcome. JJ had a way of doing that, secretly, telepathically or unknowingly. She broke down walls you didn’t you had up, and you loved her for it.

“Yes,” you nod and offer a smile.

Her fingers intertwine between your own as she returns your smile with one of her own, and though it’s pitiful and lacks the energy of her usual smiles, you appreciate it.

She pulls the both of you into the warmth of the house, and you close your eyes for a few moments, feeling the blood in your veins warm up, and the goosebumps on your arms settle. When you open your eyes, you see JJ scanning your body again, spending extra time on your soaked bandages and healing wounds that didn’t require covering.

JJ’s headstrong, she always has been, she’d call it resilience, whereas some would say stubborn, but either way, you’d never minded it when it was so easy to see past it. With her looking you over, you know she wants to help, mainly because it had killed her to know she couldn’t prevent what had happened.

“They’re wet,” you point out, following her gaze, “Help me change them?”

To say she was beaming at the opportunity would be inaccurate, but her smile changes from sorrowful to hopeful. It feels more genuine, and your heart swells at the sight of it.

Since the attack happened, JJ watched you change with each passing day. She saw your smile fade and your energy level dissipate. So, to hear you wanted to take care of yourself, with her help or even for her benefit, is a victory.

“I’ll get the stuff,” she begins to walk away, stopping momentarily before turning back around with a sudden purpose and longing in her eyes, “I could help you shower before we change the dressings. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable if we get all that dried blood and grub off you.”

She’s not wrong. A shower would help. It’s the fact you’d have to come face-to-face with the damage done that's prevented you from doing so. And for some reason, anything you should be doing to look after yourself seemed the worst thing imaginable.

You look at her, the word ‘no’ dancing on your lips, but seeing the hope in her eyes makes you feel like saying it would just about shatter your heart.

“A shower couldn’t hurt,” you run your hands through your wet wire-like hair, “I guess I need one…”

She chuckles, and it’s like hearing pure sunshine. The brush of bright yellow splattered across a blacked-out canvas. For the first time in days, you feel that the grin on your face is genuine. It’s something you want more and more of; it’s been bubbling under the surface for days - that feeling of hopelessness - and that laugh has saved you, provided you that droplet of hope that you can cling to.

You take her hand, and things seem that little bit brighter, that little bit easier, and you fall that little bit more in love with the woman pulling you upstairs.

Honey. It was one of the first things you noticed about JJ; she smelt like honey and vanilla. Luckily it was something that, despite a year of dating, had yet to change. It was three months into the relationship when you realised it was her hair that smelt like honey because of her shampoo and her body like vanilla because of her body wash. Body wash that she was now gently and ritualistically lathering all over your body.

There’s something innately intimate about showering with someone, especially when anything sexual did not enter that small steamy cubicle, when wandering hands only had the purpose of cleaning and when love-filled eyes only looked into one another with unspoken words of affection and encouragement.

JJ’s hands run through your hair, distributing honey-scented goodness through each lock, then return to massage your scalp. There was nothing you could do to prevent yourself from closing your eyes and falling back into her for the second time that night. Hot water streams down the front of your body as the smell of JJ engulfs you, and you let her surround you, contently humming.

“You okay, baby?” JJ asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She laughs, and god, that laugh. The piping-hot water pales compared to the sheer heat that radiates and coats your body when you hear that laugh.

After the shower, JJ walks you to the bed, insisting you get into your pyjamas and lay comfortably in bed. Once convinced, she makes her way back to the bathroom, and you listen, whilst changing, to her gathering the needed bits and bobs.

When she returns, you bite your bottom lip, trying not to laugh. Instead, you smile in awe as JJ walks towards you, trying to carry a whole hospital's worth of medical supplies. You dare not say anything because, after all, it’s JJ, and you know she wants nothing more than to be thorough.

She holds the disinfectant spray in her hand as though she is scared of it, and she thinks she's doing an excellent job of masking her hesitance. To her credit, she probably is. It's only that you've known her so long you can notice her moving ever so slightly slower and gripping into the bottle tight enough for a while tinge to appear over her knuckles.

“Ready?” the question, you have a feeling, isn't only aimed your way. Nevertheless, you nod along with her, and she studies her hand.

“Ready.”

JJ sits beside you on the edge of the bed and starts removing your gauze bandages, prioritising the one on your neck. It’s unmistakable. She looks at the wound, battling her own intuition knowing what will happen. She looks anyway, her eyes sadden, and her shoulders slump.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you tell her, placing your water-wrinkled hand atop hers, “It could have been any of us.”

“But it was you,” tears start to form in her eyes. She continues, “And I couldn’t protect you.”

Her tears seconds ago were born of sadness, yet now with her jaw clenched and her hand balled into a fist, it is evident sadness is no longer the predominant emotion.

“I should have been faster; I should have figured things out quicker; I should have-”

You cut her off, and she thanks you as her body relaxes into the sudden but welcome kiss. After you're sure her tears are dried, and her jaw is relaxed, you finish the kiss with one final peck and sigh against her lips.

“I'm okay now, and that's what matters,” you lean your furrowed forehead to JJ’s, “you found me. You saved me, JJ.”

“I’m supposed to be the one looking after you, and here you are trying to make me feel better.” she sniffles as she finally smiles again. It's a welcome sight.

You bring your hands to her tear-stained cheeks, taking your time to admire - despite having just been crying - how beautiful she is. When she sniffles again and shoots you a curious look, your heart swells, and your head drops to the side in awe.

“We take care of each other,” and by no means did JJ make looking after her an easy task, but you took the challenge every time, “and we always will.”

Prying one hand away from her face, you wriggle your pinky in front of her. She rolls her eyes but smiles, lets out an amused huff of air from her nose, and then somewhat playfully grapples onto your finger with her own.

“Always,” she says with sureness in her eyes and a sudden straightening of her spine before kissing your forehead. Her gaze lowers back to your neck, “let's finally change these.”

The hesitance previously displayed was nowhere to be seen. Now JJ moved with confidence and a kind of expertise. She pulls the gauze plaster entirely off your neck, rubbing away any leftover tacky bits left from the glue; they seem to bother her more than they bother you as she starts waging war on them, trying and failing not to rub a little harder than necessary.

She then sprays the disinfectant around your stitches, cleaning the surrounding area. Only twice, the cotton pad brushed against your wound, causing you to grimace, but you smile the second you see JJ grimace along with you. The look on her face is priceless and causes both of you to burst out laughing.

“I love you,” you whisper once the laughter dies down, “thank you.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and you worry, but you see why her attention is elsewhere. Her bottom lip is wedged between her teeth, and she’s squinting at the numbers on the plastic packaging in her hands.

“It's this way,” you try to show her how to open it, and it's funny because she could do this sort of thing with her eyes closed, yet she slaps your hand away and continues to read. It's endearing, really, that she wants to make sure she's doing everything by the book, but the air is beginning the irritate your wound, and if it's not covered in two seconds, you might just-

“There!” JJ proudly exclaims, peeling the plastic layers away and covering up your wound, “Oh, and I love you too, and you're welcome.”

She's happy. She's proud. And though you were close to ripping your stitches out, it seems unimportant because JJ’s taking care of you, and more importantly, she wants to. So, you push your impatience aside and close your eyes as she cleans your other wounds and redresses them with the utmost care, and by the time she’s finished, you feel yourself floating off the bed in a tranquil state.

JJ sneaks away to dispose of all the old bandages and scarlet-coated swabs. When she returns, she slips onto the bed behind you, slides her legs beside your thighs and wraps her arms around your waist. Her nose nuzzles into your hair, and though you don’t see, you feel her lips curl as she smells her shampoo in your wet hair. Closing your eyes, you settle back into her, brushing your cheeks to her forehead and breathing in honey, letting the scent calm and wash over your whole body.

“I could fall asleep like this.” You mumble into her hair.

“I don’t think my back would thank you for it if you do,” JJ banters, her warm breath tickling your neck and warming your cheeks with a crimson hue, “but I’d do it for you.”

Pulling yourself forward and turning in JJ’s arms, you place a feather-light kiss on her soft lips. She responds quickly, tightening her grip and pulling you closer so there is no remaining space between your two bodies. Her lips move languishingly but purposefully.

“Bed?” you breathlessly murmur over her lips.

“Bed.” she eagerly nods.

Tags: @aws-l @babygirlscout @red1culous @7thavenger @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @12fluffybunny12 @asensitivecookie @summoned-lust-demon @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @imlike-so-gaydude | click here to be added to my taglist

[rebelliousstories]

Pine Cone

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1,336

Masterlist: Here

Summary: Jake decides that he is going to show his girlfriend the lovely Seresin family holiday tradition of making a pine bonfire in the backyard.

You would think for a southern state, Texas does not get cold during winter, but you would be wrong. No, they do not have blankets of snow, but it is still cold. And there are many different ways of keeping warm on those cold nights. You could bundle up or stay indoors, but not the Seresin family. They had a rather enjoyable family tradition.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this. We’ve been doing this since we were kids, babe!” Jake exclaimed as he drove his truck down the gravel road to his family home. The woman in his passenger seat giggled as she watched her boyfriend get excited about visiting his family for the holidays. Getting the leave from the navy to do this was difficult enough, coupled with the fact that they had several wrecks and events that prolonged the already long drive from California to Texas, she was just glad to see the house in view finally.

“You really think they’ll like me?” She wondered, eyes fixated down onto her hands that were fidgeting. Once they were parked, Jake turned in his seat to grab his lover’s hands. He forced her to look in his eyes instead of away, and held her.

“Of course. I especially know my mom will love you. You have nothing to worry about. And if anyone says anything to you about it, just let me know. We can leave anytime you want.” His words were so sincere that she had no other choice than to believe him. She leaned over and pecked him gently on the lips, which made him smile. However, he chased after and pressed a longer kiss to her. She could not contain her giggles as they sat there for several moments. Jake pressed his forehead against her own.

“Ready?” He whispered, closing his eyes and enjoying his time alone with his lover.

“Ready.” She confirmed, allowing her eyes to close as well. After a moment more, the couple made their way out of the truck that was parked in the gravel by the side of the house, and up to the front door. Jake grabbed her hand in his, and knocked with is free hand. A set of loud howls sounded shortly after the knocks, and that was the last warning before chaos ensued. Once that door opened, two large dogs bolted out of the home, and jumped straight onto Jake. He let go at the last minute to catch them, making sure that his girlfriend did not also fall over by the weight of the hounds.

A coonhound and border collie sat their wagging their tales over the body of her lover, licking and jumping over him in pure excitement. Hangman kept laughing and petting the dogs as he allowed them to get their excited energy out. As soon as the dogs eased up though, the man was still not safe. Several small children crashed into him as he tried to stand back up. However, unlike the dogs, he simply picked up as many of them as he could before walking into the home where his family was.

“We’re here!” He called out, dropping the children safely on the ground. They all ran to do something else expect for one little boy who just wanted to stay near Jake the entire time. Said man was met with lots of hello’s and people coming up to wrap him in hugs. Hangman turned around with his nephew on his back and beckoned his lover over.

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend.” His introduction prompted everyone to turn their attentions to her instead. She was greeted with open arms, literally. Everyone took the time to learn her name, and provide her with theirs, and genuinely seemed to take interest in her. Slowly, but surely, her anxiety dissipated from her thoughts until she was genuinely comfortable with everyone there. Food was passed around and stories were shared. No one made any out of line comments or made her feel unwelcome; she did not know what she was afraid of in the first place.

It all passed so fast for her, that before she knew it, she was tucked into Jake’s side on the couch nursing a drink in her hand. With her lover next to her, she fell into conversations easily with those around her. And even though she was still wearing her jacket and shoes, the cold slipped in between the layers of fabric. Jake noticed and tried his best to keep her warm, but it was just one of those nights. Those kinds of nights where cold seeps into your bones and will not leave. It seemed that a lot of the other people around were trying desperately to stay warm, but failing too.

“Momma, I think it’s time.” Jake called out as his mom tried to stoke the fire bigger. She sighed, and relented, knowing he was right. But the girl tucked into Hangman’s side was utterly confused.

“What’s going on?” She whispered as her boyfriend stood up, and pulled her to him. He placed his beanie on her head and dragged her to the back door.

“Seresin family tradition, dear. You’ll see.” And with that, the whole Seresin clan took off into the woods that encompassed their back yard. Yet, she was still confused. She did not know what they were doing out there or what she was waiting to see. Jake took her hand and led her to a large pine tree, where he stood with a large smile.

“Jake, what is going on?” She pestered. She was cold, and tired, and wanted to be warm. But Jake started to pick up pine cones and needles in his large hands.

“Grab some. Come on!” He looked like a kid in a candy store as he ran around picking up more materials. Even though she did not understand, she joined him anyways. They worked for a few minutes picking up fresh needles from branches that were low, and dried old needles from the ground that had already fallen and turned brown. Making sure the pine cones that grasped were also dry, the couple went back to where the rest of the family was slowly, but surely returning.

As everyone approached, they dumped their armfuls of tinder into the fire pit that she was now noticing. She joined Jake in dumping their own armfuls, and then he pulled her back a ways. Momma Seresin came up shortly afterwards with a lighter, and then, poof. The pit had erupted into flames as the pine caught the fire that was there. Soon enough, smoke was filtering upwards as the fire roared on, but the comforting smell of pine drifted into her nose. She watched the bonfire burn and pop as they continued on with their night. Even though they were outside, the whole family felt warmer than ever. She turned in Jake’s arms from where they sat in front of the pit, with a confused expression on her face.

“When we were kids, my siblings and I would burn the excess pine in the yard cause we didn’t need it in the compost. We’d spend the whole night out here, burning stuff, playing around, even sleeping when it got late enough. Eventually, the adults saw what we were doing and joined us. So now, it’s our little tradition. When it gets cold enough, nothing warms you up like a pine fire.” His eyes stared longingly at the fire before them, and his grin told her that he was reminiscing about his childhood.

“Well, when we get our new house, I’ll make sure we have a bonfire pit. I’ll even find somewhere to get us some pine cones.” She commented, watching his face intently. Jake chuckled lightly and turned back to the woman in his arms. He kept laughing as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her in closer. Something told her that she was about to have a lot more bonfires to sit around.

[aihoshiino]

Since you haven't yet, could you please tell us your thoughts about the recent interview with Ai? After all, it seems to reveal a lot of interesting things about her.

For those who haven't read it yet, this is referring to the four-page in character interview with Ai that was published in the January 2024 issue of Da Vinci magazine!

Off the bat, it was really interesting to get such a direct and length look at Ai's public persona as it exists in OnK. Ironically enough, despite so much of the series being about people who are unable to get past her 'Ai of B-Komachi' mask, we actually don't get a ton of time spent with it as readers — we mostly see Ai in her private life, with Saitou, Miyako and the twins, where she is considerably more unfiltered and explicitly not on the job and we even get peeks directly into her POV from our perspective as out-of-universe observers. In fact, apart from the Da Vinci interview, the only other time we see Ai 'on the job' to this degree is a really quick exchange she has with a TV presenter just before her first post-hiatus performance. So it was really interesting to chew on!

The thing that stands out to me most from the interview is kind of a confirmation of something I've been saying for a long time — which is that Ai is a lot more honest than a lot of people (both in universe and in the fandom!) give her credit for. A lot of her answers are surprisingly frank and in line with what we know to be her true feelings and her more honest way of expressing herself elsewhere. Don't get me wrong, she's absolutely full of shit in plenty of spots here (EL OH EL ABOUT B-KOMACHI'S 'IRREPLACEABLE BOND') and her answers are still very polished and pretty, but there's a lot more of Ai herself here than I think even she herself would want to acknowledge.

This matches up with how Ai describes herself in 45510 — that, even though she's afraid of opening up, she does want people to know her as she really is and to accept her as such. It's interesting to see that expressed, even indirectly, through the interview like this.

It was also super cool to see a lot of my more incidental headcanons/personal interpretations confirmed! In particular, seeing Ai talk about Kana so warmly got me really excited. I'd always liked to imagine that she felt pretty fondly towards Kana and that she admired her hard work and dedication at such a young age so seeing Ai talking about her so effusively was really cute.

Less sweet was the confirmation that Ai's shitty home life in Ayumi's house stretched way back prior to Ayumi beginning to physically abuse her. Reading Ai calling herself a 'nasty brat' (almost definitely her mom's words) and then talking about her feeling so unwelcome at home that she'd sneak out of the house in the dead of night and wander around near the traintracks, daydreaming about being able to run away… it pains a really horrible image of what growing up in that house must have been like.

Speaking of parents, though… uh, wow, holy shit, Ai's dad! This is the only direct mention of him we've ever gotten and it definitely raises more questions than it answers. Prior to this, he'd been such a non-entity in Ai's life that I just kind of assumed he'd either passed away when she was very young or that he'd never been involved in her life — Ayumi is consistently referred to as her only parent to the point that, once she's out of the picture, Ai's only other option for stable family is, specifically, her mother's relatives. The idea of Ai being cared for by her dad or his side of the family is just never addressed as a possibility, so it's clear that past a certain point he was unable or unwilling to care for her.

The Da Vinci interview does imply she saw him occasionally — she describes their shopping trips as something that 'didn't happen often' — which supports the idea that he and Ayumi divorced or separated when Ai was quite young and he wasn't really involved in her life. It's honestly kind of depressing that he's the center of her happy childhood memory because like… man, it really says something about how abjectly unrelentingly dogshit her life was that "my dad sometimes took me to the grocery store" was happy enough in comparison to everything else in her life that she thought of it as a cherished memory.

Overall, the Da Vinci interview was a really nice surprise! We don't really get a lot of additional info about Ai from that time period specifically — a lot of the new reveals about her as a character tend to come from periods of her life prior to the timeline of the story, so getting a little extra peek into her final days really was a treat.

[pintsizemama]

Heroes & Heartbreak

Chapter 20

Summary: The DEA agents attend Carrillo’s funeral, and Javi makes some very unwelcome friends.

Pairings: Javier Peña x OFC Ariana Morgan—DEA Agent and daughter of Pablo Escobar

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4,191

Warnings: language, grief, talk of death and violence…let me know if I missed anything, and I’ll happily add it here!

A/N: This is the continuation of the main storyline. I will be posting an alternate chapter 20 to go with the alternate timeline eventually.

I included conversations from the episode to help anyone who hasn’t seen it or hasn’t watched it in awhile. Sorry if it feels redundant if you’ve seen the show a million times like me.

As always, feel free to let me know if I need to correct the Spanish translations!

Chapter 19 Chapter 21 Series Masterlist Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

“Ari?” Javi said softly. No response. He sat gently next to her. She was laying in bed on her side, turned away from him. He knew she was awake—neither of them had slept the entire night. “Ari, Carrillo’s funeral is in a couple hours. Messina is getting on the chopper to head to Bogotá soon.” She just lay there, still as a corpse. “Ari, I know you’re still…processing all of this, but you’ll never forgive yourself if you miss his funeral.” When she still didn’t respond, Javi leaned forward and pressed his lips to her shoulder. “Please, querida.” He sighed heavily and stood up.

“I don’t think I can,” Ari whispered brokenly. The pain in her voice tore into his heart.

“You can, Ariana,” he said gently, sitting beside her once more. Ari rolled to her back and looked into his eyes.

“If I go…” she began in a raspy voice. “If I go, it’s real. I have to say goodbye. I have to accept that I’ll never see him again. Never share a beer. Never talk about our day, our troubles. Never hear his laugh. It’s not like when he went away to Spain. I missed him, but I always knew I’d see him again. This goodbye is forever, Javi…I just can’t.” Javi felt a tear slide down his cheek. He picked up her hand and intertwined their fingers.

“I’m not going to make you go,” he told her. “If you really cannot do it, I won’t force you. However, when some time has passed, and you’re more capable of dealing with this, I don’t want you to regret not going, so I want you to think this through. I’ll stay here with you today. Do whatever you need me to if that’s what you want.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Or, if you decide to go, then we’ll go, and I’ll hold your hand and be there for you while we say our goodbyes.”

“I thought you said you don’t do funerals,” Ari whispered.

“I don’t,” Javi replied. “The last funeral I went to was my mother’s, and I swore to never again go through that.” He looked into her eyes. “But if you want to go, I’m going with you. I won’t let you do this alone, Ari.” Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over her lashes.

“I think I should go,” she said after several silent minutes. “Juliana…sh-she’ll expect me there, and she needs all the support she can get right now.” Javi admired her ability to see past her own pain to fulfill the needs of those she cared about. He lifted her hand and kissed it.

“Ok, querida,” he said softly. “Then we’ll go.”

A couple hours later they arrived at the church. Javi was wearing is only black suit, and Ari looked beautiful and somber in a simple black dress. They entered, and Ari stopped cold. Carrillo’s closed casket was just ahead at the end of the aisle. He took her hand and squeezed gently.

“It’s alright, cariño,” Javi said softly.

“Ari?” A gentle feminine voice spoke behind them. They turned to see Steve and Connie.

“Connie?” Ari asked in disbelief. Her face crumpled, and Connie didn’t hesitate to wrap Ari up in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, Ari,” Connie whispered to her. Ari’s shoulders shook with silent sobs. Connie cradled the back of her head, and just held her. After a couple minutes Ari pulled back and composed herself.

“Hey, Javi,” Connie said, looking over at him.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Javi replied.

“I got on the first flight out when Steve called me last night and told me the news,” she said. “I had to be here for you guys.”

“We appreciate it, Connie,” Javi said with a sad smile. “We really do.” He was glad to have another trusted friend for Ari to lean on. She needed all the support she could get right now.

“Should we find seats?” Connie asked, looking around.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. They began walking down the aisle. Ari grabbed Javi’s hand once more, her eyes glued to the casket. They were about to slide into the pew when Steve stopped them.

“Juliana,” he pointed a few rows up. Ari’s eyes snapped from the casket to where Steve was pointing. She straightened her shoulders, let go of Javi’s hand, and walked straight to Carrillo’s widow. He could see her putting up her walls to stay strong for Juliana. Javi, Steve, and Connie followed behind.

“Ari,” Juliana whispered when she saw her.

“I’m so sorry, Juliana,” Ari said gently. Juliana began to cry, and Ari hugged her tight. After a few minutes Juliana pulled back to look at Ari.

“Was it quick?” She asked. “Did he feel pain?” Javi saw Ari’s throat bob as she swallowed thickly.

“It was quick,” she lied smoothly. “He wouldn’t have had time to feel pain…or be afraid.” Javi saw her hand shake slightly. He knew the toll this was taking on her. She was using every bit of energy to keep her shit together for Juliana. Carrillo’s son stepped forward.

“Ariana,” he said in a deep voice that sounded so much like Carrillo’s Javi’s heart stopped for a moment.

“Horacio,” Ari said in a thick voice. Horacio was the spitting image of his father, twenty years younger. She was close to losing it. She reached out and clasped Horacio's hand tightly. When Juliana moved over to speak to Steve, Horacio went to pull Ari in for a hug. She stopped him.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “I…I can’t. I’m sorry. I need to keep it together for your mom…if you hug me right now…” His eyes softened at her admission.

“It’s ok, Ari,” he whispered back. “I understand…but you’re allowed to fall apart.” She shook her head. “After the burial.” She nodded once. He squeezed her hand and let her go. Ari sighed, her shoulders sagging for a moment. Juliana turned back to them, her eyes glossy and full of pain.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Javi said quietly.

“Our loss,” she corrected. “You three were as much his family as us.” Javi felt raw emotion clog his throat. He had been so worried about Ari he hadn’t really taken the time to acknowledge his own grief.

“He—” Javi cleared his throat. “He was a good man…one of the best I’ve ever known.” Juliana nodded.

“We better take our seats,” Steve said. The church was filling up fast.

“You will sit with us,” Juliana insisted. The filed into the front pew together. Juliana sat between Horacio and Ari. Javi made sure to take the other seat next to Ari, Steve beside him. Connie next to Steve. Juliana clutched both her son’s and Ari’s hands the entire time. Javi held Ari’s other hand.

The funeral passed in a blur. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Ari. She was worrying him. She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t shed a tear, had barely moved a muscle. She stared straight ahead. Her eyes had that faraway look in them. Javi vaguely recalled this type of behavior being discussed in a lecture on psychology in law enforcement. It was a common occurrence for the brain to shut down or ‘go somewhere else’ during times of trauma or stress. Even though this was technically a normal reaction, Javi was still concerned. The woman he loved was falling apart, and he was completely helpless.

Javi snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed everyone standing. The service was over. They would head to the cemetery to say their final goodbyes. Ari sat still until Juliana tugged on her hand. She stood silently and followed them out of the church. Javi trailed behind them. Juliana and Horacio got into the first car, pulling Ari in with them. The door closed and Javi stood there, fear settling into his bones. He didn’t want to leave Ari, but he couldn’t exactly push his way into the car.

“Come on, man,” Steve said. “We’ll get in the one behind them.” Javi nodded and followed the Murphys. The burial was a quick, somber affair. Javi stood right behind Ari the entire time. She stood stoically next to Juliana. Horacio stood on the other side of his mother, just as stoic as Ari. Two pillars of strength for the widow to lean on…but both ready to crumble at a moment’s notice.

Juliana turned into her son and sobbed as the casket was lowered into the ground. Javi saw Ari’s stance waver slightly. He stepped forward until he was pressed right up against Ari’s back. She stiffened then leaned back into him just slightly, allowing him to carry just a small fraction of the burden of her grief.

“It’s almost done, hermosa,” he whispered. “Just hang on a little longer.” She nodded, eyes still trained on Carrillo’s casket disappearing into the earth. After what felt like hours, but was merely a few minutes, the colonel was in his final resting place. They all stepped forward one by one to toss a handful of dirt or a rose into the grave. Slowly the large group disbanded and headed back to the cars. Ari stood silently, staring into the hole, her hand smeared with dirt.

“Everyone is heading back to the house,” Steve said quietly. Javier glanced around. Most of the mourners were gone. Juliana was near the cars talking to a few people Javi didn’t recognize.

“Ariana,” Horacio called out gently. She didn’t move. “Ariana.” He touched her shoulder. She turned to him and looked up into the face that looked so much like her best friend, and she shattered. Horacio was quick to catch her as she fell into his arms. He held her close as she cried. He buried his face in her hair, and Javi could see his shoulders shaking with his own soft sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” Ari whispered brokenly. Steve and Connie stepped away to give them some privacy. Javi was torn. He didn’t want to leave Ari, but he felt he should give them some space. After a moment he decided to back off and give them time. He stood beside Connie and Steve, his hand shaking by his side.

“It’s alright, Jav,” Steve said softly. Javi turned his gaze to Steve. “She’s strong. She’ll make it though this.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” Javi said angrily. “None of this should have happened.”

“But it did,” Steve replied. “You gotta stop blaming yourself. We were all there. We all had the same information and agreed it was the move to make.”

“Carrillo asked me if I trusted her,” Javi whispered. “If I trusted the source…and I said yes. If I had said literally anything else, we wouldn’t have moved on it. Carrillo would still be here. And Ari…” He shook his head as tears filled his eyes.

“You know how Carrillo is—” Steve said and then paused—“was…how Carrillo was. Even if you flat out said you didn’t trust the source, he wouldn’t have let this opportunity go. He still would have moved on it.” Javi chewed his lip as he thought over Steve’s words.

“You’re right,” Javi agreed, “but he would have been more cautious. Things would have played out differently.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Steve countered. “Escobar had it out for Carrillo from day one. And we all know that asshole usually gets what he wants. He wanted Carrillo out of the picture, so I think this would have happened eventually regardless of what we did.” Steve huffed an exhausted sigh. “The point is, what’s done is done, Javi. We can’t change the past no matter how much we want to. Carrillo knew the risks with this job. This is not on you.” Javi just shook his head. Steve’s words meant nothing. Javi would carry Carrillo’s death with his for the rest of his life.

He turned his attention back to Ari. Her tears had stopped, but she was still held in Horacio’s arms. He was talking quietly to her. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever it was had calmed Ari down. She looked up at him and nodded. He leaned down and she stood up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Javi tamped down on the irrational jealousy that swelled up inside him. Ari stepped from Horacio’s embrace and turned to look around. Javi’s heart swelled when he realized she was looking for him. Her gaze found him seconds after his realization, and she offered him a small smile before making her way over. Javi pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She did the same and squeezed him tight.

“You ok?” He whispered.

“I will be,”she answered honestly. Javi nodded and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Everyone is gathering at the house,” Javi told her.

“I want to go back to Medellín,” Ari said.

“You sure?” Javi asked.

“Yes,” Ari replied. “I can’t do any more today.”

“Alright, baby,” he said gently. “We’ll head back now.” They said goodbye to Steve and Connie who were going to stay for the rest of the memorial and then made their way to the airport.

Once they finally made it back to headquarters Javi immediately led Ari to their room. He locked the door after the entered. Steve—wanting to spend the night with his wife—wouldn’t be back until the next day. Javi took Ari into his arms.

“I’m so proud of you, hermosa,” he whispered gruffly. “You did great today. I know Juliana and Horacio appreciated it.” Ari just nodded silently against his chest. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly.

“I want you to try to sleep,” he said. She nodded, her eyes distant. She undressed silently. Javi changed out of his suit into street clothes. Once she was just in her underwear Javi grabbed one of his t-shirts and handed it to her. She offered him a small, sad smile and pulled the shirt over her head. She turned and crawled into the bed, pulling the covers up to her shoulders and turning her back to Javi. He leaned down and, she turned her head to him. He kissed her softly on the lips and brushed the hair gently from her face.

“I’m gonna go get some coffee,” he whispered. “I’ll be back soon.” She nodded and turned away. Javi straightened up and swallowed thickly. He didn’t know what to do, but he hoped if he gave her some space she would finally sleep. He turned the lights off as he left the room. He would run over to the cafe down the street, have a coffee or two, and come back. That should be enough time for her to fall asleep.

He wasn’t at the cafe 5 minutes before a very unwelcome guest showed his face—Don Berna.

“¿Y ahora qué?” (What now?) Javi asked. “¿Qué chingadas quieres?” (What the fuck do you want?)

“Quiero ayudarlo,” (I want to help you) Berna answered.

“¿Ah, sí?” (Oh yeah?) Javi asked sarcastically.

“Venga conmigo y le muestro,” (Come with me, and I’ll show you.) Berna offered. Javi sighed heavily. What did he have to lose at this point? They needed all the help they could get after losing Carrillo. Javi followed Berna out to his car and got in. The two men remained silent during the trip outside the city. When they pulled up in front of a mansion Javi still had no idea what Berna was up to. He followed him into the house and down a flight of stairs. The stairs opened up into a fancy rec room. To his surprise, he was greeted there by Judy Moncada and the Castaño brothers.

“Agente Peña,” Judy greeted him. “Bienvenido a Montecasino.” (Agent Peña. Welcome to Montecasino) She gestured to the table in front of her. It was covered with photos. “Algunos conocidos suyos, ¿cierto, Agente Peña?” (I’m sure you recognize some of these people, right, Agent Peña?) Javi glanced down to see practically everyone Escobar had ever been associated with.

“Parace que se robó el álbum familiar…Señora Moncada,” (It looks like you raided the family’s album…Mrs. Moncada.) Javi said quietly.

“Por favor, dígame Judy,” (Please, call me Judy) she insisted. “A ver,”(Let me tell you)—she picked up a picture of Pablo— “le cuento antes de que este hijo de puta matara a mi esposa y a mi hermano, todo esta gente” (before this son of a bitch killed my husband and my brother, all these people)—she put down the picture and gestured to the others— “era amiga mía. ¿Cómo le parece?” (were my friends. What do you think of that?)

“Pues, me parece que ha hecho amigos nuevos, ¿no?” (Well, it looks to me like you made some new friends, no?) Javi said with a nod towards the Castaños.

“Digamos que tenemos un objetivo común,” (We might say that we share a common goal) Judy replied with a smirk. “El mismo suyo, agente Peña.” (The same as yours, Agent Peña.)

“¿Cierto?” (Is that right?) Javi asked quietly.

“Sí,” Judy whispered. Javi stared at her, his mind racing. Was she really implying what he thought she was? He saw it in her eyes. What the fuck? She actually expected him to work with her and those lunatics. He smirked in disbelief.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he grunted. He turned to leave , but his path was blocked by Berna.

“Esprate, Javier,” (Hold on, Javier) Berna insisted. “Yo quiero que tú escuches lo que te queremos decir.” (I’d like you to listen to what we have to say.)

“Usted tiene tantas ganas de atrapar Escobar como nosotros,” (You want to catch Escobar, just like we do.) Carlos Castaño began. “No nos digamos mentiras,” (But let’s not lie to ourselves,)—he stood and walked towards Javi and Judy—“usted no se le ha podido acercar ni un poquito. La única ficha que usted tenía para eso era Carrillo. Y ya sabemos cómo terminó, ¿cierto?” (You haven’t been able to get close to him. The only play you had to get to him was Carrillo. And we know how that ended, right?) Javi suppressed a flinch at the mention of his fallen friend. What the fuck did they care about his fight against Escobar? They spent their time terrorizing communists in the jungle.

“¿Entonces se están tomando un recesivo de quemar pueblos?” (So, you’re taking a break from burning down villages?) Javi asked sarcastically.

“Vea, lo que nosotros hacemos es cubrir la ausencia del estado,” (See, what we do is fill in for an absent government) Carlos replied.

“Vamos a acabar con todo la gente cercana de Escobar, uno por uno,” (We’re going to kill everyone close to Escobar one by one.) Judy told him. “Hasta que se quede solo. Sin nada.” (Until he’s alone. With nothing)

“Nosotros queremos, señor Peña,” (What we want, Mr. Peña)—Fidel finally spoke from his seat—“que Pablo Escobar entienda que no es intocable. Queremos que sienta miedo.” (is to make Pablo Escobar understand he is not untouchable. We want him to be afraid.)

“Solo hay un pequeño problema,” (There’s just one small problem.) Judy cut in. Javi raised his eyebrows.

“¿Solo uno?” (Just one?) He asked sarcastically.

“Que para agarrarlo necesitamos toda esa tecnología satelital y espionaje que tiene su gobierno, agente Peña,” (To catch him, we need the satellite technology surveillance that your government has, Agent Peña.) Judy told him. Jesus, the fucking gall of this woman. She actually expected him to hand over classified government information. Not only could he lose his job, he would end up in jail if he did this.

“¿Y eso se lo pongo en sus manos yo?” (And I’m just going to hand that over to you?) Javi asked incredulously.

“Si usted y yo somos socios hace rato, agent Peña,” (We have been partners for awhile now, Agent Peña) Judy informed him. “Toda la información que le dio Berna se la di yo.” (All the information that he gave to you, I gave to him.) Javi looked to Berna, who nodded, confirming Judy’s words. “Simplemente estamos haciendo…un pequeño ajuste.” (We are simply making…a small adjustment.) They all watched Javi closely. There was no fucking way he could do this. Taking info from Berna was one thing…betraying the confidentiality of his country was another.

“Una cosa más,” (One more thing) Carlos said lowly, “hay otra manera de llegar a Escobar... otra persona cercana a él. Alguien que significa mucho para él.” (there is one other way we can get to Escobar...one other person close to him. Someone who means a great deal to him.) Javi’s stomach dropped. They were talking about Ari.

“Su pareja es una mujer muy hermosa, señor Peña,” (Your partner is a very beautiful woman, Mr. Peña.) Fidel added ominously. “Me encantaría conocerla algún día... tal vez pronto.” (I would love to meet her one day...maybe soon.)

“La dejas fuera de esto,” (You leave her out of this) Javi warned them. His heart was racing. They didn’t hold Ari to the same standard Escobar did. She wasn’t their family…they didn’t care what happened to her. And she wouldn’t even have the protection of the DEA. The Castaños didn’t give a shit about US retaliation. They would skin Ari alive just to hurt Escobar.

He picked up the drink Judy had poured for him and finished it in one gulp.

“Gracias por el trago,” (Thanks for the drink.) Javi said and put the glass down. He turned and walked out, hitting Berna with his shoulder as he passed him. He was pissed. Berna had kept this information hidden from him. He never would have gotten involved if he had known who was truly behind the information…

That wasn’t true though, was it? Javi wanted to take Escobar down—now more than ever. After seeing Ari shatter last night, he wanted to end this. For her, for Carrillo, for everyone. And now Ari was a possible target. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Even if it meant he would lose his job—or worse—he had to protect her. He made his way outside and lit a cigarette. Berna joined him a moment later.

“Mucha estupidez para mi gusta,” (Too much stupidity for my liking.) Javi told him.

“Los Castaños nos sirven para un propósito,” (The Castaños can be useful) Berna replied.

“Estaba hablando de ti,” (I was talking about you) Javi corrected. Berna turned to him.

“Sí, Javier,” Berna said. “Yo soy narco y creo en el honor y la lealtad, así como vos.” (I’m a narco. And I believe in honor and loyalty, like you.) The front door opened behind them, and Judy walked out. “Pablo no.” (Pablo doesn’t.)

“Berna, tráete el carro,” (Berna, go get the car.) Judy ordered. Berna left and Judy approached Javi with a sigh. “¿Regáleme pues un cigarrillo?” (Are you going to give me a cigarette?) Javi handed her a cigarette and lit it. “Pues, sí…A nosotros realmente nos interesa que usted se dé cuenta, agent Peña, del potencial que tiene la propuesta que le estamos haciendo…hmm? Porque, pues sí…toda la información del mundo no va a hacer que usted deje de ser un policía, ¿cierto?” (Well…we really want you to realize, Agent Peña, the potential of what we’re offering you…hmm? Because, well…with all the information in the world, you still have to be a policeman, right?) Javi just stared at her. “Yo sé lo que se siente que Pablo le mate a uno alguien cercano.” (I know what it feels like when Pablo kills someone close to you.) She held up a small, folded piece of paper.

“Qué es eso?” (What’s that?) Javi asked.

“Una información muy valiosa para usted,” (Information that would be very valuable to you.) she replied. “Que fue muy fácil de encontrar para nosotros. Tenga.” (That was very easy for us to find. Take it.) Javi took the note and opened it. His eyes widened slightly.

“Se está quedando con una amiga,” (She’s staying with a friend) Judy told him. “La muchachita esa, Maritza. La que lo traicionó a usted la que hizo que mataran a Carrillo. Ahí la encuentra.” (That little girl, Maritza. The woman that betrayed you and got Carrillo killed. You’ll find her there.) Judy paused as reality sunk in. “Le dije que teníamos un enemigo común.” (I told you we have an enemy in common.) Berna drove up at that moment, and Javi walked to the car. “Si cambia de opinión, échenos una llamadita. Y recuerda... si no estás interesado en ayudarnos, estoy seguro de que el agente Morgan lo estará.” (If you change your mind, give us a call. And remember...if you're not interested in helping us, I'm sure Agent Morgan will be.) Javi’s blood ran cold as he got into the car. He couldn’t let these savages anywhere near Ari. They weren’t leaving him much of a choice.

Chapter 21

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[atv-migrated]

lil rant about how i've been feeling as of late, a state of the union address if you will

i love being here i love my muses here. being in this fandom has always been an incredible drain on my mental health and i've had to completely abandon it multiple times because it's just not been good to me or for me. i wish i could be here 24/7 and thrive but that's just not the case and the closer we get to ho/td s2 airing the worse i know it's gonna get.

i'm gonna be so very fr and say i've never felt good enough to be here. i've always felt like respect in this fandom is earned by how well you remember the books and how much you dislike the show, immediately followed by how good your aesthetic is. and that's just not me. i've got the aesthetic thing down but that absolutely came from feeling like i had to make up for what i'm lacking. i've read the books, i listened to the audiobooks while i was painting during the pandemic but like i do not remember them and it feels fucking shitty to constantly feel like because i don't remember super specific details from the books or because my muses are generally show based that i'm not good enough or that my writing just isn't enough. i don't have the time or energy to be rereading these books and taking notes in the margins like i'm in english class. the wiki is my best friend.

and i used to just interact with show based blogs but more and more i'm finding those just don't exist and i fucking get it. the energy here is rather unwelcoming at times. trying to write here feels like taking a test a lot of the time and i'm just barely passing. i feel like im getting a C maybe at best.

honestly i'm jealous y'all can retain this amount of information about the books and i probably could if i tried, lord knows i did it for h/p and marveI movies and pj/o back in the day. but i had more time then and it didn't feel like life or death as much as it does now.

idk what i hope to get out of this i just have been having a hard time being here and writing and pretending like i feel okay with the space i take up in the fandom when i don't. i love my friends i love y'alls passion it's just a lot and its an intense experience being here and i feel like no one really ever talks about that and maybe no one's experiencing it like i am and i'm just more sensitive cause i've also had a lot of like interpersonal problems with this rpc but i had something to say thats being bugging me and i've said it. and you don't have to like it but it's how i feel.

[annakabeybeh]

I'm writing this because I want to vent and this is a good place to do so (for me at least).

I've never felt so unwelcomed in a fandom before and I have been in so many in my life. I'm a kpoper so I know how toxic fandoms can be. There a few I can name from the top of my head right now but the DC one is absolutely baffling to me. I've done nothing, NOTHING at all and I feel like I'm being hated just by the sole fact that I ship something.

As a fan I'm a multishipper, I can ship my fav character with 10 other character because I just find happiness in their happiness, but in this instance that seems like a big no, no. Starting with the canon shit. Damn it, I thought as fans we can agree that sometimes what authors do might not be of justice of a character, they can be shitty things and asasinate the character. We can love something but hate some parts of it. I mean critical thinking much?

Also, the aging up/down of a character discourse feels like bullshit. "If you age down a character to ship it, you're doing character assasination" or the "if you age down a character to be shipped with another you're being disgusting" ones are absolutely the most weak and disgusting ones as the canon universe have done it SO MANY TIMES it just feel like they want to hate on something. Why they can age up Jon to be with Saturn Girl or age down Barbara to be with Dick but I cannot age down Jon to the age he should be to ship it with Damian. Also the fact that Damijon shippers are called names just for the fact that they ship something is awful. I understand there are people whose awful, disgusting discourses are being loud enough to taint the name of a ship but they keep giving them voice, just for the fucking reason to hate on the whole ship.

They say one person is being disgusting but they keep looking at their tweets to hate, dude, block and ignore so you don't give the attention they are absolutely and disgustingly looking for.

I have a rule, I get far away from things I don't like and I do not criticize (something I might be doing at this very moment but the whole ordeal has been absolutely too much for me to not vent at this moment), and I hope the same actitude towards the things I like.

I'm not saying the people here on tumblr had been like that, no, of course not, I found here so much love towards the characters an the ships and respect to one another (maybe my algorithm hadn't pushed me to the ugly side and I'm glad of it) but twitter. Twitter fans are mean, angry and hateful. All of the one I have encountered have been prejudice. I ship damijon but also Daminika, I love Nika and I wish they could give her own solo title, she's an interesting character to be reduced to only Damian love interest.

So in their opinion because I ship Damijon, I hate Nika, wrong! I like her, such a fun interesting character that deserves more spotlight to be more loved. Also it seems that by proxy I hate Talia, I love her and hate the racist characterization the writers did to her (again, not all authors do right, they make mistakes and we can just pass through them because they're awful in many ways) or I hate even Jay, oh no, on the contrary I like him and his design and the relationship he has with Jon. I can also say many of that hate can come from homofobic views in relation to Daminika (it works because it is a straight couple) but also with Jon and Jay because they aged up Jon to be with Saturn Girl but it was wrong to age him down to be with Jay.

I know there are shippers that doesn't seen the characters outside their ship, I'm not one of them and the fact that I'm a shipper and they think THAT COULD BE ME, it's insulting but I've seen there's so much prejudice around it. I like the characters by itself and as an asexual person I could ship but it's not everything a character can be, I seem them outside romantic relationships, as their own person and that's why I like them, I don't like them to ship I like them for what they are. Starting with Damian, Jon, Flatline, Dick, Kory, Babs, Bruce, Talia, Selina, etc.

I cannot get my head around all the hate towards people only trying to enjoy something they like and don't get me started on how some creators are being hated because their content ain't canon and they have to state it in everything they post so they don't get insults from people.

I love headcanons, I love AUs in which you can put the character into setting outside their own world but well narrated and well characterized but also... does all comics are well characterized, absolutely not but is canon so people just accept it? It shouldn't.

I end this rant because I need to work and I don't want to keep fueling my anger.

[librathefangirl]

JUST LEAVE A COMMENT FEST - stats

Here are my stats for @justleaveacommentfest! I had lots of fun this week. It's been a long time since I read this much fic :)

Comment goal for the week: 50

Comments left: 61

Fics read: 57

Fun fact! When I started making this post I had left 60 comments, but then a new chapter dropped for a fic I discovered this week

FULL LIST OF FICS UNDER THE CUT! Fandoms: 9-1-1: Lone Star, Glee, The Seven Deadly Sins, Nowhere Boys, Chicago Fire, Stranger Things, The Musketeers, The Owl House, Assassination Classroom, Killjoys, 6 Underground, Buddy Daddies, Lockwood & Co., 9-1-1, S.W.A.T., Lab Rats, Lab Rats: Elite Force, Yuri!!! on Ice, Supernatural, My Hero Academia, Hazbin Hotel, Dead Boy Detectives

A series of unfortunate events and an accident: that's what might make Owen's worst fears a reality. That's what might finally take his son from him. Carlos just wants to know why: why the universe keeps trying to throw these curves at them. Especially after everything; especially now that they were finally standing on steady ground. He wants to believe that what they have is stronger than anything, but it's hard to hold onto hope when the person you love the most is being taken from you—again. Or, 3x14 if things hadn't gone as well as they did. --- "going into shock" for bthb

1. bring your fears to life by brilliantbanshee

fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star | words: 5,939 | chapters: 1/1

First holidays together could bear unwelcome surprises if expectations aren't shared, April fools is no exception. Fortunately both Adam and Kurt learn they don't appreciate nor want to have anything to do with the traditional April fool's pranking. Or how a joke between them became a new Nyada's yearly tradition.

2. Been There, Done That, Lemme Be... by slyvir

fandom: Glee | words: 2,190 | chapters: 1/1

Prompt from the-ghost-sin on tumblr ***** Meliodas feels like he is stuck in a daze. Every life of hers grows shorter and he continues to live. What was living to him? He can’t bear to see her again. Not like this. He has no other options.

3. i tasted blood (and knew it was yours) by jupitermchai

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 539 | chapters: 1/1

Felix feels a little… off today. He can’t tell whether it’s the tension of there being something else outside of their little safe space or whether it’s something else but he’s felt kind of hot, and his throat has begun to feel hoarse. It can’t be that he’s sick though, there’s too much to do, too much to work out for him to be knocked out by a mere cold. (Felix gets sick, early season 1)

4. Passing Time, Getting Sick by Thisisarealtagwhy

fandom: Nowhere Boys | words: 3,495 | chapters: 1/1

“I will!” Jake said defensively, “I’m not like that anymore.” Felix smiled, “yeah I guess, you seem more how you used to be, before…”

5. Missed You by hoewhowrites12

fandom: Nowhere Boys | words: 958 | chapters 1/1

“Hey.” Felix freezes. His eyes dart over to the end of the alley and the source of the noise, and when he sees it, he almost laughs. “You couldn’t have gotten here like five minutes sooner?”

6. it's the rocks. what did you expect? by hawkeishest

fandom: Nowhere Boys | words: 1,933 | chapters: 1/1

Things had been left unsaid between Jake and Felix for far too long, it was about time they talked about it.

7. You know I'm always gonna look for your face by blossombranch

fandom: Nowhere Boys | words: 2,573 | chapters: 1/1

Ride or Die – term used to describe a person that is willing to do anything for their partner, friend or family, even in the face of danger. Five times members of the Firehouse and the public saw it and the 1 time Casey and Severide acknowledged it.

8. Ride or Die by vix_spes

fandom: Chicago Fire | words: 5,414 | chapters: 1/1

‘Are you wearing my hoodie?’ TK asks half an hour later as he strides up behind Carlos, hugs him from behind and kisses his neck. Carlos turns from the stove, where he flips pancakes, to face his fiancé and offers a smirk. ‘Good morning to you too, fiancé,’ He says, cupping TK's face in his hands and kissing him gently. ‘Couldn’t wait for me for breakfast?’ TK asks as he hops up to sit on the counter beside the stove. ‘Actually, I was planning to surprise you with breakfast in bed,’ Carlos tells him, motioning to a breakfast tray on the counter. — Carlos Reyes is determined to make his fiancé's birthday the most perfect day ever.

9. happy birthday, my love by nancygillianmvp

fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star | words: 3,216 | chapters: 1/1

“Take me! Take me,” he yells to the flashing lights, hoping the crack in his voice is loud enough to be heard on the other side. Steve knew it was an idiot move, but he couldn’t watch it happen to someone he — Jonathan drops. Nothing happens for a moment, Steve starts to run toward him. Then, he stops. Not of his own will, but because something is holding him in place. The first thing Jonathan sees is Steve floating off the ground.

10. a madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet by lovelosvers

fandom: Stranger Things | words: 1,337 | chapters: 1/1

When he gets to the kitchen, Jonathan has to blink several times to make sure he’s not seeing things. That’s not his mom, home early from work. It’s Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington, with a dish towel hanging from his back pocket, goddamn whistling over the stove while he deftly flips an omelet straight from the pan. --- In which someone makes Jonathan breakfast for a change.

11. Stay If You Want To by anything_thats_rock_and_roll

fandom: Stranger Things | words: 4,504 | chapters: 2/2

It’s not the physical pain so much as the emotional. That’s the kind that lasts.

12. Less Like Scars by Fight_As_One

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 3,944 | chapters: 1/1

Ever since his head injury, Aramis suffers from chronic migraines. This is one more area in which D’Artagnan must expand his knowledge if he wants to be part of the Inseparables' brotherhood.

13. Fearing the Unknown by groundcontrol21

fandom: The Musketeers | words: 2,356 | chapters: 1/1

Hunter hangs out with the Emerald Entrails. It has unexpected results.

14. Hanging Out Isn’t So Bad by PeridotKirishima

fandom: The Owl House | words: 2,106 | chapters: 1/1

In a heartbeat, Karma is standing over their table, snatching up the guy’s full glass of ice water, and splashing it over the owner’s head. "What the hell, dickhead?" snaps the asshole. Karma towers over the guy, glaring lazily at him down his nose. "This coming from the one that had a hand on his unwilling date’s thigh. I think I should be the one saying that to you." Or: the one where Karma rescues Nagisa from an unfortunate blind date.

15. sheets by ryuuzaou

fandom: Assassination Classroom | words: 1,534 | chapters: 1/1

TK isn't reckless he just loves deeply and will do anything to help people. It's frustrating when no one understands that. Well no one besides the only one who matters that is. TK has a bad day. Whump ensues. Carlos understands that TK is who he is and he'd never change it. Judd with his big brother vibes.

16. Who He Is by Sapphire1123

fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star | words: 2,985 | chapters 1/1

Johnny knew Dutch and D’Avin would come for him. Didn’t matter what defences this asshole had in his tooled-up crime lord compound, nothing would stop his team from getting to him. The only question was how long it would take them.

17. Counting Down by Alipeeps

fandom: Killjoys | words: 2,980 | chapters: 1/1

After their visit to Telen, some important truths came to light. D'avin thought that it was all forgotten and forgiven, water swept under the bridge, but apparently, Johnny had other ideas.

18. Sunconscious Sleep by Multifandom_damnation

fandom: Killjoys | words: 2,184 | chapters: 1/1

After a couple of days, D'avin finally gathers the courage to visit John in the hospital after he stabbed him while under Jager's control, and though he's goes expecting to get chewed out and yelled out, told how untrustworthy his betrayal had made him and how he was no longer on the team, he should have known that Johnny would have other ideas

19. Brother, you finally heard me calling (all the way across the cosmos) by Multifandom_damnation

fandom: Killjoys | words: 2,674 | chapters: 1/1

Billy remembers a scenario like this, where he falls to his death and his friends care more about the loot than his life, but maybe, just maybe, this time it will end out differently, and his life will mean more than it used to

20. What's past is present by Multifandom_damnation

fandom: 6 Underground | words: 1,506 | chapters: 1/1

Steve didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to go. He should've seen this coming, prepared for the possibility. But, really, how can you prepare for your parents kicking you out? Or, Steve's parents kick him out. He finds a new home.

21. Finding Home by Siegrrun

fandom: Stranger Things | words: 1,511 | chapters: 1/1

A burglar breaks into the Diner Nest. Too bad for him, Rei's instincts are as sharp as ever.

22. Still by oatmealcrisp

fandom: Buddy Daddies | words: 2,004 | chapters: 1/1

Lockwood got ghost touched and didn’t tell anyone. That boy’s secrets will be the death of him. Alternate 1x02 scene

23. Before Somebody Dies by Pagestealer

fandom: Lockwood & Co. | words: 1,069 | chapters: 1/1

Lockwood is injured saving Lucy and a surprising person shows up to help.

24. Racing Towards the Grave by Pagestealer

fandom: Lockwood & Co. | words: 2,023 | chapters: 1/1

"You've got to let me take him Ms. Carlyle." Still she clung to the boy as if he were a life raft in the waves. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that Barnes needed to take him, that he was trying to help. But for just a moment she couldn't bear to let him go. "Lucy," Barnes said gently. "I've got him." Lucy's fingers uncurled reluctantly and then the weight in her lap was gone and her hands were empty. Missing scene for 1x08

25. Lucky by Pagestealer

fandom: Lockwood & Co. | words: 1,672 | chapters: 1/1

Lockwood emerges from Fittes House, only to realise that Lucy isn't with them. Locklyle Week Day 3 Prompt: "Don't go where I cannot follow"

26. Die Trying by SciroccoOrion

fandom: Lockwood & Co. | words: 356 | chapters: 1/1

Elizabeth had just recently found out about a coffee shop near where she lived.

27. Mocha by toastyyjams

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 1,159 | chapters: 1/1

"What do they represent?" He asks carefully. "Hope." She responds, beaming.

28. Snowdrop by toastyyjams

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 1,786 | chapters: 1/1

Buck wasn't always the brightest of people, but he honestly thought that he had told them. He thought that they all knew.

29. He Thought He Told Them by KazOfScotland

fandom: 9-1-1 x S.W.A.T. | words: 603 | chapters: 1/1

Carlos and TK stay at Reyes house after the fire and there’s only one small bed in Carlos’ old teenage room.

30. They have each other by Doesyym

fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star | 1,716 | chapters: 1/1

“How was I supposed to know I could get sick?” “I don’t know! Maybe because Adam and Bree can get sick?!” “But I’ve never been sick before!” “Did you seriously think you couldn’t catch a cold or something?” “I had no evidence to prove otherwise!” Day 03: "What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?"

31. "What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?" by MegaMon2580

fandom: Lab Rats | words: 864 | chapters: 1/1

Kaz is captured, and restrained in a shower, so that he can’t escape with his powers.

32. Can a Pyro get Hypothermia? by BionicFreak (Rain_cloudsx)

fandom: Lab Rats: Elite Force | words: 926 | chapters: 1/2

…this must be a dream anyway. You’ll wake up as Victor Nikiforov again, Makkachin licking your face six minutes before your alarm rings. You might as well go along with it until you wake up.

33. Twisted Fate by classicpleistocene

fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice | words: 446 | chapters: 1/1

February Ficlet Challenge day 19: Pirates au Viktor, the most powerful pirate of the West Indies, rescues Yuuri from certain death. One month. Twenty-eight prompts. Twenty-eight pairings. One ficlet a day. Write Fast.

34. Freedom of the Open Sea by TuppingLiberty

fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice | words: 570 | chapters: 1/1

(THE TITLE IS A HOCKEY TERM) Jonathan moved away from Hawkins, got into a good college, got in the hockey team, life was supposed to be good. Until he got roomed with Steve Harrington. The head of the team. It’s been torture spending his days around him.

35. Cherry Picker by zombie_b0yy

fandom: Stranger Things | words: 717 | chapters 2/?

Jonathan Byers was a prince. And Steve Harrington was a mermaid. There was no statistical way a marriage would ever work. Maybe. — stonathan mermaid au ^_^

36. is it cool that i said all that? by unme4evermore

fandom: Stranger Things | words: 3,080 | chapters: 1/1

“But,” Steve continues, “if you were to get accidentally married to someone, I’d definitely pick Jonathan, so this really isn’t that bad. Imagine if you had been married to Tommy H, for example.” Nancy shudders at the mention of one of Steve’s coworkers at Hawkins Elementary, whom they had the unfortunate privilege of attending high school with. “Okay, true,” Nancy replies, “this could be worse.” “Gee, thanks,” Jonathan mutters.

37. it was hauntingly familiar (the way you looked at her) by illicitaffair

fandom: Stranger Things | words: 3,306 | chapters: 1/1

5 universes where Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan sleep next to each other for the first time + 1 universe where they've been doing it for years.

38. lie down next to me and let us fall asleep by madman_with_a_warehouse

fandom: Stranger Things | words: 1,912 | chapters: 3/6

As soon as the rumbling dies, everything's chaos. Steve hurries to find Nancy and Jonathan unharmed and glad to see him.

39. You Need To Know (I Love You) by Val_Creative

fandom: Stranger Things | words: 1,486 | chapters: 1/1

Meliodas forgets himself as he marvels at Elizabeth’s beauty. Kiss prompt: Unbreakable kiss.

40. Kiss me and never let go by Bosh__tet

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 816 | chapters: 1/1

Ban needs a hug from his best friend.

41. Silent Comfort by ambersky0319

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 619 | chapters: 1/1

Tina asks Kurt, "Who ARE you, Kurt?" at the reception following the wedding-that-wasn't. What if Kurt flips the question on her and takes her aside to discuss her issues with him? Complete.

42. Who Are YOU, Tina? by elledelajoie

fandom: Glee | words: 1,732 | chapters: 1/1

Three big brother hugs: Jo, Charlie, and Sam.

43. Big brother hugs by Canon_Is_Relative

fandom: Supernatural | words: 226 | chapters: 1/1

Spring holds a special place in Goddess culture. It is a time of new beginnings, of fresh flowers and greenery growing from the chilly ashes of winter; of blessing new families with children, as well as other bounties. For a Goddess and her best friend, the eldest prince of the Demon Clan, this day in Spring will become particularly special. [for the second volume of The NNT Zine...i'm very late to post it, but better late than never]

44. Spring Fools in Love by BaconWaffle16

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 2,620 | chapters: 1/1

Shouto has always been a quiet person. Stayed quiet for too long. But when he sees a way out of his father's control does he take it? A class project gives Shouto, and somehow Natsuo, the opportunity to bring justice to their family. Fluff and angst ensuee. - Ft. Dekusquad is wholesome, Shouto getting the love he deserves, and Natsuo is the embarrassing older brother he was born to be.

45. Shouto Trauma Dumps For Good Grades by BirdSimp

fandom: My Hero Academia | words: 20,041 | chapters: 1/1

Elizabeth closed her eyes, the wind had turned her hair to whips and her face stung. The tears that clung to her lashes were not from sadness. They were going fast, nearing Camelot, as everything passed below them in a blur. Meliodas’ hand gripping her waist tightened, in anticipation or threat Elizabeth didn’t know, and she felt the Elder Demon’s gaze on her from behind. That was definitely a threat. or!! when meliodas betrays the sins to go to camelot, elizabeth doesn’t run back to liones. she stays.

46. I Walk the Line (One Step at a Time) by from dust of which we came (iam_justa_ghost)

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 4,309 | chapters: 1/1

More than anything did she love him.

47. Love by Random_Ruff

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 318 | chapters: 1/1

Because of his father, Shoto never really learned how dangerous quirk exhaustion can become. He had been forced to train to the point of exhaustion, but his father had always stopped it whenever he noticed Shoto was overusing his quirk, telling him that they would simply need to work on upping his tolerance, but he never pushed Shoto to the point of overusing his quirk. Yes, he forced him to use it over and over for hours on end, strengthening his attacks and ability to use it but not to the point of quirk exhaustion. But because of that, his father had never told Shoto about what quirk Exhaustion really was, what would happen if he reached that point of overusing his power. An oversight really. ___ For Whumptober 2022 #27: Pushed to the limit "Magical Exhaustion"

48. Freezer Burns by Margarite_Of_Mere

fandom: My Hero Academia | words: 463 | chapters: 1/1

Nagisa is very used to people like Takaoka.

49. On Takaoka by CheshireGrins

fandom: Assassination Classroom | words: 492 | chapters: 1/1

Karma in the aftermath of Nagisa and Takaoka's rematch.

50. interested by gouachepile

fandom: Assassination Classroom | words: 236 | chapters: 1/1

And he stared at his face.  His smiling face,  drenched in red.  Smiling.  With his team.  His own team.  Not the teams he had to lead ever since Lilith left,  not the teams he was forced to lead.  It was nothing like he'd ever experienced.  He wasn't leading;  no one was.  Willow was the captain because she brought them all together.  Not because she was the strongest or the one with the most knowledge about Flyer Derby. They were teammates,  not just the captain and the followers.

51. Any Port in a Storm by azzyyo2 (reiyosan)

fandom: The Owl House | words: 361 | chapters: 1/1

After Elizabeth dies again, Meliodas reflects.

52. A Sky Full Of Stars by Truck_Fuck

fandom: The Seven Deadly Sins | words: 391 | chapters: 1/1

“Fine, man, whatever.” That grabs Jonathan’s attention. He snaps his head over to Steve, seething again. “Fuck you, Steve. What a load of bullshit, you’re right. You just want Nancy back with you. She told me about the dream to have a bunch of kids and going in a RV to road trip everywhere or whatever, okay? So cut the bullshit.” There’s a long pause where they’re both just silent. Jonathan is still seething but Steve is thinking hard, hurt by the words. “You’re there too.” Jonathan rolls his eyes, already annoyed at what the hell Steve is talking about. “What?” Jonathan scoffs, a bite to the word. He shakes his head in confusion. “The dream. You’re there too.” Jonathan turns to look at Steve, shocked by his confession. 

53. you're there too by JovialJ

fandom: Stranger Things | words: 3,857 | chapters: 1/1

Vaggie probably just thought she’d startled him, he realized – or at least she probably thought that until he lost his fucking mind about this. (Angel Dust attempts a late-night trip to the kitchen.)

54. Trapped Under Ice (Remastered) by ramblingArachnid

fandom: Hazbin Hotel | words: 1,525 | chapters: 1/1

Charles coughs, and the sound is strange and dry. Once he starts, he finds that he can't stop; it goes on and on, long and low and wretched. "What in heaven's name," Edwin murmurs, and Charles is aware, distantly, that he's scanning the area. Searching for fungus, most likely. Last time Charles had a coughing fit like this was back in '95, when he got a face full of spores, and wasn't that a grand old time? Hurt a whole lot less, though.

55. Breathless by Asidian

fandom: Dead Boy Detectives | words: 2,527 | chapters: 1/1

During a frustrating case, Edwin and Charles are left without any leads. They are forced to act without a lot of information in order to save someone's life. Charles is hurt and pinned down during the fight and it is up to Edwin to figure out a way to defeat the big bad and get them to safety.

56. Core of a Star by Infinite_beginnings

fandom: Dead Boy Detectives | words: 6,649 | chapters: 2/4

There's been times in the past thirty years when Charles didn't know what to do. Quite a lot of them, when it comes right down to it, but then, for the past thirty years, Edwin's always been there, hasn't he? And Charles might not be good for much of anything besides walloping what needs walloping with a cricket bat, but Edwin's always been aces at coming up with plans. And that's the problem. Edwin's not here to help with the planning, just now. Edwin's in the other room, screaming his head off, and here Charles is, and he can't do a thing about it.

57. The Difference an Hour Makes by Asidian

fandom: Dead Boy Detectives | words: 16,637 | chapters: 8/?

[quillinhand]

I’ve seen you post about both the marauders and snape, so I’m assuming you’re a fan of both? Me too!

I sometimes get bummed out at the extent fellow marauders fans go to to exclude our prickly Slytherin. But at the same time I’d much rather those fans who really hate him to just ignore him than stir up hate so…Idk.

My question was: What are your thoughts on the Slytherin skittles? On one hand, it’s kinda laughable to me that these are the Slytherins we’re gonna incorporate into our fandom, while we steadfastly ignore the 5th or 6th most mentioned character in the series. But on the other hand, maybe it opens up the door to the gradual acceptance of Severus… ? if not for his canon character, at least for his fans to feel less unwelcome? Maybe I’m being optimistic, but I’d love to one day post about Snape without worrying that everyone is going to unfollow or block me

Hi!

I'm Snape fan forever and yes, I am currently having a marauder's era obsession phase-honestly I used to look down upon the marauders fandom because of how much their headcanons disregarded the main canon and how much they change the characterizations to the point of incomprehensibility(remus, im looking at you). But I do feel- and have always felt- that the marauders era was ripe with potential, and Tumblr has reawakened that particular obsession.

I get you so much- it's really very upsetting to have people who share some of your interests and shit on your others. do hope that you have friends in the marauders fandom who don't accept snape slander(and if not- i'm always here!!!!). and i understand the wish to have them ignore him altogether- though it does feel a little isolating at times. though not lately for me- thanks to my lovely marauder fan moots :) :).

the slytherin skittles- hmmmm. Let me make a very humble confession. before this ask, i wasn't entirely sure on who they were. im educated now, and honestly i prefer to have the usual marauders era cast be different ages- it just seems very unlikely that this huge cast all went to school together. like i know wizarding britain is small, but excuse me. what the fuck.

that being said, i have come to be fond of the fandom versions of these characters- the rosier twins, barty my bloody beloved, dorcas, regulus black(is that all????) and i do like the idea of them being a group and shit. it's just, them being a group and shit in school just. doesn't match up with my version of the characters, ya know? still, there is wonderful fanfic and fanart out there for them, so. i aint complaining.

but I do feel like them being glorified to such a degree while Snape is right there kind of weird. I mean, absolutely, I don't expect Snape love from the marauders fandom and I don't need it, but sometimes it's kinda confusing how much Snape is passed over in all these fics. Just- I can imagine Snape being an amazing addition to all these fics and imagines, and it does sometimes feel like all the Slytherin characters are just palatable pieces of Snape, which is a bit off putting. still, i am fond of these characters to a degree, so this is less of a complaint and more of something that just confuses me.

maybe. maybe this could be the path to less Snape hate but HONESTLY I'm not holding my breath. Like I said before, I'm not looking for Snape love and content in this fandom, and though I do feel he would be an amazing addition to it, I'm not terribly sad that he isn't a part of it. I'd rather he be ignored than hated, and when he is hated, I'd rather ignore it than focus on it- for my mental health at the very least.

And on the topic of it making the opinion of Snapedom and Snape content less severe- i can see it happening and not happening. I think there will always be people who will dislike Snape and wonder why anybody will like him in the marauders fandom, and as long as they are outspoken, it's going to be a while since we see change. But I can definitely see it going there and am optimistic myself.

and finally, one last not-so-humble word of advice- if you have mutuals or followers who you think will block or unfollow you because of Snape(a FICTIONAL CHARACTER) maybe they are people you don't need. Your blog is your space, and as much as it needs to be a safe space for others, it needs to be a safe space for you too. Post about Snape all you want anon; post about any of your interests- and the people worth thinking about and respecting will stay regardless.

[magpiefngrl]

do you think writer's block is an actual concrete thing? / what is writer's block to you?

Hey anon! When I wrote the post seeking asks, I'd added writer's block to the end of the things I'd like to chat about, and then deleted it because it is included in woes. But you read my mind!

This is going to be looooong. I'm putting it under a cut x

I've had debilitating writer's block in the past. Debilitating. I used to write and post fic regularly back in 2017-18--and then I stopped. For a time, I'd write but would hate everything. I'd feel empty of ideas and robbed of the ability to convey thoughts on page. I'd cross half my sentences out and doubt every word.

And then: I couldn't look at the page. I would think about opening a doc and I'd immediately distract myself with something else. The dishes, the cat, a new tab. It was like even the idea of writing touched some wound inside me and I'd flinch, I'd get that visceral reaction of "ouch, avoid avoid".

So, for me at least, writer's block is a real thing. It happens, it affects people, and it is so prevalent that thousand of articles have been written about it.

I've come to realise, though, that writer's block doesn't exist on its own. It doesn't just come at someone randomly like an unwelcome lottery ticket. It's an indication of something else.

(a pause here to say that writer's block isn't the time when a creative brain needs to rest. The fallow periods. That's normal, esp if you've overextended yourself. Pushing yourself to write at that time might make the brain rebel, and you might think you've got writer's block when all you need to do is take some time off and fill the creative well with fun activities.)

So what might the writer's block indicate? Anything from fear of failure, to insecurity, to perfectionism, to depression. When I'm depressed, I don't write. I have to treat the depression to get rid of the block. That's easy, in the sense that I know what depression feels like and I know how to deal with it. Or at least I know that it passes.

But fear of failure? Perfectionism? These aren't as easy to pinpoint, not for me, anyway. Also, those of us who have posted fics in fandom have the added stress of disappointing readers/followers. You've no idea how terrified I was about finishing my WIP, 9 1/2 days. I was sure that readers would be like "it's been years in the making so the story must be extraordinary" and then they'd read my normal, totally ordinary story and feel let down. At other times, I'd mentioned/promised birthday gift fics to people and I felt the pressure of time passing and me having nothing to show for it. So much stress.

We say that fandom is a fun place and we're here for the joy of being a fan, but this excessive positivity often doesn't allow for the negative feelings of having a story you're proud of go unnoticed. It happens. To all of us. It hurts like fuck. It hurts to see rec list after rec list and not see your name on it. And you feel like a dickhead for feeling resentment and anger about it, because you're not here for the stats, you're really not, but fucking hell--you thought that was a pretty good story and if no one really agreed, then you're not a good writer, right?

Why does writer's block come after you've posted ten fics and not before the first one, when you're a lot more inexperienced and new at this? I guess, higher stakes. Also, times of vulnerability come and go. Once, during my writer block years, when I was trying to get over it and go back to writing, I received a piece of feedback that devastated me. It hurt me so incredibly much that I couldn't (and didn't) think about a certain story for over six months. It was like this person, unwittingly, reached inside me, found where I was hurting, the soft, wounded part of me, and stabbed me right in the middle of it. It was a good lesson in learning to protect myself when I feel vulnerable emotionally.

Imagine trying to write, worrying that you'll let your readers down, certain that your best story is in the past and you've peaked already, anxious about making little progress and falling behind, upset that no one recs or talks about your latest fic--in other words it was a massive failure--(all of these were things I experienced at multiple times) and that's on top of the author's normal worries about trying to figure out the plot and the characters and whether this POV works for the story. Who wouldn't get blocked?

I'd better stop around here, this is something that I could discuss forever. My leaving thought would be that to treat writer's block one should:

first, see if it is writer's block and not burnout or fallow period, in which case: REST

second, try and reflect on what the block is hiding, and then deal with that.

third, care a lot less. I think, at the end of the day, writer's block comes because we care so much about writing a good story that it becomes an impediment. It helps to care less. I've been posting stories unbetaed in the last couple of years. It's a deliberate decision to take back the sensation of being an amateur writing for the fun of it.

send me an ask!

[katblu42]

Graves and Ghosts

For @flashfictionfridayofficial #222 - An Empty Grave

Wow, it's been a while since I did one of these. Feels like my writing muscles are a bit rusty, so I hope this works.

Fandom: Gatchaman Related to episode 81 of the Science Ninja Team - Gatchaman series. Characters: Joe Asakura, Alan Word count: approx 812 Warnings: mentions of Graveyard and Ghosts and Exhumation

Standing with his hand on the iron gate he hesitated for a moment, a thought briefly tickling at his mind.  Was there a gravestone with his name on it somewhere in there?

But that was not what he was here to see, and he already had the feeling there were unwelcome eyes upon him as he opened the gate and entered the graveyard.

His eyes scanned the names on the various crosses and obelisks marking the graves he walked past, but he didn’t stop at any.  Despite having never been here before, something seemed to be leading him exactly where he needed to go, and he found what he’d been looking for.

It was a simple headstone marking a grave that was otherwise unadorned, but kept tidy – presumably by the gravekeeper who Joe could now see moving about in his periphery.  The fact Joe had stopped at this particular grave seemed to interest the old man, which had Joe’s hackles rising.

He’d barely had enough time to crouch and examine the inscription on the headstone, whispering his parents names aloud as he read them, when the man spoke to him.  His words aimed for curiosity that someone had finally stopped by this grave after ten years, but Joe caught the look in the man’s eye.  And the click of the camera hidden in the cane.

He knew telling the man this was not the grave he was looking for after all would make no difference, even as he said the words.  They were suspicious of him, and his description would be widely circulated.  He just hoped his disguise would keep him safe for a while.

He left the graveyard without a second thought about his own grave, but as he walked through the town where he had spent his earliest years ghosts were everywhere.  Barely remembered scraps of his past assaulting him without much warning every time he turned a corner.  And the eyes were still upon him, watching.  He knew he shouldn’t linger, but he couldn’t resist the pull of these mostly forgotten spaces, and time got away from him.

He'd come here for answers. To fill in the gaps between the visions the nightmares had brought back, and few things he remembered.  He hadn’t expected the danger to be so great, or so oppressively felt.  Looking down on the main square from the monument building at the top of the hundred steps, he knew it had been a mistake to come back.

The priest he passed on the stairs who offered him a warning about the beggars at the bottom stirred a memory of a childhood friendship.  Tempted as he was to change direction and follow the priest, he knew he couldn’t.  To do so would arouse further suspicion.

After the brief skirmish with the beggars turned soldiers, and the uniformed back-up that sprang from the surrounding alleyways, Joe found himself hidden in a familiar run down building.  Another ghost of the past hung from the ceiling in the form of a battered old punching bag.

Just as he was piecing together how the priest, the childhood hang-out and the friend from back then fitted together, a voice came from the shadows behind him.

“I knew you’d come back here.”

Alan.  The priest from the stairs was the boy he’d run these alleyways with a decade or more ago.  His disguise had not been enough even after all these years to stop Alan from seeing who he truly was.  And the attack from moments ago confirmed that Gallactor knew he was Guiseppi’s son.

Joe remained silent and kept his back toward Alan as he talked, still unsure if it was safe to reveal his true identity to his friend.  Alan confirmed there was a grave with his name on it in the public graveyard he’d been in earlier.  A grave with his old name on it.  He hadn’t been George for ten years.  Perhaps it was fitting that George had a grave.

Alan went on to explain Gallactor had exhumed the coffin only hours ago and found it empty – rocks in place of the body they’d expected to find. 

Joe ditched the disguise, shedding the jacket, cravat, flat cap and sunglasses and leaving them in a pile on the floor.  He finally turned to face the man and recognised some of the features of the kid he remembered as a scrawny, scrappy eight-year-old looking back at him.

Alan gave a wry smile.  “You look a lot less like your dad now, you know.”

Joe gave a crooked grin in return.  “Are you saying I’ve been wandering the island all day looking like a man who’s been dead ten years?  That explains all the unwanted attention I’ve been getting, then.” 

“Nah, wherever you went trouble was never far behind, Georgie.”

“I guess some things never change.”