#good now I’m trying to leave those patterns of behavior behind

[sarabyfleetwoodmacmp3]

💭

[igotanidea]

Alarm clock : Jason Todd x reader

As promised :D

Summary/request : Jason todd x shy chubby reader (kinda) soft smut? (reader have a praise kink and likes nipple play)

warnings: summary is pretty self-explanatory, SMUT MINORS DNI, pretty much pwp

***

Early mornings right before work was arguably the worst moment for getting close, but Jason Todd was never the one to stick to basic rules of behavior. After all, who would dare to tell him when to or when not to devour his precious girl? Nights were off limits since he was patrolling, so the only time left was in fact early hours.

And he was going to use the opportunity the second he felt Y/N stir in his embrace. Her soft, warm, plump body being so perfect, already responding to his touches and caresses. Trembling slightly when he slid one hands under her sleeping T-shirt and traced patterns on the bared skin.

“Mhmmm.” She mumbled groggily, squirming against him, his arms trying to keep her in place and pulling her closer instead of letting go. “what time is it?”

“I’ll let you guess” he chucked, kissing her exposed shoulder from behind, soft lips moving towards girl’s neck, making her lean into him. “How is that for an answer?” he muttered against her skin.

“Jay….I’ll be late.” She tried to object, slightest blush creeping in on her face. She was so shy it was actually making him want her even more. No way in hell he was going to let her go without proper good morning.

“No, you won’t.” he teased, not stopping worshiping her.

“How so?” she whined lightly when he started rubbing circles on her waist, getting so annoyingly close to the waistband of her pants.

“I might have shifted your alarm clock to get some extra time with you.”

“Really?” she turned around facing him, her eyes still a bit blurry from the sleep “aren’t you a little bit too tricky, Todd?”

“Gotta keep up with my little vixen.” He smirked and before she realized what was happening pushed her onto her back hovering over her with glistening eyes. “You are mine, you know that?”

“Jace…..” she squealed, trying to make her voice stern and warning, but was way to desperate and needy to pull this off. She was always needy for him, even if it was always hard to admit. “Please, don’t do this…..”

“You’re not really convincing, baby.” He smirked again putting his lips on hers, briefly, almost imperceptibly, leaving her wanting, exposing her true need and want.

“I have to …..”

“Nonsense, princess. Your only job is staying with me and letting me please you.”

“But….” Her face reddened even more than before, her chest heaving.

“Do you really want me to stop?” he reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up a few centimeters, her skin immediately corresponding with goosebumps. (how was it possible that no matter the weather, morning in this apartment were always cold?). “Just say the word if you do” he teased, moving to nibble on the skin of her neck, finding her soft spot and eliciting a whine. ”Anytime now.”

“I…. oh fuck, don’t. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Not going to.” With one swift motion he pulled her shirt off completely, eyes blown with lust at the view underneath him. Those perfect breast, soft, round, belly, the curve of her waist and ass, and most importantly, her miraculous thick thighs.  So fucking perfect. “Are you cold, baby?” he cooed, running fingers over her shivering skin.  

“So fucking cold….” She gasped, locking arms on his neck and pulling him for a kiss, shyness aside, the crave of his warmth and his body finally winning the fight. “I’m freezing, Jason.”

“I can help with that.” His hands moved toward her waist, lips never leaving hers, not needing air, breath, nothing. She was his everything, everything he could possibly need.

“Jason.” she pushed him away slightly, resting hands on his chest and avoiding his gaze, too flustered to voice what and where she wanted. And this time he did not force her to look up when she whispered “I need your mouth elsewhere.”

“Really?” He licked said lips in a predatory motion “care to elaborate on that, baby?”

“Stop teasing me. You… you know what I mean.”

“I live on teasing you.” he let out a laugh, but obediently bowed his head, aiming at her breast. Fuck, those perfect, plump breast, that fit perfectly in his hands. So soft, the sensation of her skin incomparable with anything else. “So tell me.” He massaged both of her tits at the same time and his cock throbbed as he watched her arch her back into his touch and whimper “does this feel good?”

“So good, Jace. Please…. I….. I want more…”

“Really? More? Like what?”

“Jason! Please!” she squirmed and let out a whimper. A fucking whimper. If she wasn’t doing it involuntarily he would probably have more strength to torture her a bit more, but it was completely unintentional and he crumbled.

“All right baby, all right. Fuck, I love when you are begging for me. Makes me look less desperate myself.”

“Use those mouths for something useful for fuck’s sake!”

“Oh, not so timid anymore, are you?”

Jason grinned wildly and finally put them on her right breast, kissing all over and biting lightly, soothing the mark with the tiniest, kitten lick move of his tongue. Avoiding the nipple, obviously, since that was the best part and he was going to safe it for the end. A perfect feast topped out by the perfect dessert.

“So sweet….” He whined grabbing the other breast and squeezing it. “so good for me, aren’t you?” Y/N’s hand tangled in his messy hair, guiding  his head where she needed most and this time he did not object, sucking lightly on that sensitive rose bud. At this point he himself could not hold back a groan. She was the one who liked nipple play, but the truth was, Jason enjoyed it even more. Just a simple thought that he was the one to satisfy her and make all her dream and wildest fantasies come true was doing things to him. “such a good girl.” He muttered incoherently keeping on devouring her, slowly moving to the other breast, neglected and forgotten and repeating his actions. Such simple gestures and she was already falling apart, tugging on his hair.

“so good Jace, keep going, please.”

“I thought you were hurrying to work?” he mocked

“I thought you reset my alarm?” she retorted, panting, distracted by his movements, now enriched by grinding against her body

“Now that I think about I come to the conclusion that should have reserved a bit more time for my baby. Do you need me?”

“Yes!”

“How much? Is it as much as I need you, princess?”

“YES!”

“Show me.”

Show me!? He was pinning her to bed, putting on his weight on her and she was supposed to show him? How?!

“Oh, I’ll show you.” she squirmed a bit, freeing one of her hands and putting it on the tent in his pants “someone’s excited.” She whispered into his ear, biting on his earlobe, palming the erection and making him grind against her more. “Let me take those off.” she begged

“Only if you let me undress you fully too.”

“Do it now. I need you Jason. I want you. Inside me. Now.”

“Fuck!” he hissed, almost tearing her pants, exposing her to him completely “you are so perfect. So fucking perfect” he grabbed her waist pressing his clothed cock into her, kissing her hungrily, desperately, completely overwhelmed by the feel of her underneath him. Due to all the sensation he was giving her, she completely forgot she was about to free him as well. Y/N just melted into his touch, not giving a fuck about anything but him.

“take those off. I want you whole, Jace. Please…” she commanded and he threw his jeans away, their bodies pressed together fully, caressing each other’s body, exploring, wandering in all the possible places still craving more. It wasn’t nearly as close as they needed. “I’m so wet for you. Use it. Take me, Jason.”

“I love you.” he panted pushing inside, filling her fully.  “god, so good. So good. All mine. Tell me you’re mine. Please, I need to hear you say it. You’re my girl. Only mine.”

“I am.” she held him tighter, legs wrapping around his waist “love me, Jace. I just need you. It’s good. You can move.”

“How do you want me today, princess?” he nibbled on the skin of her neck, barely holding back from going all in, but still waiting for the answer.

“Gentle. I want to feel you close.”

“You have me.” He slowly started pulling in and out. There was no rush in it. No fucking, no animalistic sex and lustful need. It was emotional and sensual. Jason was focused on each moan and whine coming from her, each spasm of her body against his, on the way she picked up the pace he set. It was love making rather than just sex. Perfect expression and display of how much they loved each other on so many different levels in ways words could never describe.

“Jason…” she panted, nails clawing on his back, wordlessly showing him how close she was.

“I’m here, baby. I got you.” he pushed a bit harder into her, getting another string of her sweet sounds “Come for me. I know you are close. Just let go. You’re safe with me. So good, so perfect.” his thumbs brushed her pebbled nipples again and it was all he needed to finally reach orgasm. 

“Jace….” She panted, not letting go riding that high with him “I want to make you feel good too.”

“You sure, baby?”

“Like of nothing else. Don’t hold it.”

“Fuck, you are just so perfect.” he groaned, not able to control himself anymore, filling her with his cum, not letting go until his balls were completely empty, kissing her with all the passion he had until exhaustion took over and he pulled away. “I’m yours, baby” he repeated with softer voice, laying on his back and guiding her on his chest, soothing her back, wanting nothing more than to keep her in the sheets forever, to never be parted with her “do you really have to go?”

“Yeah. I do.” She kissed his chest lightly. “But I suddenly got some more motivation to get through the day.”

“I wonder why.” Jason smirked

“Don’t push it, lover boy.”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

“Guess next time you’ll set the clock even earlier.”

“If I were to say a thing you would never fall asleep again. I know how to keep you up all night, baby.”

@jasontoddsthickbabe

[insightfulllama]

ANYWAY HERE’S A MASSIVE LIST OF OBSERVATIONS AND THOUGHTS FROM REWATCHING THE CABIN VOD AHAHAHAHA

(Spoilers)

The first thing Ranboo clearly says is, “It wasn’t supposed to…be like this…” They are very disoriented and confused, verging on distress.

When the mask turns on, they panic and yell “no” several times, before standing and going, “Where am I?” and “This place sure looks weird!” in the NPC voice. I believe he knew something was wrong and was able to scream, but not anything more before they took full control. 

The NPC behavior isn't as obvious as it is in "Warehouse", but I definitely see it now that I'm looking for it. Pretty unsettling. 

Ranboo checks locations they had already looked at before the mask turned on. (The door, the bookshelf, the ashes, etc)

Ranboo can see us, but with the masks influence we appear as a “weird painting”. 

When he is flipping through the magazines and waiting for chat to decide where they go, he says, “These are just old pajamas.” I think that’s what they say, I have no idea what it means. 

When Ranboo first goes to look at the window, he bends out of frame and messes with something (I think the VHS’s) and says, “Those don’t seem too important.” Pretty interesting considering he later uses a VHS to communicate with the one trying to get him out. (Showfalls influence?)

He’s complained about his head hurting twice now, I think this may become a pattern

They find a set of teeth in the drawer

The red key is IN the red bat- mirroring how the key is in Slimecicle later? Did he have to dig into a dead animal to get it here as well and we just didn’t see it because of the mask? 

Ranboo’s spacial awareness seems impaired. He doesn’t know where Slime went because he can’t directly see him. This happens again later with Sneeg, Ranboo looking the entirely wrong way when Sneeg calls out. Both Slime and Sneeg call attention to this- “It’s a house, there’s door frames! How did you get inside if you do not know what a door is?” and “How do you not hear me?...How did you look over there, man?”

JUST realized the key colors match the “characters” we’ve been introduced to. (The Savior, The Taken, The Villain)  I don’t know if there’s further symbolism connected to where the keys are found and stuff but it’s pretty neat. 

When Slime does the pinkie swear promising that Ranboo can leave after he does the cooking challenge, they have their fingers crossed behind their back. 

Slimy Guts is one of the available ingredients, bit sus considering our new knowledge. Also chinese leftovers got 0% of the votes LOL

The random cutaways are kinda strange. Don’t know what to make of them. 

Ranboo uses a pretty big knife to open a little package of slime, is instructed to “beat up” the food and call it names, and later he offers to cut Slime off the floor when he gets stuck. I think there’s a good chance ranboo stabbed someone and made a meal with their guts. Or something in that vein. (Several times Ranboo points out that these aren’t REAL ingredients and he doesn’t know how someone could eat it. What’s happening is probably so horrifying that he can’t imagine it as something normal like chicken, so his brain is substituting with stuff that’s weird but TECHNICALLY not morally reprehensible.)

Fridge says “BEHIND YOU” on it

Gummy worm was in the freezer, body parts can be kept in freezers, idk

Someone really likes mayo, cause they stopped it when it was on the turntable and gave the camera a thumbs up

Slime tries the meal but he’s really reluctant and needs specific circumstances to do it. If the theory of the meal being human guts it true, the hesitation probably didn’t have anything to do with airplane noises…

What is in the backgrounds of these cutaways? It’s so blurry idk, I can’t tell. It’s sort of purply. 

The dish in the end turns to slime with all the possible ingredients mixed in, even the ones we didn’t pick. In universe it reinforces that our choices don’t really matter, from a meta perspective it’s probably so they only had to make one slime prop. 

The timing of the marshmallow string stretching as slime tries to feed ranboo is HYSTERICAL, golden comedic timing

The mask starts blinking when ranboo gets the tape message. 

The person on tape instructs Ranboo “not to resist”. I believe this is said in the second message as well. Perhaps they don’t want Ranboo drawing attention to themself

Like in the room they woke up in, Ranboo checks areas multiple times, seemingly with no memory of the first time he checks. He does the exact same “flashlight in the eyes” gag each time he picks it up. It really enforces that in this moment he is a puppet, not making his own choices. 

“What’s over here?” NPC!Ranboo back in full swing with this dialogue. 

Ranboo did the cooking game, Sneeg didn’t. Sneeg refused to kill? Maybe cause he didn’t have a mask? Hmmm idk

The baby skull on a background shelf has a MASSIVE forehead

Light starts flickering when slime appears

What does the fight between evil sneeg and ranboo mean? Maybe they were both trapped and had a fight?? What does it mean without the obscuring mask? 

Ranboo is able to get sneeg out of slimes influence, and sneeg says a few times afterward that he’s immune now. Ranboo can help people get out of Showfalls influence? (The gooey hat does bring Sneeg out of the influence later, extension of that Ranboo effect?)

When Sneeg looks to see if Slime is in the box, there is a “shhhh” sound effect

Sneeg says Frank is his eyes and ears- was Frank a whistleblower, feeding information about Showfall to the outside? Unsure

Goo chest- possibly full of human bits? Corpse in a trunk is a pretty common trope

Jello on the shelves of Slime’s room

Same picture that was on the fridge is in a frame on the table

Ranboo looks at the mirror the same way twice, reinforcing the NPC vibes

Another false choice- the story only progresses if you go to sleep. Talking to Sneeg only gets some more NPC dialogue. Most of sneeg’s other dialogue sounds genuine, so this is strange.

Sneeg seems unable to move or act while ranboo is asleep

Could the eight hours that passed be literal? If things are obstructed by the mask it very well could be

“You would have known had you been awake!” Before the reveal of the mask making things look different I thought the streams were going to be revealed to be a dream. Clearly it’s not entirely a dream, but this dialogue is still fun. 

SHARK PICKLE LOBSTER TIME!! What would this be in real life? An actual human experiment? Security dogs? Full on hallucination?

This is a pretty funny way to promote the merch honestly lol (referring to ranboo using his merch to trick the thing into cage)

Ranboo seems baffled by his idle fighting animation for a second. He says, “Why am I just standing here? What’s going…” and when the camera pulls back the mask is flickering. 

When Slime sends his ghouls to grab Ranboo I believe he tries to move out of the way. They kind of jerk a bit, like they're trying to move their feet, before saying, “Why can’t I just- get out of here? I just need to get out of here-” The mask is once again flickering during this

After the fight the mask starts flickering a LOT, plus the other lights in the cabin. Tv comes back on. 

The TV man is named Hetch? He says, “My name is-” I think he says Hetch? Unsure

Mans gets drugged up at the end, rip

[nancydrewwouldnever]

The good thing about a long commute is that it leaves you with plenty of time to think, so you can really pick at those things in the corner of your brain.

I’m about to half-assed pop psychology all over this crap.

So, yesterday was really interesting from a picking apart Chris Evan’s subconscious kind of an angle. I don’t want to look at the still photos montage. I only want to think about the first and third posted video – the mouth video and the Mario Kart video.

We now know from the scare video dump in January and this dump yesterday that there’s a lot of material floating around out there on cell phones. (But, yeah, we already guessed that, didn’t we.) So, we have to really start finely parsing why a person would choose two videos as bizarrely uncomfortable as those he posted to try to sell a “serious love story” on the holiday for the serious love story. Because neither of those videos sold love or even affection – they sold the subtext of disdain.

When you both say in a video you post “you’re not going to like this” or write “she hates this, but I find it funny,” you are communicating an inherent lack of respect for the person you are showing as the subject of said videos. There’s no way you can look at either video and not see that in some way Alba is being portrayed, whether intentionally or not, as somehow inept or incompetent, hapless or helpless. She “doesn’t know what to say” or do in the first one; she is being put physically in a position which has inherent sexualized overtones from porn culture. He is physically holding her down, to a certain way of thinking. In the second video she struggles to play a video game originated before she was ever born(!), and he finds this ineptitude to be hilarious. From my way of viewing, as the audience, I don’t find either video to be indicative of cute couples’ behavior behind the scenes, but rather of an older dominant male putting a younger more inexperienced female into shaming/ridiculing situations. And then blasting those situations to the world via social media.

Why would you ever make those choices for those videos, knowing you probably have others to choose from that show situations far less riddled with open-ended interpretation. (Let’s be real, he could have shown them skiing at Okemo, not much subtext there.)

This is where we get into the pop psychology angle, which I’m probably just going to massacre, but oh well. We all started musing about that “I hate myself” quote the minute we read it in SMA. Now, I invite you to think about the psychology concept of projection.

I think that self-hatred and self-loathing he holds is far deeper and far more insidious than any of us can comprehend. I’ll give him some credit, he’s done a somewhat good job of covering it up and still having career success even while dragging it around.

But it’s bad, and I think he directs a lot of it into his interpersonal relationships with women.

That self-hatred and self-loathing is what keeps him from having true long-lasting and healthy romantic partnerships. He subconsciously detaches parts of it from himself, through his insecurities, and projects those insecurities onto his partner. Therefore, he’s already given himself an out for why the relationship will fail, but it’s not on him, because he’s projected it onto them. However, it is always on him, even if he can’t see that, because he’s never working on the actual root cause of why everything doesn’t work, doesn’t fit, doesn’t fulfill his intense emotional lacks: because he’s never acknowledged that there is some intense trauma there somewhere that set this self-hate and self-loathing into action, and that it needs to be brought into the light with therapy and worked on. Nothing will change until that happens.

Instead, the subconscious cycles and patterns are self-perpetuating, so he will continue to search out situations which feed the cycles. Ergo, always someone he can project onto, not someone self-realized enough to be the kind of person who could actually help him come to terms with his own trauma.

So, whatever this toxic situation with Alba is, it is even more toxic because it serves his subconscious need to project all his own insecurities onto her. And she’s in no way capable of stopping that, because she just doesn’t have the life or relationship experience to do so. So, I postulate that what you see in those two videos, that’s him projecting his own self-disdain, self-ridicule, and immaturity onto her in a situation he has perfectly created for it. If you’re watching those videos and you feel like Chris is viewing her through a lens of shaming or derision, know it’s not just her: he’s viewing himself the same way as well.

So, I’ll end by paraphrasing a great line from Hamlet: Get thee to a nunnery. (Apt, given Chris also has a really off-the-rails Madonna/Whore complex.)

Chris – get thee to a psychoanalyst’s couch.

(Freud's actual couch.)

[thisdreamplace]

hi is anon who writes too much haha! Hru💗

I want to share some experiences I’ve been having and a question

just really letting go and being.

life is really Beautiful when you just be

one extreme subconscious belief i guess I had was “everytime when good things happen. Bad things always do” I used to really spiral over this. I was so afraid. But then I asked myself “ can I let go of this and know all is okay? that god is on my side, that everything will be ok”. I was crying one night fearing “what if everything is terrible and will never be ok “ I allowed it but the something just came into awareness “what if I can trust god. what if I can trust and let go” and I did, I still felt like a crying mess and so very saddened. but I had a sense of trust , my heart was filled with love.

(I’ll speak in 3rd person but ) anon also had a huge fear or want. to being mysterious like… not telling anyone how they felt lalala or even feeling embarrassed about telling how they felt about something like they where right or wrong or how they inferior if they where nice lala. When I realized that was also conditioned, not my burden to bear I cried in relief, knowing just this was never something I needed to let go off. I’m ok haha

I feel like also one thing is we conditioned our self to others behaviors and what we determine as us (the false self) like example I realized my specific negative thoughts where a pattern. I asked myself “ do I really think this way? or am I conditioned too?” “Is this really me?”, my fears and thoughts and wants and needs are all just what I’ve always thought I needed to have, haha living a life without any of those is sure scary but… not a bad! More like a new unknown understanding! Like knowing there’s no meaning behind it , like the thought itself being a conditioned thing, idk it feels just nice , I can leave it be , beacuse it doesn’t mean anything.

The key is no longer allowing it to have meaning for you. - thisdreamplace

now I live my days having fun :) or even just being or enjoying all knowing I’m not bound to anything. it’s nice even when the hard times happen , still need to work on that tho 🐭

my question is.

when circumstances or even a overwhelming situation , or even badly reacting to something and you regret it. How do you deal with it, I always surrender to god and know everything will be ok. But I’m wondering if you have advice haha, like what are some things you do to regulate and help in times like this. sometimes moving on (letting go ) of everything feels a bit terrifying , even how do you stop seeing things as a bad moment? sometimes the heart feels so full and the head feels so firey

hope to talk soon again I miss your posts dream 🌌thank you for everything once again

-anon who talks too much 🍩

hewwo <3 i hope youre doing well!! sorry its taken me some time to finally write back !!

i love all of this ! feeling everything out, while simultaneously allowing yourself to feel that possibilities can be different. i love reading messages from yall, because they always spark deeper understandings in myself as well. it's a really beautiful cycle between us

hmm i think to answer your question, i usually don't try to make something seem other than how i feel it is. instead i accept it all in that moment, or at least try to anyway. it's not always easy of course. but through acceptance you have a lot less resistance toward an issue, and like that it can easily be transformed. so its not always about making ourselves drop it, sure its nice if we can. but if not, its okay to be there in that moment too. allowing it to be what it is, and moving on when the emotions arent as heavy.

anyway <3 thanks so much for reaching out again !! :') and awwwe thank you. i havent had much inspo lately, life has been really busy but ofc, whenever inspiration strikes, you'll see another post by me !!

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

alec realizing magnus is sabotaging his dating life and think magnus is still hold that stupid decisions with camille over his head and this is his way to punishing alec, we love mess in this house

Part I

Part II

Part III

Since the morning, he’s had an itchy feeling that something’s about to go down.

Call it warlock intuition or his own guilt eating at himself slowly, he just knows that today is not going to be a good day.

He’s proved right half a day later, at another stupid club, trying to cockblocking Alec again.

Magnus isn’t proud of his actions, but watching Alec with someone else isn’t an easy thing for him. So, he lets his stupid behavior continue for weeks. Ever since Magnus caught Alec with the seelie and then proceeded to threaten the Seelie, he’s repeated his actions four more times.

Four more times, in a period of two weeks that Magnus has managed to prevent Alec from being with someone else.

He’s never been this crazy in love. It’s borderline pathetic at this point but Magnus can’t seem to stop. He almost doesn’t want to.

Stopping Alec from being with someone else is easier than actually talking to Alec and discussing about whatever he’s been feeling.

He never pretends to be the rational one anyways.

Not in the matters of heart specially.

Magnus hides behind the bar, snaps his fingers again to get the vampire that’s been biting down on Alec’s shoulder to feel itchy and uncomfortable under his skin.

He knows the routine by heart now.

3. 2. 1.

The vampire makes his way towards the bar and Magnus repeats the words—unleashes his power and instills the fear of Asmodeus onto the vampire.

Five minutes later, he sees Alec with a dejected look, leaving the premises.

Magnus waits for a few minute so that Alec leaves—he’s too filled with shame to face the man.

Finally, after what seems like enough time, he goes out to breathe some air.

His head and heart hurt.

He’s so sick of it.

“Hey.”

Magnus turns and his eyes widen as he finds Alec, smoking, sitting on a nearby bench outside the place.

“Oh. Hi. Hey,” he says dumbfounded.

“I didn’t realise you ever came here.”

Magnus pauses before speaking, “yeah. Today was a first. An acquaintance of mine has been bugging me to check out his place. So here, I am. And what about you?”

“I was here with someone,” Alec swallows, “but he turned out to be kind of a dick. Stupid, hot body though.”

Magnus blinks for a second because Alec has never been this open about his one night stands infront of Magnus. It throws him off for a second.

“Umm, oh. What did he do?”

Alec hums. “Nothing much. Just left me in the middle of the club and disappeared. Seems to be a pattern with me.”

Magnus closes his eyes at the words.

“Simon told me about Grindr. I’m thinking of adding ‘most dump-able person’ in my profile.”

Magnus winces at the words and the self deprecating tone, “Alec, what? No. You’re not—“

“I’m not what?” Alec says sharply and everything feels so wrong.

“You’re not dump-able. All those you went on dates with weren’t worth it.” He tries to soothe the pain that he can see on the face on the shadowhunter.

Alec lets out a dry chuckle, “are you really going to stand here and continue lying to me?”

Magnus frowns because he doesn’t get what’s happening.

“I’m not lying. You shouldn’t be associating your self-worth to all those men. They don’t know you. That Seelie was stupid and so was the werewolf. And the vampire from half an hour ago. They don’t deserve you, Alec.”

Sone flashes across Alec faces because it goes stone cold. “How do you know about all of them? I never mentioned them.”

Oh.

Oh hell.

“I—“

“Is that how much you hate me, Magnus?” Alec questions and he seems so pained by the words.

Magnus is horrified at the implication and rambles, “Alec, no. Of course I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I—“

“Can you stop lying for one fucking second?” Alec seethes, “I know you are the one who has been sabotaging all my dates. You are the one who threatened all those people.”

Magnus’s heart races because Alec knows now—knows everything of what he did and there is no explanation in the world for his actions.

Alec steps forward and they are eye to eye now.

“Are you still so mad about the immortality thing? And even if you are—I understand that. But do you really despise me so much that you cannot see me happy for even five fucking second?”

Magnus all but chokes at the words—with the hurt he caused Alec and all the pain that’s inside himself.

“I’m fucking miserable. Is that what you want?”

“No. Alexander….that’s not why I—“

Alec raises hand at that and stops him, “Don’t you dare. You have no right to call me Alexander, ever again.”

Magnus all but crumbles at the words because this is all he had left.

The name he gave Alec. The love he stores inside it all every time he calls him that.

This is all he had left.

“Alexa—Alec…I.” He chokes, “I don’t hate you. You have got it all wrong.”

“Then why the hell are you doing this, Magnus?” Alec yells, “what the hell do you want from me?”

Magnus steps forward to put a calming hand on Alec’s shoulder but the shadowhunter pulls back and he feels a pang inside his chest.

He didn’t think he could hurt more than he already was.

But somehow Alec Lightwood makes it possible.

“I don’t—“ Magnus wants to say the words but for some reason he can’t. It’s like something is physically preventing him from saying it out loud.

How he only did all of this out of jealousy and because of how much he misses Alec.

“You win, okay? You fucking win.” Alec says in a suffocated voice, “I hurt you and this is what I deserve.”

“Alec, please,” Magnus chokes, finding it impossible to find the right words. There are no words in the word that could fix what he just broke, “you don’t deserve this. It was horrible of me to do this but it’s not because I hate you. I don’t.”

A single tear leaves Alec’s eyes and trespasses inside Magnus’s chest.

“I sat there infront of you and poured my heart out to you. After each of those dates, I opened up to you. You were there all those times like a knight in shining armour and I was stupid enough to believe in you.”

His entire body aches with the words, he doesn’t know what to say, what to do to fix this. He can’t let Alec think all of this.

Magnus never meant to cause Alec this much pain. He’s just been trying to make sense of his own heart.

“I’m sorry. I..”

Alec raises a hand before taking something out from his pocket. It’s a small pendant, the shame of the Eiffel Tower.

“I got you this when we were in Paris. But I never got the chance to give you because of the whole cult-thing. And then so much happened. Then you were taken to Edom. I’ve been waiting for the right time to give you this.” Alec steps closer and puts the pendant in Magnus’s hand.

Magnus feels his face wet with tears as he takes the pendant.

“I wanted to thank you for loving me.”

“Alec—“

“You broke my heart that day when you broke up with me,” Alec whispers, “But today, you broke me.”

A sob leaves Magnus’s mouth at the words.

“Are you done? Because I am done. You wanted me to be in pain, right? You win Magnus, because, pain is all I feel right now.”

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

Luxury

Kim Seungmin/ Reader

Jealousy, Established Relationship, Apologies, Domestic Fluff, Autumn, Communication, Crying, Kissing, Hugs, talking about experiencing love, Consensual Kissing, Hurt&Comfort

wc: 3151

Seungmin's jealousy caused him to feel totally frustrated, but he remembered that he wasn't alone and that he was supported even when he messed up a bit.

`You said yourself it was stupid. Why are you crying then?`

He sniffled, tried to blink the tears away, turning away, scared you might be angry at him. 

`No, no, it’s fine!’, you exclaimed, `I just asked, because I’m a bit confused.`

You scooped over to him onto the brown leather sofa that was covered by a soft orange blanket and some creme colored pillows. One of them fell down when you moved over to the brown haired man sitting there busy trying to silence his outburst of emotions that was so contrary to his words from just some minutes ago. 

Sitting close to him now, you realized that you were unsure of what to do, so you simply asked: `Can I hug you?`

He still didn’t turn towards you and covered his eyes with his sweater paws, while some more intense sobs made his shoulders move up and down.

However he didn’t answer your question, so you leaned back, not wanting to leave him alone. 

When he realized he couldn’t calm down and that you didn’t move away from him, he saw no other solution than just letting it all out, all the tears, all the cries, all the emotion that he bottled up and denied for a long time. 

He felt like he needed to gather all his courage and remind himself of all the trust he had in you to ask `Would you please hold me?`, but that’s exactly what he did and with no hesitation you threw your arms around him and pulled him close, his head finally resting against you, so that you could give him little kisses on his temple, on his forehead and whatever your lips could reach.

In a calming manner your hand brushed through his hair, massaging his scalp and drawing patterns on his shoulder and upper arms as well. 

It was impossible for you to sit still. Only holding him like an adjusted mannequin felt like you didn’t do enough, but nothing could be enough. You wanted to give him at least the world and if he disliked it, you would do anything to keep him safe from the world. It might be unrealistic, but he made so many things real for you, even things you were convinced couldn’t be real. 

`Sor-ry, oh no, no, sor-ry-y-y.`, he sniffled between sobs and falling tears, `Your beautiful dre-e-ess.`

With those words he pushed away and stood up to walk to the window.

The afternoon sun shone right through it and supported the orange accents that were already present in the living room. It all felt warm despite the chilly autumn wind.

It always felt warm with him though. 

The fresh air seemed to do its work and Seungmin stopped crying. 

`Can we leave the window open? The air feels so good.`, he asked quietly and you agreed right away what caused him to thank you. 

His behavior confused you. Not only because he cried out of the blue when he was trying to convince you that everything was alright and he was just acting a bit stupidly when he raged out on you for talking to his acquaintance this morning, but also because since then he was much more quiet than usual and thanked and apologized for every single thing you or he did. 

`Seungmin, what’s going on?`, you asked calmly, getting up from the sofa and collected the fallen pillow to put it back in place. 

He turned around and leaned back against the windowsill, crossing his arms with a big sigh. 

`It’s stupid.`, he stated again.

`You already said that, but you’re still upset and I don’t care how stupid you think it is, if it makes you shed even a single tear I-`

`Okay, okay.`, he interrupted and shook his head, looking down, a soft smile painting his beautiful face. 

He pushed himself off the surface behind him and extended his arms towards you, telling you to come to him, so that he could hold you. 

He was warm and his smell occupied your senses as soon as you leaned your head agains him, while his arms rested loosely around your waist. 

`You always smell so good.`, you whispered absently what caused him to laugh, but he couldn’t cover his mouth as he would usually do, because he was already holding you and nothing could make him let you go once he had you so close. He might not be the touchiest person, but he would always be the last to let go, lingering in a hug always a moment longer than necessary, because he didn’t care about necessities when he was with you. Suddenly all luxury became a norm he wanted to maintain, not any monetary goods, but those precious moments that can be overseen, their importance and joy even forgotten so easily. 

`I love your laugh so much.`, you whispered again, caressing his sides. Even now, being held by him, you couldn’t stay still without taking action yourself and letting him feel how much you enjoy having him with you. 

`I love you so much, you know that.`, he whispered back almost inaudible, but clearly understandable for your ears. 

`I love you too, but I think you know that.`, you giggled, well aware of how expressive you were. 

He tightened his grip around you and sank his head onto yours.

`It was stupid though, it still is, me crying over it is so so stupid.`

You shook your head as much as it was possible in this position. 

`Did I cross a line or something? Did I do anything? Because I don’t think I did, but then again you were so jealous. Maybe I missed something?`

He shook his head slightly. He didn’t want to let go of you, but he felt like he needed to look into your eyes. 

`You’re so beautiful, you know that?`, he asked, holding both of your hands. 

`It’s the dress, isn’t it?’, you smiled and he smiled back. 

`The dress is indeed, but I meant that you’re beautiful.`

`I don’t know what to respond.’, you whispered, feeling even warmer right now, somehow overwhelmed, so you sank your head to avoid looking directly at him. 

`You don’t have to respond anything.`, he said and searched for eye contact again, `I just wanted to tell you. I don’t know if I can explain myself properly here. I was obviously jealous and I handled it really immaturely. I’m sorry.’

`You don’t have to apologize.`

`I do have to. I shouldn’t have raged out, snapping at you like this. It must have been uncomfortable for you, especially in front of those people. You were just talking to them and I behaved like a total idiot, because of it.`

`I accept your apology. Honestly, I almost forgot it even happened. I was worried, because you acted so weirdly afterwards.`

`I know. Can I try to explain?`, he asked with a hint of unsureness in his voice. 

`Of course.`, you said and gave him an assuring smile combined with a squeeze of his hands that were holding yours throughout the whole time. He smiled back and looked a bit more relaxed. 

`Want to sit down? It’s getting a bit fresh at the window.`

Just then you recognized the goose bump on your arms. It was silly how you forgot the real world once you were close to him. It always felt all warm and cozy combined with the calmness that only he could radiate. 

Wrapped in the orange blanked, arranged pillows around you and with the window that opened the view to the setting sun and colorful falling leaves dancing through the air, you took his hand and and gently caressed his knuckles. 

`Aaah, it tickles.`, he exclaimed and threw his head back with a giggle, covering his face with the free hand that was already engulfed by the fabric of his sweater. 

`Why am I like this around you?`, he questioned, looking at you, his eyes still showing the after glimmer of his genuine laugh. 

`Like what?´, you asked and stopped the movements on his hand. 

`Stupid, no, intense? I feel everything so much more intense and it’s just so strong, I can’t control myself.`, he tried to explain as exactly according to his experience as possible. 

`You said you loved me, maybe it’s that?`, you suggested. 

`Maybe. But you’re not behaving weirdly like I do.`

`Are you questioning if I truly love you?`, you asked jokingly, leaning your head to the side. 

He knew you, he could read you well and understood with no doubt that you were amused by him here, maybe you were even trying to loosen up the atmosphere unconsciously to make it more natural, less weirdly intense for him. 

`Of course not. I wanted to ask how you experience loving me.`, he said and looked at you curiously. The blanket fell from you shoulder and he reached out to adjust it. He didn’t just take his hand back right away, but caressed your cheek in a loving manner first. 

`Hmmm. I don’t think any words could do justice to the feeling, but I can try giving you an insight of my heart.’

He nodded and leaned a bit more into the sofa to get more comfortable. He loved hearing you talk and he was genuinely curious about what you had to say.

`Well, first of all I always feel warm around you and when you say something sweet to me I feel overwhelmed by warmth. It’s almost uncomfortable, but it never reaches that point.`

He nodded, understood what you meant somehow, but he was still surprised how chill you were about it. 

`There are those simple things, like that I feel safe with you, I trust you and I am completely comfortable, I don’t really doubt myself to improve to please you or something like this, because you’ve never gave me a reason to, but I don’t think that’s love. That’s just you being a decent person. It’s still an important part of why I can allow myself experiencing loving you.`, you continued and he nodded again.

`So, you could love an asshole? But you wouldn’t allow yourself pursuing anything just because you feel something like love?`

`I think so, yes.`

`Good. Never go after someone like this, okay?`

You smiled in amusement. 

`I won’t, I promise. I have you right now anyways.`

`And that’s enough?`

`Enough? You’re so much more than enough!`

He smiled and felt the warmness that you were talking about. It was so silly to him, but after those words he just wanted to cry again, feeling so happy, so loved and just so whole. 

`Okay, so, I think I experience loving you not only in a way of a me feeling, but also in like an external focus on you. Like, you naturally became my priority. I don’t only think of what I want to eat for dinner, but also what you might want and when I’m bored and on Instagram, I search for new filters you might like, so that I can send them to you, because I know they make you happy. When I see you happy, I’m happy too and when you’re sad or upset, I’m stressed out thinking what can be done, so you’re not anymore. I simply forget the world around me and you become the only world, my only reality and the best part is that it’s not even scary. I’m looking forward to be in this kind of reality and I enjoy you being my world.`

He couldn’t say anything and just stared at you in disbelief. You explained it so much more abstract and really corny, but he didn’t find it funny, he completely believed you.

Happiness filled his mind when he recapitulated your words and realized that you seemed to be truly happy with him. At the same time worry arose, because other than you, he did feel scared and he didn’t know why. 

His smile vanished and he started overthinking.

Your hand on his started drawing circles on his skin and pulled him back, out of his mind.

`I do feel scared.`, he confessed bluntly. 

`Of what?`, you asked calmly, observing him lowering his eyebrows, thinking of his words, while you continued playing with his hand in a subtle way.

`Of not really being enough, like not interesting enough? You could just leave me and be with someone else and as long as you’re happy I would be fine with it, but I am trying really hard to be good for you. I don’t try to change myself, but I try to be more attentive and more nice in moments I don’t feel like I have any niceness or any energy for compliments left. You deserve all the compliments, you deserve everything, but it doesn’t come natural to me. I always have to remind myself to consider you. Maybe I’m not used to you being in my life like this yet, but honestly, I just feel really selfish most of the time. I- I already feel selfish for having you by my side.`

Tears were forming in your eyes and you stopped your movements on his hand, now sitting completely still, trying not to break down. 

Seungmin recognized your behavior right away and smiled weakly. 

`Come here.`, he whispered and signaled you to come close to him, so he could hold you. 

Some tears escaped your eyes and spilled on his hoodie, but he just used the paws to wipe away the remaining tears on your face. A gentle touch of soft fabric under your eyes combined with his smell that you liked so much, as well as his calm personality created the perception of reality that only he was able to create. This other form of reality in which nothing mattered, but you and him. It was minimalistic, but sure intense, just that you were more scared of the world out there and comforted by the world that he defined. 

`Maybe I feel loving you so intensely in sometimes an uncomfortable way, because I am still scared.`

`I think it’s normal.`, you sobbed, `Everything is normal regardless how different it might be.`

`And you’re not scared at all?`, he questioned quietly. 

`I’m scared of a reality without you and I am also scared that I am scared of that.`

He leaned back, now laying on the sofa with you on top of him, hindering you from falling down by setting up his legs, so that you were laying between them. Some pillows fell off the surface in the process of getting in this position and the orange blanket was somewhere next to you, not covering your bodies anymore, while the autumn wind blew into the room in form of a low breeze.

`Let’s be scared together then. Until we’re not anymore?`

`Yes, let’s just become fearless.`, you answered sarcastically. 

`Okay, okay. Let’s become less scared? I won’t act all jealous anymore for sure.`

`You can be jealous, you can cry out of frustration, just don’t rage out irrationally like you did today?`

`I promise, I won’t.`, he felt brave and safe at the same time, he felt like you wouldn’t reject him here right not even when he would sound completely desperate and clingy, `Will you hold me when I cry out of stupidness? Even if it’s really silly, because I see you being all beautiful talking and laughing with someone who is not me?’

`I will always hold you when you need me to.`

`You really are that beautiful, you know that?`, he asked and caressed your cheek. 

`Is it the dress?`, you asked smiling. 

`Yes, you look beautiful too, don’t worry.`, he assured and giggled, placing his head down on the sofa, enjoying your warmth on top of him, suddenly feeling tired from being so vulnerable.

His eyes got heavy and your calm movements of your hand drawing invisible patterns on his chest and shoulders were hypnotic. Without recognizing he fell asleep. 

After some time he opened his eyes not fully awake, but awoken by the missing warmth. Your body was replaced by the orange blanket and the window was closed, however he was freezing nevertheless. 

`Was it a dream.`, he thought, completely disconnected from reality, unaware of what really happened, what words were really spoken. If it was just a dream, it was beautiful one for sure, but when he saw you entering the room, still in the same dress he remembered you wearing before, he was relieved and truly happy. Unsure of wether the conversation was a dream or not, he smiled at you, just happy that you were there. 

You smiled back and went towards him, crouching down next to the sofa that seemed much darker since the sun vanished completely. Your hand reached out to hold his and he quickly pulled yours towards his lips to place a small kiss onto your palm that you closed immediately after. 

`I’ll never let that kiss go.`, you whispered and giggled. 

`I’ll give you as many as you want, whenever you want, don’t worry.´

`And you assume I would let any of them go?`

`No, I don’t… The day was exhausting.`

`Hmmm. Many tears.`

`I kind of like crying with you. It’s not ideal, but I still enjoyed it. It felt good.`

`Hmm.`

`You’re tired?`

`Hmmm.`

He opened the blanket and pulled you up, using your hand that he was still holding. You stumbled onto him and he pushed you over to the side gently, pushing his own body further to the edge to make you space. Trapped in between the back of the sofa and Seungmin’s body you closed your eyes and felt the orange blanket falling onto you. When he scooped closer again, you instinctively placed small kisses onto his clothed chest, nuzzling into it. He felt it so strongly, the warmth you were talking about and couldn’t keep himself from smiling and even with eyes closed, you could picture his beautiful smile and smiled as well. 

`I’m so happy with you.`, he whispered and received more kissed that wandered up until you reached his neck. It didn’t stop there and he started laughing, because it tickled, at the same time he didn’t want you to stop ever. 

`May I kiss you properly?`, you asked quietly, looking up to him. 

`Yes, please.`, he whispered back and you pushed yourself up on the surface until your face was right in front of him. 

It was the same as with all the hugs you shared, Seungmin would linger a bit longer, his lips not wanting to leave yours, not ready before you were.

With time he would learn that those moments may vanish earlier than he wished they did, but he can trust that you would bring them back whenever he wanted or needed this kind of luxury and that itself was luxury.

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT PHILLY

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-

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

-

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

-

[solarwriting]

guns and gifts

carl gallagher x fem!reader

request: Hey! I hope I can send you a request for Karl Gallagher of Shameless. Maybe Karl and y / n were a couple before jail, and after leaving jail he came to her to ask her for forgiveness. y / n doesn't forgive him and he starts giving her gifts and apologizing every day. Then everything is at your discretion. Happy ending please💛 from @powerpuffluuvv

genere: fluff + angst

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, ooc carl

posted on april 18, 2021

puppy love. thirteen year-olds holding hands and sharing stolen kisses. it was a sweet relationship that could’ve grown and matured with the two teens as they did. instead carl found himself a job on the corner and when he got caught y/n was done. fiona tried to get through to the boy, asking him to apologize but he brushed her off.

“can i please just talk to him? maybe he’ll listen to me.” y/n pleaded with the lawyer.

fiona stepped in, “it wouldn’t hurt to try it.”

“five minutes.” the lawyer relented.

y/n thanked him and rushed into the room where he sat. he squinted at her through the glasses fiona gave him. “i’m not fuckin’ sorry. i wish i was smarter about it. i wouldn’t have used chuckie as a mule.”

“you know what. if you don’t tell that judge you’re fucking sorry and that you’ve learned from your mistakes i will never speak to you again.” y/n exited the room quickly letting the ultimatum hang in the air as the door slammed behind her.

during the hearing her eyes were trained on the back of his head, hoping she could somehow will him to do the right thing. she kept her arms crossed as she leaned back. kev and v were sat next to her, waiting anxiously to see what he’d say.

“i’m going to make juvie my bitch.” as soon as he said those words, y/n sighed, getting up from her seat, shouldering her back and slipping out of the courtroom as they hauled carl away. he caught her eye before she left, she froze for a moment before shaking her head and making her exit.

time passed and she still spent time with the rest of the gallaghers, she lived across the street so it would have been hard not too. she helped take care of liam when needed and she got a job at patsy’s with fiona’s help.

the day carl came back had been a surprise for everyone, y/n was helping fiona with making dinner after a shift at patsy’s. the front door had slammed shut and, thinking it was debbie, fiona asked if she got a message about hamburger buns. y/n’s eyes shot up when a much deeper voice responded, “nah, it’s just me.”

excited, fiona rushed towards the boy, wrapping him up in a hug. hugging back, he looked up throwing a wave to y/n who was rooted in place, “hey, y/n.”

snapping herself back into reality she lurched forward wiping her hands and grabbing her things, pulling her bag over her shoulder and gripping her keys tightly she looked back at the boy as fiona fussed over his new appearance. “fuck you, carl.” she spat, slamming the back door shut behind her.

y/n managed to avoid carl at school the next day, he was too busy with “his boy” nick and his new white boy carl personality and selling illegal weapons in the bathrooms to bother her anyways. she rushed to patsy’s as soon as school ended and began her shift.

she spent the afternoon rushing from table to table, taking orders, passing out food, and pouring coffee. she was pouring coffee for a couple sitting near the front door when the bell twinkled, signaling a new customer.

her back turned to the door and her focus pointed and the coffee she was pouring she greeted the customer quickly, “take a seat anywhere and i’ll be right with you darling.” she smiled at the couple before turning around, finding herself face to face with white boy carl himself. “get the fuck out.”

y/n rushed away from him, pouring coffee for a man sat at the counter. carl followed, “please just talk to me, y/n.”

“she doesn’t want to talk to you, man.” the customer spoke up as y/n placed the coffee pot on the burner.

“what the fuck did you just say to me?” carl asked the man.

he stood up, “i told you she doesn’t want to talk. so leave.”

y/n stepped in before a physical altercation broke out, “thank so much, sir, but i can fight my own battles.” she pushed carl towards the door, “out.” she kept pushing him despite his protests, “get the fuck out. go.”

the door slammed behind them, and carl began to speak, “no, you’re going to shut your fucking mouth and listen. i don’t want to listen to you. i don’t want to talk to you. and i don’t even want to see you but that last one might be a little fucking impossible since we’re neighbors and i work with your sister so i’m going to be civil towards you but i will only acknowledge your existence when it is absolutely necessary. clear?”

carl began to protest but y/n cut him off, “are we fucking clear?” carl grumbled an agreement and y/n sighed, “good, now get the fuck out if here. i have to go back to work.”

y/n rushed back into the diner, throwing herself back into work. hoping she looked busy enough to keep the nosy man from before to leave her alone, she poured more coffee, took orders, passed out plates. until her shift ended and she could finally take the l back home.

the next run in with carl happened two days later, she was walking home from school, thankful for the day off from work when carl and nick pulled up on a bike. “y/n! wait!”

sighing, y/n whipped around, “i thought i told you i didn’t want to talk to you.”

“i have something for you.” carl explained as he got closer, y/n ignored him and started walking again, the bike quickly catching up with her. “here.”

y/n scoffed, eyeing the bag, “whatever it is i don’t want it.”

“it’s a book, debbie told me you wanted to read it.”

y/n sped up, “no thanks, already read it.” she didn’t care what book it was, she didn’t want anything from him. she took this moment to cross the street, the passing cars making it difficult for the boys on the bike to follow.

she entered the gallagher house hoping carl would be too busy to come home for a few hours while she watched liam. “i get off at nine, if anyone else comes home you’re welcome to leave but i plan on bringing something back for dinner if you want to stick around for that.”

“of course i’ll stay. me and liam are going to have a great time. isn’t that right liam?” y/n asked the toddler who nodded enthusiastically. fiona thanked her and rushed out the door.

y/n put on a movie, which liam fell asleep watching about thirty minutes in. y/n got up and stretched when the movie ended, adjusting the blanket she threw over liam when he fell asleep. she walked in the kitchen, stiff from sitting for so long. she pulled out a can of pop from the fridge and leaned her back against the fridge, using to stretch her body more.

the door swung open and carl walked in, “good you’re hear, i have something else for you.”

“whatever it is, i don’t want it.” y/n sighed into her drink.

“it’s a necklace, here.” he opened the velvet box to show her an expensive looking necklace.

she turned away from him, “no thanks.” walking back into the living room. “go somewhere else please, i have to watch liam.”

carl sighed before exiting the house with nick, who had been hanging back by the door during the exchange. he nodded to nick and the two rolled out to go do god knows what.

that night fiona came home with food, the entire gallagher clan plus kev and v enjoyed. there were enough people that y/n managed to avoid speaking to carl the entire evening. every time he tried to speak to her she’d find someone to talk to, she talked lip about something she had to do for school, ian told her about trevor, and her and debbie talked about anything.

v even pointed out the strange behavior when carl was left looking slightly dejected to fiona, who just shrugged in response.

“thank you fiona, goodnight everyone.” y/n called as she stepped out the back door. she crossed the street quickly and made it home, which as usual was empty, the rest of her family nowhere to be found.

she sighed, grabbing a beer from the fridge and kicking of her shoes as soon as she made it to her room. she threw herself back on her bed yelping when she collided with something hard. she jumped up only to see the jewelry box and book carl had bought her. she set her beer down and pulled the box open, smiling at the necklace. it was gold, with a small tear shaped pendant that held some sort of crystal or diamond.

she set the box next to her beer, which she grabbed and took sip of as she grabbed the book. it was actually something she’d been wanting, she rolled her eyes before opening it to the first page.

the next fee days followed a similar pattern, carl would stop her at school and work and even his own house to offer her gifts, which she would refuse, which would always end up on her bed at the end of the day. on a particularly rough day, y/n had enough. she was walking home from school, carl (who was alone this time) behind her, like clockwork offering another gift.

“carl, please just leave me alone. i don’t have the energy to deal with you.” y/n said not stopping. carl made a comment and y/n snapped, “god i’m not going to forgive you because you chose to go to juvie. you could have just apologized and gotten parole but that didn’t happen. and i’m not going to be your girlfriend again because i don’t even know who you are any more, this thug personality doesn’t look good on you.” y/n sighed rushing away before he could answer.

she was suddenly thankful for the day off, deciding to spend it all alone at home. it was a friday and her weekend was also free so she spent the next few days home alone. her family was gone of course, they only only seemed to show up once a month just to leave again the same day.

sunday evening y/n laid in the couch watching what was on tv when there was a knock on the door. y/n groaned, getting up to answer it freezing when carl was revealed on the other side. he looked small, he was curled into himself and he looked sad. his braids were out, soft curls in the place. “hey, y/n.” he said softly. y/n wordlessly moved out of the way to let him in.

“i’m done. no more sell drugs, guns, anything. something happened, with nick and i don’t want that to be my life anymore.” his voice cracked and y/n instinctively wrapped him into a hug, squeezing protectively. he cried into her shoulder, holding her tightly, scared to let her go.

“hey,” y/n spoke softly, running her fingers through his hair, “you’re okay. i got you.” once carl calmed down, he pulled away but y/n held onto him, hands on his face.

“i really miss you y/n. and i know i was awful before but all i want to do is be with you. i love you.” he sighed, his hands holding her wrists.

y/n pulled him closer, “i love you, too, idiot.” carl gave her a lopsided smiled before surging forward to connect their lips in a hot kiss. y/n stumbled backwards before backing into the wall behind her. carl bit on her lip softly causing her breath to catch in her throat. she tugged on his hair and he squeezed her hips. she pulled away for breath, pressing her forehead to his, “my room?” breathless carl nodded pressing a quick kiss to her lips before they rushed to her room.

the next morning the front door slammed opened, “y/n! i’m going to kill fiona!” debbie stormed through the house bursting into y/n’s room where she was laying next to a topless carl, wearing only his t-shirt, “oh my god! ew!” debbie shielded her eyes from the sight before her.

“hey, debs.” y/n mumbled, sheepishly.

debbie groaned, “just get dressed, we have school.”

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 3 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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"Baby," a voice cooed at you while hands gently shook your shoulders, stirring you from sleep.

"Come on. Get up. The sun's gonna be rising soon," he continued, speaking to you softly.

You groaned like a wounded animal and tried to resist the pull to consciousness, hoping you could slip back away and he would cease this assault.

Of course, that didn't happen, and the murmuring and shaking didn't come to an end. You found yourself turning around and groggily taking in the sight of Hawks. He already looked wide awake, gold eyes beaming, skin glowing, handsome face as immaculate as ever.

It made you want to punch him.

"Get up," he said, more so telling than asking, albeit politely.

He had warned you last night that he intended to wake you early; but, that didn't stop you from groaning tiredly, rolling over, as if in protest, before complying with his request, removing the blanket slowly, afraid to expose yourself to the cold.

He had stoked the fireplace before waking you; that much was clear, seeing as it wasn't blistering cold when you wiggled out of bed. It was chilly, of course, but not enough to leave you trembling helplessly.

You realized that Hawks had already dressed himself, boots thumping quietly on the floor as he stepped around the bed. He had slipped on a grey T-shirt, and didn't seem to be feeling cold at all, judging by the lax way he rolled his shoulders, wings jutting out from his back gracefully.

He gave you a sideways glance, an almost untrusting look written across his face.

"I'm getting up!" you hissed at him.

Hawks wasn't expecting that sudden outburst and flinched a little, eyes widening slightly and feathers shuddering behind him. It was a comical sight, if you were being honest. It wasn't like him to be so high strung.

Before you could assume you had upset him, Hawks blew raspberries and turned away, heading for the stairs.

When he walked away, you most certainly did not admire the way his cargo pants hugged his ass, nor the way his shirt was pulled tight across the plains of his muscular back, nor how his crimson feathers looked so beautiful draped behind him.

Hawks didn't laugh when you met him downstairs; but, he sure looked like he wanted to. Here he was wearing some loose, comfortable clothes like it hadn't snowed all night, while you were dressed up in thick pants and a heavy coat with multiple layers underneath, ready to weather the elements.

As soon as you stepped downstairs, you were hit with the familiar smell of coffee lofting about the cabin. You recognized the aroma as his favorite, the one he stockpiled at the agency, that was almost always coming from his office.

He had taken the time to pour you some, as well, evident by the mug he was trying to hand to you with a suspiciously innocent look on his face.

"Seriously?" you laughed when you eyed the receptacle he was offering.

It was his merch, clearly. The mug was black with sparkly gold trim, the pattern matching the chest on his jumpsuit . It was covered in comic book style quotation marks containing, what you were guessing, was supposed to be his quotes.

Hawks watched you admire the cup, looking a little too smug for his own good, and returned to sipping from the very plain mug in his other hand.

"Do you really say these things?" you laughed, not expecting an answer because there was no way such nonsense flew from his mouth in the middle of a fight.

"Aheh. 'I am speed'," you read aloud with a scoff. "More like, 'I do speed'," you teased with a grin, catching the way he almost choked on his coffee, shoulders trembling with laughter.

"Who the hell approved these?" you added on.

"The hero commission, I think," Hawks replied, shrugging his shoulders a little.

The coffee, of course, tasted great. He bought the expensive, high-class stuff, after all. Hawks was the only person you knew who could sleep in the dirt with his visor skewed across his face, without a complaint to be had, but refused to drink anything but imported, specially grown coffee beans.

He was ushering you out the door the second you were finished with your coffee, pushing you out into the snowy forestscape, hands grabby and wings fluttering anxiously.

Before you could shudder and complain about the cold, Hawks scooped you up into his arms, kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot, and took to the sky.

You couldn't believe he was out here without a jacket on. Your fully covered arms clung to him for dear life, shivering and trembling in the cold. He wasn't flying particularly fast; but, the winds felt punishing, ice cold biting at your cheeks and seeping in through your clothes.

You were too cold to really appreciate the beauty of the forest covered in freshly poured snow. The glistening, white peaks sparkled like something out of a fairytale in the dimly lit morning light.

"Come on, babe," Hawks cooed, turning his head to blow hot air right on your ear.

Well, no wonder he wasn't cold. It seemed to make sense to you, then, why he went into his rut during these times of the year. He was generating enough heat to be a transportable furnace.

"If you keep clinging to me like that, you're gonna miss the view," Hawks uttered, so close that his lips moved against your skin as he spoke.

You peeled back from him, away from the warmth you were desperately trying to steal. He hadn't stopped flying yet, but slowed down a bit.

"O-oh..." you whispered, taking in the snowy wilderness.

A few miles past the cabin's backyard was a cliff that dipped down into rolling mountains. He had flown overhead, granting a wonderful view of the many acres of untouched wilderness, towering trees and lush forest landscape over rolling hills and mountains.

But, Hawks hadn't dragged you out here at the crack of dawn just to see the snowy landscape. He wanted you out here right at sunrise for a very specific reason.

He had made it just in time for the sun to peak out from the horizon line, like a giant glimpsing through the trees on the mountain top.

The sun was shining a mystical light across the mountains. The overcast clouds were dark purple gliding across crystal clear, blue skies. Rays of red sunlight glided through the trees while gold laid out across the piles of snow like a glistening blanket.

"See?" Hawks murmured, his flight coming to a halt.

He hovered, fairly high up, wings flapping gently, arms still wound tight around you, holding you close. There was a gentle breeze brushing through his hair, causing the feathery strands to tickle at your cheeks.

While you were looking at the landscape in awe, he was staring at you. The sunlight lit up your face and reflected heavily on your eyes, making them glow like crystal orbs. You had finally stopped shivering, too in awe at the sight to notice the chilling bite of the wind.

He didn't say it aloud; but, the most beautiful thing in the sunrise was you.

He liked to tell himself that the rut was making him mushy, emotional. Surely, powerful pro-hero Hawks couldn't be this soft? But, he knew his rut was only amplifying what he already felt so strongly.

His rut made him less inhibited, surfaced darker, feral desires that lay in waiting under layers of discipline he had spent most of his life building.

Even without his rut, you had a power over him he couldn't deny, the power to break him, to peel back the masks he wore, to melt away his self-control, until he was reduced to a desperate animal.

Oh, but the beauty of it all was that you loved that side of him. You had proved to him that you loved every side of him, even the parts that he tried so desperately hard to ensure would never see the light of day.

Even if he could blame his desires on his mutation, that didn't change that he was an assassin, for heroes, yes, but a murderer none the less.

You-

-you knew that, and yet, still, those soft hands held him as if he was untainted. You purred beneath his touch as if those weren't the same hands he had used to kill.

"Keigo?" you hummed.

Just like that, there you were again, freeing him from the torment of his own mind, a lifeline to free him from drowning in the ocean.

"Thank you for this," you uttered, turning your head to look at him.

God, he was beautiful. His gold irises were amplified by the sunlight, like shiny coins in a wishing well, taking in the sight of you shamelessly.

The bird-like curve of his eyelids already gave him a mystical appearance, now further illuminated by the rays of light shining down from above. The wind was blowing, tossing his already frazzled hair in a senseless dance.

The bright red plumes that made up the shape of his wings looked like something out of a dream. In the sunlight, the feathers glowed magnificent crimson, glowing in sharp contrast to the pale white, wintery landscape.

Your hands, that had been gripping his shoulders during the flight, wove up the back of his neck, fingertips touching the trimmed hairs there. You felt his hands tighten where they were holding you, his arms weaving tighter, as if he could get you closer.

"Do you like it here?" Hawks uttered softly.

His tone concerned you a little, as if he was sincerely worried that you were a prisoner here.

You smiled, replying, "it's the first time we've gotten to truly be alone. I'm enjoying myself more than you think."

His gaze softened at your words. A couple of your fingers played with the soft, short hairs at the top of his neck. He felt unbearably warm there, skin slightly damp with sweat. It was startling, considering how cold it was outside.

You felt the soft brush of his lips and let your eyes flutter shut. He was slow, careful, like he was tasting something new and delicious for the first time.

When he pulled back and tilted his head, you felt the faintest drag of his chin across your cheek, felt the fine hairs of his beard tickle your skin.

He hadn't shaved in a couple weeks, leaving you to see him in a mess than most didn't get the honor of. The normally neatly trimmed hairs he shaved down to a fine patch on his chin were now covering most of his jawline, the same beautiful, pale blonde as the hair on his head.

Tantalized, you leaned in, nuzzling your cheek against his jaw, before tilting your head back and feeling the drag of his soft beard against your skin. It felt good, maybe a little too good, and you failed to suppress a quiet gasp.

When you had pulled back far enough to catch his gaze, you immediately realized his eyes had changed. The calm was gone; now, something akin to a storm was brewing underneath.

It was a look you were very familiar with.

He let out a low exhale, as if he had been holding his breath. Your name fell from his lips, low and sultry, a warning, or a curse, and it made you shudder.

Hawks tilted back suddenly and started a sharp decent downward. Having flown together many times, you weren't afraid. The arms around his shoulders tightened and you let out a soft gasp, but more so out of surprise than fear.

His wings fanned out and took him sharply soaring through the trees at a speed much faster than he had brought you here. His grip on you was almost painfully tight, as if his fingers were trying to dig past the fabric of your clothes to get to your skin.

Excitement made you forget about the biting cold, the forest around you distorted almost violently. Suddenly, the cabin door was creaking and then being slammed shut. You hadn't even seen the cabin come into view. Everything felt like a daze.

He flew up to the loft and dropped you unceremoniously at the edge of the bed. The tumble had resulted in you facing away from him; but, you could feel his eyes burning through you.

"Take off your clothes," Hawks commanded, his voice oddly polite despite the nature of his request.

Just as soon as you started working your jacket off, he was kneeling to pull at the laces on your boots. He was strangely gentle when he pulled your shoes off, less so when he tossed them aside. As you worked your shirt off, he pulled your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop, leaving you mostly bare and cold.

You rotated around and leaned up on your elbows, catching his cold stare, indicating that you were not done yet. You peeled your socks off, feeling a rush of excitement at the look he was giving you.

Hawks usually wore a kind, harmless face, not that it was unnatural, for he truly was a good person. However, most could easily forget or be blind to how powerful he was.

Now, in his gold eyes, that was what you saw, the reality that he could take whatever he wanted, when he wanted. You didn't have to be reminded, for every sparring and training session did just that: you couldn't best him if your life depended on it.

Still, Hawks wasn't that kind of person. He was the kind of loved, often times so passionately that you feared you couldn't keep up.

Even now, when his hands took hold of your waist, his body language dominating, wings spread wide behind him, you felt loved.

An amused sound, like a hum, rumbled out of his chest as he carefully maneuvered you around.

You were compliant, letting him roll you around and push your chest down into the bed. The hand on your back was gentle, but commanding, fingers splayed wide in the space between your shoulder blades.

Instead of nudging your thighs with his hands, a boot-clad toe poked between your ankles, commanding you to spread your legs, which you did with a low moan. You leaned up on your toes, presenting to him like an animal.

The sight threatened to send him into a spiral, and you felt his clothed body fall over you, pushing you down into the bed.

His wings flapped once, sending a sharp gust of wind spiraling around the room. There was a painfully obvious contrast between the soft texture of his shirt and the rough texture of his pants.

He made it very clear, with a roll of his hips, that he was ready to take you. The feeling of his clothed erection against your sex, combined with the knowledge that he could just slip right in without preamble, had you mewling.

"You like this," Hawks observed, the words like thunder as they rolled off his tongue.

He retreated, suddenly reeling back and standing behind you, warmth leaving along with him.

"You like when I just take?" he asked, accentuating 'take' with a smack to the back of your thigh. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it did manage to startle a yelp out of you.

"Yeah," he uttered lowly, agreeing with his own observations. "You like being Hawks' little plaything," he continued, almost purring the words.

Your delirious brain didn't really know what to expect next. When you heard a thump, you had no idea what to make of it, until you felt breath on your skin and realized that was the sound of Hawks' falling onto his knees behind you.

He didn't waste any time diving in, lapping a heavy tongue across your slit, from top to bottom. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you still while his tongue breached your entrance.

If his enthusiasm and lack of grace wasn't enough, the rumbling sound he made was enough to make it obvious he liked it.

You couldn't fathom that your taste could possibly be that good; however, you didn't dare comment, especially not when he was doing things with his tongue that shouldn't be humanly possible.

A rough smack to your behind startled you from a delirious daze of pleasure. You yelped quietly, but otherwise remained compliant. When he smacked you again, this time growling faintly into your sex, it was clear he wanted something that you weren't delivering; but, you didn't know what.

"K-Keigo, what-" you whined, breaking off into a howl when he smacked you again.

Normally, such a touch would have you instinctively shriveling away; however, his grip on you was tight, and it kept you still.

Hawks smacked you again, you helplessly cried out, again, and the sound faded into moans that you couldn't possibly contain with what he was doing. You started to wonder, when another smack was delivered, if he was just doing that for his own amusement.

Eventually, he stopped and leaned back, rising to his feet. His hand slid over yours, large palm practically swallowing yours, and guided it back to your sex. You rotated a little, angling your body to follow his movement.

"Feel that," he gently commanded. "How wet and warm you are for me."

You heard the floorboard creak as he leaned back, clearly to get a good view. You did as he requested, immediately driving two fingers into yourself. Sure enough, you were slippery, walls compliant and squishy, and unbelievably warm inside.

Being ready for him with little provocation wasn't exactly a new thing. You were both very busy heroes and keeping your relationship on the downlow. That meant quickies more often than proper time together.

Yet, Hawks sounded immensely pleased; with himself or with you, you couldn't quite tell.

He returned to the floor, hand brushing your knuckles to push your fingers in as deep as they could go.

"Keigo, what are you-" you began, cutting off when his tongue returned to your heat, right alongside your fingers.

"Finger yourself," he told you, sounding oddly blissful despite the fact that you hadn't touched him at all. His cock was still trapped inside his pants, throbbing against the rough material.

You complied with his request, lacking in any grace or proper friction considering the awkward angle. However, Hawks groaned in approval at the view before leaning back in.

His tongue dipped in right alongside your digits. Immediately, he forced the pace and you were desperate to try and keep up, fingers squelching in and out of your core alongside the slobbery mess of his tongue.

Your fingers couldn't compare, lacking in the length, thickness and dexterity of his digits. But, it seemed that Hawks was less focused on getting you off and more focused on playing with you; or, maybe, you had severely underestimated what the taste of your essence was doing to him.

At some point, he pulled back, grabbed your wrist to remove your fingers from your core, and sucked them into his own mouth. You weren't expecting the teeth, and let out a low hiss when his fangs threatened to pierce the skin, holding you firmly in place while his tongue sucked your fingers clean.

He didn't release your hand when he was done. You heard the floorboards creak as he stood up, felt him tug your hand down, until your knuckles brushed his clothed cock.

"You want that?" Hawks breathed.

His free hand gently spread over the space between your shoulder blades, pushing you down before you could dare think to lean up. Your cheek was resting against the sheets, hair spewed about in a mess. His hand wandered, pushing hair out of the way until your neck and shoulders were properly exposed.

From where you laid on the bed, you couldn't make out the sight of him; but, you could see one of his wings, stretched out, looming predatorily.

"Yes," you replied hoarsely.

His hand glided over the prominent bump where your first vertebrae jutted from the top of your spine, and lowered, setting between your shoulder blades once more, where he held you still.

"Then, take it," Hawks uttered, his other hand releasing your wrist.

You let out a low hiss, wanting to curse him for making such a ridiculous request. You couldn't see his face; but, you sure as hell could feel the smirk he was wearing as he stared at you, watching your handle fumble with his belt.

You doubted it was mercy; but, Hawks leaned in closer, the tops of his thighs sliding over the backs of yours, making it a little easier to undo his belt buckle.

The button on his pants followed, but not with ease, before you tugged his zipper down. You couldn't tug his pants down like this, leaving you to fumble around with his boxers, trying to fish his cock out.

"Keigo, you fucking ass-" you growled, not bothering to hide your frustration.

Hawks laughed softly, sounding a little more out of it than he did amused. "'m sorry," he cooed. "-like seein' you struggle."

The slur in his voice should have given it away, his patience had depleted; however, it still surprised you when he suddenly swatted your hand away. He hooked his thumb on the hem of his boxers and pulled them down just enough for his cock to bob free.

You felt the smooth tip nudge at your entrance, the faintest warning, before he pushed forward and entered your moist heat.

"Ohhhh fuck," Hawks howled.

He gave you no time to become accustomed to the sudden intrusion, immediately pistoning his hips back and forth, driving his cock in and out of you.

One hand pinned your torso, while his thighs pinned your legs, and his other hand gripped your hip for leverage. You shifted your feet, trying to lift up on your toes to better the angle, and bumped against his boots.

He was still fully clothed; and, really, that shouldn't have mattered so much. After all, how many times had he freed his cock from his jumpsuit to take you quick and hard before tucking it back in and immediately looking as if nothing nefarious had occurred. Yet, still, the realization had you feeling dizzy.

Before you could nudge a hand between your thighs, something beat you to it. You recognized that bizarre texture. It was soft, sure, but a tad bit pricklier than a normal feather, with an unnatural, firm touch. The little heathen knew exactly how you liked to be touched there, too.

The wet, lewd noises of your union, skin slapping together, was drowned out by the litany of moans pouring from his mouth. If he wasn't crying out in ecstasy, he was huffing and puffing like he had just ran a marathon.

If you were being honest, he was being just a little too rough, a little too fast, offering you no reprieve. You didn't doubt that he would stop if you asked him to; but, you sure as hell didn't want him to. The intensity of it all had you on a plain of existence you rarely got to experience, where pleasure became blinding and mind-numbing.

His hand slid off your back and onto the bed, grabbing a fistful of the sheets as he set a brutal pace, the kind that threatened to unravel your sanity.

"Fuck! You feel so fucking good," he growled, sounding so out of breath and lost. "Gonna fill you up. Yeah, I am. Want my seed dripping out of you all fucking week."

High off the pleasure, and maybe a little influenced by his own state, you moaned approvingly at the suggestion.

"Baby," he whined, suddenly sounding like he was in pain. The feather fluttering against your pearl intensified, practically vibrating against you with how fast it was moving.

"Need you come, need you to come," Hawks pleaded, the words hissing out from his lips between desperate pants.

You didn't think you could come in that moment. Everything felt so good, from his cock rearranging your insides to his feather flicking at your clit. The pleasure was tingling down your thighs and crawling up your spine. You could barely breathe, let along process a coherent thought beyond Keigo.

The hand that had been holding your hip let go and joined the other in gripping the bed. He arched over you, forehead meeting your back.

"Come for me, come for me," Hawks sobbed.

You realized then, as he trembled behind you, that he had reached his own completion, and he didn't slow down until his orgasm waned. You could feel his seed, like molten lava as it filled your insides.

Hawks was still panting when he growled, "again."

He flipped you over, winding your legs over his waist and somehow managing to keep his cock seated inside of you during the transition. Your arms flopped uselessly above your head. You felt weak, laying there like a doll while he turned you over. Still, it felt good: his cock, his hands, his warmth.

One of his arms looped beneath your lower back and tugged you properly onto the bed. He climbed onto the sheets and followed, dragging you beneath him.

He was prepared to continue thrusting into you wildly and blindly chase another orgasm when your eyes met and he froze up. You could practically see him blink away delirious arousal, the sight of your debauched face bringing him back to his senses.

"B-baby, do you need me to stop?" Hawks offered, the words falling from his lips so weakly.

You huffed out a weak breath and reached for him. He leaned down, letting you wind your arms across his shoulders. Your fingers dipped across his clothed back until you reached his wings.

Hawks literally shouted when your fingers dipped into the exposed seams on the shirt and touched the baby feathers growing fresh from his back. The sound rattled your bones and made you jerk from the startle.

He didn't have to be told twice, obviously, for Hawks continued his thrusting immediately. The slippery, wet sounds of his claim over your body was downright disgusting, and you loved it. Your legs clung desperately to his hips, heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

One of his feathers was still pressed against your clit, now trapped between your bodies. It had stopped moving; but, every time he thrust back into you, it created delicious friction.

Your assault on his wings rendered Hawks incapable of speech. The pleasured sounds he made was almost unnatural. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was in pain between the broken, blabbering moans and choked, sharp gasping.

His arms were still wound beneath you, holding onto you for leverage and clinging to you so closely, so tightly, it was almost crushing. His wings were arched up high, flapping occasionally as if to increase the momentum behind his thrusts.

His face fell into your throat, forcing your head back into the sheets. He was burning hot, practically oozing sweat. In the corner of your eye, you could see the red tint staining his ears. You could practically feel his frustration gnawing its way through his body and into yours.

Without warning, you felt what couldn't be mistaken for anything other than Hawks' teeth piercing the skin of your neck. Sure, he had bit you before, even left faint hickies on occasion; however, this was something else entirely, and forced a scream from your throat.

You had no doubt he had pierced the skin, judging by how it burned. He was growling into the skin, holding onto you with his teeth as if you were attempting to flee. You didn't dare release his wings, fingers woven through the fine plumes, caressing the sensitive skin of his shoulder blades, where crimson feathers grew.

The bite hurt, without a doubt, but there was no denying the electrical shocks of pleasure it sent through your body. If it wasn't that, then it was the growls vibrating from his mouth onto your skin.

Suddenly, your orgasm hit, and left you screaming and gasping with a sort of ferocity you didn't think you were capable of. Something that sounded almost like his name fell from your lips at some point. Your back arched and your legs trembled where they rested around his hips.

You failed to realize he was following closely behind you. Your grip on his feathers had gone limp and you didn't notice the way his wings arched up, the tips of the longest quills nearly touching the ceiling. He kept going and going, until he was spent and your cries of ecstasy came to a halt.

Hawks let go of your throat and leaned up, removing his arms from beneath you to set his palms on the sheets. He should have felt embarrassed or ashamed or something. But, looking down at the bleeding bite wound on your shoulder, watching the way your chest heaved with heavy breaths, seeing the tint of red along your cheeks and neck, he felt blissfully proud.

Hawks scooped you into an embrace and carefully rolled onto his side, bringing you in with him and cradling you against his chest. One of his wings fell over you, the plumes stretched wide to hide you from the outside world. All you could see was him, his handsome face, the crimson feathers of his wings.

You were acutely aware that he was still inside you, still somewhat hard; but, his temperature was lowering and his breathing was steadily returning to normal. Your fingers untangled from his plumes and came around to rest limply on his chest.

He lapped his tongue softly against the bite wound until it stopped bleeding before peppering it with kisses. It stung a little and you squirmed in his grasp.

"I'm not sorry about the bite," Hawks confessed lowly, leaning back to look at your face.

"Me either," you replied, offering him a weak smile.

He looked blissfully unaware until you leaned in and sucked some of the skin of his neck into your mouth. Hawks groaned approvingly, laying still until you were satisfied and let go, leaving behind a faint, purple bruise.

You stared at his handsome face, watching the vibrant, red blush slowly leave his features as he calmed down. Blonde locks were clinging to his sweat soaked forehead and everything between the two of you reeked of sex. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to complain when he looked so damn happy.

Hawks leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against yours lips. Before he could retreat, you tilted your head and leaned in, not letting him escape. He hummed into the kiss, letting you lead until you were content and departed with a wet smack.

"Just a little bit longer," he promised, fingers gently digging into your back.

"Tell me what you're thinking," you requested, nuzzling your nose against his.

Something uncertain flickered in his gold eyes and his lids narrowed slightly.

"It's not sensical," he uttered lowly, and you felt one of his hands slide around to your front. His thumb lovingly brushed along the dip of your tummy, beneath your belly button. His gold eyes shifted down, staring at the expansion of your naval with dedication.

You both had implants. It wasn't going to happen. He knew that. Of course he did. But, he couldn't help but feel dedicated to commit to the effort, as if it would.

Your hand followed his, spreading over his fingers to press him down gently over your lower abdomen, as if this would be successful, as if there was a chance he would take. The encouragement to put him ease.

Hawks wanted to believe it was the rut talking. Some of it was, his body deliriously driven to mate, to the point that he overheated and arousal pained his core. But, his motivation wasn't purely biological. It was because it was you, whom he trusted with every fiber of his being.

But, he couldn't bring himself to tell you that. You loved being a hero, and he wasn't going to take that from you.

It felt special, being hidden with him like this, beneath his wing, whispering such depravities to one and other, that the rest of the world would never know. You felt safe, in a way that felt impossible. Here, as irrational as it sounded, you felt like Hawks could protect you from the world.

[qyllenhaal]

Good Wives Club [2]

Lee Bodecker x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 4.2k.

Spin-off to American Pie

Chapter One || Chapter Three

Summary: It's been more than a year since she's escaped the ghost of her past but life is never fair to a girl like her. Lee doesn't care that she has a husband, a nice house, and sugary fake friends, he wants what's rightfully his.

Warnings (series): Cheating, smut, violence, housewife kink, period-typical misogyny, age gap (about a ten year difference), manipulation, dark themes all around.

A/N: If anyone wants to be added to future tag list just let me know!

Y/n woke up at 5am with a dry mouth and her head spinning. Her night has been plagued with restlessness and she couldn't stay still. When she did fall asleep, it was for small periods of time. Each time she woke up she was not aware of where she was for the first five seconds, panic almost setting in before she registered the sound of her husband snoring.

The end of her irregular sleep cycle ended because she saw the hallway light was on. She sighed when realized it must be time for her husband to get ready for work. She virtually got no sleep and she'll probably be tired for the rest of the day.

She gets up from their creaky bed and starts walking down the hallway. It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the brightness as she slowly plods down the hallway. She follows the light to the bathroom where she can hear her husband getting ready for work. On the days he goes in this early Y/n is relieved that she doesn't have to get up and cook breakfast for him.

The door is cracked but she opens it to find him inside. She situates herself in the doorway, watching him shave his face through the mirror.

"Good morning," he spoke with a scratchy voice. Even though Y/n didn't marry Llewellyn for love, she's still attracted to him and likes his company most of the time. She feels an ache inside of her that wants him to take her, but after running into Lee last night she's afraid she won't be able to get Lee's face out of her mind while beneath her husband.

"Good morning. Going in early?"

"Yep. Dad wants to do inventory today since he put it off last week."

"Oh okay," she accepts quietly, ready to leave her husband alone so he can get ready in peace.

However he asks her a surprising question, "hey, did you enjoy last night?"

"Uh, it was fine I guess. Did you?" Her hope is that he at least enjoyed himself somewhat.

"You know I don't like that super fancy stuff like that, but I have to eat crow; it wasn't all that bad and Bodecker's not as bad as I thought. He's kind of a funny guy. I still think he's not as hard on crime like everyone claims he is, but personally, he's not that bad. Florence was nice too. She invited us to dinner on Wednesday night, apparently that's the only night Lee has off. I told her we'd be able to join them."

The turn of events was shocking. Y/n couldn't believe her ears and she thought maybe she indeed was still asleep. Lou was not fond of many people and his only "friends" were his two brothers so him warming up to Lee and Florence left her speechless. So speechless that she didn't register the fact that he accepted a dinner invite for them.

"What?"

"What do you mean ‘what’? You dragged me to that dinner last night and wanted me to be nice, and now you're confused when I do just that?"

"I-I'm not confused...just shocked," she admits truthfully, "I can't believe you want to go to someone’s house who isn't your mother house for dinner —are you sure you want to go?"

"We're going Y/n."

His tone of voice indicates that the conversation is done and over with and the decision has been made. Y/n didn't even get to contest his decision but Lou can tell when Y/n is in a defiant mood. Her folding her arms and walking away was confirmation for him. She stalks her way back to the bedroom where she takes to hiding under the covers.

Lee and Lou under the same roof — it makes her stomach churn just to think about it. They're wildly different from each other but the thing she hates about them is what they have in common.

All she can hope is that this nightmare ends and she wakes back up to a life without Lee's ghost lingering around.

-

She decided to go with a floral dress again. She really wanted to take out the checkerboard dress that made her legs look good and showed off her arms, but Lou would have made her change before she had the chance to step out of the house. The floral print is dizzying, but it's the kind of dress that Lou likes to see her wear.

It's just a small dinner at the Bodecker's house but Y/n opts for kitten heels instead of sensible flats. She feels obligated to look her best despite there being less people to dress for. She's never been alone with Florence save for that day at the grocery store. Florence is always dressed to the 10's and Y/n needs to look just as good, if not better. She claims to hate Lee, but it would be so satisfying if she caught Lee ogling her breasts.

"Are you ready?"

Y/n thought Lou was too dressed up for a home dinner of four. He wore a pinstriped suit and those nice leather shoes he bought himself around the holidays.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighs in an attempt to let off some steam.

It was a shorter drive than Y/n expected. Florence hadn't disclosed where she lived before, but Brewer Heights wasn't that for them to live at a distance. The sun was nearly dipped over the horizon and the remaining light that hits their house makes it look like a model home. Everything little aspect and detail Y/n was going to compare herself too. She lives in a nice house, but Florence lives in a nicer house. It tears her up knowing she has the ultimate upper hand over Florence in the form of her own husband and she can't even act upon it. She would royally fuck up her life and their lives too if she decide to let her jealousy get the best of her.

As she walks up their stairs as another man's wife, she accepts that she is jealous. She's always been jealous of Florence even when she didn't know her name. What made her so worthy of all of these things? Lee used to act like he hates the woman so she must be a bitch behind closed doors. It wouldn't be surprising if she is because most people in this town will smile in your face and then gossip about you a minute later.

Lou knocks on the door and only a second later Florence is opening the door with a big smile on her face and Lee right next to her. He wore his police uniform without the jacket while Florence looked like a Lilly Pulitzer catalog girl.

It only took one millisecond of their eyes locking together for Y/n to feel the electricity between her and Lee. She drags her eyes away from his, but she can bet that he has a smirk on her face. He always liked to see her squirm; in a good and bad way.

"Y/n, Llewellyn! I'm so glad you could make it! Why don't you come on in," Florence steps to the side, nudging Lee over with her, to make way for Y/n and her husband.

Her eyes scan over every inch of their house. It's warm, cozy, and oddly comforting. Everything little thing was in its place; perfectly dusted and polished. Y/n is sure that Lee had no hand in decorating this place, it screams Florence through and through.

"Dinner is almost ready. I started the scalloped potatoes a little too late, but it should be done soon! Y/n, do you want to help me set the table?"

Y/n didn't want to leave her husband alone with Lee, but she also didn't want to be in the room with just them. She nods at Florence and follows behind her to their kitchen.

The house smells like Lou's parent's house on holidays. Y/n's stomach rumbles and she doesn't realize how hungry she was. She despises herself for wanting Florence's cooking, but she barely ate today because of how nervous she was.

"I already laid out the place mates, you can place the plates and silverware."

Y/n picks up the expensive dining ware that Florence points towards. She wonders if Florence cooks like this all the time, even when Lee works well into the night.

The walls of their dining room have an awful floral pattern. Y/n is beginning to become sick at the sight of anything that pertains to flowers. The cedar table is perfect for accommodating guests and Y/n wonders how many dinner parties they had in this room. Florence seems to put a lot of stock into being a good hostess. Y/n herself has yet to throw a dinner party at her home, but setting the plates on someone else's dining room table feels like practice. She silently imagines her house filled with Lou's family as she cooks dinner for them.

Florence enters the room and starts placing the dishes in the middle of the table. Her presence takes Y/n out of her fantasy, and when she sees how Florence made a 3-course-meal she feels worse.

"Does the food look good? I tried some new recipes from Julia Child's cookbook to try to impress you and Llewellyn," she admits, "I wasn't sure what you two would like, but Lee loves when I make those recipes from Julia Child and I bet Llewellyn would love it too! I could lend you the book some time!"

"Of course. I love her work!" Y/n lies straight through her teeth. She has no clue who the hell Julia Child is.

Florence grabs one last thing before calling the husbands into the dining room. She places one beer on the coasters designated for Lee and Lou. Lou has never been much of a drinker, but she knows that Lee can knock down a few beers in one sitting. He might be on his best behavior tonight in front of his wife and company.

"Dinner's ready!" Florence called out.

Y/n took her seat on the right side of the table and Florence sat opposite of her. Their husbands come walking in laughing as if they were young boys sneaking back into the house during a family get together. Y/n doesn't like it; she doesn't like it at all. They look too cheery with each other and she knows that Lee is doing it on purpose — she can see it in his eyes when he quickly glances at her. He takes pride in making her uncomfortable. Y/n wishes she had that same affect on him to scare him off a bit, but no matter how chummy she gets with Florence, Lee looks unbothered.

Florence stands up from her seat as if she's presenting the food on the table to an audience. Everything is placed perfectly with the main dish being the middle of the smaller plates.

"This looks great honey, you made a whole feast," Lee walked up to Florence's side and kissed on the cheek. Y/n's eyes are trained on his hand snaking around her waist and giving her a light squeeze before letting go. When she pulls her eyes away from his hands, she sees that Florence almost looks shocked at her husband's affection; Lee is definitely putting on a show for Y/n and it's a damn good one.

Lee sits opposite of Lou and the first thing he does is open his beer. The food isn't even on plates anymore and he's drinking.

"I hope you like Schmidt's, Llewellyn. Lee loves it so it's all we have in the house."

"I'm not one to drink beer often, but I'll try it. And call me Lou, Florence."

Lou was acting out of his normal character. Him only interacting with his family and Y/n left him a bit awkward in the presence of others, but around Florence and Lee he seems to be much...warmer. If Lee was someone else then Y/n would be over the moon, but because it's him she can't even force herself to even look happy about it.

Y/n takes note of how Florence places portions of food on Lee's plate. They were small portions too. She was always strict about what he ate and how much he drank. She's surprised Florence is letting him drink tonight, but she must be trying to look nicer in front of guests.

Y/n was not as controlling as Florence. She always let Lou fix his plate to his liking. She thought it made her a good wife for letting her husband make his own decisions. But Y/n felt a tap on her shoulder after she finished making her own plate. He looked down at his empty plate before looking back at her and nodded towards the food.

"Y/n," he tries to whisper but his tone is rather harsh.

"What?" She whispers back in true confusion.

"My plate."

He looked at her as if she was crazy, as if it was a common occurrence for her to fix his plate. She starts to scramble to save herself from further embarrassment, the sound of silverware against plates so loud. She can feel the stares coming from the other side of the table but she doesn't dare look up.

Her skin began to grow hot. Her husband had embarrassed her in front of Lee and Florence. The worst part was when Florence tried to change the subject to something lighthearted to pull the attention off of Y/n. She felt small and useless. Lou never expected her to fix his plate, but he looked at her as if she was crazy for not doing so. She didn't want to spend dinner almost in tears. This changed behavior in her husband is giving her whiplash and making her dizzy.

"So, Y/n, did you enjoy the other night?"

"It was really nice Florence," she replies sheepishly.

"Susie and I put so much work into planning it. You should join us next time! We're going to start working on the fundraising events for Lee's next campaign-"

"Let's not talk about that tonight Florence," Lee interrupts. It was a moment that would've left Y/n embarrassed if she was in Florence's shoes but Florence was much better at masking her emotions. Only for a split second can Y/n see Florence flinch at his interjection before she just smiles.

"Sorry Lee, you know how excited I get about those things," she masks her apology in a cheery voice.

Dinner basically became a probe of Y/n and Lou's relationship. Florence wanted to know how they met, when they got married, how long they had been together, and what their future plans together were. Y/n let Lou answer the last question by herself because she genuinely didn't know what their future plans were. Lou usually wakes up and decides what major life change they're going to undertake, that's what happened when he decided to move to Brewer Heights.

When the topic of work came up, Y/n thought the coast was clear. Lou talked extensively about the work he does with his father and what his plan is for the next five years regarding the business.

"Once my father retires I'll have to hire someone to do his job. I didn’t go study in school after high school so I can't take over his position, even though it would make things easier."

"I'm sure you can find someone. I know it's rare for someone to leave the city and come to this little town, but Brewer Heights is always a nice incentive!"

"It is nice here," Lou agrees, "and it's quiet. We were in Meade before which is okay-"

"But, it's nothing like Brewer Heights," Florence interjects. "So, Y/n, what did you do before meeting Lou?"

Lee had not looked her way since the plate-fixing incident but his eyes were sure on her now. If his mouth wasn't stuffed with food he'd be grinning from ear to ear waiting for her answer. He knows she's not a good liar, but she's going to have to come up with something.

"I helped my mom with her business. She used to sell fruit preserves out of the house before she passed."

It wasn't a complete lie. She did help her mother label her jars, but that became less frequent when her hours picked up at Tecumseh. Her parents didn't know about her job either; she told them she was a waitress and it was a safe lie seeing as they didn't go out to diners.

"I'm sorry for your loss, I'm sure she was a lovely woman if she raised such a lovely daughter! Have you ever thought of continuing her business?"

"Not really. It was pretty small. I still make the preserves sometimes for Lou and I."

"If you wouldn't mind, would you be interested in making some for us one day? You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's just so hard to find any good fruit preserves around town." Florence's social habits were very transparent once you were around her for long; she tends to make it impossible for people to say no to her by making them feel bad about even possibly saying no.

"I'd love to Florence. I have fresh peaches at home and I can make peach preserves."

"Oh I'd love that so much," she fawns, "a jar for me and a jar for Lee! He loves his sweets."

"I'm not too big on peaches, Flo. You know I like cherries more."

"You always have," she leans into him and pats him on the chest before straightening up again.

The audacity of Lee is astounding, however not only is he a cop, he's the sheriff. It's such a cowardly move to pick at Y/n when she can't react, but what someone would call cowardly, he'd call fun. She looks like she wants to disappear from her spot and it scratches an itch for him. He missed seeing her get flustered and if he'd known that it would be much more enjoyable to taunt her while his wife was around, he would have found a reason a long time ago to bring her around.

And as if the night couldn't be more humiliating for her, Lou finished his plate before anyone else. He devoured the food on his plate, like a starved man. Y/n felt embarrassed when her husband went for seconds. He never eats this much at home, even when she makes his favorite meals. It makes her want to reach across the dinner table and smack Florence in the face. She hates her; she hates that she has to smile in her face and be friends with her. It's her own fault for continuing this "friendship" with Florence, but her rage makes her blind to her own faults.

She could ruin Florence's life with one sentence: "I've been fucking your husband for years." She'd cause a scene but it would be so gratifying.

Instead she just shuts her mouth and lets dinner continue without anymore incidents.

-

Y/n thought it would show she was grateful for dinner if she helped Florence with the dishes. She was glad to accept Y/n's help and the two spent their time in the kitchen while Lee and Lou sat on the back porch. With Lee's influence, Lou took another drink out back with him. Y/n wondered what they had to talk about, but she would truly not like to know.

"Your wife cooks like that every night, sheriff?"

"Enough with the title. And she cooks every night, but she went a little overboard since she was happy with having guests," he tells him. If it was anybody else, Lee would just answer the questions and not have any for himself. However, he really wants to know what Y/n has been up to since she's adopted this new image. "How about Y/n? Does she cook for you like that?"

"Not at all. She tries, but she's not the good of a cook," he brings the alcohol up to his lips before pulling away and sighing, "she tries but it's just not her best."

"Her mother didn't teach her how to cook?"

"I don't know much about her family. Her mother was dead when I met her and her father doesn't seem to be doing so well. They're from the same area as my folks but moved when they had Y/n. Maybe she was just too spoiled considering she's an only child."

Y/n's past was a mystery to Lee too, but he's surprised to learn she hasn't opened up to her husband. All he knows is that whether it was her home life or not, something had messed her up and it was almost made worse by her time at Tecumseh. He isn't sure how she made it out, but so much of her old life still bleeds through.

"You know I thought I was getting a good girl. One that would clean and have dinner ready when I get home," Lou continued.

Lee wanted to laugh in his face. Lou is proof that you can come from a smart family and still be dumb as rocks. How could he not know what type of girl Y/n was when he first laid eyes on her? She'd dress just like his sister Sandy; shorts that suffered from mistreatment over the years and a sleeveless blouse that was always stained. He's sure her hair was mussed up that day too. Many people would mistake her for a whore (which many people did see her as one even though she didn't outright sell her body to anyone).

"It can't be that bad," Lee tried to vouch for his former lover. Even he can name some good qualities about her; they just don't include any wifely qualities.

"It's not, but things could be better. Anytime I tell her to shape-up she gets this timid look on her face and flinches a little bit. I try to be nice and gentle but I'm losing my patience with her. I’m not looking to leave her, but what’s the point of marrying a woman who can’t do anything? She won’t even talk to me about having kids — was Florence ever like this?”

“No. Her family is from here so she’s been primed to be a housewife. But I will say it’s not all that fun havin’ a doting wife…she’s overbearing at times and I can never unwind with her around. She’s always on my ass about somethin’.”

Lee felt the need to vouch for Y/n. Anytime he would go to Tecumseh, she would accompany out back or get into his cruiser whenever he told her to. All the gritty things he dealt with at work, everything he kept inside, he dumped it on her. Florence would never sit there to listen to his grievances. Lee would never admit it, but he was vulnerable around Y/n, he knew that she would always be there to listen and he attached himself to that. In the beginning she wasn’t willingly listening to his problems but by the end she was. She took care of him when he was too drunk to go home, or she would let him take his stress and frustration out on her body. However, it doesn’t seem as if Lou is budging; his mind is made up.

“I work long hours. My father is putting more responsibilities on me. I put Y/n in that nice home, the least she could do is not serve me burnt food. Hangin’ around Florence and that Susie woman should have at least influenced her or something,” he continued to complain.

Florence was the last person that would be able to influence a girl like Y/n. Lee didn't know why his wife was seemingly grooming that girl. If anything it was just another person for her to control since Lee started telling her to knock it off. The only time she can get away with controlling her husband is if they're in the company of others where Lee has to be on his best behavior.

Y/n is not the type to be influenced by another woman. The only woman she held in high regard was her mother. Y/n listens to male authority. She listens to a man that will rough her up a little bit but then be sweet on her afterwards. She’s a little fucked up and jaded from her former “profession.” Lee knows this, but not Lou. He seems to know nothing of her past and Lee isn’t going to snitch on her.

“I can talk to Florence and see if she can do something. I know she likes taking people under her wing and shit. She seems to really like Y/n too.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that Lee. I know I sound like I’m hard on her, but I do love her. It’s hard for me to show when she just doesn’t put any effort in.”

"Don't worry. I'll talk to Florence — I'll make everything right."

[takaraphoenix]

Ship game!! What about Nico and Will?? It’s pretty popular, but I don’t think I’ve seen you write much of it…

That's an interesting one in that I have vocalized my reasons for disliking it way back when it first became popular but instead of just linking that, it has been years so I think it's time for an updated version.

Firstly: This post is gonna be properly tagged and not crosstagged so if any shipper comes across it and feels the need to bitch about it, just don't; your lack of curating your own tumblr experience is not my problem! ;D

Now, there are three key factors that play into my dislike of this ship: How it was written, what it represents, how the fandom around it acts.

1. It’s rushed and uncomfortable

In BoO, it was incredibly rushed. They had literally five sentences of interactions before they walked into the literal sunset together. Five. It was just entirely born from Riordan's Noah's Ark Complex, where he just can't let people be single. The series was ending and he needed Nico to have an endgame so he rushed into some random romance with zero build-up.

The way their interactions went down was also severely uncomfortable for me. Will was acting so offended by Nico not wanting to go to camp and be friends in an entitled way that he had no right to be, he downright guilt-tripped Nico about how he had wanted to be friends. Nico has been just so severely traumatized at such a young age and his coping mechanism, as unhealthy as it was, was to run away and hide. Will acted like Nico not wanting to form attachments to people who could potentially leave him again was somehow just an Edgy Emo Decision and not a direct reaction to his trauma. His entire approach to Nico was basically all these hippie posts of "Don't have depression!! Just go out into the sun and stop being depressed!", which is already a bad take with non-medical people but he's supposed to be a doctor (and let's not get into the shadiness of him technically being Nico's doctor).

There is also an inherent "I can fix him" angle to this ship and to me, only few ship dynamics are more uncomfortable than that. If you want to fundamentally change a person's behavior and personality, you... don't actually want to be with this person.

Now, here's where my points overlap, because the following parts of their writing that bothers me also stand for what this ship fundamentally represents.

2. Solangelo is a queer ship written by and for straights

I'm a queer woman and as a queer woman, I want queer wish-fulfillment, not what straights want out of queerness. I'm kind of tired of that, I've been sitting through it for enough decades now. That's, of course, not to say that no straight writer can give proper queer representation, but far too often do straight writers - even the most well-meaning ones - project straight desires of queerness into their queer representation.

Let me explain that closer through this ship.

Nico's been in love with Percy for years and I'm going to do my best to not hijack this post with some Percico agenda; that's not what this his about, this isn't some "my ship is better than your ship" ship-war nonsense. It's simply a canonical fact that Nico has had romantic feelings for another character for years.

A character who, in this medium, is heterosexual. And if you're queer, you've been there. In love with your straight best friend. It's a cliche, but it's a cliche for a reason.

We have also all been well-meaningly rejected by said straight friend.

And here's the straight desires for you: The queer person who was in love with a straight person just immediately stops having those feelings and will then as quickly as possible fall in love with the next queer person they meet to be happy and no longer uncomfortably in love with a straight person, because that thought makes the straights uncomfortable.

Queer wish-fulfillment would be for Percy to return those feelings, for the queer character to get his first love, to not be rejected. That thing queer teens always dreamed about for themselves.

Aside from the wish-fulfillment angle, the pacing is another problem. Let me repeat, Nico was in love for years. But a five sentence conversation with Will once causes a crush on Will and we see him physically turn away from Percy and toward Will just immediately to rebound and actually fall out of love with Percy and in love with Will. Anyone who's ever been unlucky in love will attest to just how unrealistic and ridiculous the pacing here is.

It's also straight queerness in another respect; Nico has been the first ever queer character we meet in that world. He loves a straight guy - and to get over that, we introduce the second queer character. Because heaven forbid there are multiple queers to pick from. No, in straight-written queer romances, there is always that one main queer and then they introduce a second one and the two just immediately hit it off and develop a romance like all a queer person needs to form attraction to someone is the confirmation that the other person shares your sexuality.

Also the notable gay guy on gay guy ship here, whereas the more queer-wish-fulfillment option would have also included more nuance to the queer experience, because Percy doesn't have to be heterosexual just because he has only been with girls so far. It's a very old-fashioned - think 90s and early 2000s - kind of straight-written queerness that there are only exactly two homosexuals and that those two homosexuals then pair up.

And, listen, I'm not immune to these outdated straight-written queers entirely, I have many such ships that I grew up with that I am still fond of because they were groundbreaking at that time and they weren't outdated yet back when they happened in said 90s and early 2000s. I am however a grown woman now and just like I have grown, so has queer rep so I am not as easily baited into falling onto my knees in gratitude for canon rep. You have to go with the times. And this ship, by all that is given to us, is just entirely outdated straight-written rep.

Which, I mention earlier that even straight-written rep can be good. If the author tries. Riordan doesn't really try though; he does the bare minimum when he writes any of his rep - and there have been many, many more qualified voices being very vocal about his depiction of people of color and, as a woman, I've been vocal about his depiction of women. I don't want to derail this post with all of that, but I do think that it bears mentioning that Riordan doing rep but only doing a bare minimum and not putting in the necessary work to deepen the representation he wants to give is a repeating pattern that has been pointed out many times by now.

(I’d also like to point out that no, it is not just the ship and not just the listed instances that make it straight-written rep for straights. It’s Nico’s entire queer arc, starting with his forced coming out. A severely traumatizing event that is completely brushed over because the straight author doesn’t understand the impact this has on queer people. Not to mention the framework; Nico’s coming out isn’t Nico’s story, it happens in Jason’s POV, it is given to us through the POV of the straight bystander who gets to be Best Ally by assuring Nico that being gay is okay. This kind of coming out is not a queer wish-fulfillment, it’s a straight wish-fulfillment of getting to be the straight savior, the ally to show the gay the light of acceptance. And, additional to the ridiculous pacing of how fast Nico gets over his love for Percy, Nico also gets over years of internalized homophobia just because of, I don’t know, Jason’s few encouraging words and the fact that Will paid attention to him? For a gay kid who was in the closet all his life, the nonchalant way in which he publicly confessed his crush to Percy at the end made absolutely no sense and was written as basically a joke, finished off with Nico literally high-fiving Percy’s girlfriend despite those two never having seen eye to eye before but this is straight wish-fulfillment so all straights are Super Allies, because that’s the way straights want to see themselves, even though Annabeth has shown before just how jealous she can be and she most definitely wouldn’t go around high-fiving people who confess to her boyfriend. Nothing about Nico’s queer arc in HoO felt natural or queer or satisfying.)

Sure, Solangelo on a surface level is big because it's a canon queer couple in a YA book-series and kudos for that and yay for the kids who get to grow up seeing queers in YA books, but I actually do think that kids growing up with books written in the 2010s shouldn't grow up with 1990s levels of representation, because the 2010s overall are actually at a far more nuanced and better level of representation when it comes to queerness. And I do reserve the right to quit on too straight-written and too outdated queer rep in a landscape where I can get more satisfying representation elsewhere; we don’t live in times anymore where you necessarily have to love every bit of rep because it’s the only one you get.

Now that we've gone through my first two gripes, let's wrap this up with the final point, because it also directly ties into this.

3. The new wave of antis hiding behind this ship

A huge part of the fandom is so busy kissing Riordan's ass solely for giving them queer rep at all they think that both the author and the ship are beyond flawless and that kind of attitude is not good. Just because an author includes rep doesn't make either perfect. Absolutely no one is beyond critique - especially not when said critique comes from the very people the author is representing. And even beyond any "valid" critique on the ship, quite frankly, someone should also be allowed to just not like it, without any reasons given at all.

But there is a certain... protective obsessiveness about this ship that doesn't allow a not liking. Very similar to how PJO bore this mindset around Perc/abeth already. It's okay to have OTPs, even OTPs that you have a blindspot for and just don't want to see any flaws in. It is however not okay to then go around attacking people who don't like the thing and mind their own business.

Solangelo's bred a new generation of antis in this fandom. And, particularly with the fact that this post too receives an "anti" tag, I feel like there needs to be a clarification (because tumblr likes to forget what actually makes an anti). Not liking something doesn't make you an anti, venting in properly tagged posts doesn't either; it's the people who harass others, who seek out the content they dislike to then complain that it even exists and who actively try to make others stop creating for it - those are antis.

And with Solangelo's popularity, there was a high rise in Percico antis, who sought it out, were unnecessarily nasty about it, harrassed creators and tried to enforce some kind of "Solangelo supremacy" that won't allow other ships for the characters.

I've been in fandom long enough to be perfectly aware that not all Solangelo shippers count into this category and that there are completely normal and nice Solangelo shippers, but this is a Venn diagram where the overlap between Solangelo shippers and antis is too large to not widely associate the nasty people with the ship itself. (I've been there myself, shipping the very ship behind which a fandom's antis all hid. The second-hand embarrassment of having these people give the ship a bad name is horrendous and I do feel bad for all the normal Solangelo shippers.)

The more often I encountered these people, who made Percico bad (sometimes in wildly ridiculous manners that bent and deliberately misinterpreted canon) and who in the same breath praised Solangelo high, the more tired I grew of that ship. It's a simple game of association, really. You see that linked to the gross and nasty behavior and you start associating the ship itself with that gross and nasty behavior - and with all the things I said before that already weighed into my dislike of the ship, this just was the final tipping point, really.

And that's it. That sums up why I dislike Solangelo. It was hastily rushed, uncomfortable in its execution, it is outdated rep that very much feels as straight-written as it factually is and it does not feel aimed at me as a queer person but rather at the straight audience and it has gathered a cult following of quite uncomfortable people who on their own would be reason enough to avoid it so you can avoid them.

Send me a ship and I will explain why I do or don't ship it

[kamotoshi]

reminders [fushiguro tōji x reader]

pairing: fushiguro tōji x fem reader

genre: fluff

warnings: a bit of swearing; brief mentions of past trauma, manipulation, and financial instability/struggles

word count: 2.3k

overview: a sunset picnic reminds him to stop for a moment and remind his wife how he truly feels about her

note: just another fic to serve as evidence for my obsession with making big, beefy 2d men with tough exteriors completely soft for their significant others (wives especially)

“Aren’t we just the cutest couple ever?”

Tōji’s eyes move from the spread of food laid out across the patterned blanket beneath the two of you over to either side of him, where a few other couples and families have set up their picnic spots for the evening, then, to your phone. A glance at the screen displaying the timed photo you’d just spent the past five to ten minutes setting the scene for and perfecting brings a smirk to his face.

“Just the right amount of nauseating.”

“Like, to the point where people are a little envious, but they don’t think we’re being too over the top, right?”

“Right.”

You hum in understanding as you pop a piece of fruit into your mouth.

“But, I would say err on the side of caution and don’t post the super lovey-dovey ones. Actually, please don’t. That’s a request now.”

Your hand flies to your chest to match the look of feigned shock on your face at his words. He doesn’t miss how the diamond on your finger sparkles in the amber glow of the setting sun. The thought crosses his mind that he wants to buy you a bigger one when he has enough money to set aside—something that would shine just a bit brighter. Almost as brightly as that beautiful smile of yours he had the pleasure of seeing each day, if he was lucky.

“You mean… I can actually post a picture that I took with my notoriously elusive husband?”

With a nod, he shifts his gaze to the horizon—or whatever he can see of it peeking around the sides of each building—for a moment. “Just know it’ll probably end my job,” is his response given with a sigh, “Nobody’ll fear me after they see that I enjoy sunset picnics with my adorable wife, now, will they?”

“Or,” you offer with a grin, scooting closer to him so his arm can snake around your waist, “it could give you an advantage, people thinking you’re kinda sweet. Like, oh, he’s a cold-blooded killer who takes care of business, but he’s got a soft side, too. And then, bam! You swoop in and they’ll never even know what hit ‘em.” Sweeping a hand dramatically across the landscape in front of you, as if you want him to picture the scene in your head, you add, “Suddenly, you’re the talk of the town. Women want you. Men want to be you. Hell, they’d probably want you too.”

“And that’s the story of how I end up on the front covers of magazines, right?”

“Exactly. This is just the start of your success story, baby.” Tenderly, you place a hand on the side of his face to bring it closer to your lips. After pecking him on the cheek, you whisper, “Just try not to forget about me when you’re famous, okay?”

He turns to look directly at you, his eyebrow raised with incredulousness in an expression you’ve seen many times before. “You kidding me? I would never. Be famous, I mean.”

The teasing smack you land on his chest doesn’t deter him from leaning down towards you to press a kiss against your lips that you readily return in spite of your complaints at his devious comment. He relishes in the sweet taste lingering on his tongue when he pulls away, and the affection present in your half-lidded gaze brings a comforting warmth over him akin to the feeling of finally crawling into bed after a long day. In his moment of distraction, you’re able to sneak in another meeting of your lips before grabbing one of the snack boxes you’d meticulously crafted and dropping it into his lap.

“Since I’m nice, unlike you, I’ll still let you eat the food lovingly prepared by your loving wife.”

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, giving your thigh an appreciative squeeze, “You know I love you.”

“I mean, I hope you do. You did marry me, and stick with me all these years, after all, you weirdo.”

He chuckles and pats your leg before shifting his attention to the delicious food you’d put together for the two of you, and you settle down beside him after collecting your own. His free hand plants on the ground beside your opposite hip, closing the gap between you.

Each day that he gets to spend with you he’s thankful for. But there’s something different about those where the sight of the sun slowly descending toward the horizon is beautiful enough to draw both of you out of the house to sit and watch it. He can’t quite explain it, but everything about these days feels different. The harshness of the city seems to fade away for a bit. The air smells sweeter. His breaths come a bit more deeply. The absence of your body against his in some way is felt more intensely.

In between gazing ahead at the sunset—allowing his eyes to flicker to his meal, the kids zipping past every now and then on their bikes, or other passersby—he finds his attention being drawn back to you. Each feature of your face bathed in the golden light of the sun’s last rays brings an unexpected flutter to his heart. He’s never surprised by how gorgeous you are, but, still finds himself in awe of just how lucky he is each time he stops to take it all in.

Lucky that he gets to wake up next to you and see you in those quiet moments of the morning when your eyes are still struggling to focus and your cheek is stamped with each wrinkle of your pillowcase, but you look beautiful all the same. Lucky that the arms and legs he has draped around him until you both wake up sweaty in the middle of the night are yours. Lucky to be offered a refuge wherever you are. Lucky you’re one he promised to love for the rest of his life.

In the busyness of your days, sometimes things are assumed rather than said. He assumes the parting kiss he presses to your lips each time he leaves the house translates into a small, “I love you, I’ll be back soon.” Just like he assumes the way he pulls you onto his lap while you’re sitting together, watching a movie, sends a small message of, “I need you here, close to me.” Or the pause he takes to gaze into your eyes after your more passionate displays of affection means, “I love you more than I know how to say.”

He realizes, given the risky nature of his work, that thought alone isn’t enough, though. Maybe he’s too afraid of saying something that’ll curse you for his lips to form the words he’s thinking as often as they should, but if he was one to let his life be ruled by fear, he wouldn’t be sitting with you in the first place. He would’ve let his family wreak havoc on him for the entirety of his life, weighing it down with constant reminders of his failures. He would’ve let his fear of being vulnerable keep him from getting close enough to you to fall in love with you.

Yet, here he is, making relaxed conversation with you—his wife—as the two of you sit together beneath a sea of brilliant oranges, candied pinks, and the gentlest hues of lavender. With the way you use your steadily built and strongly maintained trust in him to speak so freely and be so vulnerable without fear of judgment, he feels it’s only fair that he shows his trust in you by doing the same. That he reminds you of his feelings rather than lets the implications behind his actions speak for him.

When he decides to mention it, most of the sky has lost its fire and quite a few of the other picknickers have packed up and returned home. But the two of you choose to remain out just a bit longer in the warmth of the summer night, bathed in the sound of cicadas chirping incessantly. “Hey babe?” he calls, giving your hand resting in his a gentle squeeze as his cheek drops to the blanket so he can look at you.

“Mm?” You shift onto your side and scoot closer to him, moving your interlaced hands to your chest, holding the back of his against your gently beating heart. On instinct, your other set of fingers find his face to brush a few strands of dark hair away from his eyes, and he presses feathery kisses to your palm.

Sighing against your skin, he asks, “Do I tell you I love you enough?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you assure him, “I know you do.”

“Because I say it?”

You hum with uncertainty, fingers gliding from the scar at the side of his mouth down his neck, and to one of his broad shoulders. “More because I can see it in the way you look at me. But, then again, I also see you look at a really good meal the same way. Makes me kinda jealous sometimes,” is your answer given with a small, teasing smile, “Besides, I feel like I can safely assume that you’ve stayed with me all these years because you love me, right?”

“Of course,” he says, the strength in his voice contrasting the subtle, pained look behind his eyes, “But I don’t say it enough, do I?”

There’s a short pause before you murmur, “Not usually unless I say it first. But it tends to be more of a reflex for both of us, anyway. Like, ‘I’m heading out now, love you!’ or, ‘Goodnight, I love you,’ y’know?”

A gentle tug on your wrist pulls you towards him, until you’re propped up on both elbows, body leaning over his. Wrapping an arm around your waist brings your chests flush against one another and your faces mere centimeters apart. The way he’s regarding you as nothing else is as important as you are to him in this moment has you melting into the kiss he plants on your lips.

“You’re the love of my life.” Heat radiates from your chest all the way up to your face at his tenderly spoken words accompanied by his thumb skimming along your cheekbone. “And you deserve to hear me tell you how much I care about you more often because you’re the only person who’s made me feel deserving of love.”

The hand on your back slowly moves up and down, his fingers tracing along your spine. It was once deemed as a mindless behavior in your eyes, but after many years with him, you’ve come to learn that sometimes it’s a means of comforting himself or finding the courage to speak about something that’s been on his mind. To reassure him, you place a soft peck against the corner of his mouth and run your fingertips across his jaw.

He seems to find the strength he needs to speak the rest of his truth, since he continues, “I remember being terrified when I first realized how much I loved you. Because here I was, thinking I was only gonna marry someone as a way of erasing my connections to my family, and that falling in love would weaken me—make me easier to be manipulated—but you changed my mind. And I don’t think there’s a damn thing that could ever happen to make me wish I did things differently, even though we got married young, when we barely had enough money to our names to get ourselves through the week.”

A pang of somewhat bittersweet nostalgia ripples through you at the memories of sleeping on the floor, clinging to one another to keep warm during the cold, winter nights. Of how you’d both worked so tirelessly to make a living that sometimes all you’d do was cry into his shoulder when you got home. But soon, there was a couch. A bed. A table. A lamp that didn’t flicker. Then, a new place in a safer part of the city, filled with all the furniture and appliances you could need. Jobs that paid enough for the tears to subside.

The impulsiveness the two of you had displayed in your early twenties had gotten you into a lot of sometimes unbearable situations, but you wouldn’t have changed a thing had you somehow been granted the power to alter the past. While unpleasant, those events had helped the two of you get to where you are today, happier and more in love than ever.

“After all we’ve been through, and that you’ve stuck with me through, I at least owe it to you to remind you how much you mean to me instead of just assuming you know. Because you really do mean the world to me. So, this is me telling you that I love and appreciate you a lot more than I might feel capable of saying sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”

With that same, bright smile of yours that he adores, you take your weight off your elbows to wrap your arms around him while he gives your body a tight squeeze in return. “I love you so much, Tōji,” you hum, heart swelling with joy.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

There’s a few moments of peaceful silence while the two of you remain wrapped up in a tight and much-needed embrace. Eventually, a deep exhale fans across your neck before he mentions, “That was pretty cheesy, huh?”

“Just a bit. But I promise not to tell anyone you’re secretly a bit of a sap, okay?” you comment, sending the two of you into a small fit of snickers. Your tone is more serious, however, when you mention, “It made me really happy to hear, though.”

“Good,” is his response as he moves his head so he can press his mouth to your temple. His next words are spoken quietly, as if just to himself, and nearly lost beneath the layers of environmental noise surrounding you, but you’re glad you hear them.

“That’s all that matters to me.”

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

THE BOX IS NABOO

That’s it, I’m doing it, I’m writing that stupid meta I’ve had in the works for two and a half years, I’m sharing it with the world. I promised it for last Thursday, my poll was forever ago, but whatever! I’m writing that freaking thing.

(super duper long post, press j to skip)

Enter my rabbit hole.

First thing to establish: the Box makes no sense whatsoever in-universe.

((EDIT: Something I forgot to mention. IRL, the premise of a giant murder cube and the aesthetic - wall patterns, light designs, etc - of the episode come from the 1997 horror movie Cube, (see the episode’s wookieepedia page). However, while the two are very closely linked visually, the Box does not follow the movie structurally or narratively, as you can verify by simply reading the movie’s summary.))

Recap of the context for the "Box" episode (s4e17): Palpatine is planning his own kidnapping. It was never meant to succeed, and while the plan would obviously benefit him (making the Jedi look bad, pushing Anakin closer to the Dark Side, making Republic citizens more afraid -> more docile, etc...) his actual goal is never explained, and it’s weird that he’d go to such extreme lengths for results so minimal that we’re never told what they are.

So Palpatine asks Dooku to kidnap him at the Festival of Lights on Naboo. Dooku hires Moralo Eval to design a giant box-thingy to test bounty hunters to hire the best of them to kidnap Palpatine. Moralo then gets arrested to alert the Republic that something is afoot, and hires Cad Bane to break him out. Obi-Wan - undercover to learn Moralo’s plan - goes with them. They evade capture and go to Serenno, and Bane and Obi-Wan have to pass the box-thingy test. The level of brainkarked logic here... Truly on par with Megamind, Gru and Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

Setting aside the insane plot holes and utterly nonsensical behavior of the villains, the Box itself is moronic from a plot perspective. It’s insanely complex, obviously incredibly expensive and would have taken months (more like years but it’s a short war) to make when it’s not even needed for the dastardly plot! Just hire some guys who have already proven themselves against Jedi! Throw cash at Bane and Embo and a few others! Maybe attack them with your saber and see how they do! 

And after all that, Dooku still ends up trying to kidnap Palpatine on his own. I can’t even... 

So why does the Box exist? Well, apart from being a nerdy callback to Cube, giving us a good thrill and being generally awesome to look at, it has actual narrative purpose within the SW universe.

The box is Naboo.

What the Box lacks in plot relevance, it makes up for with its heavily symbolic meaning. It very closely follows Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s experiences on Naboo - but only certain parts, which I’ll explain later.

We start with clean, sterile environments, SW’s favored way of showing villainy.

Then we have the protagonists locked in a room as dioxis, a poison gas, pours in.

And then they escape... this way.

(Okay, here the shaft is down, not up. And it’s not a ventilation shaft per say, it’s the designed escape route. Same difference).

We then skip most of TPM (namely, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon discovering the droid army, finding Padmé, leaving Naboo, landing on Tatooine, going to Coruscant, etc, etc) to come back to Naboo and go directly to the lightsabers and catwalks.

(Note: in both scenes, Obi-Wan has to propel himself from a catwalk.)

In TPM and TCW, the catwalks are immediately followed by ray shields

And we finally end with the last scenes. Now, they don’t look the same but they are structurally identical. 

Obi-Wan is faced with a challenge unsuited for his abilities (facing Darth Maul // shooting three moving targets when he’s far more skilled with a blade than a blaster) on a narrow space above a melting pit/pit of fire. 

He first watches someone die failing to complete the task...

 ... and has to do it himself, faring much better than expected (holding his own against Maul // shooting all the targets easily). 

He then almost falls to his death and gets saved unexpectedly.

And then there’s the final showdown.

In both scenes, Obi-Wan is angry. And in TCW Dooku eggs him on, banking on his anger. (More on that later.) In both cases though, he centers himself and is able to overcome both his opponent and his own unbalance. But in TCW, he doesn’t go for the kill, because he doesn’t need to. 

The Box, as a literal character-explorator ex-machina, thus shows us Obi-Wan’s growth.  

In TPM, Obi-Wan follows Qui-Gon’s lead. In TCW, he is the leader. He identifies the gas, makes the plans. He doesn’t fall from catwalks anymore - he runs atop moving ones. He doesn’t stay stuck behind ray-shields, he finds the solution. (Btw, how did Moralo know what blood type Derrown the Exterminator was? There was a 50% chance of him dying - thus killing all of the bounty hunters. Was that an acceptable outcome? TCW I need answers!) He doesn’t slay his foes, because he’s become powerful enough, skilled enough and wise enough to survive (and win) without needing to kill.

He’s grown - and, even more interestingly, he’s also stayed the same. In the previous episodes, we see some of the dark aspects of Obi-Wan. How he - like all Force-wielders, all people - could lose himself if he stopped maintaining absolute control.

But in the Box, surrounded by the worst criminals of the Galaxy, the most ruthless, worthless people, he’s still kind and tries his best to keep them alive.

The Box is a reminder and a reassurance for the audience that Obi-Wan Kenobi is still there under Rako’s face. He hasn’t lost his compassion, his restrain. He’s still a Jedi. And he’s an awesome, badass one. 

And now, for what it tells us about Dooku! 

It’s much shorter, don’t worry. Basically, Dooku considers that the best way to pick “the best of the best” of the deadliest people in the Galaxy is making them go through what killed his Padawan. There, I’ve broken your hearts, you’re welcome. 

More seriously, Dooku is a manipulative ass. It’s pretty clear that he knows Rako is Obi-Wan, or at the very least suspects it. 

He has an interesting reaction upon learning Rako’s identity, he keeps praising him despite his usual distaste for low-lifes, he smirks secretively after Eval says “I’ll show you who’s weak” (not included there because it’s a close-up of Dooku’s lips and no one wants to see that) and he tells Rako he’s very disappointed when he doesn’t finish off Eval.

[Later]

(Look at this smug asshole - I can’t. YOUR GRANDSON IS THE BEST, WE KNOW, STOP ACTIVELY RUINING HIS LIFE ALREADY.)

(Dooku... why...)

Now obviously Dooku couldn’t have made the Box specifically for Obi-Wan, because it would have to have been designed months before the Council ever decided to send Obi-Wan undercover, but he has no qualms trying to use it to push Obi-Wan to the Dark Side. Ffs Dooku, making your spiritual grandson relive one of the most traumatic events of his life on the off chance that he’ll join you (and desecrate his Master’s memory in doing so) is not okay!

Final tidbits of analysis: I mentioned that not all of TPM is mirrored in the Box. What’s omitted is the droids (even though Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon fight B1′s and droidekas between the dioxis and the ventilation shafts) and anything pertaining to Sidious (all the political stuff on Coruscant). You’ll also note that the fake lightsabers are orange.

=> The Box distances itself from anything that connects Dooku to Naboo. Red lightsabers are the trademark of the Sith, so they’re not used. The bounty hunters will be facing Jedi, so logically the fake sabers should be green or blue - and yet they’re orange, the color closest to red without being red. It fits with Dooku’s special brand of dishonesty - he always tells bits of the real story but twists them just enough to absolve himself of any fault and to justify his choices. 

(”We can destroy the Sith” -> could maybe destroy Sidious with Obi-Wan, but fails to mention he’s a Sith Lord himself; “the Viceroy came to me for help, that’s why I’m attacking the Republic” -> political idealism is a small part of it, but fails to mention he’s Sidious’ underling and is playing the Viceroy like a fiddle; “Qui-Gon would have joined me” -> maybe, still fails to mention he’s working for the man who ordered Qui-Gon’s death; “I told you everything you needed to know” -> debatable, never said that Palps was Sidious; “Sifo-Dyas understood, that’s why he helped me” -> partly true, doesn’t admit to killing Sifo-Dyas right after getting his help)

So we have a twisted version of Naboo, droid-free (as droids are now irrevocably associated with Dooku, even if that wasn’t the case in TPM) and with sabers that aren’t quite red. Keep in mind that Dooku had already fallen by TPM. (We know this because he killed Sifo-Dyas and created the Clone Army - part of Sidious’ plan - when Valorum was still Chancellor, as per the episode The Lost One.) That means Dooku was (in)directly complicit in Qui-Gon’s death. And the Box doesn’t (=refuses to?) acknowledge that. 

(Also omitted in the Box are the Gungans and Tatooine. It makes sense, because Dooku probably wouldn’t have the full details regarding those parts of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s missio as they weren’t as public, and would see them as irrelevant if he did. He utterly despises Anakin, and Gungans are the type of people he always dismisses out of hand). 

Anyway, that’s my two cents about the Box. To quote Lucas...

“It’s like poetry. It rhymes.”

Thanks to @lethebantroubadour @impossiblybluebox​ @nonbinarywithaknife @ytoz​ and @kaitie85386​ for voting for this one. Next up is a compilation of the Jedi being casually tactile with each other (because they’re a warm and affectionate culture, dammit).

Also thanks to @laciefuyu​ for giving me gifs I ended up not using ^^; you rock anyway!

[laschatzi]

It’s Forever

After What His Captain Needs, here’s another little bit of Killian/Smee friendship, sparked and inspired by @thesschesthair. And of course be sure to check out her own Killian/Smee tale Who Is She?

summary:  Mr. Smee has more or less settled into his new life in Storybrooke and hasn't seen a lot of his Captain in some time, when one evening he approaches him and seems to have something on his mind.

rating: G

word count: ~1,6k

also on: ao3 and ff.net

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

“Here you go, William!” Granny puts a plate in front of him, loaded with an enormous burger and fried mozzarella sticks. Leaning a little forward, she tells him in a conspiratorial voice, “And I made that extra cheese super extra.” She has a soft spot for him since Marco has taken him under his wings, because she has a soft spot for Marco.

Smee’s eyes light up, and he beams. “Thank you! You’re too good to me!”

Granny waves him off grumpily, “I know, I know,” and leaves him to his dinner.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to have more than two healthy bites and one mozzarella stick, before he’s interrupted by a shadow falling on the table and a well-known voice. 

“Evening, Mr. Smee.”

He puts his burger down and raises his gaze, and like always, he has to look that second longer to make sure it’s him, because even after a few weeks – and he hasn’t seen that much of him lately – he just hasn’t gotten used to the Captain’s new, modern wardrobe yet. With uncharacteristic caution, he motions his hook to the bench opposite him.

“May I?”

If he’s being honest, Smee isn’t too happy about the interruption, but decades over decades of being the First Mate to his Captain are ingrained in his brain – far would it be from him to deny him any request; so he nods immediately.

“Of course, sir.”

The Captain slides into the booth and motions between them with his ringed hand – Smee notices that, in spite of his wardrobe change, he kept the rings and the necklace and is also wearing an earring, and he’s somehow relieved about that.

“It’s been too long,” the Captain says jovially and sounds weirdly guilty at the same time.

“Well, a lot has been going on,” Smee offers, “with that Snow Queen and the Dark One’s latest schemes.”

The Captain clenches his jaw. “Luckily, his wife fixed that. He won't bother anyone ever again.” He shakes his head once, as if he's trying to clear his mind. “Anyway, I wanted to speak to you sooner.”

“About what, Cap'n?”

But instead of an answer, he wants to know, “Did you get your memories back? Of what happened in the past year?”

Ah, that's what's on his mind. “Aye,” he responds in a neutral tone.

“Then you remember we found the Jolly Roger again?” the Captain asks in a – for him – unusually tentative way.

“You took her back from Blackbeard,” Smee nods and rubs his beard. “One day, we harbored in a port, and when the crew and I returned to the docks, the ship was gone.” After the tiniest break, he adds, “And so were you.” The Captain averts his eyes, but he barely notices, because suddenly, he remembers another detail. “It happened the same day that bird had landed aboard!”

“That bird,” the Captain replies, “carried a message from Baelfire.”

“Baelfire, sir?” Smee frowns. “The Dark One’s son?”

“The very same.” He tilts his head. “The message said a new curse was coming and endangering everyone, and that I needed to find the Savior.”

“Hm.” Smee nods and briefly gazes longingly at his remaining mozzarella sticks but then looks back at the Captain when he clears his throat, obviously feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Look, I didn’t like leaving everyone behind,” he admits, “but I didn’t want to put the crew’s lives at risk.” He tilts his head. “And, well… I thought I had a better shot if I went alone.”

Smee nods again, almost solemnly. “You’re a hell of a captain.”

“I did manage to outrun the curse,” the Captain agrees almost humbly and falls silent, as if he’s contemplating how to continue, which has the surprise of his First Mate increase. He has never seen his Captain at a loss for words, and he surely never has given off the vibe that he’s trying to apologize or even just explain himself. This encounter is getting stranger by the minute, even if the Captain’s uncharacteristic behavior isn’t unpleasant at all.

“So,” Smee prompts, “the Jolly Roger is in the Land Without Magic, the town where the Savior lived during the last year?”

The Captain raises his eyebrows. “Now now, Mr. Smee, you know the ship cannot travel between realms without a magic bean or some other sort of portal.” There’s a glimpse of his old gruffness, but it’s still overlaid by that unusual hint of self-consciousness.

“Of course, sir.”

“Alas,” he continues and tilts his head, “I didn’t have my resourceful First Mate with me to procure one, so I had to…” He pauses for a moment, licks his lips and then looks him straight in the eyes. “I had to trade the ship for a magic bean.”

So that’s what’s weighing on him. Suddenly, the Captain’s odd behavior during the past year in the Enchanted Forest – he seemed restless and driven, almost haunted, all the time, didn’t seem interested in women anymore – makes sense. She’s not just a ship. I haven’t been myself since we’ve returned. It’s because I don’t have her.

His mouth curves into a smile. “Can’t say that I’m surprised.” The Captain raises his eyebrows in question, and Smee explains, “All the time in the Enchanted Forest, you weren’t missing your ship, sir. You were missing your love.”

“And since when are you a mind reader, Mr. Smee?” he snarls, but with a remarkable lack of sharpness.

Smee shrugs. “Any First Mate worth his salt should be able to understand what's going on in his Captain's mind,” he replies calmly.

“You’ve always been worth yours, Mr. Smee,” the Captain admits and briefly rubs a spot behind his ear. “But I’m afraid I don’t know when – or even if – I’ll ever get the ship back.”

Smee snorts softly. “Would that even make a difference, sir?” The Captain doesn’t look like he wants to protest, and he adds, “We both know you won’t be going anywhere.”

Without even trying to contradict Smee’s statement, the Captain runs his hand over his mouth. “All those decades we spent chasing the Dark One, my revenge…” He shakes his head and falls silent.

Smee is amazed by the guilt in his eyes and feels the mighty urge to let him know that’s absolutely not necessary. “They were not wasted,” he reassures, “they were part of the journey.” The Captain doubtfully sways his head from side to side, and Smee says firmly, “After three hundred years, a man is allowed to settle down.” And find happiness, he adds in his mind, but doesn’t dare to say it.

The blue eyes he's often seen angry, severe, sarcastic study him searchingly. “Are you trying to?” the Captain inquires, honest concern in his voice.

“Sort of, I guess,” he replies with a shrug. “The local carpenter needed help, and I–”

“You were always adroit with wood,” the Captain acknowledges with a nod, and Smee smiles at the accolade.

“He also offered me a room above the carpentry,” he goes on, the Captain’s genuine interest warming his heart; but then, he’s always been taking care of his crew, so it really shouldn’t surprise him. “It’s a start.”

“It surely is.” He leans forward, and Smee registers that the floral patterns of his shirt seem to bear some resemblance to one of his favorite vests he remembers from the past – a bright red one that the ladies seemed to like in particular. “Mr. Smee, I never planned any of this,” he tells him and waves his hand around vaguely.

“A new adventure, then,” he suggests, and the Captain huffs a little laugh, making him think again that he somehow likes this new side of the man he’s known for three centuries now.

“An awfully big one,” the Captain agrees with a serious nod, “might be the biggest one yet.”

A little touch of self-doubt clings to his words, as if he isn’t really sure yet that he’s fit for this new life, trading three hundred years of rogueish restlessness for a patch of dirt and a prickly woman who comes with her very own burdens, if what he heard around the town is true, one of them being the Savior and a hero. But then again, he very obviously loves her, and the last weeks have proven that Captain Hook, the most cutthroat pirate Captain to ever sail the Seven Seas, is on the best way to become a hero himself, and Smee feels an absurd touch of pride about that.

He grins. “We’ll surely master it, Cap’n.” The Captain smiles briefly, as if he’s somehow relieved, and Smee adds, “I’ll just occasionally miss… hanging with the crew.” He doesn’t say what he really means.

The Captain raises his eyebrows. “But Mr. Smee,” he softly reprimands, “settling down and starting over doesn’t mean you have to cut off all the ties to your former life and burn your boats.”

“It does not?”

“Why, of course not!” he affirms and elaborates, “You can give up a pirate’s life anytime you want. But friendship?” He leans forward and tilts his head in his inimitable way. “It’s forever.”

He doesn’t say what he really means either, Smee suspects. But he knows, and that’s enough for him.

[goldenlie]

I dislike when Dream and Sapnap negatively team against George. Killing him and taking or destroying his stuff, cheating in games and claiming they were actually doing better than George legitimately, leaving early one after the other after getting upset with George, claiming George is being dishonest or calling him names, etc. Every once in a while, their dynamic returns to this and I don't know why. I think they've grown past it and it ends up here or here adjacent and it's uncomfortable

I couldn't agree more with you here tbh. In this mode they revert back to, they have a tendency of bringing George down. Jokingly or not it still leaves a sour taste behind.

It may stem from the fact that Sapnap and Dream are much more outwardly competitive than George. Which makes me believe their taunts and digs are much more genuine then George jokingly claiming he's cracked or something of the sort. However, I don't think either of them realize that George is joking when he says this. Pair that with both Sapnap and Dream occasionally being sore losers and it's a recipe for hostility.

Often times their gang up proceeds George fake flexing or someone pointing out if he's doing well be it chat or others in vc. It seems they try and prove a point that they're better than George when really it's not that deep. All it achieves is the stream becoming difficult to watch as the lighthearted vibe transforms into an unwarranted, unhealthy, competitive atmosphere.

In Quackitys stream tonight if the shoe was on the other foot and George told Dream he was being carried and began actively sabotaging him, Dream would have no doubt rage quit within minutes. As you mentioned, Sapnap would be quick to follow and leave the stream, I'm sure not without commenting on George's behavior. It just makes me wonder what reaction they wanted considering if it were more jokey surely the act could've been dropped after the following game or two as opposed to the rest of the stream.

These bouts of hostility has been on again off again for I believe a year now? Often times in the past Sapnap would embody this behavior alone. Be it in Karls karaoke streams where he would constantly try and kill George, disregarding the fact it was neither of their streams and there was a genuine goal. It was never fun to watch and there never really seemed to be good reason for it. There's a line between playful competitiveness and obsession with besting someone and I feel as though it gets crossed.

However, Dream has definitely made a point to join in on occasion. Any tales episode where the three of them were present George would be targeted and killed which again, taints the mood especially of a more story or plot drive stream where coordination is necessary to progress. As much as some fans may want the dream team together for those streams, I can see why it would be less than desirable for those organizing it.

I can't think of many recent streams consisting of just the three of them where this energy hasn't resurfaced. Based on Dream bringing up how Sapnap was comparing himself to George over dinner, I feel like this pattern is only going to continue. The only way it may potentially cease is if George himself truly felt at his limit and brought it up. Yet we don't actually know how George feels and this is all just what we pick up on and take from it. However, as a viewer regardless of the intention, I truly dislike bare witnessing to this side of the dream teams dynamic.