#he's angry he's upset but the endearment he has for wille never left

[heartbreakprincewille]

Thinking about how Simon picked up on the nickname "Wille" and teased him while hiding from August at the night of the Initiation Party in S1 and only called Wilhelm "Wille" since, even when they were not together-

[separatist-apologist]

Could you do one where Lucien finds out about what happened on solstice but he and Elian isn’t speaking to him yet? I’m curious to see your take!

Look. I absolutely CANNOT help myself. If I had written that scene (and I am free, SJM), it would have gone down a little like this.

--

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She doesn’t want him.

Azriel’s words rang through Lucien’s head, over and over on a constant loop, one he didn’t think he’d ever get out. He hadn’t wantedto overhear that whole conversation and, in doing so, was reminded why he never came to this fucking city to start with. He scrubbed a hand down his face, slung his bag over his shoulder, and slipped from his room. Feyre would be disappointed he left without saying goodbye but no one else would miss him. He could always make his excuses in a letter when he was far from Velaris.

I’d defeat him easily.

Lucien flinched beneath the weight of such casual violence. Azriel would love Autumn Court, if that was his first thought when it came to a blood duel. Lucien had no intention of calling one, not for Elain. He barely knew her and yet Lucien didn’t think she’d find the whole, bloody mess endearing.

He certainly had no intention of dying over a female that seemed to loathe his existence. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing Azriel’s voice to remove itself.

He doesn’t deserve her.

What would Lucien know about that, he thought miserably, his feet touching the first-floor landing. It wasn’t like he’d asked for her. If he’d it his way, the cauldron would given Elain to Azriel and the spymaster could spend eternity bound to a female that wanted nothing to do with their kind. He might have found it funny, the notion that Azriel thought she’d fall into his arms when Elain had made it abundantly clear she hated the mating bond.

Maybe he’d have a shot, then. Lucien stepped past the drawing room they’d exchanged gifts in when he caught a flash of that honey-colored hair all the Archeron’s shared. Feyre was up. Well fuck. He’d never be forgiven if he snuck right past her. He sighed and turned.

“Knock, knock,” he said before looking in. “Feyre, I thought I’d…” His words died in his throat when Elain looked back, her hands wrapped around her throat. “Never mind.” He wasn’t touching the red eyes and blotchy skin of the softly crying Elain with a ten-foot pole. He turned on his heel when something physically stopped him.

The fucking mating bond snarled in his chest, a physical beast that demanded he care for his mate. Fuck me, he thought furiously, keeping himself exactly where he was. He turned again, wary of the female that had caused so much drama. He wondered if she knew. Elain’s hands were still wrapped around her neck as a set of fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

“Are you alright?” He asked, every inch of him rebelling at the thought of comforting her through the rejection of another male.

Elain’s whole body seemed to tremble while Lucien warred with the bond, demanding it let him leave.

She doesn’t want him.

Lucien sighed and offered her a mocking bow while even the mating bond conceded. He turned for the third time, reshouldering his bag, and stepped out of the drawing room. Ten steps and he’d be at the door.

“Wait!” She called. Lucien’s whole body went taut as he closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sky.

Have I displeased you? He silently asked the mother, walking back to the drawing room. He knew she could tell he did not want to be there, that he’d been trying to make his escape judging by the expression on her face. Was she planning to torture him a little, on her way out?

“Can you help me?” She asked, removing her hands from her throat. A red rosebud hung from her pale throat on a silver chain, and it was clear she’d been trying to remove it when he walked in on her.

Lucien dropped his bag to the floor and walked to her, her scent a punch to the gut. Honey and jasmine and something warm, like a breeze over a sunlit sky. All of that was mingled with fear and the better part of him wanted to tell her no and demand she tell him why she was so scared. He didn’t. What good was upsetting an already crying female?

She swept thick, honey-colored curls over one shoulder and it was Lucien’s turn to tremble, his stomach bottoming out. Had he ever touched her? He couldn’t remember a time. He reached for the tiny clasp, his fingers brushing over the nape of her neck. He swallowed hard as the chain was freed, sliding away into her waiting hands.

“Thank you,” she murmured as Lucien immediately put distance between them. His entire body was too aware of her and though he was angry, he didn’t know that he could stop himself from touching her again if he remained close. He wanted to guard her, to put his body in front of hers and snap and snarl until every male in Prythian was aware that she was his mate.

He reached for his bag. “Are you leaving?” She asked again and it occurred to Lucien she had asked him two questions and he had said nothing in response. He flexed his jaw, his back turned to her, and slid the strap of the bag back over his shoulder.

“I am,” he replied carefully. Elain wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand and Lucien thought she was still so heartbreakingly beautiful, despite her hurt. Elain nodded, looking down at her feet and he wondered if he ought to just say goodbye.

“Will you be back?” She asked, her words nearly a whisper.

“Would you like me to return?” He asked, emphasizing her part heavily. Their eyes met again and Elain hesitated.

No.

He turned then, his anger cascading over him, intending to leave her in the drawing room. She didn’t owe him anything but neither did he. At least he was trying. If she didn’t want him around, he didn’t need to come any more than was necessary and he certainly didn’t need to see her.

“Lucien!” Elain breathed from behind him. He stopped again, cursing himself and the tether that bound them. “Lucien I didn’t…I uh…”

“I get it,” he said, his words clipped, turning to face her again. He shoved down his instincts demanding he treat her with care. Maybe someone should tell her to get fucked, even once instead of the constant handholding she was subjected to. “I’m the wrong male. That’s fine, Elain. I don’t want to be in your way.”

His hand reached for the doorknob when she surged forward, her brown eyes still sparkling with tears. “What does that mean?” She demanded.

He laughed dryly. “I guess you didn’t hear the little reprimand the High Lord gave Azriel regarding you?”

Her face paled.

“Don’t let me get in the way of true love,” he commented sarcastically. “I wish you and the bat nothing but the best.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not in love with him,” she half-whispers.

“You understand that’s worse, right?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She looked him up and down.

“I don’t belong to you,” she began but Lucien rolled his eyes.

“When did I ever say you did?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’ve made a lot of assumptions about someone you don’t even know.”

“Would you even be here if it weren’t for this?” Elain asked in return, one finger gesturing between their bodies.

“Would Feyre?” He snapped back. Elain hesitated and Lucien could see she hadn’t considered that. Something sparked in her gaze and Lucien waited to see if she was going to soften.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Great,” Lucien replied, yanking on the door handle. “I don’t owe you shit, either.”

He stepped into the cold, strangely pleased when she followed him out.

“What does that mean?” She asked, the door snapping behind her. She immediately wrapped her arms around her body and, cursing himself, Lucien began unbuttoning his jacket.

“Why do you think I ought to stand here trying when you don’t believe you owe me anything?” He demanded even as he handed her the emerald-colored jacket. She snatched it out of his hands and threw it to the ground like a petulant child.

“You wanted this—”

“The hell I did!” He interrupted. “Do you imagine I am having a good time, watching you desperately try to avoid me? Because let me assure you, this is not my idea of fun.”

“Then why do you keep coming around?!”

“Because you haven’t rejected the bond!” He replied, letting some of his desperation leech into his words. “And until you do, I’ll keep coming to Solstice and waiting, my entire life hinging on a choice you seem duty bound to ignore. Have you ever considered, for even a moment of your now immortal life, that you do owe me something?”

“I don’t owe you shit,” she whispered in response, all rebellion. Lucien couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat, causing her to jump. Of all the things he might have imagined, her repeating his own words back to him was not one of them. He shook his head, meaning to turn and winnow away but Elain was watching him and he thought her lips curved upwards just enough to seem as though she were suppressing a smile.

Lucien offered her the same mocking bow he’d once given her sister, bending deeply at the waist, arms thrown out, so she knew it was not courtly in the slightest.

“Enjoy your night, Elain.”

“Lucien!” She snapped, very clearly exasperated. He shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold, which he barely felt. He took a step between them, hooking the lip of his jacket on his boot and tossing it into the air where he caught it and draped it over his arm.

“What?”

Her eyes glanced back at his jacket, arms tightening around her body and for the second time that night, Lucien handed her the jacket. She didn’t budge and he sighed.

“Take the damn jacket, Elain.” “You’re rude,” she accused, snatching it out of his grip. And though Lucien was irritated with her, some of his anger washed away at the sight of her buttoning herself into his jacket.

“Yeah? Well you’re spoiled.”

Real mature.

She paused and then she smiled, as if he’d told her she was beautiful. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m all out of sonnets.”

She laughed that time. “You’re so mean.”

Lucien hesitated. Did she like it? He took a step towards her and Elain, to her credit, held her ground. All traces of tears were gone, replaced by the open rebellion staring him in the face.

“You like it,” he accused. Elain didn’t deny it. Instead she took the tiniest step towards him, so close Lucien could touch her face. He reached between them, taking a fat curl between his fingers, knuckles brushing over her cheek.

“I’m not a doll,” she murmured, eyes wide as she held her ground. “I can handle it.”

Of that, Lucien didn’t doubt. He knew she felt his agreement, shimmering down their shared connection.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted me to stick around.” “Good thing you know better,” she shot back, all teasing. Lucien, unable to resist testing his luck, dropped his hand and made to turn.

She grabbed his hand and his blood sang at the contact, the instinct to grab her and take her away from this place nearly overwhelming.

“Stay,” she breathed. “Get some sleep…you look terrible.”

He smiled, looking down at her hand clasping his own. “At least we share that commonality.”

Her mouth dropped open, eyes sparkling. “How very cruel of you. Will I see you in the morning?”

“If you’re lucky,” he replied, smirking. All his confidence died the moment she brought his hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“If you’re lucky, you mean,” she replied, letting go. Elain turned, flouncing back into the house without so much as a glance backwards while Lucien stood beneath the fae lights flickering on Feyre’s porch, hand burning. He tried to figure out what had happened and how they’d gone from crying and yelling to…insults and a kiss.

Still, he did as she asked and came back into the house and walked back to his room…where Feyre waited, a smile playing on her lips.

“Good night?” She asked him, making it plain she’d heard at least part of what went down between him and Elain.

“Shut up,” he replied.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating J.D.

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous and @poruchik-logy​)

(Sorry about the inactivity lately. With the holidays coming up, I’ve been a bit busy. Plus, I’ve written a post or two on my other blogs which means no post on this one. Anyways, hope you enjoy!)

- You meet J.D. when he transfers to your school. You’re in study hall when you just so happen to look up and make eye contact with the boy while glancing around the room. 

- For the rest of the period, you feel like someone's watching you, and lo and behold, every time you sneak a glance his way, his eyes are on you. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he was looking, he just raises an eyebrow at you when you turn and meet his gaze. 

- You spot him in the lunchroom later that day and ask your friends about him though they don’t have much information besides his name and where he moved from which they got from one of their teachers forcing him to introduce himself to the class. He was a mystery …and boy were you intrigued. 

- You have your first conversation at the local Snappy Snack Shack. You’d just popped in to grab a little junk food, only to find him stalking through the store in his black trench coat. You figured you’d dance around each other until one of you left but before you knew it, he’d sauntered up to you and interjected that you looked familiar. 

- Before you knew it, the two of you had introduced yourselves and began a sort of flirtatious conversation. He bought you a slushy and offered you a ride home on his bike which you coyly accepted after a moment of nervous hesitation. 

- It was that same night that he returned to your house, rapping at your window and damn near giving you a heart attack. Even though it was terrifying at first, it was also sort of endearing and you soon found yourself joining him outside.

- Now, It’s your choice whether or not you sleep together that night. If you do then consider yourself kissed and claimed from then on. If you don’t, he’ll continue to show up at your house or hang around you at school until he gets what he wants. You. 

- You suppose that your first date happened at the Snack Shack so from then on, the two of you were sort of seeing each other. Well, one of his favorite things to do with you is not be at home so the two of you were hanging out in an empty lot.

- The sun went down and you were sitting in the dark, the glow of the moon being the only thing lighting up your date. You were sitting down and he was lingering on his feet somewhere behind him, sorta pacing from what you could hear. 

- He knelt down beside you and you turned your head to look at him, only to immediately get pulled into a kiss that all but had you melt into the floor. It was passionate and somewhat rough, exactly what you’d expect from him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

- Well, he most certainly isn’t letting you go after that. I hope you like him babe because you’re not getting rid of him anytime soon. 

- This man is fully willing to makeout with you in public. So yeah, there’s a lot of Pda.

- His hands are pretty much on you at all times.

- Pecks on the lips. He loves when you just give him a kiss for no reason at all.

- Rough, passionate kisses. He asserts his dominance by hooking his arms around you and pulling you into a searing kiss until you can’t breathe.

- He definitely calls you “woman” and a ton of other pet names ranging from cute to just plain annoying. 

- He never would have imagined a girl like you would actually put up with him for so long …but boy is he thankful you have.

- He’s a little shit and that’s just something you’ll have to live with. He’s blunt, conniving and sarcastic, but he does care about you.

- He pretends like he doesn’t give a shit a lot of the time but he does, more than he cares to admit.

- Surprisingly enough, JD actually really likes cuddling. You’ll usually lay with your legs intertwined and your head resting against his chest while he wraps his arms tight around you. 

-  Jason's father sort of ignores him, they aren’t very close and certainly not close enough to be sharing affection besides; maybe, a pat on he back or something similar. So he craves attention and affection.

- He yearns for you to touch and love him but he doesn’t know how to tell you that he wants you to suffocate him with your own body. He’ll just try to repeat whatever it is he did to make you touch him or touch you until you do something to him.

- Hugs from behind.

- Husky whispers in your ear. He does it on purpose because he knows what it does to you.

- Motorcycle rides. 

- Trying to get him to quit smoking. It never actually works but he; somewhat, tries to cut down on it for your sake. He thinks the fact that you care is sorta amusing. 

- Cutting class together.

- Going shooting with him. The beer bottles and porcelain plates kind of shooting, not the Ram and Kurt kind of shooting. 

- Dark humor. Although, sometimes you genuinely don’t know if he’s joking or not. 

- He can always seem to make you laugh, even if it makes you feel guilty to laugh at some off the stuff he says.

-  Hearing an alarming amount of gun and bomb facts. 

- Going to Snappys Snack Shack with him.

- Junk food binges.

- He’s kind of a stalker if I’m being honest. He follows you around without you knowing, finds out everything he can about you, etc. You’re sort of like an obsession of his and that can be good or bad depending on the situation and to what extent you know about his feelings. 

- He knows practically everything about you, ranging from your birthday to where you are at pretty much any given time.

- He’s not too great at all that lovey dovey shit but he tries. It might take him a little while to get the hang of it but he eventually will. 

- Getting him to play the sax for you.

- Having his hand on your thigh whenever he’s driving. 

- Making out.

- Hickeys.

- He likes when you wear his clothes, it’s like marking his territory without getting in trouble for making your neck different colors.

- Listening to morbid music.

- Deep existential conversations. What else do you talk about with your girlfriend besides the meaning of life and why society will ultimately cave in and destroy itself in a violent revolt?

- Late night phone calls from him. Be prepared to rush to your landline at three a.m. so that you don’t wake up your parents. You can’t even really be mad at him because he’ll just immediately launch into either a spiel about how he missed you or ask what your opinion on Manchurian candidates are; successfully silencing you in bewilderment. 

- Getting random knocks at your window whenever he decides he just has to see you. 

- Your parents either love or hate him, there is no inbetween. He’s generally pretty good at playing the role of the upstanding young man who cares a lot about their daughter; that parts real of course, but occasionally a parent will just get a bad vibe from him and his charade; though convincing, just won’t work on them. 

- If that’s the case with your parents then you’ll sort of be forced to sneak out if you want to see him, which he’s particularly good at helping you do. 

- Getting kept away from his father. He tries to keep your interactions to a minimum, especially if you have a much different personality than to the man.

- Incredibly jealous though he’ll always try to hide just how upset whatever situation you’re in makes him. He makes jokes and “forgets about it” as soon as you join his side, convincingly acting like nothing happened or that he saw nothing wrong with it but staying up the rest of the night wondering what he can do about it. 

- Possessive. You’re each others, aren’t you? He’s yours and you’re his. Everybody belongs to someone and the two of you belong to one another. 

- Is he protective? What do you think? If you ever complain about a person bothering you, he’ll almost immediately ask if you want him to kill them. You think it’s a joke. It’s not. 

- Although it may seem like he does things just for his own benefit, he would genuinely do anything you ask of him. Sometimes he’ll surprise you with the lengths that he goes to make your life easier and happier. 

- He’s hot tempered and kind of an asshole so the two of you are; most likely, almost constantly fighting. You’ll usually be yelling at each other or arguing passionately which is a problem because he thinks you’re hot when you’re angry. He’ll usually wind up trying to kiss you which succeeds in making things worse and having you give him the silent treatment/break up. 

- He tries his best to give you your space but the instant you want him back, he’s all over you. He usually never actually apologizes but he doesn’t force you to when you’re in the wrong either so you suppose it’s fair. 

- I love you’s are few and far between. He doesn’t really want to make himself seem too vulnerable so you only get them on rare occasions. 

- The two of you tend to not talk about the future. He wants to be with you forever; which is obvious, and he wants you to be his; which is also obvious. But you don’t know if you’re entirely sure you can handle him. So, you try to just enjoy the time you’re spending together and not think about how things may end. 

- You’re either the Bonnie to his Clyde or his blissfully unaware darling. Pick your poison. 

[mandoalorian]

Javier Peña SFW Alphabet

Because the world needs more soft!Javi.

Warnings: 16+. allusions to sex, depression mention, cigarettes mention, alcohol mention, food mention.

Masterlist

Reblogs appreciated!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

So, Javi hates PDA. It makes him cringe. Javier can be pretty affectionate but only when you two are alone and spending private one-on-one time with each other. However, if he sees another pair of eyes on you, he can get protective pretty quick. He’ll guide you around with his hand placed on the small of your back, and he’s not afraid to slap your ass if it means he gets to assert his dominance.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I mean, just look at Javier & Steve. Javi is an amazing best friend. He’s hilarious, and always jokes around, although most of the time, his humour can be quite dark and self deprecating. None the less, he’s super funny and never fails to make you laugh. He’s perfect to have around when you need to be cheered up. He’s also super supportive and will constantly look out for you. If you’ve fucked up and made a mistake, Javi will take the blame and have your back. You don’t even have to ask him. He really steps up for you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

At first? No. Javi struggles to show his feelings, and he’s not the biggest hopeless romantic, as you might’ve guessed. He’s never really given out cuddles (or hugs for that matter), but if you’ve been together for a couple of months and you’re going steady, he doesn’t have an issue with getting into it. He learns to really like cuddles. Especially after sex.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He has no interest in getting married. Never has, never will. He doesn’t see the point in a piece of paper from city hall to confirm that you two love each other. As long as he can feel it, in his heart, that’ll be good enough for him. But if you absolutely want to get married, he’ll allow it. It won’t be a big ceremony though. Maybe just a few guests and a store bought cake. He doesn’t like the fuss. He doesn’t cook, ever. He had a pretty bad diet that consists of snacking on chips at the bar or ordering take-out. He has a cleaner too.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Honestly? Javier can be pretty brutal. If you’ve hooked up just a few times and he’s lost interest, he’ll probably just not call you back. If you’ve been together a while, he’s gonna be really torn up about breaking up with you. He’ll be sulking and moody for a few days and you’ll know that somethings up. Then he’ll go distance and ghost you, hiding out in a few motel bars leaving you worried about where he is. When you find him, there’s a big fight and he snaps and tells you he wants to end it all. When he misses you, he’ll pick up a girl from the brothel who looks similar enough to you, and he’ll think of you while he fucks her. He feels gross about it, but it’s just what he does.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Oh Lord, Javier has the biggest commitment issues. He’s terrified, as we seen with Lorraine. It’s gonna take a lot for him to settle down. He tries to reassure you that it’s not your fault and it’s a problem he needs to work out himself. It might take Javi a few years of steadily dating before his commitment issues become resolved, but as long as you’re willing to wait for him, he’ll be happy.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s definitely rough at first — in every way you can imagine. But you teach him how to be more gentle and considerate, both with yourself and the people around him. He can be pretty blunt which can cause a lot of hurt sometimes. When he sees that you’re upset though, he will show a surprising softer side. He’ll wrap his arm around you and smooth out your hair, and he’ll lull you to sleep by whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

The first time you hug Javi, he stiffens up completely. He has no idea how to react. The last time he received a hug must’ve been from his mom when he was still just a young boy. He often gives you hugs though, especially when you’re seeking comfort. Javier has big strong arms and he holds you so right. He runs at your flesh in soothing motions and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You can always smell the honeyed scent of his cologne, and cigarettes, when he hugs you. But you wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

You’re probably going to say it first... and that’s okay! Javier does love you, he knows that for sure. It’s just... it can be hard for him to actually admit it and come to terms with it (with his commitment issues and all). You assure him it’s okay and he can take his time. But he ends up not taking long at all. Once you tell him you love him, his whole world feels complete and it’s suddenly pretty easy for him to tell you that he loves you back.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

To be honest, Javi is pretty confident in a relationship. No woman has ever left him before. So, he doesn’t get too jealous. Besides, other men know better than to get too close to you because Javier isn’t afraid to throw a punch or two. He is, by nature, extremely protective, though.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

So passionate. A clash of tongues and teeth. He often moans into your mouth and the vibrations from that alone are enough to send shivers down your spine. When he kisses you, he struggles to keep his hands to himself. With Javier, kisses often lead to making out which often leads to sex. He loves to kiss you anywhere. Along your jaw, down your neck and the valley of your breasts. He’s a biter too (this is canon). He loves to nibble at your skin and give you little lovebites.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Surprisingly decent. Kids aren’t his favourite thing in the world, and he does his best to avoid them, but on an occasion where he finds himself with a child, he can handle them pretty well. Olivia Murphy loves her uncle Javi.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Weekdays are the worst because Javi has to head to work pretty early. Weekends though? You and Javier will sleep in until around midday, just lounging in each other’s arms and basking in the morning sunlight as it seeps through your curtains. It’s soft and sweet and almost always results in morning sex. You and Javi find yourself indulging in tired conversations and soft touches as you both fall in and out of sleep.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Javier will be drinking beer or whiskey and the two of you will mostly likely be on his sofa, watching a movie together. Fancy dinners aren’t his style but he likes to treat you to them now and again on date night. And trust me when I say you two will be going at each other until the early hours of the morning.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s an enigma to everyone he meets, and this doesn’t exclude you. It can be exhausting at first— how much he keeps to himself. He doesn’t talk about his childhood, or what he did at work today. He talks about very little. But once you express to him that you wish he’d be more open and vulnerable with you, he tries. He really does try. In the end, he’s a lot more confident and can talk to you about practically anything.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has 0 patience, as we see on stakeouts. He gets angry and frustrated super fast. He’s not too loud and he’s rarely a shouter, but when he’s pissed, you’re sure to know about it.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

It’s going to take him about three years for him to remember your birthday. But he remembers the exact shirt you were wearing the night you and him met. He forgets your mom’s name, but he remembers the brand name of the perfume that’s displayed on your dresser. Point is, he remembers very menial and silly things about you. Sometimes, he’ll bring up a random fact about you that he’s remembered and it’ll truly surprise you. Even though he struggled to remember the important things, you find is so endearing how he remembers the smaller and finer things.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you and Javi slept together, something just hit him like a ton of bricks. He’s slept with plenty of women, that much is clear, but with you, it was different. Right from the start, something felt different, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. Truth be told, it terrified him... this unknown feeling. But it excited him too, and only spurred him on more. It takes him a while to realise, but that feeling was love. That was the night he fell in love with you. And so for that reason, yours and Javi’s first time is his favourite memory.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective. There’s no reason to elaborate. Due to the nature of his job and the shit he sees on a day to day basis, he makes you his number one priority. If anything ever happened to you, he couldn’t ever forgive himself. So he’s constantly at your neck and call. Anything you need, he will provide.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Javier is pretty low maintenance. Like I said, he will occasionally take you out for a meal at a fancy restaurant, but this is usually for anniversary dates. He’s taken a liking to going to the movies with you, and he also loves to go dancing with you in nightclubs. Javi’s job is well paid and he has a surprisingly good eye for jewellery. He always picks you out the most beautiful diamonds. You worry about him spending too much on you, though.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Smoking. You don’t like the smell of it. And when he has one too many beers. He tries to cut down though, for you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Yeah, he looks after himself. He keeps himself well groomed. He even has a little toothbrush he uses to comb his moustache.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He really, really would. Say you and Javi have had a big fight and you are both spending some time away from each other... he’ll be really struggling. You’re always there to ground him and make him feel safe. He never realised how much needs you until you’re not with him anymore. He’d probably cry himself to sleep, but he’d never tell anyone.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He has a vision. It’s a pretty distant vision, well into the future. But once he retires from the DEA, he’d love to take you back to Texas and show you his fathers farm. Maybe even have a farm with you someday. A suburban house with a white picket fence and dog. It’s the last thing you’d expect from Javi, but in a sense, he craves the normality of it all.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Uh, he doesn’t like drugs? DEA agent and all. He doesn’t like the rain because it ruins his hair and he hates the way his colourful shirts stick to his skin. You tell him it’s sexy, though. He doesn’t like big events where he has to see and interact with a bunch of people.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He snores so loud. For the love of God, he needs to see a sleep therapist or some shit. Thankfully, you grow used to it, but you don’t know how he doesn’t wake himself up!

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[like-rain-or-confetti]

Unavoidable bonds. (Alec Volturi x reader)

It was nothing at first, or at least in your eyes. Alec was a strange person who was very closed off and by pure luck, he was somewhat kind to you. He wasn't hostile as you had come to expect. The Cullen's had told you awful things about the Volturi, Alec included but you found it easier to hate him when he wasn't around. However now that he was, it was almost impossible. Not to mention that everyone seemed to know something you didn't. None of who were willing to tell you. Eventually you stopped asking and thought nothing of it, all the while becoming more acquainted with Alec. You got small smiles from him, each one you had earned. 

After some time, you had formed some kind of friendship with him, although you tried to ignore the pull of wanting more. You figured it was just curiosity of being in the presence of someone so mysterious and dangerous. 

For reasons unknown, you began to notice Alec had begun to approach you rather than you always coming to him. It made you speculate that maybe he wanted to spend his time with you. After that he began to break the gap he always created between you. It started with little things such as fixing your hair or picking something off your shoulder and grew into more intimate things like lingering hand holding, longer than necessary, the occasional random pattern he'd trace on your spine sometimes when standing behind you idly. 

However a line seemed to be drawn when that turned into hugs and Alec gave you some insight. "Why are they so upset?" You asked him quietly, referring to the Cullen's who were in a tense discussion with the other members of the Volturi, except Alec of course. "They don't approve of our time together." Alec said simply. "Why?" You asked. "You and I have a special bond. That scares them." He retorted. "Special? In what way?" You frowned. "I'm sure you've felt it. I've heard your heartbeat change sometimes." Alec looked down, brushing some dirt from his crossed knees. "You don't feel it as strongly as I do but it's there." "I'm going to need some more information on that, Alec. I don't quite understand what you're saying specifically." "You and I are likely to be mates despite our short time together. As much as I don't like saying it, it's similar to 'love at first sight'." Alec grimaced. "Do you not believe in that stuff?" You asked him. "I don't enjoy the thought. I find it disturbing but I don't feel that way you. Perhaps I am mistaken." "You feel it too?" You whispered in disbelief. "The pull? All the time. I feel it more than you would as a human. Believe me, if you felt it like I do, you'd be just as certain." "And the Cullen's don't like that because..." "...because it's with me." Alec finished. "I'm one of the most dangerous vampires in the world. They fear you're in danger."  "Am I?" You whispered and Alec shook his head in response. "Is this kind of bond common?" "No, it's actually exceptionally rare. I personally thought it to be nothing more than a lie but I here I stand corrected." "That explains why I feel so... attached. Sorry, I know that's weird." You admitted sheepishly. Alec smirked. "I find relief in that. It means I'm not the only one. Although it makes a very sad situation for when I must leave tomorrow."  "and you absolutely have to?" You asked Alec and he nodded briefly. "Yes. Soon enough, you'll be going home too." You tilted your head at Alec in confusion. This wasn't necessarily an uncommon experience. You had simply put it down to the many years he had despite looking so young. Alec often said things that didn't make sense, like hearing a statement from a book with no context. He left you to pick up the pieces, although you began to learn that perhaps he hadn't intended you to know the answer. Such a suspicion wouldn't be too far from the truth you reckoned. It had become consistent for vampires to not tell you the complete truth. Alec simply cracked a small smile, recognising your confusion. 

"it's just...it's stupid but I feel like it won't be the same without you now. I like having you around." You said quietly. "I'm fond of you as well." His smile didn't waver and held the same manner you had grown accustomed to. The smile that you'd give a naive child, the smile that said you didn't know anything. 

The next day he had to leave as planned and just as you had expected, it made you sad. There was a small heart ache that followed. You were eager to ignore it. Especially as Alec stood before you, his stance motionless and stoic. Although his eyes had a soft gaze upon you. "Goodbye, little human." He said simply. The name he had often gave you around the others. The term moved from condescending to endearment rather quickly. His eyes said a little more however, something he'd never say in front of others such as the Cullen's. Although his eyes said it for him. 'my little human.' His departure was as brief as his goodbye. No looking back, no distractions. Alec and his coven were gone. The Cullen's were beyond relieved at that point and that's when things became difficult. 

The goal was simple, yet complicated and the Cullen's were unified in it. Keep you and Alec apart. Don't let this continue any further. Alec tried to contact you many times, all of his letter reached you but you couldn’t respond. More specifically, the letters you wrote always disappeared before you could send them. Every newer letter gave you the indication that he hadn’t received yours so no one was sending them for you. 

You devised a plan that as soon as you were alone, you’d call the Volturi. You got receptions number and waited for your time. It eventually came when all of the Cullen’s went hunting. That was your chance. 

You waited half an hour after they had left, wanting to be sure they wouldn’t hear. You quickly dialled the number, leaning against the wall. You knew you’d have been caught as soon as the phone bill came through but you had to tell Alec you weren’t ignoring him. After a couple of rings are cheerful woman greeted you...in Italian. You didn’t know any Italian.  “Hi, uhm, sorry but do you speak english?” There was a brief silence.  “Hello, can you understand me?” The woman wasn’t as confident with her English judging by the pauses but regardless, her annunciation was perfect.”  “Yes, just to be clear, the Volturi...right?” There was another pause. “You have. I’m sorry, might i ask your name?” She asked. “Uh, yeah, my name is (Y/N). I’m a friend of Alec’s.” You could sense her alarm through the phone.  “I see, how can I help you today?”  “Well, Alec has been trying to contact me.” The receptionist made a noise as she seemed to recall. “Ah yes, I was asked to send them to you. Have they not arrived?” You couldn’t help but note the wobble of fear in her question. “Oh I did, yeah, everything is fine but I was hoping I could ask you to give him something for me.” You said hurriedly.  “I believe i can, what would you like me to give to him?”  “Could you take a note of this number and give it to him. It’s my phone number, i can’t respond to his letters they-my family won’t let me.” You said and the receptionist seemed to catch on.  “I see, very well. I’m ready when you are.” 

You gave her your number and she relayed it back to confirm it. Then she paused. “Alec isn’t on duty at the moment, if you like, i could see if I can reach him?” You perked up slightly. “Really? I mean- if it isn’t too much bother.” You could hear the smile in her voice. “Absolutely, let me put you on hold.” 

After a couple of minutes that felt like hours, you heard his voice for the first time in weeks. “Hello?”  “Hi Alec.” You breathed, unable to hold back your smile. You sank to the floor, your whole body leaning against the wall. “(Y/N)?”  “Yeah, its me.” There was a pause, “I’ve wrote to you seven times in the past five weeks alone.” He didn’t sound happy.  “I know, i got them.” You began.  “Well that’s nice, a response would have been even nicer.” Alec’s cold voice took you aback. You had forgotten how blunt he could be. “I know, I wrote back every time but...” You trailed off, unsure how to relay to him your suspicions. “...this is going to sound crazy.” You said flatly. Alec was quiet for a moment. “As long as it doesn’t sound like a lie.”  “I’m not lying to you Alec, i promise. I really did write back to you but...they disappeared before i could send them...every time.” Alec was quiet and you continued. “I think they’re taking them before i can send them.”  “The Cullen’s?” He asked. “Yeah.”  “How do you know?”  “I don’t.” You said quickly, the first couple of times i thought i had misplaced them but...seven times? And...” You trailed off.  “What?” Alec pressed. “When you left, I heard things here and there. I pretended not to but they really don’t approve of me being in contact with you. So much so that I think it could be possible that when i’m asleep or not looking, they’re taking the letters.” You paused. “I know it sounds crazy but this is the only way i could think of reaching you without something going wrong. I don’t know if it’s me or if I am genuinely onto them.”  “Did you asked them?” Alec asked finally. “They’re very quick to deny it and change the subject. I stopped asking, even tried hiding the letters but somehow they’re gone and I don’t remember moving them.” You sighed. “I know it sounds crazy-.”  “It doesn’t.”Alec interrupted.  “Really?”  “Humans can be forgetful but i don’t think they could be that forgetful. Besides, why would you call if you were trying to avoid contact.” Alec said. You exhaled. “I never even thought about that.” There was a slight chuckle.  “Alec, are you laughing at me?” You raised an eyebrow.  “Yes.” He said without hesitation.  “Don’t laugh! I thought i was going crazy and then i thought you were angry with me!”  “I was annoyed but it isn’t your fault. I didn’t realise the Cullen’s would go to such measures to keep you from me.” He explained. “I mean...other than the thousands upon thousands of miles between us?” You asked lightly.  “Very funny.”  “I try.” You grinned.  “Are you safe?” Alec asked.  “Yeah. I think i should be asking you that.” You smirked.  “You don’t need to worry about me, little human.”  “I’m sorry if I worried you though, about...you know, your letters.”  “It seemingly isn’t your fault. Besides, I can hear you now.” Alec spoke. You felt your heart flutter. “Although this is bizarre. I haven’t used a phone before.” Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”  “I’m not. I never had the need to besides i’m...old fashioned.”  “Or you’re just old and your age is showing.” You smirked, giggling at the moment of silence.  “You’re exceptionally lucky you’re thousands of miles away, cara mia.”  “That distance gives me confidence.” You giggled.  “I bet it does.” You could hear his smile. 

“Would it be okay if i were to call you instead of writing. I think it’ll be easier to hide. “ You asked.  “I may not be able to use this phone but I believe Heidi has a phone. I would have to ask if i could use it...once she tells me how to use it.” You giggled. “Well the receptionist took down my number.”  “She did, it’s on a tiny bit of yellow paper with your name and many numbers.”  “If you keep that, you’d be able to contact me at any time with that number. Texting or call.” You explained. “Text?” Alec sounded confused. You laughed. “So old!”  “Hey! I’ll come over there.”  “Heidi will tell you all you need to know, i’m sure. I’ll let you get back in contact with me when you can. I know you’re busy and I know i’ll need to hide my phone.” You smiled.  “I’ll fix this, sweet-face.” Alec assured you. “You won’t need to worry.” 

Turns out he was right and true to his word, barely two days later Alice froze mid-step.  “What is it, Alice?” Jasper reached out for his mate, his long fingers curling around her wrist.  “The Volturi...they’re coming here.” 

Barely a week had passed and it seemed the day had arrived. The first hint was from the wolves. The second, you could only assume was vampire instinct because no one would tell you anything. Word had been sent that they had arrived and would be before the Cullen’s in minutes. 

Alice grabbed your face in a firm grip. “Hey, you stay here. Understand? You stay inside.” You nodded quickly and the Cullen’s began to leave the house, one by one.

You moved to the window, keeping a distance but still very visible. You saw many black and grey cloaks. Far more vampires than the Cullen’s, at least triple the number. You felt fear, despite knowing Alec was among them and there to see you. The hostility was too much and it was because of you. You couldn’t hear what was said but within minutes, things seemed to go sour as multiple members grabbed each of the Cullen’s. 

It had been easy enough for the Volturi to overpower the Cullen's even without Alec's help. Aro looked over at Alec, nodding once and Alec's gaze moved from Aro towards the Cullen house. Just like that, Alec walked towards the house. A strike of terror filled you as you pulled away from the window and took off running towards the stairs. You knew better than to run. You knew you couldn't avoid this situation yet regardless of this, you attempted to anyway. You hid in the closet, closing the door quickly. 

Only seconds later you heard footsteps from downstairs. Tears welled in your eyes as your lip quivered. You weren't afraid of Alec, you were afraid of the situation and Alec came with that. You could hear him ascend the stairs as a tear ran down your cheek. He was moving slowly, humanly slow. Whether that was for you or not, you couldn't be sure. Your heart was racing as you quickly regretted hiding, forgetting just why hiding was such a reasonable idea. "(Y/N)?" You heard Alec call out from down the hall. "(Y/N)?" You shivered, not responding but you knew there was only a matter of time before you were found. You had no doubt Alec had already pin pointed where you were by heartbeat alone. "(Y/N)." Alec's voice was just beyond the door. "Open the door." He said simply. You couldn't move. "(Y/N), open the door." Alec said again, this time a little more firmly. "(Y/N), open the door!"

"I’d never have thought you to be the one to come between mates, my dear Carlisle.” Aro smiled.  “Not without reason to think someone is in danger.” Carlisle responded smoothly. “Hypocrite!” Caius snapped.  “Indeed, not a very convincing argument considering...Edward and young Bella.” Aro’s eyes landed on the couple.  “I can guarantee her safety.” Edward spoke through a clenched jaw. “Can Alec?” Jane let out a loud snarl but Aro raised a hand, motioning for her to stand down.  “Now, now, dear Jane. Edward here, is simply...misinformed.” Edward scoffed. 

You tried so desperately to hold back your tears but had failed. In a matter of moments, you could barely register Alec's arms around you, holding you to him. His hold was comforting even if a little too tight. He was quiet when he wasn't mumbling into your ear words of reassurance. It served as a reminder why you cared for him so much. "It's okay, I'll be here when you're ready." He said into your ear. 

To the Cullen’s surprise, they saw Alec come back out of the house and towards them hand in hand with you.  “They’re fine.” Alec said to Aro as you looked down at your feet. Alec pulled you a little closer to him, out of the way of the Volturi guards who released the Cullen’s. As you passed Alec, his fingertips brushed your back. He hummed with a smirk. “They look more and more beautiful as the days pass.” The compliment was sincere but most definitely made to make the Cullen’s uncomfortable. It was a success as Esme’s face twisted as she moved to wrap her arms around you. 

Weeks past and ever since the Volturi’s second visit, you had been acting differently. Being cheerful was never a bad thing in the Cullen's eyes but that wasn't the issue. You were more cheerful and that was fine, great even. However the smile only covered your mouth and barely your eyes. Looking more carefully there was something else there, you were happy but distant from them and had been since the Volturi left. You began to speak like you'd be gone one day. As though caught in a daydream that held you a thousand miles away. Perhaps there was. 

Bella could see it and she wondered if that was what Jessica, Angela, Mike, Ben, Jacob, her parents saw when they looked at her. 'Hes got his hooks in you so deep.' Bella remembered Jake's words as though they were yesterday. They never sat with her well. She never understood them. She never understood how her love for Edward was so wrong. Until she could see it for herself. Was this what they saw when looking at her? Smiling but as far as you could be...with him. Alec. Maybe, she could finally understand where they had been coming from, by looking at you. 

Although Alec had stopped contact since his visit. The Cullen's thought that would have dampened your mood. They tried to keep you apart from him and nothing good came out of it. Yet it had been weeks since his last contact and your smile hadn't even remotely faltered. The Cullen's knew better. Something big was coming. Even if you didn't know it. The Volturi were planning something. 

Alice tried to look at their decisions but they seemed more prepared than ever. If she had to guess, they were taking turns with their plan. She started with Aro only to find nothing but a confirmation from Caius. She looked to Caius and yet again and saw nothing. She checked Alec who seemed to count on Jane and Jane looked to the masters. Marcus was the most difficult of all, if he made any decisions in this plan then they were miniscule. She couldn't piece together a confirmation within a plan that had no hints. She was only left with glimpses, none of which being anything major.  

She was hit with another vision. This one of Jane who made her way to Alec. He was sitting in an armchair, seemingly in thought. Jane gently placed a hand on her brothers shoulder. "It's almost done. Soon." Alec smirked. "That is wonderful to hear, sister." She took a seat beside him on the arm rest. "Are you worried about (Y/N)?" Alec thought for a moment. "No. The plan will work. Besides, sister, I trust you with them. You'll keep them safe." Jane cracked a smile. "Of course I would. I'd do anything for you, brother. I meant for the current days. Whilst we are not there." "I believe that the Cullen's know if they even look at my mate the wrong way, there will be hell to pay." Alec said simply and just like that the vision was over. 

Another vision of many that, in the end, meant absolutely nothing and gave Alice no clue as to what was being plotted against them. Two months passed and things had become radio silent but just as quickly hell emerged. The Cullen's had returned from a hunt and you were no where to be found. Horror struck them. Had it been so simple? Was this is mastermind plan? The Volturi would take you when they weren't looking? None were satisfied with such an answer and so they each split up to search. 

Alice and Jasper were the first to disappear. No one had seen them since they departed yet the others had all crossed paths. Then it was Rosalie, Emmet not far to follow. Edward had yet to return and Bella was with her father, safe and sound. That left Carlisle and Esme who had no choice but to split up in desperation to find you. Esme moved to the front of the house, checking the trees through there. 

Carlisle looked at his house that was now completely pitch black without the lights and in the dead of night. When they had left the lights were on and he felt a sense of dread wash over him. This time, he could smell your scent much more strongly than previously which meant you were back and a strong heartbeat. "(Y/N)!?" Carlisle called out. Within moments there was a giggle and the sound of footsteps joined with the heartbeat. In seconds you ran past the doorframe in front of him.  “(Y/N)! Come back!” Carlisle called out after you. However you didn’t listen, rushing into the darkness. 

Carlisle called out to you and once again he got no reply, He made his way through each of the rooms before finally coming face to face with Alec. His expression was blank and you peeked out from behind him, your hand clutched with his tightly.  “You're too late Carlisle. They're with me now." He said simply. You smiled slightly as you nuzzled into Alec’s shoulder.  “W-What can I do to convince you-” Carlisle began but was cut off. “I think you and your coven have done enough.” Alec said stoically before directing his next sentence to you. “Sweet-face, Corin and Chelsea are looking for you.” You broke away from Alec, running off behind him and out of the room.  “No...” Carlisle shook his head in horror. “You didn’t...”  “See that’s where you have me wrong Carlisle. Chelsea hasn’t done anything to (Y/N).” Alec said quickly. Carlisle looked to see Jane walking up to take her place to her brothers left.  “You thought that I’d tie (Y/N) to me so using Chelsea. So much so you forget that they’re my mate, they’re already tied without her. If you must know, It’s Corin’s influence over them that I used. I don’t want to upset them. I want them happy and even just a little distracted.”  “Distracted for what-” Carlisle was cut off by his own scream. He crumpled to the ground, Jane filled with delight as she used her gift on Carlisle.  “This is what you get when you try to keep them from me. This is what happens. I suggest you tell your family and your friends about this taste of the consequences because i can promise you, it’s only a taste of what we’ll do if you ever try to come between us again.” Jane released Carlisle. 

In that moment you came into the room. “Am I going with you?” Alec turned with a small smirk. “Of course you are. It’s time. You’re ready, aren’t you?” You nodded cheerfully. Alec reached for your hand as Jane slipped her own hand into his free one. “Let’s go, sweet-face.”

[bytheangell]

What Died Didn’t Stay Dead

(s02e20 inspired fic) (Read on AO3)

Everything’s fine. Everything’s great. Perfect, even. They won. They’re alive. They’re goddamn heroes.

Jace repeats those phrases over and over and over again. To Alec and Isabelle, to Clary, hell, even to himself. Everything is fine because it has to be fine. He has to be fine.

Except he isn’t.

Because when Jace died, he didn’t just fade away into nothingness: he went to Heaven. He died, and his soul went to Heaven, and he knows it was Heaven the way you know there’s air in your lungs and blood in your veins - it’s simply a part of you, a serenity and calm he’d never come close to imagining, suddenly his reality. Jace found himself existing in a state of pure bliss, as if every weight, every burden was lifted from him at once. He’d never felt so light, so free…

And then it all came crashing down and he woke back up on the dirty ground of Lake Lyn’s shoreline. And Clary… Clary was just so goddamn happy to see him alive, and Alec and Izzy’s relief was practically palpable, so he couldn’t tell them. He still can’t. And he knows he shouldn’t be upset with Clary but he can’t help it, because he knows what he was pulled back from and now everything feels wrong, and he’s afraid that he’ll never feel whole again.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong specifically, just that something is wrong. He can feel it in his soul, in the very blood that runs through his veins. But what is he supposed to tell Clary when she asks? ‘Hey, thanks for saving my life, but I think I came back broken?’ And that isn’t even the worst of it. He tries not to think about it, about the real reason he might be feeling this disconnect, but it isn’t exactly something he can forget. If he’s really being honest, with himself and with Clary, what he should say is ‘Thanks for saving me, but all you did was tear me away from the only peace I’ve ever known.’

Over and over in his nightmares, he feels that peace ripped away from him and he’s forced to relive the loss of it. And when it isn’t that, he sees Clary held in place and about to be executed by Circle members, or he sees the face of his father as he plunged his blade into Jace’s chest, complete with the sharp, burning pain of the fatal wound.

Because it was fatal. He died. For however long it took for Clary to kill Valentine and make her own wish, his heart had stopped and his soul had left his body. Alec felt the pain of it, he saw the proof of what really happened when their rune faded from his side as the connection severed. Alec knows, but Jace avoids talking about it because he can’t tell him the truth, not now, not ever.

“Maybe my heart stopped for a second, or my body went into shock. I dunno, I’m not a doctor,” Jace tries to reason the vanishing rune away with bullshit excuses that Alec doesn’t buy, but his parabatai does drop the topic after a while.

But not Clary. Clary just won’t let it go.

On some level, Jace is aware that it’s not right to force Clary to keep the wish a secret. He tells her that it’s for her own good, and that isn’t a lie because if the Clave ever found out then he didn’t want to think about what they might do to her for using the wish, and what they might do to him as someone unnaturally brought back from the dead. He’s trying to protect her, but he’s trying to protect himself just as much, and that’s the part he doesn’t share with her. Because he can’t talk about it, or else he’ll eventually have to talk about what really happened when he died.

Except all Clary wants to do is talk about it with him, because he’s the only one she can talk to since he forbade her from telling anyone else, even Alec and Izzy. Every time he leaves a room suddenly to hide the physical discomfort and sometimes pain he feels just from existing again, every night he wakes up crying out in his sleep after tossing and turning, Clary tries to get him to open up. When he grows distant and detached Clary only gets more insistent, until one day he snaps.

“WHY WON’T YOU JUST FUCKING DROP IT?”

Clary looks started for a second but recovers quickly. “Because there’s something you’re not telling me! We’re the only people who know what happened, which means if something’s wrong, I’m the only one who can help you! So let me help you, Jace!”

“You can’t help me, Clary! You’re the reason I feel like this!”

The second the words leave his lips Jace wants nothing more than to take them back. Hurt flashes across Clary’s face, mixing with the confusion from before.

“What do you mean? Did I… did I do something wrong?”

The quiet words Jace whispers next stand in stark contrast to his previous shouts.

“You brought me back.” Jace wishes it were that simple and he could just leave it at that. But he’s opened the floodgates now and there’s no stopping this conversation. A part of him doesn’t want to stop, either, eager to finally get everything out from where it’s been festering inside of him, poorly buried under lies and distractions. “I was happy. I felt… complete. Like I’d done everything I was meant to do, and this peace was my reward. I was in Heaven, Clary. And then I was back here.”

Clary doesn’t speak for a very long time.

“I just wanted to save you,” she says quietly.

“I know,” Jace says, but the words come out bitter and far from understanding. “And you used a wish meant to benefit all of humanity to do it - to save me from a place I didn’t want to be saved from.”

Jace can practically see his words sinking in as the expression on Clary’s face morphs from hurt to muted horror. When she doesn’t reply Jace just keeps talking, the words tumbling out with nothing left to stop them.

“We’re Nephilim. We’re meant to die in battle, it’s what we do! Sometimes I forget how far removed you are from everything we stand for… how obvious it is you weren’t raised a Shadowhunter. Because you don’t feel guilty for what you did at all, do you?”

This time Clary only shies away from the accusation for a moment before doubling down and growing defensive. “Of course not! I love you, Jace! I had a chance to bring you back and I took it. Maybe Nephilim are used to dying in battle, but that wasn’t a battle. That wasn’t some greater cause to martyr yourself for, and you didn’t deserve to die like that!” Clary’s voice shakes a little but she remains resolved, and under any other circumstance, it’d be that typical Clary Fray stubbornness that Jace usually finds endearing. Now, it only serves to push him that last step off the ledge of frustration he’s been building up since that night.

“Maybe I did! Maybe that was my cause, my purpose, did you ever think about that? I sure as hell don’t deserve to be alive at the cost of The Angel’s wish, and now I’m the only one living with that guilt because all you care about is yourself and that you got what you wanted!”

“I care about you!” Clary shoots back. “I’m… Jace, I’m so sorry. If I’d known, known where you went… I didn’t think-”

“You never do,” Jace says, shaking his head. “That’s the problem.”

The charged emotions shift to something softer, something decidedly more sad than angry.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out like that. I didn’t tell you because I know your heart was in the right place. I just thought I could hide it better - or longer, until it didn’t feel so…” he trails off, not wanting to put words to that numb sense of longing he feels inside. The wrongness of it all. He knows Clary feels bad enough already without all of that, too, if she hasn’t pieced it together already. 

“How do I fix this?” Clary asks. “Just tell me what to do. Because you’re right - I saved you because I didn’t want to lose you, and I still don’t. I can’t lose you now, not like this. So tell me how to fix this.” Clary pauses, the hands previously on her hips dropping to her side in defeat as tears well up in her eyes before spilling over with every blink to trail down her cheeks. “Tell me how to fix us.”

“I don’t think you can,” he admits, swallowing the lump in his throat that threatens to stop the words entirely. He doesn’t cry, though. “I think I just need some time.”

Clary opens her mouth to immediately protest. Jace watches her slowly force it closed again, hands clenching into fists at her side as she takes a deep breath before speaking. “Alright. Whatever you need.”

He can tell she only half-means it, that it’s the last thing she actually wants to do, but the fact that she’s willing to do it anyway is a good sign that she can see how serious he is.

“You really never planned on telling me, did you?” Clary frowns.

“No,” Jace admits since they’re well past the point of lying to spare feelings now. “Because I knew you’d feel bad and want to try and fix it.”

“Of course I want to fix it!”

“But you can’t. There’s no undoing this, I just have to take some time to figure out how to live with it.”

“Okay. Okay, fine. But promise me,” Clary says, reaching out to take his hands in her own. “Promise me you aren’t going to keep me out forever. Promise me if there’s anything I can do, even if it’s just to be there with you, you’ll tell me.” She gives his hands a squeeze, the tears returning to her eyes. “Promise me you’ll be okay at the end of all this.”

Jace nods. He wants, more than anything, to believe in a future where he adjusts and settles back into the life he’s always known, with no unsettling feeling that something is wrong, with the belief that he was always meant to be here still. He wants to believe in a perfect future with Clary by his side, raising kids they put through the Academy and teach everything they know. He wants to believe that there’s an ‘okay’ at the end of this for him - for both of them - even if he can’t imagine it now.

It feels like an impossible promise to make at the moment, but he makes it anyway because he thinks it’s one they both need to believe in.

“I promise.”

He hopes more than anything that it’s a promise he can keep.

[plasticnightmaredoll]

So, this is a little goofy thing featuring Arkham Knight Eddie and a female!o/c  that was inspired by an actual dream I had recently. Like, literally, the dream mentioned in this story is almost exactly the same.

It’s pretty short and I’m....not entirely sure it’s good but I dunno...I wanted to get that dream out of my head somehow and turn it into something positive so...here is this silly drabble.

Contains some smut and suggestive comments, but nothing overly explicit. 

Words: 2104 Title: i'm best when I'm In love Rating: M (going with the AO3 smutty content labels here)

“My Dear, you’re struggling,” Edward said as he moved one of his pawns. 

“Well, I have yet to beat you, Eddie,” Sara responded in a tense voice, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath.

“True, but lately, you’ve been performing much better than this. Right now, your tactics are sloppy, like when I first started teaching you.”

“Chess takes time to learn, right?”

“Correct, and you have the benefit of learning from an astounding genius like myself. However, your focus is not on the game, so no matter what I say, you’re still going to lose much sooner than you should.”

“It’s not over yet.”

Edward’s gaze moved from the chess board to Sara’s agitated expression, noting the almost pained look in her eyes as she tried so very hard to concentrate on the game. It was easy to see that she was becoming more panicked by the second, and whatever skills she had acquired from his teachings had gone out the window for the time being.

“No, but the way you’re tap, tap, tapping that Knight piece on the table indicates there’s a much more serious problem here,” Edward said.

Sara hadn’t even realized she was doing it, and quickly stopped once she looked down at her right hand. The Knight piece was given a much-needed break as she set it on the table and tried to gather her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Sara said, running a hand through her hair. 

As much as Edward wanted for Sara to look at him, he knew how nerve-wracking it could be for her to make direct eye contact when she was upset. It did sadden him, though, that she had barely glanced at him the whole time they’d been together that day, and part of him wondered if there was something he did to make her uncomfortable -- or something he didn’t do. Both of them had a lot of pent up emotions, and while they were quick to unleash them when under stress, they were also terrible at asking for help or simply being vulnerable in general. So, he had to approach this cautiously. 

“Where is your mind at, Dearest Devinette?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Sara let out a little huff which was as close to a chuckle as she could muster upon hearing one of his (rather adorable) nicknames for her.

“I’ve just got something on my mind,” she replied, resting her head in her left hand as she leaned on the table.

“Obviously,” said Edward, rolling his eyes. “But what precisely is on your mind?”

Sara chewed on her lower lip as she pondered how to respond. It was stupid, she told herself, what she was thinking, what she had been thinking, and she was almost embarrassed to admit it out loud -- let alone to herself. Edward was not going to take “no” for an answer, though, nor would he believe any lie she could toss into his lap. She was a terrible liar to begin with, and he was far too perceptive. 

“It’s about, um….” Sara began, her throat starting to clamp up as her heart raced in her chest. “It’s, uh, about...a…”

The need to “hide” was too great at that moment, and Sara abruptly stood and turned her back to Edward, bringing her index finger to her mouth to bite at the second knuckle.

“It’s about a dream I had recently,” Sara confessed, her mouth dry and her heart beating so loudly in her ears she thought Edward might hear it.

“Ok?” Edward said slowly, waiting for her to continue despite feeling a little impatient.

As much as Edward wanted to help his love, there was little he could do without knowing the details of what troubled her so. Being helpless like this -- being helpless at all -- always drove him crazy. He needed to solve this, but he also needed answers first.

“Well, in the dream, we were working together,” Sara continued. “At a job. At a company. We were programmers.”

“It sounds like a very tame dream so far,” Edward commented.

“We were on a project together, and we liked each other. You liked me. I felt so happy to be noticed by a guy, and I thought I had a chance with you. But then...things changed. A new programmer started working there, a pretty blonde woman who was really smart. Like, a natural. You suddenly stopped paying attention to me, choosing to spend time with her. You both looked very happy, had lots to talk about, and whenever I tried to get your attention, you would...brush me off. You even...removed yourself from the project we were working on so you could work with this woman on a different one. I was invisible to you after that, and very alone.”

Edward felt a mixture of frustration, sympathy, confusion, and hurt over Sara’s dream. It was pure nonsense, no doubt, in every possible way, but clearly, it had an effect on her. Insecurities could twist your thoughts and emotions in painful ways, ways that didn’t even make sense. But they tugged at you until you gave into them and believed what they believed. 

He could relate to that, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud.

Edward got up from the table and approached Sara, wrapping his arms around her from behind to hold her against him.

“Oh, my silly little riddle,” he said with a smile, trying to brighten her spirits in some way. “It was just a dream, nothing more.”

“But...would you ever…?” Sara asked, her voice cracking.

“Would I ever, what?”

“Leave me for someone smarter, prettier…”

“What? No! Don’t be foolish!”

Edward made Sara turn to face him, his heart breaking upon seeing her tear-streaked face.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Edward said, cupping her face in his hands so she’d look at him. “You are the only one I want to be with. That dream was absolute nonsense, My Dear. I cannot even fathom for a second the mere idea of choosing someone else over you…” He leaned in and nuzzled her nose with his, smiling sweetly. “...my favorite distraction, my Darling Devinette, my Ravishing Riddle...”

Sara snorted, a grin spreading across her face.

“My Endearing Enigma,” Edward added, relieved to see her giggling.

“The nicknames are killing me,” Sara said, wiping her face. “You’re goofy.”

“”Goofy? Goofy, you say?” 

“Yes, and a total fucking nerd!”

“Oh, is that how it is then? Hmm?”

Edward scooped Sara up into his arms, humming contentedly.

“Well, this ‘Goofy Nerd’ is going to whisk you off to bed and physically  -- very physically -- demonstrate to you exactly how I feel.”

“Oh, my…” Sara said with a chuckle.

“I am going to make it so that you won’t be capable of coherent thoughts or speech,” Edward said with a smirk as he carried her to their bedroom. “You’ll be so overwhelmed with pleasure that the only thing you’ll be able to do is feel. No more negative, idiotic thoughts!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sara said, biting her lip.

---

“Oh, God, Eddie, there, please!”

“You’re so perfect, My Darling, so perfect…I can’t get enough...Oh, God!”

“What?” 

“Oh, no, no, no...not now!”

Sara watched Edward sit up, one hand covering the lower half of his face. While she couldn’t see anything yet, she knew what was happening.

“Oh, Eddie,” she said, quickly grabbing tissues for him. 

Edward took them and applied them to his bleeding nose, looking completely humiliated. Sara reached out to him, brushing hair from his face, but he jerked away, too embarrassed to even look at her. The poor man suffered from chronic nosebleeds, probably because his nose had been broken so many times (Thanks, Batman), and sometimes he got them during the most inconvenient moments.

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Sara said.

She followed Edward into the bathroom, grabbing a wad of paper towels to hand to him for his nose. He threw the bloody tissues into the waste bin with a grunt, still unable to look her in the eye.

“I’ll run a bath,” Sara said as she went to turn on the tub faucet.

Edward’s nosebleed did slow while the tub filled up, but he still hated himself. Why did he have to have one while he was in the middle of…? With her? He was supposed to be making her feel good, not...bleeding on her. It was disgusting -- he felt disgusting. What kind of lover was he? 

Sara tapped Edward’s shoulder, telling him the bath was ready. He mumbled something, tossing the blood-soaked paper towels into the waste bin before turning to her. Why did she have to look at him like that? Like she was worried? Why did she care so much? Why wasn’t she angry with him for ruining ‘the mood?’ Or grossed out? There was drying blood on her shoulder still, and yet, she didn’t seem to care. 

Edward and Sara got into the tub with her sitting behind him. Taking a rag, she soaked it in the bathwater then handed it to him so he could clean his nose, lips, and chin of blood, and thankfully, the nosebleed had stopped by then. When she started to shampoo his hair, her elegant fingers lightly scratching his scalp as she hummed some random tune, he remembered the dream she had told him about. Once his hair was rinsed, he turned to face her, his expression full of guilt and sorrow. 

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Sara asked.

“This is just one of the many reasons why I could never want someone else,” Edward said quietly. “You’re so kind to me, so gentle...and I didn’t do anything to deserve it -- to deserve you. No one has ever treated me the way you do, no one has ever looked at me the way you do, no one has ever spoken to me the way you do.... I never realized how...how alone I was until I met you. I’d do anything for you, give up everything for you…”

Even my own life, he thought. 

“So, please, never doubt how much you mean to me,” Edward said.

Sara was blushing, trying to come up with a response but too flustered to speak properly. 

“I...I don’t know ….I don’t know...what to say,” she admitted, smiling shyly. “I’ve….never heard someone say something like that before…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Edward assured her with a small, warm smile. “Just be with me.”

“Of course.”

Edward turned around so he could rest against her, his head on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. While he was planning to finish what he started once they were out of the tub and back into bed, in that moment, he felt absolutely perfect where he was. All his life, he’d never had affectionate physical contact. Sure, there was the awkward hug here and there, or obligatory embrace when he had a lover (and there were very, very, very few of those), but nothing that was genuine or even remotely pleasant.

But in moments like this one with his beloved, he felt like he could be as vulnerable as he needed because she’d never hurt or humiliate him. When she hugged him, it was always warm and welcoming. Whenever she held his hand, she loved to lace their fingers together, almost like she was “trapping” him but in the most romantic way possible. Whenever she kissed him, he felt absolutely smitten because her kisses were so comforting or even playful.

“I love you, My Dearest Horny Geek,” Sara whispered, barely holding back a cute chuckle.

Edward rolled his eyes but smirked at her outrageously endearing nickname for him. 

“And I love you, My Dearest Horny Enigma,” he replied, and they both couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Two horny peas in a pod,” she said as she placed a kiss to the top of his head. “And, you know, if you’re still up for it, you could put your ‘pea’ back in my ‘pod’ once we’re done with this bath.”

Edward slowly turned his head to look up at Sara, his cheeks a bright pink and his gaze full of bewilderment. When she snorted in amusement, he soon found himself joining her in a fit of childish giggles. And here she had been worried he would fall out of love with her. No one could make him laugh or grin like he did. No one could make him feel loved and needed like she did.

Only her. 

What a lucky little shit he was….

----

And there we have it! Hopefully it’s not too crappy. I’m not totally satisfied with it but don’t feel like making it a longer story (at least, not right now). Let me know what you think and damn, I have really depressing dreams sometimes.

[howtosingit]

Fic: I Just Wanted You to Know (This is Me Trying)

“My words shoot to kill when I’m mad / I have a lot of regrets about that / and maybe I don’t quite know what to say / but I’m here in your doorway”

*

Carlos makes a nice dinner, TK leaves in a hurry. But then, he comes back. (Immediately follows the 1x02 disaster dinner, not canon compliant.)

2.4K | Also on AO3

A/N: Taylor Swift made me write this. Title from “This is Me Trying,” my favorite song from Folklore. 

------

Carlos is nearly elbow-deep in soapy water as he scrubs forcefully on the baking dish in the sink. He knows that he could easily let it soak overnight, or put it in the dishwasher, but the nearly-mindless task helps him to calm down, and refocus. Besides, it may be nearly one in the morning, but he’s not falling asleep anytime soon.

His steel blue shirt still hangs open from when TK tried to rip it off of him only an hour before, reminding him that he should try to find the buttons before he steps on one when he’s barefoot. His mind is suddenly assaulted with the phantom feeling of lips on his neck, and he takes a deep breath, dropping the sponge into the water to tightly grip the counter in front of him. That’s the last thing he wants to be thinking about right now. 

He’s upset. Yes, at TK, for walking out without telling him what the fuck he did wrong. For acting like it was such a big deal for them to know something about each other besides what they look like when they come. For throwing his dinner and his feelings back in his face without any regard for what that would do to him.

But more than all of that, he’s mad at himself. He’s mad for always trying so hard, for always pushing people further than they want to go. He’s mad for letting the overwhelming feeling of a  connection that followed his hookup with TK drive him to force something deeper between them. He’s an attractive guy with a good job and a nice apartment and a cool car; that’s all men seem to want from him, and he should probably stop expecting anything else. 

It hurts. He’s 26-years-old, he’s known who he is since high school, and it’s not getting any easier. Living in Texas was never going to make being gay a walk in the park, but he doesn’t understand why he can’t find someone who’s willing to put in a little bit of effort. He can’t keep doing this casual string of hookups that feels endless, not when it leaves him feeling more like a shell of a person each and every time.

It felt different with TK. Carlos met him at work, for one. Here, he thought, is another man who gets it. Someone else who runs into dangerous situations because he wants to protect people. There was a relief, almost, of not having to worry about whether TK was only interested in him for his uniform, and he let that relief cloud his judgment, turning their brief and flirty interactions into the beginnings of something that was never meant to be. 

Carlos clenches his jaw, reaching back into the soapy water for the sponge. He can feel a slight headache coming on, probably from a combination of the lateness of the hour and the lack of food in his stomach. With a sigh, he gives up on the dishes, quickly drying his hands off on a dish towel. He’ll clean the rest of them in the morning, once he’s had a few hours of sleep. He moves towards the dining room table to grab his phone, when a knock on his front door stops him in his tracks.

He has no idea who would show up at his apartment at nearly one in the morning. For a moment, he hesitates, wondering how he should handle this. He lives in a nice neighborhood, and he’s not afraid of anybody who could be on his doorstep; on the other hand, an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night can only mean bad news, and Carlos feels his heart start to race as his adrenaline kicks in.  

He jumps a bit when his phone vibrates on the table next to him. Glancing down, he sees a text from the last person he ever expected to hear from again.

It’s me

Carlos swallows, his heart continuing to pound in his chest as he quickly moves towards the door. He pulls it open, his brows furrowing in complete confusion at the sight of the man before him.

TK stands against a background of darkness, his yellow hoodie bright in the light pouring through the open door. Carlos takes him in, searching for any sign of injury or some other explanation for what’s going on. He notices TK’s hands tucked away inside the front pocket of his sweatshirt, the way he bites down on his bottom lip, and the puffiness around his red eyes.

“TK,” Carlos starts, his voice oddly blank. “What are you doing here?”

The man just stares back at him, his body clearly tense as his eyes shift to look everywhere but directly at him. He feels his own face harden, his frustration mounting at the way that this man makes him feel so damn much, and he’s just about to tell TK to go home when the other man breaks the silence, his voice thin.

“I was in the area and I saw that your light was still on.”

Carlos stares back at him, confusion clear on his face. “You left an hour ago, TK,” he reminds him, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he plants his feet in the doorway. 

“Yeah,” TK admits, and Carlos watches as his green eyes shift down towards his chest; unlike before, he does not let the feeling of TK’s gaze on him affect him. At least not too much. “I, um, I took a walk around, to cool off a bit,” he explains, gesturing towards something in the distance that Carlos can’t see. “You have a really nice park at the end of your street.”

“You mean the park that closed at 10?” Carlos asks, raising an eyebrow. “What is this, are you trying to get arrested or something?”

TK visibly swallows, ducking his head down at Carlos’s chastisement. The act of uncertainty softens the edge he’s feeling, and he takes a deep breath, letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders. 

“Do you want to come inside?” he asks, watching as TK’s head shoots up at the unexpected question. Carlos can’t help the slight smile that pulls at his lips; as much as he wishes it wasn’t the case, he finds TK to be incredibly endearing.

“No, no, that’s okay,” TK hurries to assure him, shaking his head. “It’s late, and I don’t want to keep bothering you. I just,” he huffs, tipping his head back to look up at the clear night sky, “I just really hated the idea of you going to bed angry.”

It’s a statement that doesn’t really make sense to Carlos. Why would TK care if he’s mad or not? But it also makes his stomach twist in a knot, the idea that maybe his initial impression of the firefighter wasn’t entirely incorrect sparking his curiosity. He can’t help but want to know more about this contradiction of a person. 

With a nod, Carlos steps forward onto his front walk, pulling the door closed behind him. The unexpected action causes TK to jump back, giving Carlos space to sit down on his front step. He brings his knees up to his chest, folding his arms on top of them, and stares straight ahead at TK’s shoes.

“I’m more upset than angry,” he admits, rubbing at his brow as he works out what he wants to say, “and most of what I’m feeling isn’t even about you. I mean, there’s a lot of confusion, which is definitely your fault, but the anger is more at myself.”

He sees TK shift in front of him, rocking from side-to-side, before he moves forward to take a seat next to Carlos. A sudden warmth flares up on Carlos’s right side at his proximity, but he tries his best to ignore it. 

“Why would you be angry at yourself?” TK asks gently, and Carlos can picture his face: his brown eyebrows furrowed in confusion above those soft, twinkling green eyes. He wants more than anything to look over at him, drink him in, but he knows he’s just asking for trouble if he does. So, instead, he continues to stare straight ahead.

“Most guys that I meet, they’re kind of just in it for sex,” he replies, bringing his hand up to run through the hair at the back of his head. “Like, I’m not a stranger to casual hookups, even if I really would like something more for myself. But those guys, I usually meet on an app, or at a club, and I try not to have too many expectations.

“I guess just because of the way we first met, the fact that it was different from those others, I made some assumptions about us and what this might mean,” he continues. “I’m sorry that I acted on them and put you in a weird place.”

There’s silence after he finishes speaking, the two of them just sitting side-by-side on his front step at one in the morning. It’s completely bizarre, and Carlos doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he’s not uncomfortable with it. There’s just something about TK beside him that lessens his concerns a little bit.

He’s a little shocked when he feels a weight on his arm, and he looks down to see TK’s fingers curled gently around his bicep. He turns to look at him, unsurprised to find the exact face that he was expecting, furrowed eyebrows and twinkling eyes. It steals his breath from his lungs, the absolute beauty of this man.

“I’m sorry, too,” TK says, his voice quiet. “For not being clear about what I wanted, and then for being an asshole when you couldn’t read my mind.” 

They hold the look for a moment before Carlos nods, staring ahead again as he twists his fingers together in front of him. “Apology accepted.”

“I’m also sorry about the shirt,” TK adds, and Carlos can hear humor behind the words. “I can buy you a new one.”

The image of TK pressed up against him, forcibly tearing his shirt open, flashes through his mind, and Carlos feels his heart rate quicken at the memory. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures him, his voice coming out a little shaky. “My mom taught me how to sew buttons back on.”

From next to him, TK lets out a sudden loud laugh, the sound shooting straight through his chest. He turns to look at him, a smile forming at the look of absolute joy that has taken over TK’s face. “What?” he asks, trying not to laugh, too. It’s a truly weird night.

“Don’t tell me she got so tired of men tearing your clothes off that she forced you to learn how to sew them back together,” TK cries, an odd light dancing in his eyes. 

“Of course not, you jerk,” Carlos says, leaning over to nudge TK in annoyance. “She just wanted me to learn how to do things on my own. Don’t you make fun of my mama, TK Strand.” 

“I would never,” TK says, his grin sliding into a look of intense seriousness. Carlos raises an eyebrow at him, questioning his honesty. TK simply stares back, his eyes still dancing, before shaking his head and lowering his gaze down to his lap. “My god, who are you?” he questions suddenly, his voice rising in what sounds like disbelief. “You cook, you sew, your apartment is fully-furnished, you have a job, you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met, you’re so fucking nice. Just, like, how are you even real?”

He ends with a loud groan, his body collapsing against Carlos as he rests his head against his shoulder. Carlos can feel a heat rising up the back of his neck as he stares down at him in shock, having now idea how to answer the man.

“You know, for the record,” TK says after a quiet moment, his head still pressed against Carlos, “I like you for more than just sex.

“I know it probably doesn’t seem like it,” he continues, his voice low, “but it’s true. I know I freaked out on you, it was all just really intense and unexpected and it took me to some bad places that still feel really raw. I thought I could handle just the physical stuff and deal with the emotional baggage later, but it kind of blew up in my face. And yours.”

Carlos listens carefully, trying to fill in the gaps with everything that TK’s not telling him. It’s obvious that TK has some skeletons in his closet, maybe recently gathered, that will help to explain his behavior this evening, but he doesn’t know if he should ask about them. Except, his heart can’t help but cling to TK’s initial declaration, about how he likes Carlos for more than just his body, and that pushes him to take a chance.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he hedges gently, trying not to spook the other man. TK lets out a sigh, shifting against him to prop his chin on top of Carlos’s shoulder, looking up at him. Carlos looks back, their faces close as they study one another. Those green eyes are absolutely stunning.  

“I think I do,” TK admits, bringing his hand up to drag his fingers along Carlos’s jaw. “But it’s a long story, so maybe not tonight. Is that okay?”

Carlos nods before he even has a chance to consider it, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Yeah, TK, that’s okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

He finds that he means that.

Before he can overthink it, he leans up to press a soft kiss at TK’s hairline, hearing the way the action draws a heavy breath from the other man. Slowly, Carlos relaxes back against his front door, wrapping an arm around TK’s waist to pull him closer. The firefighter goes willingly, folding himself against Carlos’s side as his hand comes up to rest against his exposed chest. 

They stay there in the stillness of the Texas night, letting time move on without them. Carlos closes his eyes for a moment as he relishes the opportunity to finally be more for someone, just this once. Just like he’s always wanted.

It’s even better than he expected.

[alltheglowingeyess]

hi! i love your fanfics, do u have any headcanons/fics with connor x malcolm in it??

Heya! First of all, thank you!!! And sorry for taking a bit to respond lmao. For fics with Connor x Malcolm, I don’t have anything (mostly because all I write revolves around Solangelo lmaoooo), but I did try to write some headcanons! IDK how good they are; I kind of just started ramble-writing this at like 2 AM last night lol:

they met when they were 12

Connor was at Camp first at age 10

was a year-rounder with Travis for most of his time

Malcolm showed up a year later

his dad was killed after trying to get him to Camp, so he automatically became a year-rounder

they didn't get along originally

during the winter when they were 12, Connor dropped fake spiders on Malcolm and coated them in a sticking substance

Malcolm freaked out, obviously

it was the most upset Connor had ever seen him

he wanted to apologize but he didn’t know how, so the two didn’t talk about it and had weird tension between each other

by the time Connor tried to talk to him, Malcolm just blatantly ignored him

it became a matter of pride now, so Connor ignored him too

after Luke betrayed the Camp and everyone found out, Malcolm was one of the kids who still trusted Hermes campers

his reasoning was always “Being a Hermes kid and being a traitor are different things. It could be anyone at this Camp.”

the two didn’t interact much, but Malcolm made an effort to tell him that he knew Connor was a good person

even through all his pranks and mistakes, he wasn’t ever intentionally malicious

it was kind of a make up between the two; they didn’t ignore each other any more

Connor never told him, but it really meant a lot to know someone was in his corner

the two became friends after this

they actually had some things in common

when Annabeth left for the school year (TTC) and Malcolm was in charge, the Hermes and Athena cabin would pair up for Capture-The-Flag almost every time

both were excellent at strategizing

Malcolm enjoyed working with Connor because he could be serious and gave critical feedback on his plans

his feedback was usually him explaining how he would bypass their defenses or something, allowing Malcolm to revise until they came up with the perfect plan

both also enjoyed seeing the other person’s different sides

Malcolm could be really funny; he wasn’t some “stick-in-the-mud” as Connor had thought

Malcolm actually liked to help out with pranks

his plans helped the Stolls’ pranking have at least a 12% increase in success

he also was a good guide to telling Connor where he should draw the line sometimes

it saved him from getting his ass kicked multiple times

Connor was actually a lot gentler than he seemed on the outside

he also enjoyed learning and proved to be a really good debate partner

he got really into whatever they were talking about and always offered different perspectives on the matter at hand

the two kind of began to crush on each other, but it was more of a back-burner crush

especially because they had a war to fight

after the Battle of Manhattan, Connor dated Will Solace for a bit

Malcolm would be lying if he said he wasn’t thrilled when they broke up after a few weeks

Will had a good idea that Connor liked someone else; the two still remained good friends though

Connor had stolen the land mines from the Ares Cabin (BoO) for Malcolm

Malcolm mentioned in passing how it would be good for some sort of plan he had, but Clarisse shot it down

Connor proceeded to rope Travis into stealing some of the live landmines and bringing them to Malcolm

to this day, NOBODY has any idea how the two pulled it off

Malcolm’s reaction was a mix of shock, amusement, and endearment because of how far Connor was willing to go to help him work out his plan

he still lectured the son of Hermes for an hour about self-preservation and thinking about consequences as Connor hid from an angry Clarisse in the Athena Cabin

during the first Three-Legged Death Race (pre-TOA), the two paired up together

the two were definitely underestimated

both don’t seem really imposing at first glance, but the Hermes/Athena combo is pretty lethal

Malcolm did a good job strategizing, Connor managed to get his hands on various items to give them a leg up

they finished in second, behind Holly and Laurel from Nike

Connor almost knocked them into a random pit when he was laughing at Malcolm after the typically collected son of Athena threw a well-aimed ink bomb at Nico and sent him and Will tumbling into a different direction of the Labyrinth

this let them grab their third apple and win

Connor didn’t stop bragging about that to everyone because of how badass he considered it to be

Malcolm pretended to be annoyed, but he was secretly flattered

he always felt second to Annabeth, like any other child of Athena, so it was nice to be exalted for something like that

the two actually ended up getting together a little while after the rac

Connor showed up at the Athena Cabin completely flustered, talking a mile a minute about asking him out on a date

cut to Cecil, Julia, and Alice all face-palming at his awkwardness

Malcolm found his awkwardness endearing and said yes to a date

Connor managed to get Chiron’s permission for them to go out to the city for a date

they first went Metropolitan Museum of Art

Connor was surprisingly on his best behavior

Malcolm was having fun, spouting random facts he had read about the exhibits

they went to eat in a surprisingly high-end restaurant

Malcolm had no idea how, but Connor managed to talk his way into getting them a nice booth and all

when they were heading back to Camp, they had their first kiss

they didn’t realize it, but a bunch of other campers saw them

Cecil insisted on throwing them in the lake just like Connor had suggested for Percy and Annabeth at the end of TLO

Were these any good? I doubt it lmaoooo but I tried. I might try to write something between the two though, to put my rambling list of headcanons to use.

(Also, the formatting completely flopped lmaooo; I still have no idea how to post a list properly on here.)

[k-s-morgan]

You know, I always look forward to and dread your updates. Don’t get me wrong, I love your writing, your metas and all the fics you have written but ‘What he grows to be’ gives me such an upset feeling. Maybe dark stories are not my cup of tea but I’ve read dark stories before and they haven’t affected me the way yours does. Throughout the whole story my heart feels heavy but I can’t bring myself to stop reading. Also I have a question: could you please explain Harry’s devotion to Tom? Like I don’t study psychology or anything so I’m not an expert (so correct me if I’m wrong) but I don’t see a reason for Harry to sacrifice so much for someone like Tom who is nothing but cruel towards him. He’s been condescending always treating Harry like a helpless thing who needs looking after. He is cruel and manipulative and has a complete disregard towards anything about personal boundaries. I mean he’s basically ,in a loose term, a psychopath. I can understand the way you write Tom, I don’t get the way you’ve written Harry. He’s so weak. He has none of that courage he used to have in the books. He doesn’t have that spirit that made me fall in love with him. He gives in so easily. He forgives easily. He has no morals left. He’s not the Harry I know. Like he literally excused multiple murders Tom committed because he loves him? It’s just so hard to comprehend. I tried to put myself in Harry’s place and instead of feeling sympathetic towards him, I felt angry at how much he has lost himself. I don’t see any thing good in Tom. I would understand for Harry to love him with such abandon if he has anything good in him. But Tom has done nothing but made him suffer. Why did Harry change so much? Just because he only has Tom in this world? Because he raised him? Tom was never a helpless, innocent child for Harry to feel compassion towards him. He was cruel and manipulative from the beginning. It just frustrates me how Harry keeps forgiving Tom and then apologizing to him after his ‘punishments’. It might be cruel for Harry to ‘die’ as a punishment but still does it warrant him forgiving Tom so easily after the atrocities he has committed? It’s a complex situation, I understand and truly I don’t mean to offend you or anything. I’m just trying to understand. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this because you know them better than I do as it is your own story. I don’t know if it makes me a bad person but it always gives me so much satisfaction to see Tom suffer even though it’s for such a short time. Please tell me he won’t get away with everything like always does and that Harry won’t just forgive him easily like he usually does. Because what Tom just did was so cruel and horrifying that I was in shock when I read it. The way he used Harry’s weakeness against him... sorry for the rant!

Hello! First of all, thank you so much for such a long and detailed ask - it's always great to know that my work affects people, even if it evokes so much frustration :D I firmly believe in the death of the author concept, so I don't feel like I can impose my understanding of characters on my readers. Everyone sees them in different ways: some readers think Harry overreacted, others think he should kill Tom and be done with it, etc. What He Grows to Be is certainly a disturbing story, and I think it differs from my other works because Tom and Harry are very different. With Will and Hannibal, violence and manipulations are mutual while here, Harry is genuinely kind and empathetic, and Tom takes advantages of that.

As for my personal view: I don't think Harry is weak. I think he is very fucked up, even more so than in canon because he had to live through even more trauma after the war in WHGTB. In canon, being understanding, forgiving, and empathetic are some of Harry's major traits. It always shakes me to think about how he named his child Albus Severus after two people who caused him so much pain. Yes, Dumbledore loved him in his own way, but ultimately, Harry was his weapon. Years of abuse, every interaction, every test - everything was done with a purpose of manipulating him into being a perfect self-sacrificial hero. And yet Harry still loves Dumbledore with devotion, he still holds awe for him. Same with Snape: yes, he wasn't as terrible of a person as Harry imagined. He suffered a lot, he tried to redeem himself, but Harry never saw anything but hostility and derision from him. And yet he forgives everything to the point of naming a child after him because Snape loved his mother and took care of him. 

Harry didn't hate his relatives after years of abuse. He managed to feel empathy even for Voldemort, and not just once. He tried to give him a chance during the final battle, tried to make him see where he went wrong - that speaks of a unique kind of compassion and a big lack of self-worth. In WHGTB, due to the circumstances, all these traits are amplified.

As it could be expected, the story of Harry's all-encompassing love for Tom started with pity. When he first adopted him, he felt reserved and wary. He didn't like him, he didn't trust him, but he still started to grow attached to him because that's who Harry is: he can't share meals, teach, talk, and decorate house with a person without feeling something for them in the process. When Tom broke the vase and tried to repair it, terrified and guilty, Harry's pity and attachment won out. In that moment, he saw a little fragile boy who was never loved and who craved approval and acceptance. And Harry was determined to give it to him.

For a while, like you said, Tom was rude and condescending. But he showed he's capable of regret and remorse. He tried to heal Harry after hurting him; he listened to him with fascination during lessons and was willing to change his ideas; he laughed and cooked with him. Affection got stronger, and with it, what seemed annoying started to come across like lovable quirks. Harry despised Tom's showing-off at first, but then, after he got used to him and his company, he started finding it funny and endearing. He invested all of himself into this child, making him into his life goal - he couldn't not love him. He started to live for the small moments of Tom's affection and acceptance. His love for Ron, Hermione, his parents, Sirius - it combined and focused on Tom alone because in many ways, Tom was the key to making sure that when these people are born, they live a fulfilling and happy life. In Harry's mind, the more he loved Tom, the more chances of succeeding he had, and then the boundaries of this love started to blur, and Tom began to genuinely outshine every other person he has ever known because he was there and others were not.

When Gringotts happened and Tom's perception shifted, Harry was showered with his absolute devotion and focus. You said that you don't see anything good in Tom, but Harry does - and it's also important to remember that before Beth, Tom was very careful about not letting him see his real face. In Harry's eyes, Tom learned to help others, like when he offered his hand to a Muggle boy. He discarded the ideas of blood superiority and developed a far more moral outlook.  He learned to be caring, worrying about Harry when he's sick, making potions for him, covering him with a blanket at night, helping other students, achieving equality, etc. Tom's devotion is a completely irresistible thing to Harry because he's always been responsive to kindness, no matter how limited it was.

After Beth, it was already too late for him. Love and empathy are a terrible weapon in  Harry's case: he can't just unlove someone who has become his main life purpose. The only way is to try to understand Tom, and as long as this understanding exists, Harry finds an ability to forgive him.

You said Tom has done nothing but make him suffer, but for Harry, that's not true. 80% of time he spends with Tom is the happiest time of his life. Tom became the only person in his world, the person Harry poured of all his love, loneliness, and longing into. Tom is a family Harry never had. He was a child Harry could relate to, so he spoiled him, argued with him, shopped with him, and basked in the happiness of making him smile; Tom was a friend ready to listen and reassure, to discuss how their days passed, to do something fun together; now, Tom has started to slowly growing into something more. The celebrations, the shopping, the holidays, the flying - all these are happy memories for Harry. The only major instances of pain were Beth and now Charlus. Harry feels shattered every time Tom comes close to acting on his darkness, but as compared to the time they spend together, happiness still exceeds the heartbreak.  

When it comes to breaking his limits, Harry doesn't forgive easily. He didn't speak to Tom 6 months after Beth and he subjected him to a terrible trauma as punishment; the thought of Tom killing Charlus almost drove him crazy, but he couldn't ignore the fact that it happened before the system and that Tom has been trying since then. After the ritual, Harry leaves - and yes, I can assure you that forgiveness is definitely not coming any time soon! Although as the toxic cycle of their relationship shows, Harry can't really stay away from Tom indefinitely either.  

Harry is happy with Tom, and he knows Tom loves him. He understands that Tom is a psychopath and that ordinary criteria cannot apply to him, and so he struggles with making sure that Tom follows a lighter path while praising him every time there is some progress. In many ways, Harry succeeded: Tom is not planning on massive destruction. He doesn't discriminate; he made sure that other purebloods became more tolerant; he still wants power, but he's getting to it in ways that don't presuppose violence and murder. Every time Tom shows darkness, it's in an instance concerning Harry.

Harry loves being loved, even though Tom's love is not healthy. He loves being protected because this is something he missed severely in his first life. A big part of him wants to be taken care of, to let go and just enjoy life without constantly having to make difficult decisions. Tom gives him that, and under some conditions, they could be happy together, finding a perfect balance.

Alas, it's not going to happen any time soon (or maybe at all ;)!    

[lemonjoonah]

Let the Villain Win (M)

Word Count: 5K Rating: M Genre: Thriller, Drama, Author AU Warnings:  Smut scene (Oral m. and f. receiving, Fingering), Yandere Namjoon, Stalking, Drugging, Kidnapping Pairings:  Namjoon x Reader, Mention of Seokjin x Reader 

Summary: Kim Namjoon, famous author and your childhood friend has been keeping a secret from you. His new book treads on such dark themes that he’s finding it difficult to write. Excited by the prospect of a sinister plot you offer him a piece of advice, “Let the villain win…” 

...

You look to the building pile of manuscripts on your desk, curling your lip over the prospect of reading them. You’re sure that some of them will be good, a couple of them might hold your attention, but none of them are the story that you truly want to read, the one that you are waiting for, the one that was due three days ago...

“I’m going to kill him.” You mutter to yourself while taking a sip of tea. Kim Namjoon, one of the finest thriller authors ever to be published, and your best friend since childhood. You have the privilege to represent him as his literary agent, but that comes with its setbacks. Namjoon never seems to take you seriously when you set a deadline. Even now he’s off gallivanting somewhere, refusing to answer his calls or texts until he returns from his ‘creative space’.

You look over to his house across the street for the hundredth time since his departure. Every time you had glanced over the windows remained dark, but now your patience has finally been rewarded with a glow emanating from his curtains. You set down your mug haphazardly and check your phone. Your anger grows when you see that he failed to notify you of his return.   

Forgoing your jacket, you dash across the gap between your dwellings the rain pelting you as you cross the narrow street. You stomp up to his porch, and pound on door as if the wooden barricade is at fault for his actions. “Open the door Kim Namjoon, I know you’re in there!”

You hear his voice call through the door. “I don’t know, my agent taught me not to open to door for any crazed fans.”

“Namjoon, please?” You try to appeal to his softer side. “It’s raining and I don’t have my spare key.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He chuckles as he unlocks the bolt for you to enter. “I’ve only been home twenty minutes. I’m impressed, you must’ve been watching out for me.”  A bright glowing smile greets your look of frustration.

Now being his childhood friend isn’t the only obstacle you’ve encountered in your professional relationship. In addition to his talent as a writer, he is also blessed with devilish good looks. Dark eyes that pierce your heart every time he looks to you, warmly toned skin that calls to your fingers, and lips so full that a simple smirk often drowns the fabric between your legs.

Shaking off those thoughts you try to focus on the your anger towards him,“Where the hell were you?”

“So vulgar,” he chastises you. “I missed you too.” He pulls you into a hug despite your damp clothes, and rubs his cheek against your wet hair.

“Two weeks, two weeks with no contact!” You pull away from from his arms.

“Sorry,” he scratches the back of his head and looks down.“Thanks for covering for me with the publisher.”

“Namjoon it’s not just about the sample, I was worried about you. You’ve never been gone that long before.”

He steps back from the entrance making room for you to come in before closing the door behind you. “I know, I’ve just been having some writers block.” He lowers his head in shame.

“It’s not like that hasn’t happened before, in fact I’ve come to expect it, but usually you’re only gone for a few days! I just wish you would have let me know that you were okay.”

“This time it’s different. The ideas are there I’m just afraid to write them. I wanted to call you but...” He pauses, his fingers trailing around his mouth, as if it might soften the effects of his words.  “I think you’re the reason I can’t write it.”

Your face falls at the thought of being the hitch in his creativity, spurring a further explanation from him. “No please don’t take it like that, it’s just... this story, it’s not like my others. I feel like I’ll be subjecting you to the darkest part of my mind, I don’t want to put you through that.” There’s an exhaustion behind his eyes that you’ve never seen before, after a such a long absence you expected him to be well rested but it looks as if he didn’t sleep a wink.

“I’m not afraid of that big brain of yours,” you lean up to him rubbing his hair playfully. “I’ll take whatever you have to give me.”

“You’re willing to read it? No matter how dark or immoral it gets?”

“Namjoon we’ve been friends for over 15 years now. It’ll take a lot more than a book to scare me away.”  If you’re being honest with yourself you always thought Namjoon would be the one to leave you behind. You don’t have many clients and there are agents with far better connections than yourself, but even after his first bestseller he refused to sign with anyone else. Stating that no one could support him as well as you.

He nods still looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, I should have talked to you about it before running off like that.” A wicked grin suddenly flashes across his face. “I can’t say that I mind seeing how much you missed me though.”  

You scoff, at how quickly he can go from such a vulnerable state to one that completely wrecks you. “I said I was worried not that I miss you!” You tease back with a angry tone. “I have a life beyond you...”

“Pfft, no you don’t.”

“Yes I do! For your information I went on a date last week.” That seems to shut him down in an instant.

“Wait, with who?!”

“Seokjin.”

“Kim Seokjin? The cocky asshole from Smeraldo’s Books marketing team? I thought you said you wouldn’t date people you work with.”

“Confidence is not cockiness! And I don’t work with him directly so there’s no conflict of interest.”

Namjoon clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, making his distaste known to you. These conversations never go over well with him, he always finds something to criticize about any guys you are seeing, planting a seed of doubt in your mind.  He manages to find that perfect flaw that you’ll fixate on until you ended the relationship. Even now you find yourself starting to question Jin’s vanity.

“And stop changing the subject, I’m the one who had the right to be upset here not you!” Namjoon smiles at you sheepishly, slumping his shoulders in surender. With a sigh you too throw up the white flag.  “Get some sleep okay? It’s getting late, we’ll talk tomorrow. ”

...

The next day you work from home. Diving into the pile of drafts from the comfort of your own bed. This also gives you the chance to keep an eye on the door across the street. Namjoon hasn’t left the house all day. By the time evening rolls around you begin to worry, considering that he had just come back from a two week absence there is no way he has any proper food in the house. You send him a text already knowing the answer.

...Have you eaten?...

...No...

...Jajangmyeon?...

...You know me too well, could you bringing it to my place?...

...Sure, I’ll see you in a few...

When you knock on the door Namjoon calls out instead of answering.

“It’s open.”

You step inside but there’s no sign of him.

“Sorry.” He comes into view with only a towel and water dripping off his frame. “I just realized when you messaged that I hadn't showered.”

“Namjoon, clothes, please!”

“Right...” He gives you a wide dimpled smile while he tousles his damp hair.

Fuck he will be the death of you and your career, you conclude as you sink into his couch. He knows the risks his knows the liabilities but sometime you think he intentionally tries to draw you towards him. From your seat your try to distract yourself by examining his walls looking to spot any new additions to his vast collection.

Namjoons home matches his personality perfectly, from the endearing art figures on his shelves to the brass telescope stationed by the window.  Showcasing his affinity for charmingly cute items but also his sophistication and scholarly pursuits.    

When he finally joins you, he sits down beside you and digs into his noodles. He anxiously starts to discuss the progress of his work. The worry still seems to hover over him regarding you reading the piece. “It’s not like my usual stuff, most of it will be told from the point of view of the villain. He’ll go unnamed for most of the story to have his final reveal at the end.”

“Oh that’s dark, I like it. You can really have fun with this character, there’s no need for you to hold back or try to make the readers like him.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, “It feels more honest too. The character doesn’t feel the need to hide behind a veil, the passions and desires are right out there in the open for readers to see.”

“You always write the hero, I’m excited to see you portray the villain.” As much hope as you give him there is still doubt on his face. “Namjoon, if I’m the problem, I don’t have to take this one on. I can find you another agent for this book I won’t take it personally, I promise.”

“No!” His response is short but loud, causing you to flinch back in surprise. “Sorry, it’s hard for me, but I still want you to be the first person to read it.”

You find his unwavering loyalty endearing, you’ve always been the first to read his stories from when he started writing as a teenager up until now. The twists and turns of his plots never ceasing to amaze you.

“What have you written so far?”

“I’m actually starting with the end, I’ve found it to be more captivating than the beginning.” He smirks as holds on to the secret twist you have yet to see.

“Who wins?” You ask prodding for clues.

“Not too sure yet, that depends on how the story progresses.”

“You should let the villain win this time.”

He chokes on his food for a second. Letting out a loud cough and taking a long sip of water before answering you. “You think so?” He asks cautiously.

“Absolutely, it’ll make for something different, and if we follow him the whole time I’ll find it depressing to see him loose.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles at your insight, “Wouldn’t want to upset you now, would I? ”

“Nope.” You slurp up the last of your noodles with the excess of sauce. Making a complete mess of yourself, but you’ve succeeded in bring another laugh to his lips.

“You never change,” Namjoon mutters while wiping your face with his thumb. “God I missed you.” He pauses for a second, letting his hand linger before pulling the digit back to his own mouth and licking it carefully. You find him slowing inching towards you on the couch. “Tell me again why we can’t take this further...” You still while observing his unexpected words and actions.

 He continues to press on his lip while eyeing you up as if you might be the next course.

“Don’t tease me Namjoon.” You chide him, trying to convince yourself that he can’t be serious. You place your bowl on the table giving you a reason to divert your eyes for a moment. Maintaining rational thought while looking upon him is an impossibility, taking even a second away from his eyes helps to build your conviction before looking back to him.

But he continues to tear away at the foundation of your determination.

“Why would I tease you? Teasing implies that I won’t give you what you want, I intend to give you everything.” He carefully brushes the hair from your face, dragging the back of his fingers across your cheek before pulling his hand away.  

“Namjoon we’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, but we never did come to an agreement on it.”

“You know we shouldn’t do this. Working together as friends already poses it’s challenges. Adding sex won’t make it easier.” You are already far too lenient with him in comparison to your other clients, you dread to think what effect consistent intimacy would have on your professional relationship.

“When was the last time you’ve had someone?”

Your mouth falls open at the question. “Excuse me?” It’s been awhile but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You just said we are friends right? You would talk to your friend about sexual exploits, why not me? It might be good for my work, get those creative juices flowing.” The corner of his mouth pulls up followed by a bite to his bottom lip.

“Are you trying to use your writing as an excuse?”

“You think of everything with regards to work. I’m just trying to speak your language.”

You know he doesn’t wish to just talk about it but act on it.

Namjoon’s hand now takes your chin as he leans in even further, close enough for you to feel his breath upon your skin. “How long has it been?” He asks again. His eyes narrow as they search your expression for any clue you might give.

“Too long.” You whisper a blush creeping into your face giving you away as you look down.

“So you and Seokjin...”

“Nothing happened, I was too self conscious around him.”

Namjoon tilts your head to the side and places his lips near your throat, his other hand now resting on your thigh right at the start of the hem of your skirt. A faint growl of pleasure leaves him. “So you need someone you’re comfortable with.” His fingers begin to draw small circles on your thigh. “Someone who you’ve known for a while, someone you feel a connection with.”

“Someone who I don’t work with,” You counter back.

“Very well. I’m terminating our contract for the next hour. We can renegotiate after I’ve met your needs.” His lips finally touch you neck focusing right below your ear the heat flowing from that one spot makes you gasp. “Consider this my pitch.” He smirks whispering into your ear as his hand moves further up your leg. “Would you like to proceed?”

Fuck him and his way with words. Who are you kidding you knew you would cave to any desire of his the second you saw him in a towel. You can have sex just this once and stop it after that right? This isn’t going to be a regular occurrence just a one time thing you promise yourself. Just something to get the tension out of the way.

You finally nod leaning back on his sofa, giving in to him completely, letting his finger press your underwear to the side and then sink inside.

He acts surprised to find you already wet with arousal, “So receptive already? That’s not how you negotiate.”

“As if you didn’t know.”

“Do you dislike my ability to read you?” He mutters between the soft kisses to your throat.

“No I just wish I could do the same.”

“That can be arranged.” He answers back with a smug grin. You gasp as he pushes a second finger between you folds, curling it inside of you until you unleash a louder response to his touch. “Shall I give you an oral rundown of my work?”

Unable to form coherent words you nod again letting him lift up your skirt completely, he takes his fingers out for a moment so he can fully remove your underwear. Namjoon lowers himself so his head is level with you hips as he looks upon your pink entrance. His tongue starts rolling along the length of your slit. He hums with agreement as you raise your legs placing the back of your knees on his shoulders.

As he reaches the crest he gives a flick of the tongue, you buck from the sensation causing him to place a hand on your lower stomach directly between your hips. When you flinch again he presses down to keep you in place, the tug of his hold exposes your clit to him even more. His fingers return to their home inside you and he attaches his mouth to the area surrounding your bud.

You bite your lip to prevent an excess of noise as his lips tug on your knot. Noticing your sudden silence Namjoon stops and looks up to you. “Don’t hold back on me, no one else can hear you I promise.” He gives a sudden thrust of his fingers, the shock forcing you to cry out. “Good girl, let me listen to you.”

His long fingers continue to reach deeper, the pads of his fingers slowly stroking as his mouth returns to suck on your mound, with another flick of the tongue and fingers you dissolve in his grasp. Even as you reach your high he refuses to let go riding each wave of pleasure he sends through you. Only extracting himself when you call out his name in the form of a plea, unable to take the stimulation any longer. He takes his fingers from you bringing them to his mouth while he watches over you.

Awash with the warmth he has brought you your breathing is slow to return to an even pace. He groans as his hand passes over himself. With his eyes still focused on you, he palms what looks to be a painfully large erection beneath his jeans. Licking his lips he looks as though he might go down for another taste of you from the source, clearly not satisfied with what he took from his hands.

You sit up, fixing your skirt before you push Namjoon back into his seat on the couch. Taking up position in front of him, kneeling on the hardwood floor, your hands poise to lower his zipper.

“What are you...” He sputters as you open his jeans carefully. Your finger tracing the long bulge concealed by his boxers. “No I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“What reciprocate? I know you Namjoon, I know your games. I can hear it now, the next time I remind you of a deadline all I’ll get back is, ‘But remember that time I made you come?’ Besides,” You pry the elastic of his underwear back to reveal the throbbing head.  “I think I’ll enjoy doing this just as much.” Who doesn’t take pleasure in someone falling to pieces in their grasp. Namjoon has always had the upper hand in your friendship, now is your chance to take it back.

He helps you by shifting his pants down so you can expose the rest of him. You cup his sac with letting your middle finger trace along the raphe. Your other hand guiding the tip of him to your mouth. The slight saltiness of precum hits you as your tongue as it brushes the head.

Within seconds Namjoon lets out audible groans from your ministrations. You resist the urge to smile at the sounds your touch produces. The hand that brought him to you now rests at his base. You open your mouth wide as you slide down his shaft. Your tongue presses against the soft skin as you glide his cock to the back of your throat.

His whole body tenses while you linger close to the base having taken as much as you can. You can hear a faint whimper as you pull your lips back to the top. With one of his hands clenched the other traces the line of your jaw and flows to your hair, gripping the strands as it falls in place at the back of your head. You curl your tongue around the rim of his tip before proceeding back down.

His hand continues to cradle your head while he falls back against the couch. Several expletives leave his lips as you quicken your pace. Each time you slide down you attempt to take him a little further to the point where your eyes begin to water. You look up to him as he draws his hand to his mouth biting down on the knuckle in an attempt to muffle the groans emitting from him. You allow him the vice that he took from you, enjoying the sight of his clenched jaw and focused expression.

When he meets your eyes he finally unravels, a flurry of heavy breathing escapes him. His hips come to meet you this time, with one final thrust, his hand keeps you in place. With each pulse you swallow to around his tip, his cum hitting the back of your throat. You linger for as long as you can until your lungs scream for air forcing you to pull back.

You wipe the saliva from your lips as you look upon his fallen state. His head lolled back, his breath nothing more than a shudder. It had definitely been worth it to see him like this, but you slowly draw back to reality knowing it can’t happen again. There’s too much at stake. If the other authors you represented found out, it could ruin your career, not to mention what would become of your friendship. Namjoon had one night stands before surely he could be content with just this once.         

...

After that night Namjoon spends the next two days locked away writing. He asks you to stall with the publishers for as long as you can. Your excuses to them grow more pathetic by the day.

He calls you on the second evening while you’re on your way home from work. “Namjoon are you almost done with your sample? I can’t hold them off much longer, by the way if anyone asks you were sick and then you had a car accident.”

“But I don’t have a car.”

“No because you totaled it in the wreck, come on play along.”

He chuckles a thank you and then shares his news with you. “I think it’s ready. Is it okay if I drop it off at your place now? I have plans for tonight and I don’t want to be late.” He pauses as if to consider his words, “That is unless you would rather go on a date with me. I would cancel everything for that.”

“Namjoon,” You whine back, “Professional boundaries you promised!”

“You’re right I did. Can I still drop off my work?”

“I’m not back yet. Just use your spare key and leave the draft on my table.”

“Will do.”

When you arrive home not only is there a manuscript but he’s also throw in a bottle of his families homemade soju and a note.

...I figured you might as well have a drink at my expense while reading this. Sorry it took so long, I just had to be sure.   -Namjoon...

The sample work he’s left strikes you as unusual, bound in a red journal, and upon opening you find his work in longhand. Written on the inside cover is the explanation.

...Possible marketing design, journal format to fit the theme. I would prefer to somehow mimic the handwriting as well rather than text, as it adds to the tone of the story.

Working title: Diary of a Villain

A character slowly driven mad by desire and longing, trying to hold himself together and not reveal his true self...

Namjoon is right, it’s vastly different than what he’s written in the past. Even though the passages he has given you fall closer to the middle and end of the story, you soon find yourself lost in the passion and intensity of the main character's thoughts. He’s been stalking the love of his life but he makes it sound so reasonable. Conveying that this is his purpose in life, to stay by her. Watching her through the windows, breaking into her home when she’s not there just to take in the smell of her sheets. Wishing to collect and study every part of her.

Your heart even breaks as he describes his time away from her. When his desire would overwhelm him, when he could longer be content with just watching, he would have to leave the city just to keep her safe from him. As you continue you notice the change in the writing style going from a tidy scrawl to a haphazard scribble as if the person writing these words was slowly becoming unhinged.

When you reach a part where the main character invites the focus of his affection over, you notice Namjoon has kindly put a small sticky note in the margin.

...If you haven’t started drink already I would highly suggest it now. I dislike the thought of you reading this part sober...

You glance at the next few lines muttering to yourself, “Is this a sex scene? He never writes about intimacy.” He’s right though the thought reading a sensual act written by your very attractive, untouchable friend requires a drink. After taking a shot of the soju he kindly provided you proceed.

The lead up dialogue seems oddly familiar.

...“Why would I tease you? Teasing implies that I won’t give you what you want, I intend to give you everything.”...  

Your eyes trace every line carefully as you read, your mind tries to second guess itself wondering if those were are actually the words he spoke to you. But when you hit another familiar passage you begin to blush, no longer able to deny the truth.  

...“You need someone you’re comfortable with. Someone who you’ve known for a while, someone you feel a connection with.”...

You take another shot of the soju as the story continues to unfold in a similar way as the events of two days ago. He goes into a vivid replay of how he satisfied you with his tongue and fingers. Each stroke of pleasure is written out on the page exactly how it happened. You’re not sure if you should be upset or flattered that he’s narrated the scene for the whole world to read. Regardless of your feelings your arousal begins to climb while remember how it felt when he touched you.

You interest grows when you read of the female character returning the favour. How her actions matched yours. You can't help but imprint the main characters feelings onto Namjoon. As if he is describing how it felt when you sucked his cock.

...Fuck she took me so well. How could I have ever let anyone else touch me other than her. I might have used them all as distractions, but now I see that nothing could compare. Her tongue dragged along my shaft, so talented in tracing the veins as she placed me at the back of her mouth. Her throat clenched around my tip. The thought of coming inside her was so overwhelming it brought me to the verge quickly. I had to dig my nails into my palm and bite my knuckles to distract myself with the pain. I gladly fought through it just to enjoy the moment a little longer. When I released inside of her mouth I could feel her throat swallow round my head, taking every drop I gave...

You nibble the tip of your finger and smile at the thought that you might have given Namjoon this much pleasure. But you soon find yourself trying to dissociate him from the main character once he returns to his obsessive tendencies.

...She told me this was it, that we couldn’t act on our urges ever again. She had given me the taste of heaven and was now locking the gate forever. I promised her that I would respect her decision, but there was no way I could abide. If she refused to let me in, I would simply drag her down to hell with me...

You find yourself overwhelmed with anxiety, your heart rate and thoughts racing from the ongoing similarities.

...I left a gift at her house, with the hopes that she would enjoy my hard work, with the dream that she would finally understand. She didn’t realize until it was too late that I had drugged her drink, that I had never left but was spying through the bedroom door. I had left it slightly ajar, wanting nothing more than to watch her expression as everything unraveled...

You breathing stops as you look over to your bedroom, the door resting open ever so slightly.

...It was a strong sedative that I used to dose her. The first recorded side effect is often dizziness...

Your hand clings to the couch in an attempt to stay upright as you head swims.

...Followed by loss of motor control...

Your legs begin to tingle, falling numb beneath you, any hope of fleeing snatched away.

...And finally the drug snares the remaining senses from it’s victims before a complete loss of consciousness. She didn’t last long...

Your hearing becomes muffled, and your eyes widen with terror trying to keep them from succumbing to the darkness that slowly closes in on you. The last sight you witness before falling under is the door opening to reveal Namjoon, wearing the smirk you used to love so much.

...

You fight through the haze of exhaustion to bring your mind to where you are. Lying down on your side in a bed you stare at a wall that you know to be in Namjoon’s home. Warm fingertips brush your shoulder as you slowly wake, followed by the soft press of lips to your skin.

You try to lift a hand to cradle your head and relieve the dull ache that’s surfacing, but you find your arms restrained, pulled behind your back and tied in place. You jerk at the bonds in an attempt you free yourself, but now a large hand holds you in place too.

“Don’t move, you’ll only hurt yourself.” Namjoon’s voice trails from behind you, his soft tone attempts to convey comfort but sends you into a panic as you remember his actions.  

“Namjoon?” You ask with a sob.

“Shhhh, I’m right here.”

“W-why?” You stutter as your chest begins to heave, “Why did you do this?”

“I thought that was obvious.” He places the journal you were just reading on the bed next to you. “You refused to see reason so I tried to show you. This is everything I feel for you, everything I’ve done for you, and yet you still push me away. I don’t want to work together, I don’t want to be friends if it means I can’t have you. I’ll take you away from everything so you don’t have to make that choice.” He lowers his lips to your ear his tone becoming hushed as if he is sharing a desperate desire. “I’ll be the villain so you can be mine.”

“Namjoon please, just let me go.” Your fingers attempt to find the knots in the binding, straining for any hope of release.

“But that’s not where the story goes next, I would rather continue where you left off. I have so much more in store for you, for us.” He paces around the bed finally coming into your view. A sly smile crosses his face as he sits down on the mattress in front of you. A finger raises your chin so you meet his eyes. “Shall I read the end to you? I think you’ll like it. I took your advice.”  

[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part XV)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX

When Sirius Black walked into the run-down little coffee shop that Remus worked at, he looked extremely out of place. The Daily Grind was one of those cafes that had mismatched furniture and paintings from local artists on the wall. It wasn't glamorous, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it felt comfortable— homey. Remus was willing to bet that Sirius had never set foot in a cafe like this, preferring to get his coffee from Starbucks or a butler in a tuxedo or something. 

The first thing that Remus noticed about Sirius was that he was wearing a suit, like always, with his long hair in a loose bun and his posture stiffer than a board. He glanced around him, scanning the room, until his eyes met with Remus' and his jaw tightened. Remus forced himself to smile politely, offering the gallery owner a small wave. Sirius made his way over to Remus' table, his typical saunter less noticeable now that he was in an unfamiliar environment.

"Good evening, Sirius. Thank you for joining me." Remus kept his tone courteous, his words formal. He knew that he would have trouble relaxing around Sirius. The two of them had a business relationship exclusively; meeting up socially was strange and unprecedented.

Sirius' mouth twisted into what Remus could only assume was an attempt at a grin. 

"Remus," he muttered stiffly, giving a firm nod. He glanced down at the empty chair in front of Remus, but remained standing. Remus felt his shoulders tighten in discomfort.

"Please… have a seat." Remus gestured towards the empty chair and Sirius nodded again before sitting down. "Uh… thanks for meeting me."

He didn't know what else to say. Seeing Sirius in the cafe wasn't quite as hilarious has Remus had anticipated; instead, the two men were both uncomfortable, awkward, struggling to relax in front of one another.

"Yes, well…" Sirius began, before trailing off. "So… is this where you work?"

Remus nodded, his hands tightening around his cup of tea. He didn't hate his job, but it was exhausting. He was on his feet most of the day and he rarely had enough energy to paint at night. It took everything Remus had in him to drag himself out of bed each morning, ready to face the same mundane routine that slowly ate away at him. 

"It's… nice." Sirius glanced around at the paintings on the wall. His mouth spread into a thin smile as recognition lit up his face. "There's a familiar one…"

Remus glanced over his shoulder to find one of his older pieces hanging on the wall behind him.

"Oh… yeah… I forgot that one was there. It's… not my best work."

"No, it isn't."

Remus spun around to cast a glare at Sirius.

"That's not very polite."

Sirius cocked an eyebrow and Remus could have sworn he saw the slightest hint of humour in those silvery eyes.

"Why? It's not. Your current stuff is much better. The paintings that you've been producing recently? They're a different caliber altogether."

Remus could feel his cheeks heat up as Sirius paid him a rare compliment. It was backhanded, yes, but it was the closest thing to praise that he could hope for from the gallerist.

"Uh… thanks." 

Sirius leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his bangs and brushing them away from his eyes. Remus felt himself mirroring Sirius, finally able to sink into his chair and relax slightly. 

"So…" Sirius began, cutting the silence, his tone gentler than usual. "I… I am sorry. About yesterday. I know I said that earlier, I just… want you to know that."

Remus chewed the edge of his lip, trying to formulate his response. Every fiber of his being wanted to say it's okay, to brush off what happened the other day as if it had been perfectly normal. That was his immediate response to everything. 

It's fine.

It's no bother.

It's okay.

Although he couldn't figure out why, there was a part of Remus that didn't want this to be the same as always. It wasn't okay. The way Sirius treated him wasn't fine, and Remus wasn't going to allow himself to be a doormat. Not this time.

"You were an arse."

"I know." Sirius' gaze dropped to his hands, which were fiddling with a packet of sugar. Remus felt a wave of something— was it affection? — pass over him as he watched Sirius. He hated it.

"It was rude," Remus continued, trying to sound upset, to hide the fact that Sirius' fiddling was in any way endearing. "The way you spoke to me. The way you acted around me. It really was unprofessional."

"I know."

Sirius didn't justify his actions. He didn't make any excuses, didn't try to explain anything, he simply sat there as Remus called him out, a distinct look of guilt darkening his silvery blue eyes. 

"You… really shouldn't treat people that way…"

"I know."

Remus paused. He brought his tea to his mouth and took a sip, giving himself time to think.

"Why?"

Sirius glanced back up at Remus, his eyes shining like a lost puppy. Remus had to suppress a grin.

"Why what?" The gallerist asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why did you… what made you so upset? Why were you so… cruel?"

Remus watched as Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly as he leaned further back in his chair, as if he knew this question had been coming the entire time. Sirius' eyes shot open, darting back and forth as they searched Remus' face. After a moment, Sirius finally spoke.

"You don't know much about me…" He began, before trailing off. Remus remained silent, assuming that there was more to follow. There was. "I… I do that on purpose. I don't like getting too close to my artists. It… this has been strange for me; you being friendly with James. It… made things awkward."

Remus cocked a brow and pursed his lips.

"How so?"

Sirius gave a heavy sigh.

"I don't… really have any family. I have James and Lily. That's it. They're… they're all I have."

Remus was confused. He had read about the Black family before; they were well-established business people, the family name known throughout the city from their various enterprises. Sirius was a member of this prestigious family, how could he say he didn't have any?

Remus' face must have betrayed his thoughts, because Sirius let out a dark laugh.

"Before you ask, no, I'm not close with the other Blacks. They're… the only thing we share is the name. I'm not… well, I'm different. We don't speak anymore. It's better that way."

"Oh." Remus didn't know how else to respond. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's as much my doing as it is theirs."

"I see…"

"Anyway…" Sirius' fingers turned the sugar packet over and over and over. "I'm… very protective of James and Lily…"

Remus scoffed. 

"You weren't jealous, were you?" He asked with a grin. Sirius didn't respond, and Remus realized his mistake. His smile faded. "...were you?"

Sirius shrugged his shoulders, his focus remaining on the sugar that danced through his hands.

Never in a million years would Remus have expected Sirius Black to be jealous of him. Remus was broke. He worked himself to the bone, barely sleeping, hardly eating, unable to afford anything beyond the absolute necessities. 

"I'm…" Remus began, not sure what it was he wanted to say. "I don't think James or Lily would ever replace you…"

"No, I know that…" Sirius said to the sugar. "I know that. I just… have trouble believing it…"

The man in front of Remus was someone so different than the Sirius Black he thought he knew. This was someone soft, scared, afraid of losing the people he loved. This was a man who had everything and nothing all at once, who couldn't fathom going through life on his own. This was someone that Remus understood.

"I'm… I'm sorry if I— "

"No, you're fine," Sirius interrupted, glancing back up at Remus, a forced smile on his face. "This was on me. I've got a bit of a temper. I lashed out at you. And I'm sorry about that. Anyway…" Sirius' hand dropped the sugar and brushed his bangs from his eyes. "None of this is important. You just… wanted to know why. So… that's why."

"I really am sor— "

"Can we please drop it?" Some of the ice returned to Sirius' voice, reflected in the glacial blue of his eyes. Remus gave the gallerist a curt nod, knowing that the subject was a delicate one. 

"Yeah, sure. Consider it dropped." Remus tried to smile, to keep his emotions hidden from his face. "We're good, you and I. As far as I'm concerned…"

"Good."

"Yeah…"

"So…" Sirius mumbled, picking up his sugar packet again, breaking the suddenly awkward silence. "You mentioned a message?"

Shit.

Remus swallowed past the lump in his throat. When he was still angry at Sirius, he had planned to make the man feel bad about his drunken voicemail. Now that they had connected over a candid heart-to-heart, it didn't seem right to bring it up.

"It… it was nothing. Honestly…"

Sirius raised a brow skeptically.

"Remus…"

"You… you just left a voicemail is all. It really wasn't anything… you didn't say much…"

Remus watched as the colour faded from Sirius' face, his eyes growing wide with horror. Butterflies erupted in the pit of Remus' stomach as the icy blue of Sirius' irises melted through his heart.

Shit shit shit…

"It really wasn't—"

"I don't remember leaving that…" Sirius twisted his sugar in his hand, accidentally breaking the packet and spilling the grains across the table. "Fuck!"

"It's fine! I've got it! I can clean it up!" 

As Remus moved to sweep up the mess with his napkin, Sirius slammed his fist against the table, startling the artist and causing the sugar grains to jump.

"Was I drunk?"

Remus blinked. He looked at Sirius, who suddenly looked more angry than nervous.

"Uh… p— possibly? It was only a voic— "

"Was I drunk, Remus?"

Sirius looked— well, serious.

"Uh… y— yeah… I… I think so."

"Fuck!" Sirius' profanities echoed across the cafe, earning him scathing glares from the other patrons. "Shit!" He muttered, a bit quieter.

"Really, Sirius. It's fine. It wasn't anything! You didn't say anything embarrassing or anyth—"

"I have to go."

Sirius was on his feet before Remus could even respond. The artist stared up at the other man, mouth agape, utterly confused.

"Sirius, you don't—"

"I'm sorry, Remus."

He did sound sorry. His eyes grew soft for a moment as his gaze lingered on Remus. Then, before the artist could get in another word, Sirius was heading towards the door.

"Sirius, wait!"

Remus' protests came too late, Sirius was already out of earshot. Remus stared as the expensive suit and elegant bun faded from view, wondering what the hell had just happened.

[jabbajambler]

11

Human

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 1,944

*GIF by @chewbacca​*

         I was growing tired of waiting around and doing nothing. There's only so much you can do in Nevarro and within ten minutes, I was already bored.

         I suppose I could pay Mando and the others a visit. It had been a while since I visited the covert and now was a better time than ever. I'm sure they wouldn't have too much of a problem with me visiting.

         They were never good with hiding the location of the covert. In fact, it was almost comical how out in the open it was. I guess no one here really cared.

         I could hear voices while I walked down the grimy halls. Few people cast glances my way, most nodding or waving.

         "Our strength was once in our numbers. Now we live in the shadows and only come above ground one at a time... Our world was shattered by the Empire, with whom this coward shares tables."

         There was the voice again. I followed, hoping to find something interesting while I was down here.

          I walked into the armory to see Mando whip a knife from his boot and swipe it against a bulkier Mandalorian's chest plate, quickly resulting in a brawl between the two. I should have known that if anyone were to get in a fight here, it would be him.

         "Watch it, fellas." I smiled to myself, slowly approaching the group.

         The two froze, knives held at each other's throats.

         "Wouldn't want to lose another, would we?" I could feel the confusion radiating off of Mando.

         He slowly lowered his knife, taking a small step towards me. "How the hell did you-"

         "The Empire was taken down years ago." I interrupted. We both had a nasty habit of doing that. "Your precious beskar has been returned. There's no reason for your little cat fight."

         The bulkier Mandalorian pushed Mando back as he strolled towards me, his voice laced with humor. "And just what do you think you're doing here, miss Myrah?"

         "I'm just visiting." I sent him a quick wink and shrug.

         "I for one am certainly glad you came by." He chuckled, his eyes raking over me as I walked past him, towards the armorer.

         "Myrah Koor... You know that you are not supposed to be here."  She looked down at me as she spoke. Her tone was soft, almost endearing.

         "Well, I have some business to attend to." I beamed. "Plus, I have someone I need to talk to..." I glanced over my shoulder at Mando but he quickly looked away.

         "I see... Hurry up, then."

         Mando continued to divert his attention away from me. If I didn't know any better, I would say he resembled a stubborn child.

         I sighed and walked towards his seat with his back to me. I could feel him tense beneath my hand as it landed on his shoulder.

         "I'll be waiting outside. Don't take too long." I whispered and leaned towards his helmet. His head turned ever so slightly and that was enough for me to know that he was listening.

         I sent a salute to the others before I ascended up the staircase to wait for who knows how long. I missed that place and all of the friends I had made. People say that the code of the Mandalorians makes them distant and cold, but really, it makes them a family.

         It had been another half an hour when Mando pushed back the curtain to the covert's entrance. The clouds had finally parted for the sun to shine down on the planet.

         I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I certainly did not expect for him to be clad head-to-toe in shiny new beskar. The light bounced off of it perfectly and I'm pretty sure he was well aware of it too. He took his time walking towards me, confidence filling his strides.

         "I like the new get-up." My lips quirked up in a nervous smile. He remained silent as he approached me, my eyes catching on something shiny in his hands. "What's that?"

         "She told me to give you these." He mumbled and held out the shiny vambraces.

         My eyes lit up and I quickly snatched the armor from his hands, struggling to strap them on. His fingers gently wrapped around my wrists, helping me pull the metal around my forearms.

         It was such a subtle gesture that would have come across completely normal a few hours ago, but now, it hurt. Every small brush of his hand lit my arm on fire and for that, I hated him. He let me trust him and listened as I opened up to him just so he could walk away.

         "What were you doing down there?"

         "You were taking too long."

         "Why did they let you down there?"

         "Not now."

         I glanced around to make sure we weren't drawing too much attention. Once the coast was clear, I tried to push past him, but I was quickly pulled back with his hand tight around my arm.

         "No. I need to know now. How did they know who you were?"

         "They're just old friends." I hissed. "You wouldn't know what that's like."

         His grip tightened a bit before he let go of my arm. He continued to hold his head high and proud, but there was something about the air around us that made me think he was feeling the exact opposite.

         "Let's go."

         He turned around sharply and began walking towards the bar. I trailed behind him, not too far, but enough to act like I wasn't associated with him. At least until we arrived.

         Everyone in the bar turned when the door opened, each one wearing a unique but furious glare. I excused their looks as they were shocked by Mando's new appearance, but I know they were equally shocked to see me with him. I was practically on display.

         Greef stood as soon as we entered and immediately picked me up in a warm hug. I could feel Mando's eyes on us until I was set back down on the ground.

         We all filed into the booth in an awkward silence. Everyone in the bar continued to glare at our table, angry looks on all of their faces.

        "They all hate you, Mando. Because you're a legend!" Greef kept his voice quiet.

         "How many of them had tracking fobs?"

         Greef scoffed. "All of them. All of them! But not one of them closed the deal. Only you, Mando. Only you... And with it, the richest reward this parsec has ever seen. They're all weighing the beskar in their minds, but not me. No. I, for one, I celebrate your success. Because it is my success as well. Hell! Even I am rich."

         He showed his plate of beskar to us, flaunting his new found riches.

         "Now, how can I show my gratitude to my most valuable partner?"

         "It wasn't me."

         "What?" Both Greef and I spoke at the same time, our eyes locking with him.

         "It wasn't me. It was Myrah. She found the kid and put as much, if not more effort in the mission. She deserves your gratitude. I want my next job."

         "Well, this is a surprise... Myrah, how did you even get there?" He turned to look at me, eyes wide with confusion and surprise.

         "If you really want to know, I snuck-"

         "I offered her a ride. You talk about her a lot and I knew she deserved this sort of job." Mando nodded, casting me a quick glance.

         "Huh...I guess you both should take some time off, then. Enjoy yourselves." He grinned and leaned towards Mando. "I'll take you to the Twi'lek healing baths..."

         "I want my next job."

         "Sure. Fine. You hunters like to keep busy, right? Well, these are all far away." Greef shook out a bag of pucks, slightly disappointed that Mando didn't want to hang out with him.

         "The further, the better."

         My head shot up at that with my eyes narrowing on him. "What?" I whispered.

         "Well, take your pick. You've earned it."

        I shifted in my seat, trying to seem taller and more confident than I was. "Why do you want to get away, Mando?"

         He quickly turned to look at me. "I don't think I have to explain myself to you."

         Greef chuckled and placed his hand firm on my shoulder. "Now, now, Myrah. I know how you feel about the Mandalorian, but look at the riches he's brought us!"

         That's the irony of it. He doesn't know how I feel about the 'Mandalorian' at all. I used to think I hated him, yes, but a couple of hours ago I was asking him to leave everything behind and run away with me.

         Kriff, that was a mistake.

         "Ah. That's the best one of the lot." Greef's voice brought me out of my thoughts. "Nobleman's son skipped bail. Looks like you're headed to the ocean dunes of the Karnac..." He laughed as Mando pocketed the puck. "And here is the reward for Myrah." He spoke as he tossed a pouch of credits across the table.

         "Any idea what they're gonna do with it?"

         "With what?"

         "The kid."

         I was wondering the same thing, if I'm going to be honest. Except I had planned on waiting until he left to ask. I didn't think he cared about the child as much as I did. As usual, I was wrong.

         Greef sighed and looked up at him. "I didn't ask. It's against the Guild Code."

         "They work for the Empire. What are they doing here?"

         "You sound exactly like Myrah. Always getting into business that isn't yours. The Empire is gone, Mando. All that are left are mercenaries and warlords."

         "No, he's right. There were stormtroopers and-"

         "Myrah." He scolded. "If it bothers you, just go back to the Core and report them to the New Republic."

         Mando scoffed. "That's a joke."

          "Mando, enjoy your rewards. Buy a camtono of spice. Go hang around with a nice girl and do... whatever you do, I guess. By the time you come out of hyperdrive, you will have forgotten all about it."

         He gave me one last nod before he left. There were so many things left unsaid and it pained me to see him leave like that. I just hoped it wouldn't be the last time I'd see him.

         "So, you went with the Mandalorian?" Greef asked with raised eyebrows.

         "It's not important."

         "I can't believe you were so willing to be next to Mando. I mean, he is the reason you were all upset anyway."

         "He isn't so bad. Just rough around the edges. Hell of a fighter though..." I smiled to myself, reminiscing of our time on Arvala-7. "But he is a pain in the ass." I sighed and turned my head away from him. "I can't stay here."

         "What?"

         I quickly stood up and ran towards the exit to the bar. "I have to fix something!"

         I wanted to explain more, but I was scared of what he would say or do if I told him the truth about what I was going to do. Greef cared about me, I was well aware of that, but this was something I wasn't sure he would ever forgive me for.

         I ran through the village until I found myself at the entrance to the client's hideout, desperately trying to catch my breath.

         I was getting the kid back if it was the last thing I'd do.  

[disembowel-me]

SAD SACK Review

SAD SACK is a series of ultraviolent snuff porn comics by meanboss and barbatus following 5 somewhat likable but very maladjusted guys as they commit a series of murders against deserving(?) people. I didn’t know anything beyond that going in, though I was familiar with some of their previous works and loved them so I knew I was gonna love this. This review is split up by my thoughts on each comic, and then my overall thoughts.

Spoilers shouldn’t ruin your enjoyment of these comics, but if you’re the kind of person who cares about that but want to know if I recommend it - hell yeah I recommend it. if you think you’ll like it, you’ll probably like it. This review is also nsfw, which goes for everything on this blog. 

disclaimer: I am not an artist, I do write but not very well or often and have no formal training beyond what you get from k-12 and a basic college degree. I’m just a gore, sex, and death enthusiast here to let you know my thoughts on this awesome comic ‘cause god knows more people need to hear the word

1. SO MUCH FOR THE TOLERANT LEFT

 This is definitely the most fun. It’s a raw, unadulterated revenge fantasy. It’s passionate, it’s angry, but stays pretty light and fun, or as light and fun as a torture porn comic can be. It’s indulgent. It’s violent pleasure to the max. And it's so! fucking! HOT!

Malik’s dirty talk is so raunchy. Raping a nazi? Making him cry and beg for cock? Jesus christ it’s SO hot. I love Stone’s mock-kindness, and how the nazi bends to their whims so fast. And Garv’s skull-fucking is probably one of if not my favorite scenes in all of the comics. Those exposed brains reeaallly hit the spot.

The art is a little rougher than the others, which is to be expected since it’s the first but honestly? I love it and it fits the tone, and it’s really cool to see how the quality is improved with every comic. The visuals are amazing. The facial expressions are incredible and are exaggerated in such a way that conveys the extreme emotion really well. I love the panels where the nazi’s face is reflected in Jake’s glasses and you see how tiny and pathetic he is and feels.

This one is the easiest to digest. There’s not a lot of story here, it gets to the point fast, it feels like it’s not ‘real’, as in it doesn’t feel like it exists in a world like our own where consequences exist..... until the end where Jake has to go back to retrieve Malik’s sister’s knife and the nebulous “torture world” and the real world the boys live in meet. Most torture porn I’ve consumed thus far has only or mostly only been torture porn, so I like that they have lives outside of this, which is explored a lot more as the story goes on. 

2. A SMALL PLOT OF LAND

This murder is purely emotional, and the only one that isn’t sexual at all. I don’t have as many specific things that I liked to point out here but it’s so satisfying to see a cowardly predator get what he deserves. The only explicitly sexual content is at the beginning where Sal and Stone are violently fucking, but the story and gnarly as fuck gore more than makes up for it (and if you’re into that sort of thing, it won’t hold you back from finding parts sexy anyway). I love the quick tonal shift from violent fuck to a tender and vulnerable moment between them. Sal and Stone’s relationship here is sweet and loving and actually pretty cute. For how intense this one is, it ends fairly light-hearted and I got a real kick out of Garv starting to lick the cock and then get pissy when Malik tells him off, and clearly, Sal did too! 

What really shines in these comics, aside from all the gore and porn and dicks and yummy goodness we’re here for, are the panels featuring faces. The expressions are intense and scary, and they're not afraid to make the characters look ugly. You can feel Sal’s pain and rage through the pages, and his asthma acting up as things spiral in intensity helps convey that even more. And in the end, when he lets out that heavy breath, you can feel the weight that's been lifted from him. 

The brunch date in the epilogue is awfully cute, and I'm glad to see Sal so happy.

3. SNUFF MACHINERY

Malik is so sexy and charming. I love his sweet talk and dirty talk.  I like that it starts as a consensual encounter… and Vaska slowly realizes something’s wrong as he chokes on Malik’s cock. I love how lost, scared, and pathetic yet so pliant and willing to please he is. I love that he just opens his mouth up for everybody to pass him around and fuck his face, and I love how grody and sopping wet his beard gets with all sorts of body fluids. 

There’s not even any gore until halfway through… but once it comes, boy, things escalate quickly. Ironic revenge is one of my favorites, so it makes his drugged, fluid-soaked face all the more satisfying to watch get crunched. And when Garv fingers his brain… ooh, fuck.

The revelation that Malik’s motive was revenge for something that happened to his sister and not actually to him completely changed the context I viewed it in. You could tell killing him hadn’t relieved Malik of the guilt and anger like he’d expected it to, maybe even made the guilt worse. This seems to sort of mark a turning point in tone for the overall story. Jake and Sal both seemed to be helped by their experiences, but Malik and later Stone were not. If anything, their problems seem to have been made worse by their choice to take somebody’s life, and it doesn’t give me good feelings for the fate these boys are headed for.

3.5.  15°20' FRACTURE ZONE

Simple, sexy, great atmosphere, free. Check it out first if you’re on the fence about buying the others. There’s no gore, but it’s still great.

4. A.M.F.

I think Garv’s date is the most painful thing I’ve seen so far, HAH! 

By this point, I’d been endeared enough to all the characters that I was invested in their dinner and karaoke and probably would’ve still been if they hadn’t been planning their next fetish murder. Stone is an unlikable asshole for the majority and it makes me feel bad for Sal, but I still like getting to see more and more of their real lives and I want to root for him to do better. This was by far the most story-heavy, and by far the one I felt the most conflicted about. I was pretty fucked up my first couple reads of this, so I didn’t realize that Evan, their waiter, was Stone’s victim until my third or so read. Realizing this I had an oh, shit moment, and realizing they were talking about his death right in front of him!!! gave me another oh, shit! moment. That’s so fucked. That fucked me up. Up until this point, most people would agree the victims deserved what came to them, or at least don’t feel bad for them, but this man’s only crime was.... being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Looking too much like Stone’s dad? And all the other guys were ok with this too? That speaks louder to me than anything these characters could say. Also, that’s sloppy. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to kill people you know?

It’s the first time I’ve truly been disturbed by SAD SACK, knowing the feast is just a guy who didn’t do anything wrong. After stewing on my feelings and reading again, it… actually makes it hotter? In the sense that it’s that much more provocative. That context made me more sensitive to the gore, too. The tooth-pulling scene was the first one to actually make me cringe, and I still have a hard time looking at it, so good job guys! Jake talking to Stone while he’s getting fucked out of his mind is so fun, and everyone looks so sexy. Every view we get of Sal’s ass is a fucking gift. I’m so glad Stone sat on Garv’s face against his will, and I’d say he deserved getting blood and shit sprayed all over him… or maybe that just because he’s real cute when he’s upset.

Stone's murder was not a good idea and clearly didn't help him. He wasn't prepared for Evan's death quite yet when it happened, just like he wasn't prepared for his dad's. You can't control death, dude. If anything, just like Malik, it might've made it worse. I could speculate about how maybe both were using their murders as a way to avoid actually dealing with their real issues… buuut I'm not here to speculate. 

5. Pre BOG

I… like Garv a lot. I think he’s a new favorite character. He stirs the same lustful feelings in me that Lawrence did. I want to hurt and humiliate and control him. Unlike Lawrence, he’s an awful person who I don’t care about at all or want any happiness for but man is he a cute little piece of shit! The fact that he fucks (or tries..to fuck...) the dead bodies at the end of each comic definitely doesn’t help my endearment towards him. I’m a little nervous for his comic because he is such a misogynistic piece of shit... but I’m also excited because I love how nasty he is and excited he gets, especially for the dead.

CONCLUSION

I like that they’re just ‘normal’ guys (minus Garv. Garv is a piece of shit). I like it when people who do bad things are relatable. I like it when you can sympathize with them, and I like it when you can empathize with them, and I like thinking about if I were under similar circumstances, would I be capable of such things? What would it take for me to? Would I ever be able to? How close is the average person to being able to violently murder someone? Is there something wrong with me for even thinking about it? Hopefully, these contemplations will never be anything more than hypothetical but I think it’s still good to analyze my enjoyment of darker things. It’s not just indulgent porn (although it definitely, certainly is that too). It’s an exploration of personal failings, trauma, choosing to deal with your issues through violence and how it does or doesn’t help… but those are topics that would need an analysis, and while one could definitely do a full analysis on this series, I’m not going to otherwise we’d be here for a lot longer.

The art is gross, it’s repulsive at times, and it’s done so well. I love the scant use of color in the mostly monochrome torture scenes, the way their eyes either glow or look hollow, the wonky angles, and exaggerated proportions to maximize the impact.  I don’t know if these count as horror but the art has an awesome horror aesthetic, and a lot of the time the way the guys are drawn is downright terrifying. There’s no way I can talk about every small detail I loved. That’s 769 pages to talk about and at that point, I might as well just annotate every page. If you like gore you’re gonna love these comics. If you like torture, or helpless screaming men, or really dark themes, or nasty stuff in general, you’re gonna love it. Even if you’re not into gore sexually, it’s fucking gnarly, and it has a comedic edge. These guys do gross so fuckin well and I absolutely love it. My creative goals in life are to make erotic art - to make porn, but not exclusively porn, things that are able to be used as wank material but also able to be enjoyed outside of that. SAD SACK accomplishes that, and it’s kind of inspirational. 

I appreciate everything that goes into this project. I wish there was more violent fetish content of this high of quality, so I think it’s important to support creators when it comes to projects like this. Most horror porn I’ve seen also puts the reader in the victim’s position, and as someone who leans generally on the more sadistic side of things, I appreciate the main characters as the perpetrators. If you do too, go check it out. Thank you, RJ and Nick, for all the incredible amounts of work and time you've put into this project. I've enjoyed it a lot and will continue to do so for quite a while, I’m sure. 

Also... I didn’t know where else to put this, but those weeks-old corpses were exquisite <3

[carnistcervine]

CATLA AU

So CATLA is ATLA but instead of humans, they're all cats. CATLA.

Okay there's a little bit more to it than that. lol

-Here's a lowdown of the Gaang ~Aang- Sphynx kitten ~Katara and Sokka- Norwegian forest cat kittens ~Toph- Persian kitten ~Zuko- Oriental kitten

-Here's what each of the four nations are ~Water Tribes- Norwegian forest cats or some kind of arctic fishing cat ~Earth Kingdom- Varies wildly ~Fire Nation- Oriental and Siamese cats ~Air Nomads- Sphynx and cornish rex

-Yes, they're ordinary, four paws on the ground cats. They aren't bipedal or anthro.

-Though I do like to imagine them wearing clothes.

-It adds to the cuteness in my opinion. :D

-In this AU, the Avatar is an ancient being endowed by the wisdom of having lived thousands of lives. So it's less, individuals that are born and have separate and distinct personas, and a bit more hivemindy?? Not a literal hivemind, but basically the same person who lives and dies over and over again, learning and relearning, and trying different approaches, slowly changing as the ages go on.

-Aang is not the same cat he was when he was Wan(he’s grown and changed as we all do), but it's the same consciousness that has been passed down over the ages.

-As a consequence of this, the Avatar is a bit creepy and awkward. They don't mean to be, but mortals tend to find them very odd.

-Though the Avatar does try to act as normal as possible, as to not alarm of disturb those around them.

-At first it was fairly easy to pick the Avatar out of a group of children, as they were an old soul. But over the ages, they've gotten better at acting like an actual child.

-They still tend to be much more mature than their peers though.

-Yeah, the Avatar can have creepy, slightly voyeuristic, asocial tendencies, but they're a deeply empathetic being.

-They are rare to take a lover, because, well, being basically eternal/immortal they're lover will eventually die and they will continue to be.

-Being reborn is never easy for the Avatar, because their consciousness is an uninterrupted stream. They go from being killed/dying to suddenly being born and that's kind of traumatic.

-I imagine that a human version of this would absolutely abhor the fact that they are doomed to go through puberty again and again until the fucking world ends. :'D

-Anyway, the last thing Roku knows before being born again is the terrible heat and crushing pain of being buried by the pyroclastic flow. He suddenly goes from being in horrible pain and being unable to breath to being able to breath again, squirming and crying. He's realizes that he's been reborn when his mother licks his head, and starts to calm down.

-His new mother names him Aang.

-Still hurting from Sozin's betrayal, Aang tries to befriend as many cats and kittens as possible. He's eager to play with his peers, and does his best to hide his creepy spirit tendencies.

-For a while it works, Aang has many friends from all around the world, and a loving mentor in Gyatso.

-However, while Aang is still too young, the monks reveal to him that he's the Avatar.

-Or I suppose more accurately, they reveal that they know he's the Avatar.

-In this AU, the Avatar is born knowing they're the Avatar.

-But anyway, this catches Aang off guard, because he usually has more time than this to live as a normal kitten. He's deeply concerned, but tries to take it in stride.

-At least until his peers reject him.

-This tears open the wound of Sozin leaving him to die.

-The final straw is when the try to take Gyatso from him.

-Aang can't take it anymore and grievously harms several monks. It takes Gyatso to get him to calm down from his rampage.

-When Aang comes to his senses, he's horrified by what he's done and runs away.

-He and Appa get caught up in a storm and Aang freezes them both, sending them into stasis.

-Katara comes along and frees him, but being in stasis for a century has had a negative effect on his mind. He's lost his connection to his past lives. He no longer remembers he's the Avatar.

-Of course, with the loss of his memory, also comes with the loss of a lot of his social abilities.

-Katara finds poor Aang endearing, but Sokka finds him creepy.

-Aang just freakin sees Katara and starts crushing on her immediately. The first thing he sees are her eyes, and he gazes deeply into them. He sees her spirit, and falls in love with it.

-When Aang meets Zuko for the first time, he creeps Zuko out. He won't stop staring at him with those big, eerie eyes. But Aang can't help it, Zuko reminds Aang of someone, with those firey golden eyes...

-When Aang goes into the avatar state, he doesn't throw Zuko overboard, instead he traps him in ice and starts to walk up to him.

-Iroh, afraid his nephew is in danger, jumps in front of the Avatar, who simply stares at the two before calmly leaving with Sokka and Katara.

-When Aang exits the Avatar state he passes out and has a dream where his past lives whisper to him, trying to reach him.

-Aang is equally surprised by the revelation that he's the Avatar as Katara and Sokka. Though he's relieved to see that neither are showing any signs of abandoning him.

-As the Avatar, Aang has the ability to put restless spirits to rest. He does this at the Air Temples and other mass grave sights. Bring peace to pained souls, so they may have peace.

-Slowly, over the course of his journey to the north pole, Aang reconnects with his past lives and puts his mind back together into a single stream of consciousness again.

-When he visits the spirit Oasis is when he finally puts his spirit back together.

-Aang flips out when Zhao kills the moon spirit and goes on a rampage, chasing after him with the ocean spirit's blessing.

-Zhao manages to evade Aang who ends up getting caught up fighting Fire Nation soldiers.

-Zuko fights Zhao and Aang finds them. He completely ignores Zuko as he encapsulates Zhao in darkness and shatters his spirit.

-It's at about this time that the moon is returned to the sky and both the Avatar and the ocean spirit calm the hell down.

-Zuko is confused, he watched the Avatar attack Zhao, heard Zhao's blood curdling yowl and now Zhao is just lying there. He alive, and breathing, but his eyes are glazed over and he won't say anything.

-Zuko doesn't know what he just saw, but he has a sinking feeling that it was something horrifying.

-When they meet Toph, she initially wonders if Aang is really there or if she's imagining him.

-She low-key checks in with the others to make sure that Aang is actually there and not just an illusion.

-She still has times when she wonders if the other kittens are just fucking with her and Aang doesn't actually exist.

-When the sandbenders steal Appa, Aang is very upset. But he holds it in, he realizes that it's not Toph's fault, she tried her best.

-However when they encounter the sandbenders, Aang looses his shit and goes full Avatar beast mode.

-Katara is the only thing between the sandbenders and an early grave or more accurately, since he's that angry... having their spirits SHATTERED.

-Katara comforts Aang who breaks down crying into her fur.

-It takes Aang some time to get past his grief, but the Gaang help him through it. They all become closer as a result.

-When Azula kills Aang, and by extension the spirit of the world, the barrier between the human and spirit worlds destabilizes, and plagues are sent out upon the earth as it begins to die.

-Irreversible damage is prevented by Katara's quick action in reviving Aang with the spirit water.

-Aang's recovery is slow and difficult, and while he's down, spirits and plagues infest the world.

-Once Aang is recovered enough to go on adventures again, the Gaang end up working undercover to heal the damage done to the world by Aang's death.

-The Gaang see and understand firsthand just how devastating the effects of loosing the Avatar are and gain a new appreciation for Aang and his work.

-During the eclipse, when the Gaang encounter Azula, they're all pissed at her.

-Katara tries to tell Azula off about how she endangered the world, but she just rolls her eyes.

-She wastes their time until the eclipse ends, and Aang makes an executive decision in an attempt to avoid trouble with her in the future.

-He lunges at her, eyes glowing, and easily dodges her lightning.

-Azula feels real fear at this, she remembers the state Zhao was found in after a bad run in with the Avatar. She genuinely fears that Aang can and will do the same to her.

-She manages to generate a much more mild shock while Aang is in the process of breaking her spirit.

-Being subjected to the trauma of being shocked again is enough to drive Aang out of the avatar state, and the Gaang flee. Leaving Azula with a partly shattered spirit.

-She's still coherent, but her mind is fractured and she can feel it.

-The betrayal of her friends causes her to fall apart completely.

-Zuko is terrified about joining the Avatar, because he knows what angry spirits are capable of.

-Much to his surprise however, Aang is happy to see him come to the good side.

-It still takes him a while, however to get comfortable around Aang's presence. The look in Zhao's eyes after Aang attacked him, never leaves Zuko.

-Aang is tempted to kill Ozai, and he almost goes through with it. But instead he shatters Ozai's spirit and swallows his inner flame.

-Ozai is left a broken and confused cat. Thrown in prison to rot.

-After everything is over, and Zuko sees the state his sister is in, and the state his father is in, he has some very serious, very grave questions for the Avatar.

-Aang is patient and willing to answer, but he's not sure Zuko is ready to hear the truth of what he did to them.

(You bet your tucus that Zuko wants to help his sister after Aang tried to shatter her spirit and she subsequently went insane((which was pretty much bound to happen anyway bcuz Ozai is a shit dad)). But that's a story for another day...) 

-Some more notes on this AU, Lu Ten is alive. He’s a Dai Li agent that goes by Lung now. And Jet’s a (repressed) firebender. :’D

-But the most important thing is that the Gaang are a bunch of adorable kittens who snuggle together in a pile when they sleep.

[rubyleaf]

I may be one of two people who ship this, but I’ll be damned if I let that stop me from producing content anyway. Also a study of Momoya’s character since he’s pretty hard to grasp. Anyway, have fun I guess?

Momoya Natsu has always been most comfortable keeping people at a safe distance.

It’s not that he dislikes people, not particularly. He doesn’t mind shallow company every once in awhile, the kind where you only talk about inconsequential things and part ways having enjoyed the time, but not particularly sad to say goodbye. No, a dislike is really not the issue here.

The problem is just that being around people exhausts him to no end.

Interacting with others, Natsu finds, is always a minefield. One wrong word, one wrong reaction, and someone gets hurt or upset or angry or forms a bad opinion. And all that means conflict, and conflict is stressful. Honest opinions. Honest feelings. Any of them can blow up in his face at the slightest misstep, and the closer the relationship, the bigger the explosion.

So he avoids getting close. He avoids the responsibility, the commitment that comes with close bonds. He avoids showing his true thoughts and emotions. They’re often unpleasant, regularly hurtful, and it’s so much less trouble to hide them behind a mask of politeness, amicability and slight mischief. People find him nice, but nothing more. He’s fading in and out of their lives as he pleases, never tied down but never alone.

And it’s okay, really, except that this masquerade drains him out and leaves his battery at zero after a few hours.

But oh, well. It should still be okay, as long as no one tries to push his boundaries. And if they do, he can still be polite and slip away from their grasp.

Right?

---

Natsu first starts questioning his strategy when he realizes it might not work on Yoshinaga Atsumu.

Slipping away from an acquaintance getting too close is one thing. Escaping from someone who’s in both the same class and the same club as him and insists on following him around like a lost puppy dog, however, is another thing entirely.

Natsu doesn’t know what the guy sees in him. He doesn’t know why he always insists on inviting him places, looking out for him, offering help, seeking him out when he’s skipping, reporting to him about club meetings he missed. Yoshinaga should worry about himself first. Natsu can manage fine on his own.

But he also knows Yoshinaga means well, he does all this because he’s a good kid, and so he remains polite and responds to all his offers with a friendly but distant smile.

A normal person would probably give up after some time. But not Yoshinaga. He doesn’t seem to have any concept of personal space.

Natsu works during club meetings, and Yoshinaga takes notes. Natsu tries to skip, and Yoshinaga finds him. Natsu tries to excuse his way out of club hangouts, found family that they are, and Yoshinaga invites him anyway.

One would really think he’d get the hint at some point. But he doesn’t. He just keeps trying.

“Sorry,” Yoshinaga says after interrupting Natsu and Mika for what feels like the millionth time. How exactly he keeps finding them is a mystery, honestly. “I don’t mean to always, you know... to...”

And yet you do, Natsu thinks irritably, but puts on a smile. “I already told you,” he says, “don’t worry about it. It really is my fault for doing this at school.”

“But—”

“It’s fine,” Natsu repeats. Really, what a pain. His smile remains unwavering. “What do you need me for?”

“The—the meaning of the song.” Yoshinaga looks all eager again, his one uncovered eye sparkling the way it always does when it comes to the club. “The others are trying to figure it out, and—and I thought we should get your opinion too.”

Natsu inclines his head. “What for?”

“Well, you’re part of the club too, aren’t you?”

So straightforward. So shiny-eyed and earnest. Natsu has never been good with enthusiastic people. But even he has to admit there’s something nice about this face. Something... almost endearing, really. Maybe that’s another reason why he’s so lenient with Yoshinaga, because you can’t really be mad at these puppy-dog eyes.

“I am,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t have any particular opinions. I’m fine with whatever the others agree on.”

Yoshinaga’s face falls visibly. Natsu struggles to keep up his smile. Making this guy disappointed really does feel a bit like stepping on a puppy’s paw.

“I don’t think you need an interpretation to play well in the first place,” he adds. “At least not one you can put into words.” And besides, he continues in his head, these people should get the rhythm right before they get into the interpretations.

Yoshinaga looks puzzled. “You think so?”

“It’s just my opinion. You don’t have to believe it,” Natsu replies, ducking out through the door. “Anyway, see you.”

Before Yoshinaga can try to stop him, he has slipped away.

---

Some time later the messages start.

Natsu has excused himself from joining the club group chat, but several of his clubmates have his Line ID anyway. Most of them don’t message him much. Sometimes Mizuhara-senpai does, but it’s generally short conversations, all of them club-related.

Yoshinaga, meanwhile, seems determined to make up for the rest of them.

They’re not even invasive messages. They’re generally about the club, telling him what happened at practice, or the newest ideas and decisions, or something about classes and homework. But they’re frequent. Every day, sometimes several times. And it’s honestly getting stressful.

Not that he can say anything. He can’t express such feelings. Be amiable and polite, conceal, don’t feel. He replies to each message dutifully. Generally Yoshinaga is too shy to continue the conversation for long, anyway.

He does use cute stickers, Natsu thinks. And emojis. And his messages are so optimistic it’s almost contagious. Maybe it would be if Yoshinaga didn’t keep on hoping to see the same enthusiasm from him someday.

It’s nice. But it’s definitely too close for comfort. Each person in Natsu’s life has their own space where he’s willing to interact with them. Outside of it he’d rather be left alone. Yoshinaga’s is school. That’s it.

But it’s not like he can tell him that, so he remains friendly and bears the stress in silence.

---

Momoya-kun, I’ve been wondering, where do you even work?

The message makes Natsu freeze up. Too close. Definitely too close. The messages related to club and school, those he could still tolerate. But this is something personal. This, if he gives way to it, will eventually lead to more personal questions. And he doesn’t want that. It gets too close.

Another message pops up, but it doesn’t make it any better. I’m just curious since it keeps you so busy all the time, and I realized I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you.

No. He won’t answer. It may be a simple question. But Yoshinaga’s space is school. He can’t step into the rest of his life. No one can. It’s too much.

So, just once, he leaves him unread. He hates himself for it, but he does. At least for now, until he has figured out what to do about the message.

He’s not surprised to find Yoshinaga approaching him at school the next day, eyeing him with that shy, anxious look. “Um...” he says. “I’m just wondering, but my messages... Did they arrive yesterday?”

Oh, snap. Natsu knew he wouldn’t get away with it. Unless...

“You messaged me?” he replies. “Sorry, I didn’t see. My phone stopped working, I need to get it fixed.”

It sounds like too much of an easy lie, but Yoshinaga buys it. “Really?” he exclaims. “I’m sorry to hear it! If you need anything—”

“Thank you,” Natsu says, smiling. “But don’t worry. I’ll probably have it working again by this evening.”

Now he just needs to figure out what to do about the messages until then.

---

By the evening Natsu still hasn’t figured out what to do. His phone is still off, the messages unread. Maybe he’ll have to lie and claim the fixing will take longer than expected after all.

Instead he goes to play the drums to clear his mind. Here, at least, he is safe. Here he can let loose. Here he can be himself and let out his stress and emotions and doesn’t have to worry about holding back.

And really, today he needs it.

It’s not that he dislikes Yoshinaga, really. He rather likes him. He just needs his space. A lot of space. And he’s afraid of anyone intruding on it. Anyone trying to initiate a closer friendship feels like a red flag to him, a sign to get out and never come back. It’s too much, the pressure, the responsibility.

Can’t he just get away from everything for some time? Withdraw, disappear, until his batteries are recharged and he has any clue what to do?

Finishing his improv session, Natsu takes a deep breath and a gulp of water. His eyes roam over the venue—and freeze.

Standing among the audience is a familiar figure.

Too much. Too close.

Natsu jumps to his feet. He feels like a stranger walked into his room unbidden, like someone read his diary. This is his safe zone, his private space. Nobody he knows can set a foot here unless he invites them himself.

“You,” he says, forgetting to smile, forgetting his politeness. “What are you doing here?”

Yoshinaga blinks at him, clearly startled by his mood. “I was just passing by,” he says. “And then I heard the drumming and got curious... Should I not have come here?”

Too much. Too much.

“You shouldn’t,” says Natsu, backing away. “You shouldn’t follow me around at all! What are you, a lost puppy?” Yoshinaga flinches, but Natsu’s walls have already cracked; there’s no stopping the next words. “Just stop being clingy and leave me alone!”

Yoshinaga backs away. “I didn’t know it was you,” he stammers. “Honest! Your drumming was just really good and—”

“Get out.”

Yoshinaga pales.

“Get out,” Natsu repeats. “And don’t ever try to follow me around again.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then tears well up in Yoshinaga’s eyes, and he turns around and runs out through the door.

Little by little common sense returns to Natsu’s brain.

What has he done?

Is he an idiot?

He has been trying to hold back for so long, and now this?

Isn’t this situation the very thing he has always been trying to avoid?

“Yoshinaga!” he calls, running after him. “Wait!”

His feet carry him outside. He looks right and left. No trace of Yoshinaga.

“Yoshinaga?” he calls again, but there’s no answer.

“I’m sorry,” he says. By now his voice is quiet. The sound is swallowed up by the rush of the passing cars.

He is alone.

---

Yoshinaga doesn’t look at him the entire next day. Natsu tries to catch his gaze several times but is only met with brown eyes fixing on the textbooks or the board or the lunchbox. He doesn’t look angry, just sad. Hurt. Somehow that’s worse.

Natsu wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. An apology, probably. A proper one. He’s not much good with those. It’ll require sincerity. Being open about something he’s always hated talking about.

The day passes. They don’t talk between classes or during lunch break. After school Natsu meets with Mika in the staircase again. His heart and mind aren’t in it. He always keeps hoping for a head of dark hair to show up around the corner, asking him to go to club.

In the end he gives up. “Sorry,” he tells Mika. “I’m not in the mood today. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

His feet carry him to the club room. Outside the door he stops. Hesitates.

There’s music coming from inside. It has improved a lot since he last heard it. Instinctively Natsu tries to tell who’s playing which parts. He finds he can’t remember.

That’s right, I never really fit in here.

The music stops. “Much better,” Akira-sensei tells the group. “Mizuhara-kun, you’ve improved again.”

“Yay!” That’s Mizuhara-senpai’s voice. “It’s because I’m playing with Yoshiyan. He’s really easy to match with!”

Natsu holds his breath.

“R-Really?” Yoshinaga stutters out. “Um... thank you!”

“It’s because Yoshinaga-kun looks out for others so much,” says Kurusu-senpai. “It makes playing with him really easy!”

Natsu doesn’t wait around. He turns on his heels and flees the place. Where to, he doesn’t know. Just out of this school. Away from everything.

He ends up in a playground, empty at this hour. Closing his eyes, he sits on the swing. Time passes around him. The world stands still.

What’s Yoshinaga thinking, trying to reach out to him? He’s already part of their family. He has enough people around him. There’s no need to include Natsu. They’d both be happier if they left each other alone.

But at the same time he misses him. A lot more than he’d expect.

Does he want him around? Does he not?

The rustle of footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns around.

His eyes meet with a familiar dark one.

Yoshinaga freezes, then turns around on his heel. In a hurry he scrambles back between the trees, towards the road. Natsu winces. Don’t ever try to follow me around again. This is his fault.

“Yoshinaga,” he calls as he runs after him. “Wait.”

He doesn’t answer. He keeps on running.

Natsu takes a deep breath. What he’s about to do frightens even himself.

“Atsumu!”

Yoshinaga stops.

With a few quick strides Natsu is beside him, feeling strangely exposed. He doesn’t like this. He wants to leave.

He stands his ground.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, completely sincerely. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

Yoshinaga lifts his hands, backing away. “No, it’s fine—”

“You just startled me,” Natsu continues. “And I was having a bad day and then I lost my self-control. Sorry you had to take the brunt of that.”

“It’s really okay.”

Natsu meets Yoshinaga’s gaze and finds him smiling. “You know,” he says, “I never understood what you were thinking. But yesterday, for the first time, I felt like you were being honest with me.”

Natsu is speechless. Something unnamed stirs in his chest.

“But I hurt you,” he manages out at last. “I made you cry.”

Yoshinaga shakes his head. “It’s not the end of the world,” he says. “I’m just glad you told me the truth!”

A burden falls of Natsu’s shoulders, a burden that he never knew was there in the first place.

It’s okay if he’s honest, Yoshinaga tells him. It’s okay to express his thoughts and emotions. Even the ones that can hurt.

Should he...?

“Let’s sit down,” he says, smiling again, a little more genuine than before. “I think I owe you an explanation.”

---

Atsumu, he thinks as he sits down in his room that night, feeling calmer than he has in weeks. He picks up his phone. The messages are still unread.

It’s ironic, really. They’ve had this entire conversation, and Yoshinaga—no, Atsumu has agreed to be more careful with Natsu’s personal space. He asked him to tell him whenever he oversteps a boundary and everything, and suddenly Natsu doesn’t feel so stressed over him reaching out anymore. Suddenly he doesn’t mind having him in his life a bit more. Even outside of school.

So he types a response. Atsumu replies almost at once. Natsu keeps the conversation going. He doesn’t know why. He just feels like it.

Maybe it’s because he suddenly feels a lot safer.

Atsumu.

Natsu smiles.

Maybe letting someone a bit closer doesn’t always have to be bad. He just needed to find the right person first.