#i mean the longer he interacts with both the less afraid he becomes

[mariaofdoranelle]

Stay a Little Longer - part 3

Fic masterlist

Written for @tomtenadia as part of the 2024 Rowaelin secret Santa!

In the last scene, I used some lines from canon and mixed it with my own! Hope you guys like it <3

Warnings: Implied sexual content

Words: 4,5k

The explosion erupted with a thundering roar, overpowering the hiss of the water as flames blinded the view of the target and engulfed the air with heat.

It was only their second meeting, and Rowan had given up on fixing his hair after the explosions. Aelin also noted that the targets were progressively getting less hard—the blocks of ice increasingly bigger, and her goal went from slowly melting it to merely making sure he saw some of the water before it evaporated.

“You should take a break. I’ll reinforce the magic barriers in the meantime,” he said.

Every day, he did it repeatedly. As if it meant nothing that Aelin’s magic could wreck barriers this strong in a few blows.

In fact, in all her clumsy explosivity, Rowan had never shied away from her magic—he seemed to be almost drawn to it, which made her relieved and scared at the same time. Relieved because, after witnessing so many people become terrified of her after displaying her magic, her name was thrown around in a way that portrayed her as either a god or a monster—but not with Rowan. With Rowan, the first teacher who wasn’t even remotely scared of her, Aelin was just herself.

But what did it mean?

That’s the part that got her terrified. Because something—whether it was a bond or a tendon—snapped in that drawing room when their magics touched, and it was with the sole person in the world that felt completely at ease with her magic.

Rowan felt it too. He got the types of bond mixed up due to some physical attraction he might be feeling for her—could she blame him?—but he’d figure it out soon.

In desperate need of a deviation from her own thoughts, Aelin said, “It’s hard to believe you’re this patient in the military.”

“That’s because I’m not. My mate gets a special treatment.”

“Would you stop?”

“The bond will still be there whether I stop or not, Princess.” Rowan tilted his head and stopped his work to peer at her. Something about her expression made him sigh. “But you’re not comfortable.”

“I’m not comfortable because we’re not mated.”

Rowan nodded, and a flash of disappointment and longing passed in his eyes, quicker than she could register, and he said, “I shall stop, then.”

The ache in her chest felt foreign, since he was finally granting her wishes. Aelin just wanted for Prince Rowan to forget about this without hurting him in the process.

“C’mere,” she said, tapping the patch of floor beside her. “In your many, many years, have you ever met a mated demi-Fae?”

“Just once, this couple from Mistward,” Rowan said as he sat next to her. “But my experience in Doranelle isn’t a good standard. I hear that things are less… segregated in Terrasen. Better.”

She frowned. “You guys truly don’t mingle with demi-Fae?”

“That issue is both social and personal, I’m afraid. Indeed, the demi-Fae that are allowed inside Doranelle don’t get to frequent the same places I usually do—which are among the high command of the military and in sporadical nobility parties my family coerces me to attend. With that in mind, I don’t mingle,” he said, using the exact wording of her question, “I constantly avoid social interactions—full-blooded or demi-Fae.” He sighed at her aghast expression. “Therefore, the only demi-Fae I see on a daily basis, unfortunately, is Lorcan.”

Doranelle’s one and only Grand General, while Rowan was “just” a regular general.

“Unfortunately because you’re from a deeply prejudiced land, or because you don’t wish to interact with Lorcan?”

“Both.”

“I see.” Aelin blinked, her gaze unfocused as she processed what she heard. She knew what the demi-Fae’s situation was in Doranelle, but it was always presented to her during meetings, as an statistic. Listening to Rowan’s point-of-view on the matter felt like a punch to the gut—while Aelin herself was a queen in the making, the kitchens were the furthest her own people could get inside Doranelle’s castle.

Once more, Aelin was glad she wasn’t Prince Rowan’s mate. As decent as he appeared to be, she did not want to be associated with the likes of him—personally or politically.

Aelin straightened, her chin high as she snarked, “At least you have a diversity token. I guess being the most powerful demi-Fae male alive is enough for Maeve to look past his unclean blood.”

Rowan shifted, still sat on the floor, his eyes careful as he analyzed Aelin’s expression. “To ensure there’s no misunderstanding…” he trailed, “I’m throughly repulsed by Maeve’s policies against the demi-Fae—which Sellene is already rectifying.”

“Oh, yes, and I’m throughly moved by your silent disagreement.”

His eyebrows rose up. “I beg your pardon?”

It hadn’t been even half an hour after Rowan’s calming exercise, but she could already feel the agitated fire beneath her skin, boiling the blood in her veins from indignation alone.

“How dare you imply that you were not complacent, in your mulberry silk tunic that was most likely stitched by an overworked demi-Fae seamstress. Your aunt,” Aelin spat the word, “built an empire founded on the exploitation and degradation of people like me, and yet you want me to believe you’d ever spare me a second glance, were it not for my title?”

“I would.”

She frowned, trying to see through that fog of anger. “What?”

“You doubted I’d look at you twice, and I’m telling you I would.” Rowan sighed. “As an unessential prince with no decision-making power,” he said with a pointed look, “I find it most practical to make changes from within. Small and well-measured acts of rebellion tend to be the most effective when you’re close to the people actively making the decisions.”

Aelin examined his open expression and wondered if he was trying to deceive her, or if he truly believed himself. “But it was not you who rebelled against her, was it? Maeve was killed by the people you vowed and failed to protect.”

“I suppose she was.” Rowan locked his jaw, his eyes growing distant.

˜˜

Their next few encounters got a lot less awkward once Aelin got those opinions off her chest, thank Mala.

Once she had learned the basics when it came to intensity, range, aim and everything else, she asked to pick the lesson’s activity for once, just in time to get the materials ready before they met again at The Dueling Hall.

“Easy,” he warned when her flames got too hot, too fast.

“Hush.” Aelin wiped the sweat off her brow, fatigue weighing down her limbs each minute she had to keep the flames at a controlled and gradually higher intensity—she wasn’t melting ice anymore, the stakes were too high. “I’ve got it under control, you Buzzard.”

“The same way you did when you shattered my mug?”

Aelin rolled her eyes at him, and her flames got involuntarily higher after his jab, making a shard blow off her candle holder, ruining its practical use.

She groaned and tossed it aside, along with the other overburnt ceramics. “This one was your fault. Don’t suffocate the artist!”

“It was useless before you ruined it. You’re a fire-wielder. You don’t need candles. Why on earth would you make a candle holder?”

“Because I have the fire, not the scented beeswax.”

“I’m not following.”

“You’ve never lit up a scented candle before? Those ones that release a fragrance when you light them up.”

Rowan stared at her, seemingly struggling to process this information. “But candles are for light. Why are you adding smell to the light?”

The brute. Aelin wouldn’t even bother with him this time. She threw a piece of clay at him for another round—she refused to leave this place without a clayware creation of her own.

“Don’t make anything too intricate in case you burn it again.”

“You are the worst teacher ever. You’ve got absolutely no faith in me.”

“I have faith that you’ll become a proficient wielder someday, not immediately after you overburned four pieces of clayware in a row.” He pondered over his next words while opening a hole into the ball of clay. “Think about it this way: this is a safe space for you to make mistakes. You’d rather learn from them here than when the stakes are high.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “Are you speaking from experience?”

Rowan tilted his head, his hands pausing their work as his gaze grew unfocused. “Nothing ever happened at work, though my family does like to recall some embarrassing stories from time to time.”

“Do tell!” she asked with a little too much excitement, wide-eyed.

Rowan chuckled and looked back at his mug-to-be as he recalled. “In my pre-teen years, I used to practice my healing magic with animals. This one time, my mother’s Asterion mare was having a difficult birth. It took ages for the veterinarian to arrive and she was under so much stress, so I decided to send a soft breeze towards her and—“

Rowan winced.

“And what?” Aelin set aside her chunk of clay and leaned forward, unashamed to show her eagerness.

“I blew down the entire stable.” He looked down, the slightest hue of pink tinting the tips of his ears.

Aelin cackled, her shoulders bending forward as her laughter filled the dueling hall. Rowan regarded her with a funny expression her aching ribcage didn’t allow her to decipher.

“It’s not that funny,” he said with mock-indignation.

“Were any animals hurt?��

“Just a few scrapes I healed immediately after.”

“Then it is absolutely hilarious.”

Chuckling, he shook his head and shaped his mug’s handle with a string of clay. “I’m sure you have even worse stories.”

“Worse? Yes. But not funnier in a million years.” Aelin looked down to her work and resumed shaping it. She needed something to do with her hands if she was going to talk about it. “The extent of my power was supposed to be kept a secret until I was of age, but it was impossible to do it when I couldn’t control it at all, so soon I was being watched by the entire world. If I accidentally blew up a wing of the castle, shortly other kingdoms would fund local rebels or demand restrictions on my use of power in treaties. Or maybe Maeve—the creepiest of all—would send my mother another letter requesting to meet me. The pacing and worrying was a constant in my youth—will she try to kidnap me next? How much power can I wield without having other kingdoms trying to harm or kill me?”

To her relief, Rowan didn’t show any pity. “It’s twisted and messed up. If anyone can learn how to navigate this, it’s you.”

Aelin didn’t feel like there was anything else to say, so she didn’t. Her soon-to-be ceramic was already shaped, and so was Rowan’s—she couldn’t tell by how done it looked, but by how equally ugly it was from the others he gave her to fire.

Aelin appraised it while starting with a low intensity of her fire.

While she tried to achieve the best shape she could for her work, Rowan’s mugs were done as soon as it looked useable enough. If the handle fits his hand, the bottom is flat enough to stay still and the hole is deep enough to hold his coffee, it’s done.

“Easy,” Rowan warned when her flames grew a bit higher.

“Shut it,” she hissed.

They were both kneeling, one on each side, hovering over their potter’s work.

“I better have a new mug after this lesson, Princess.”

“You could’ve had three new mugs by now if you’d help me out a little.”

“If I were helping you out ever since the lessons started, you’d be turning the clay into dust, not merely shattering it.”

Aelin wanted to sneer back, she absolutely did, but she was halfway into it and not a single shard had popped off the ceramics. As if Rowan had sensed it too, his attention was now wholly on their work.

A bit more. Increase just a bit more intensity, slow and steady—

A small, outer piece of Rowan’s mug handle fell off and, without thinking, he lowered down her flames.

“Gods,” he said, stupefied with his unintended help. “I wasn’t thinking—“

She shushed him, still focused on the flames. Now that he had set the perfect amount, she’d just have to keep it.

Keep it

Keep it

Steady

Rowan breathed, “Just a bit more and—“

A small shard of Aelin’s own piece fell off.

“Don’t,” he said. “It was nothing. Minimal damage. Just keep up like this.”

She did exactly that, rubbing her face as she swayed on her knees from fatigue; still, she willed her fire to stay and act exactly as she commanded.

“Do you think it’s done now?”

“Don’t hush it.” His eyes were glued to the nearly done clayware. “We’re almost there.”

Aelin couldn’t bear to count the time. The amount of time she had to spend burning these things, controlling the fire so it wouldn’t break, was tiresome in the least. This was the longest she stayed without seriously tearing their work, and her other two attempts weighed down on her now.

“I think you can put it off now—slowly,” Rowan said.

Aelin complied her shoulders relaxing each time she decreased her fire, but still trying to maintain a steady rhythm.

She heaved a loud sigh and threw herself on the floor.

“Congratulations, Princess.” Rowan beamed at the ugliest mug she’s ever seen. His fingers wrapped around the gap in the handle as he mimicked lifting it to his mouth and said, “You’ve just burned functional enough clayware.”

She ignored his sass and grinned to herself, facing the ceiling. “Thank you.”

He laid as well, beside her, and handed her his mug. “You should have it. It’s your accomplishment.”

“But you wanted your mug so bad!” She said as she turned to face him. He did the same.

“I didn’t want the mug itself as much as I wanted for it to be whole by the end of the lesson.”

“Thank you,” she said, holding the mug with both hands with a small smile, as if it was something precious. She set it down and reached for her own creation. “You shall have mine, then. It’s only fair.”

Rowan chuckled. “Thank you for the lovely… miniature wand?” He laid it on the palm of his hand—his very large hand, in her defense.

Aelin gasped. “It’s a spoon!”

“A spoon,” he trailed, saucy yet cautious with her gift as he gently trailed his finger along it.

“Of course. You always carry so many knifes around, but I’ve never seen you carry a spoon,” she teased.

“How wise of you.” The corner of his lips twitched, but he was the kind of man that clamped down even the tiniest of smiles. “I’ve gotten too comfortable with my weapons lately. Finding a way to harm someone with this will be a good exercise.”

She didn’t doubt he would.

˜˜

In all her twenty-one years, Aelin had never grown to love her flames.

She’d feared them and their potential to harm.

She’d felt amused by them at the time she’d accidentally set some of Lord Suria’s papers on fire, when he drafted a proposal for a law that pissed her off.

She’d embarrassed herself among burnt books and under the gaze of an enraged librarian.

At best, she respected herself and her gift.

But right now, Aelin loved it.

The wind blew away her hair as she ran and twirled around the beach, the sand soft and loose under her feet while she opened her arms wide for the flames to dance on them.

Her chest felt so big and wide it didn’t feel like that at all—it felt as if it’d opened itself to welcome the entire world inside of her, and Aelin and this beach were one and the same.

I love this. I love this. I love this.

And Aelin wasn’t the only one affected. For the first time, she’d seen Rowan allow a full grin to sneak past his grumpy defenses. He sat on the sand the entire time, but Aelin could feel him sending more wind towards her when nature slowed it down.

She couldn’t tell how she was able to discern which particles of the wind were his and which weren’t, but some primal part of her did—a concern meant for the four walls of her room, not the beach.

She’d never felt as carefree—it felt as if her entire existence narrowed down to this, and she was made to feel to the bone the magnificent synchronicity between the wind and her fire.

Aelin opened her arms wider and ran where Rowan was, laughing at his antics when he played with the wind against her.

Rowan. He watched her every move—today, always—and she knew it was all because of him. Aelin wouldn’t go so far as to claim that her new newfound skills and confidence with her flames were his accomplishment more than her own, but it was impossible to deny that she wouldn’t be like this right now if it wasn’t for him. Her training wasn’t even complete, but she felt so grateful already.

Aelin laid on the floor beside his seated figure, but she couldn’t bring herself to put her fire down—it stayed low atop her body, like a small, living bonfire.

Rowan put one hand through the flame, unafraid and without touching her body, the way one did with steam before a hot bath.

“People usually make camp fires at night,” he teased, “not when the sun’s still high.”

“It’s so windy.” She smiled, her eyes closed. “I like how it tingles the flame.”

Rowan immediately sent more her way. She gave him a close-lipped, grateful smile.

Then he threw the smallest, most obnoxious block of ice at her. It turned to steam before it grazed her skin.

“You brute!”

He did it again.

Aelin frowned and grew the flames higher.

He chuckled. “I won’t bite.”

“I find it hard to believe you.”

Rowan’s expression slacked, the awareness of their exchange’s underlying meaning all over his face. He swallowed. He gave his eyes one second to wander over her before he turned to face the sea.

“We were supposed to be in the middle of combat training by now.” He gave her a pointed look. “You haven’t even crafted a passable sword yet.”

“Gods, s’fine.” Aelin lifted her forearm and waved a fire sword.

“A minimally passable sword is much sharper”.

“Isn’t it enough that the sword will be burning things? You also want it sharp enough to cut the fabric between the realms?”

“I actually wanted it to look like a sword more than a pole, but I wouldn’t object it if you made it happen.”

Aelin groaned and put her fire sword down. Despite his own insistence that they get some work done, Rowan laid down beside her, on the sand. They silently enjoyed each other’s companies, keeping that same dynamic where their magics gently played with each other like rippling sea water blending into the sand.

As a princess of a ruthlessly cold kingdom, if Aelin had known beaches could be this fun, she would’ve come here as soon as she landed in Wendlyn—it was either Rowan’s doing, or beaches in Suria were extraordinarily lame. Perhaps both.

He didn’t bring her here for fun, but to make her ready for adverse circumstances. Beaches were made of sand, water and wind, and all three of them could change Aelin’s fire, so she was supposed to be getting acquainted with those changes and reshaping her powers to accommodate them without losing efficiency in battle. A very important exercise, one she’d completely focus on was she not having the time of her life today.

It seemed like he was willing to forgive her for it, by the way his calls to continue the lesson progressively decreased once Aelin tugged her tunic off her pants and started to run with the wind.

Every time he ignited her flames further, Rowan’s scent came with the breeze, as if it didn’t unsettle her by default. At first, she thought that it was part of a cheap ploy to win her, wearing a cologne that smelled like pine and snow, two of Terrasen’s symbols. But then the scent lingered after he got wet or sweaty, and her theory fell apart because no cologne could withstand their training sessions.

Rowan naturally smelling like her home was a disfavor to her attempt to ignore that tug in her chest when he was near.

When Aelin rolled to her side, he was already watching her.

She watched him back, unabashed.

She watched how the sunlight made his gray eyelashes look holy, and how it blessed his skin in the form of a tan. How beautiful that skin tone looked along with the pink of his pillowy lips.

“Do you ever feel as if our magics are kindred?”

Rowan reached for Aelin’s aflame hand and stroked its back with his thumb.

“All of the time,” he said in a tone that was too quiet, almost muffled by the waves on the shore.

She traced her thumb along his palm. “I do too.”

“We could try.” He closed his hand, keeping her thumb trapped inside it. “We’d cross out one out of two.”

Mates or carranam, is what he didn’t say.

He never freed her from his palm. The one place most Fae used to test a carranam bond. She wasn’t ready to do it yet, bare her mind to him, stay at her most vulnerable, then face the consequences of having two bonded royals from kingdoms that antagonize each other.

But when it was just the two of them in a little breakable heaven, she almost followed the commands from her aching heart to just do it and get it over with.

“I—“

Rowan let go of her hand after the silence that led to a stammer.

“You don’t trust me,” he said. Not a question nor an accusation, though it pained her to see the crestfallen look in his eyes.

“There’s different ways to trust someone.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Aelin lifted her hand to his cheek, her thumb moving in idle circles against it. “I trust you, but some things are bigger than that,” she whispered.

Rowan didn’t look convinced, but didn’t want to argue or demand anything from her. She scrambled her mind for other ways to get her point across, but all it did was pause on the very method she hopelessly tried to avoid.

She kept her stare locked on his as she let go of his face and slowly, making sure he understood every step of the way, tilted her head back until her throat was arched and bared before him.

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but… a plea. It sounded like a plea.

Ever so tentative, Rowan slowly wrapped a hand around her neck, letting his thumb trace the length. She briefly closed her eyes and arched it further, a silent invitation.

He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away.

Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

One bite, one movement, was all it would take for him to rip out her throat. His elongated canines slid along her flesh—gently, precisely. In order to keep from running her fingers down his back and drawing him closer, Aelin clenched the sand like she’d do to her bedsheets, but all it did was slip through her fingers and leave her with nothing to hold on to.

“No one else,” she whispered. “I would never allow anyone else at my throat.” Showing him was the only way he’d understand that trust, in a manner that only the predatory, Fae side of him would comprehend. “No one else,” she said again.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her. He reverently trailed pecks from the spot below her ear to her collarbone, and Aelin’s whole body was aware of it, from her agitated core to the goosebumps breaking through her skin.

Rowan closed his teeth over the spot where her lifeblood thrummed and pounded, his breath hot on her skin.

She shut her eyes, every sense narrowing on that sensation, on the teeth and mouth at her throat, on the powerful body trembling with restraint above hers. His tongue flicked against her skin.

She made a small noise that might have been a moan, or a word, or his name. He shuddered and pulled back, the cool air kissing her neck. Wildness—pure wildness sparked in those eyes.

Then he thoroughly, brazenly surveyed her body, his nostrils flaring delicately as he scented exactly what she wanted.

Aelin threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his lips to hers—once she did it, Rowan didn’t hold back. Every flick of his tongue was demanding, the fingers on her waist near crushing, as if she’d escape his grasp any minute.

This… Aelin couldn’t say she never saw it coming. She’d been attracted to Rowan ever since she first laid eyes on him, even though attraction on itself doesn’t dictate her actions, and the situation they were in complicated things.

However, in that moment, there were no kingdoms or ghosts to haunt her.

There was no avoiding Rowan or the way his nearness messed with her mind and body, so Aelin’s new vow to herself was that whatever happened now stayed between them, the sand and the sea.

His touch boldened, reaching up to her side boob and breastband as he ravaged her neck. One lewd whimper, and Rowan used his wind to block any noise from leaving their little bubble—every sound she made for him was his alone.

Aelin tucked his tunic off his pants and sneaked her hands inside it. His heated skin was barely noticeable compared to when Aelin felt muscles she hadn’t known existed.

His abs felt so hard under such soft skin, it reminded Aelin of the most delicious chocolate bar, with smooth lines dividing neat ridges—

Stop it, a voice that sounded akin to her conscience interrupted her thoughts.

She shook the comparison aside and guided his mouth back to hers. Fae males—once Aelin allowed him on her neck, he hang onto it like his favorite toy.

Aelin lifted her hips, and the way his own ground back against where she was sensitive the most tore a moan out of her, even with her clothes on.

“Are you sure?” Rowan rasped quite gentlemanly, given the state they were currently in.

In response, Aelin burned his linen tunic into ash.

And then loved her—maybe not with his heart, but with his teeth, tongue and other body parts that fit even more perfectly, which felt just as nice for now.

In fact, it felt so good even the gods might envy her choice of lover.

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[tenjikufag]

hi,, it ifs okay I’d like to be your 🍮 anon! im just wondering if you’d be interested in writing a gojo x male reader? Soft angst to fluff please!

Everything is Temporary.

Gojo Satoru x male reader

-angst (dunno what soft angst is or if this fits), end fluff, no cws

-a/n hello 🍮 anon thank you for the req.

Nothing lasts forever.

Temporary is all there is.

Sure, some things last longer, a class is longer, interactions can be super long, lines can be long, shows, songs, you get it. Things can last awhile

But sometimes lives are longer than others. Just as the others start, another one finishes. Except there’s no clock, no time stamp to see how long you’re here for, how long you have left.

You could only wish that you were fortunate enough to live what was deemed a long life.

But, here you found yourself enrolled in a Jujutsu Society run schooling.. and it’s been all but drilled into your head that things don’t last, not even people.

This occupation that you’d been forced into from birth wasn’t forgiving and was erratic on a good day.

Death announcements were just as common as saying hello to someone in a day.

That’s why it’s so hard to want relationships, to want friendships. But, you could atleast say you *had* friends.

Getou Suguru, although not the most friendly he cared for people.

Shoko Ieiri, blunt and honest. But again, she cared.

And finally

Gojo Satoru.. a loud, criminally annoying smart ass.

He knew he was stronger than everyone, he knew we could only keep up and never beat him. But through this obvious facade of his, you and your friends saw right through him. He wasn’t one to scare for himself, but he worried for you, his friends.

But especially you.

You’d think it would be flattering; but it only came off as condescending and making you feel lesser than the two others in your group..

“I’m just sayin! I’m there to protect ya!”

“I don’t need protecting Satoru! That’s the whole point! Let me go!”

His grip on your uniform was tight, it made your skin feel hot at the close proximity.

Satoru had been trying to stick himself to your hip for this next mission, it was an S Grade. The four of you had been warned immensely beforehand and were told when to retreat if it came to.

Your friend never wanted you to go on these.

He’d never admit that he was deathly afraid of losing you, afraid of watching you die.

“Ugh, I know I can’t stop ya but at-least let me take you out on a date beforehand! Who knows what’s gonna happen!”

There it was. The teasing. The teasing that Gojo had become infamous for.. you never believed a word he said, apparently he says it to everyone so why would it be different for you? Besides, he wasn’t into guys much less you.

“Stop saying shit you don’t mean! It’s rude and makes you look like a jackass!”

Stomping away from him, you didn’t even look back to see the pathetic pout he had..

-

“Yknow Y/n..”

Suguru sat beside you, slouched over his knees and watching the cars pass by

“Satoru doesn’t tease anyone like he does you.. not anymore at least..”

Furrowing your brows, crushed juice box in hand you whipped around to berate your friend

“So he’s got to you now? He doesn’t mean it, I know he doesn’t! Don’t you try-“

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Y/n. Especially not about this stuff..”

You felt deflated, even if it was true.. you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t be in a relationship, not with the life you lived currently.

It was a guarantee that one of you would die, hell you’d be one of the lucky ones to see 25! You’ve had classmates die since you’ve been here, both upper and lower class men!

Why would you entertain it?

Why would you subject yourself to such loss?

“Well, he’s shit outta luck. I don’t even know why I have friends.. my parents told me I shouldn’t have any, they made me promise that I wouldn’t get married aswell..”

“You won’t get married, not that quickly.”

Suguru chuckled, you smacked him upside the head.

“You know what I mean, Suguru.. I don’t think I.. I don’t think I should accept it..”

“So you like him too?”

Your heartbeat picked up, discomfort in the way it made your breathe unstable.. you liked him, didn’t you? A pang in your chest thrummed, guilt for this started festering in your stomach. Why? Why did this have to happen? It was the one rule!

“I’m gonna head back.. make sure to let him down easy..”

Suguru softly smiled at you, clicking his phone closed and stuffing it in his pocket..

—

“You got him admitting it?! Give it! Suguru! Hand it over!”

“Ah! Get off! You’re gonna break my damn phone!”

The two males wrestled to the floor, well more so Satoru tackling his friend down with no real need.. he was gonna get it, he was just impatient.

Phone in hand he sat on his friends back, keeping him down, and pressed play.

The conversation played out, his cheeks heating up at the sound of your voice.. he felt giddy, waiting for the confession.

You confessed you liked him, but then came your rant about friends and relationships.. it broke his heart admittedly but he’s a stubborn guy..

“Hey! Why’d you tell him to let me down easy?! Some friend you are!”

Suguru groaned under the male, shoving him off finally.

“I’m realistic, that’s why. I’m not gonna push him to do something he doesn’t believe in. And you shouldn’t either.”

Satoru chewed his lip, he knew Suguru was right but if the world ended today, he’d want to know that he was yours, and you were his..

“I’m asking him out again. Before the mission!”

Satoru ran out of his dorm, leaving his friend to roll his eyes.. he really hoped it worked out. It was a pain to be the in between because Shoko didn’t like entertaining the two of you.

—

Your mission was a day away. You sat under a tree enjoying the breeze that flowed over your skin and through your hair. This was peace you hadn’t had the opportunity to enjoy in awhile.

And yet again, it was temporary.

The call from your white haired friend cut through the peaceful aura of the area and suddenly the breeze felt like a nuisance- your hair getting in your face and suddenly becoming paranoid of bugs that laid in the dirt.

“Yo! Y/n! I needa talk to you!”

Glancing up, your friend stood above you with a gleaming smile. Sighing, you stood up to follow him to wherever he needed to take you.. but he didn’t take you anywhere but instead held your head between his hands..

“I like you, Y/n.”

It felt like drums were in to ears, your breathe was caught in your throat.. without thinking about it you raised your hand

You slapped him.

He yelped, going to catch your arms before you continued to hit him.

“Don’t say that! Don’t tell me that shit! You know how it makes me feel!”

Anger bubbled over, you screamed at him while thrashing to free your arms.

“Y/n! Calm down! I mean it! With everything I have I mean it!”

You paused, catching your breathe. The way he looked at you made everything hurt, guilt built up again.

“You.. you shouldn’t like me. I can’t.. I can’t be with you.”

“But you can! I promise-“

“You can’t promise anything Satoru! Even if I could be with you, one of us will die and leave the other all alone! It’s not fair, I can’t do that!”

He loosened his grip on you, replacing it with a soft hug. The white hair tickled your ear, feeling him bury his face into your shoulder.

“If you don’t take the chance, how can I say I loved you for my whole life? If I die, how could you say you loved me?”

The ball in your throat kept you from speaking, you felt stiff in his arms.

“I can’t promise forever, I know that.. but I can promise I’ll be there for as long as I can. Just let me try and make it to forever with you..”

He hugged you tighter, telling you of all the sweet, small things he could offer to you if you let him.

“You believe everything is temporary, but I swear I’ll love you for eternity.. please. Give me the chance to show you for as long as I can..”

The breathe you held finally let go, allowing the stiffness in your body melt away- melding your body to his in a tight embrace.

“Okay.. I’ll give it a chance..”

He perked up, moving his face right infront of yours.

“Really?! You’ll be my boyfriend?!”

Your eyebrow twitched.. his cheeky smile on full display

“Is that not just what that was..”

“Cmon!! Ask me! I want it to be official!”

Why is he like this…

“You’re so annoying..

Will you be my-“

His lips smashed onto yours, arms wrapped around your neck. He continued to leave pecks on them, saying ‘yes’ inbetween every single one.

“I’m your boyfriend, you gotta deal with me~ aren’t you so lucky~?”

He sing-songed, bouncing lightly on his toes.

You were taking a chance on this…?

Satoru didn’t wait for you to finish or start saying anything before starting to drag you towards your friends to share the good news.

If temporary took you to end of your life, it wouldn’t be so bad with him and your friends there.. you guessed.

[phantomdoofer]

So. Nearly everyone I write has powers. But what are those powers? Well, here ya go.

Peppino and Giuseppe - super-strength and super-speed. The strength derives from their anger, the speed from fear, so when they feel those emotions strongly, they get a power boost and it can run out of control. They can activate it at will. The strength power also comes with the side-effect of causing them to build muscle bulk at a highly accelerated rate. This is more or less padding against both their powers. These powers also interact sometimes; that's why when they get up to speed they also create a destructive barrier.

Gustavo: animal telepathy. Gustavo can, bluntly, speak to animals telepathically. He can also pick up emotions off other sapients, especially strong ones, but this is more a side-effect. He cannot fully control this, and it's always on, so he can faintly hear any animal's thoughts at close range. He can focus to cut it down to one voice, or expand it.

Pepperman: ego boost. Pepperman's power increases his size and strength dramatically, based on his egotism. If he loses faith in himself, he loses them (that's why he shrinks at the end of his fight). This isn't a hair-trigger - it has to be a massive drop in confidence. In his "normal" size, he's a bit of a runt for a Verduran. When he starts "getting mad" in his second phase, that's actually him psyching himself up to keep his form!

Vigilante and Anita: true sight. Both of them have the same power (Pizzamancer created Cheeseslimes, and he used people as the base; they assume one of Anita's ancestors was one of them), which, on the surface, gives them immense telescopic vision and the ability to "lock on" to a target so they don't lose it. It also sometimes lets them see things in their "true" form, such as invisible things and through illusions.

Noise: according to doctors, Noise does not have any powers; however, his tendency to develop claws and fangs, and even briefly assume a monstrous form, seem to indicate otherwise. It's honestly still under investigation. He hasn't asked Aldo because Aldo hasn't revealed he can actually engineer superpowers.

Noisette: Cartoon. Noisette's powers let her essentially become a living cartoon. She can pull objects from nowhere, ignore the laws of physics (if it's funny), and is functionally invulnerable (assuming you don't have an eraser or something like paint thinner). However, she slowly loses her self-control in that form, so she never goes full Toon. She's also afraid if she stays that way too long she won't be able to come back - the more Toon she goes, the longer it takes to revert. In fact, part of her current wacky behavior is because she never fully reverted from Toon form after her first big transformation. She's very careful about doing much with it as a result.

Fake: Fake doesn't have "superpowers" per se, but their strange form lets them do a lot: they can shape-shift, jump incredibly high, grow briefly into a "combat" form, consume almost infinite amounts of mass, turn liquid, split into five with all the same powers, and so on. Being a mix of two different species (human and frog) also gives them a wider array of instincts and broader senses. Plus having a five-way internal dialogue means they're very deliberate.

Paolo (Pizzahead): While Paolo had much the same Cartoon powers as Noisette while he was Pizzahead, his real power is actually Mechanical Aptitude: he instinctively knows how machines work just by looking at them for a while, so long as he's taken something similar apart before.

Aldo: Phoenix. Aldo has one of the most overpowered abilities in the world, allowing him to regenerate from literally anything. He can also burn through things on a conceptual, not physical, level, so he literally can't be contained. It also froze his aging, so he's functionally immortal. He even uses a limited form of telekinesis, by wrapping something in a cocoon of flame then manipulating it. It maintains his health, as well - any virus, tumor, or agent that tries to alter his body gets quite literally burned away. This means Aldo is often in faint pain, as his body incinerates these things - meaning he's almost always burning alive, just a little. He's got one hell of a built-up pain tolerance as a result.

[mwolf0epsilon]

So Dogma’s bean turns into a Vestige? How much does his behavior change? Is he no longer close to Dogma?

And what about Tup’s bean?

Not a lot changes actually!

Other than DB no longer being able to feel physical pain and having a slightly more malleable form (the lack of connection means the Beans are no longer constrained to their small and simplistic form, which is something Coh abuses on the regular with his disturbing displays of shapeshifting), he's still DB because Dogma got reconned much later than the usual reconditioned troopers (Reconditioning is a last resort situation, because decommissioning "faulty units" is less of a hassle than the potential side-effects of what is basically lobotomizing someone).

It helps that DB had some help staying mentally grounded (the mouse droids both he and Dogma befriended), which is usually the primary issue with Vestiges. If they are pushed aside by their troopers or other Beans, they become apathetic and somewhat aggressive because they really have nothing to live for and are basically just forced to exist in a world that they no longer feel attached to, and where they can no longer really grow as individuals.

The thing about Vestiges that I think I haven't managed to make clear, is that they are remnants of who their trooper used to be before they were reconditioned.

That's the reason why Cody calls his Bean 'Coh'. It's because that's what his brothers used to call him before he got reconned as a cadet, and it's a name that his Bean still holds a special connection to and feels more comfortable responding to (it also explains his behavior! Coh is incredibly child-like in his logic, interactions with others, and overall lack of awareness of boundaries, despite being much more connected to the world than most other Vestiges).

DB is essentially all that's left of Dogma as everyone knew him. His trooper is now a blank slate, and DB is the ghost of who he used to be (much like Coh is the ghost of who Cody used to be as a very young cadet). That is to say, he's incredibly aware to the point where he knows that his new existence as a Vestige is not gonna be a welcomed one (since most Beans are afraid of them), so he's using his invisibility ability more than the shapeshifting to remain hidden from sight (since he hasn't really mastered how to change his colors the same way Coh has).

The poor guy is so anxious that, had he not hidden away in the vents or refused to stay visible, Tup (who had been caring for him after Dogma was taken away) would have found out what happened to his brother much earlier... Everyone would have.

As for Tup's Bean... The poor guy is an anomaly for sure.

He's between standard Bean and Vestige, and honestly no one knows what to make of it. Not even the poor lil guy. He can still feel pain (which is unusual for a Vestige) and he's too solid still to completely change shapes (he feels a bit like mochi tho, and is very stretchy). That said he has that unnerving aura that only Anakin seems to sense.

He's not entirely a ghost because Tup is still very much Tup (just with occasional memory issues). But I wouldn't say he's your typical Bean either. He's a very unique case.

[imagine-silk]

Ur peter and mj hcs r so good! I can just imagine the darling sort of forgetting that this isn't normal after a while. They just care so much, they're just trying to protect me, thats why they lock me up when its dangerous outside, or drug my food when I'm too rowdy. Just soft stockholm syndrome. Do you think there would ever be a catalyst for them becoming more obsessive/protective/darker yanderes? Maybe mayday gets hurt, or something happens to someone close to them, and it makes them both a bit more jaded and a lot more afraid of the world when it comes to you.

》I'm going to keep it 100, I am living for the asks I've been getting. Also I read this wrong so I'll do something else after this.

Now there aren't a lot of ways this would happen. Again, they are very mellow people and they're pretty confident you can walk outside and that they can protect you. That doesn't mean it can't happen.

If you get hurt during crisis

This doesn't last forever.

In New York things happen that can't be handled by normal people, hence Spiderman. Peter will save you but in the event he doesn't find you fast enough or you get hurt it adds up after a while. If you get too many points they get paranoid.

You say it's stupid and you're always okay after but it's not up for negotiation. If they have to lock you inside so be it. Like everything it escalates.

At first it's just like you're grounded, the honor system. If you don't, say you're an adult and you can be trusted to go across the street, they will start to lock the door. The end game is locking you into your room forcefully or not. It will last longer if you keep trying to go outside.

Racism

Now, I don't know if you noticed but I write very color coded. I wonder why. You can take anything you want from my writing it really doesn't change much. But being anything other than white passing will be met with, at the very least, strange looks. Racism comes in all different shapes and flavors.

They aren't going to take it out on you, you didn’t do anything, you're perfect the way you are. No, they're going to get aggressive with other people.

There are people who don't care or they fawn over you being adopted. People love a white savior. They are not amused. However, there will be people who look disgusted. Those people get a very contemptuous interaction that may result in Peter squeezing their hand too hard on accident or MJ will comment she hopes the rest of their day is as good as they are. What they hate most is the wary looks, like you being there isn't something they know is allowed or not.

A day they almost kill someone is the day you took Mayday to the park. It was all fine until you went to pick her up and some dude started yelling at you to put her down. The cops called them to get you at the station and they were beyond livid. You're sitting in cuffs and Mayday is across the room trying very hard to get away without crawling on the wall. They crack the walls with their screaming and Peter actually breaks the counter, "My kid better never be in here again." Peter makes a note of the officer who arrested you and is not so nice to them while he's swinging.

You're stressed

Once you're adopted they let up on keeping you home, you're going to come back anyway. You go to college and have hobbies. That's all fine. But there are time you get overwhelmed and refuse to take their help. To be honest you should have known what was going to happen next. They are going to knock you out and keep you for a few days to dote on whether you like it or not.

Obsession

This is going to happen regardless. It's not something you trigger as much as it's just life. Still Yanderes and never forget it. There are times it feels like they want to eat you or smother you dead. Some hugs are way too tight, Peter's less so because he doesn't want you to ever be afraid of him. Sometimes their nosiness pushes boundaries you have to reinstate. They'll squish you on the couch or pull you in their lap entirely. Tell them you're an adult and they'll say they don't care.

All in all they don't move past mellow. Because if that happened lives would be lost. They can be inconvenient but it became so normal it's dealt with as normal.

[arziaisfrench]

Did Khushi and Arnav fall in love at this point or is it too early to talk about "love"?

Before starting my recap of season 2, I first want to take the time to summarize my opinion about the feelings of Arnav and Khushi regarding each other, in order to make the understanding of what I will demonstrate soon, more apparent.

From what I have read from other reviews on the show, many believe that Khushi and Arnav are not yet in love at this point in the series, that is to say, at episode 49, at the beginning of season 2 (i'm refering to the hotstar division of the show), when Khushi decides to leave Dehli, to leave Arnav. And I totally disagree.

Let me explain why.

As I explained on my twitter account : "I don't believe that one falls in love in a precise moment, for me love penetrates the heart in mysterious ways, the beginning of a love is not perceptible by our spirits, even the heart is unaware of the beginning."

For me both fell in love, not at first sight but gradually in a pretty fast pace, Khushi working in Arnav's office was what made that progression fast and possible.

They both fell soo much when they were interacting more than they ever did with anyone else before, because them being together in the same place for less than 14 days just made everything they fell before about each other much more vibrant ! They couldn't ignore or elude the very strong attraction between them yes, but not only, also that strange bond I talked about before, that began to tie since their first meeting, that strange unconscious understanding that they share somthing special, a common innocence but also a darkness that the people around them do not even have awareness of.

To me, the rainy-scene was a revelation for Khushi and a confirmation for Arnav (just after the red-sari moment). I already explain why I think that way in the recap of the 1st season, so if you're curious about that hypotesis I have, you might check it out.

But then the real and main issue at this moment (when Khushi decided to leave Delhi) is that Arnav decided to ignore and to not accept his feelings while Khushi denied them completely, only her body will testify to what she really feels.

It's not because love penetrates your heart, that this love you will automatically recognize, that you will accept it, understand it, that you will give it importance, or that you will make it a priority.

This doesn't mean that you will no longer doubt or/and that this love will have the same amplitude, the same influence on you at every moment of your life, in a constant and fluid way.

Arnav will go to war against himself for him to not accept this love which he certainly recognizes but which he does not want because he is terribly afraid of it !

In my opinion, Arnav will oscillate between being overwhelmed at the idea of living while deciding to ignore the importance and the intensity of his emotions, (of his love) and wondering if it is really love, this love that scares him so much, that he is feeling.

And as I wrote before I really think the writers asked for advice and knowledge from psychiatrists and psychologists to write the characters. Because, Arnav's progression in accepting his love will follow a precise journey, that I'm gonna try to summarize here :

The steps:

The Initial Clash of Emotions -you feel the emotions and you live them without being able to control anything

Denial -you try to make yourself believe that these emotions did not exist, were not as intense as felt, etc.

Consciousness - being aware of the emotions: -you become aware of the emotions that you felt, and feel

The Revolt -why me? why do i feel this way and why this person makes me feel this way?? -the attitude of refusal and hostility in front of the person who makes you feel all these emotions

Understanding -having an understanding of what is happening to you -trying to understand what you feel and why

Doubts & reflections -ask questions about the accuracy of what you feel, question emotions, situations, and the people

Negotiation -try to find a compromise, solutions on how to act concerning these emotions

Acceptance -accept what you feel without trying to find excuses, without looking for someone to blame or something to hide with

Trust -have confidence in yourself and in the other -have confidence in this love

As for Khushi, she will be just as overwhelmed and upset, not only by all that she will learn about Arnav that she didn't know until then, but it'll also reinforce the love she feels so obviously and that she still denies.

But also because her heart and her body will never stop trying to make her understand what she has already begun to doubt, it is something that scares her so much: the fact that she has fallen in love with a man who she thinks will never be able to love her because of his social status and his way of being, a man she thinks is unworthy of.

You can notice that Khushi's journey to accept her love is less complex, she denies her feelings for a very very long time, which is very dark, cause it means she would rather sacrifice her right to feel just to be able to live in a way that don't trigger her to the point of bringing back her suic'dal thoughts.

But then, she will acknowledge her feelings to then quite rapidly, accept them. And I think it because both had different but still very unhealthy ways to cope with their traumas. He isolates himself and uses/gains power to deal with the pain while she denies her right to feel, so she doesn't have to deal with the pain.

[akaluan]

so what would erich think of THIS version of uryuu and ichigo? :3c

Hmmm.

.

Erich senses Uryuu’s use of power and becomes… curious.

(He’s new to wandering close to Seireitei, and doesn’t think he’ll stay this close for long. It’s nice to not worry about Hollows as much, but being so close to the Shinigami is… worrying.)

Still, Uryuu’s power makes him very curious; everything he’s ever learned tells him that what he’s sensing cannot be true. A Quincy-Hollow hybrid is impossible.

Erich goes to investigate, and finds nothing except a slowly healing tear leading to a very strange looking reality. Pulling it back open far enough to follow the faint traces he can feel, he is shocked to find dead and dying Quincy scattered around.

(He’s never come across a Quincy here in Soul Society. To find multiple Quincy hiding here, so close to the Shinigami…)

(He’s suspicious.)

Following in the wake of the hybrid Quincy is easy enough; he just needs to follow the trail of bodies. Of course, he’s also picking up traces of others – a Shinigami and a Hollow – who are also fighting the Quincy alongside the hybrid.

(What in the world could have a Quincy, a Hollow, and a Shinigami fighting alongside each other so easily?)

Erich keeps himself hidden the whole way through, careful to keep a bit of a distance from the invaders. He takes the time to explore, to try to discover what he can about this collection of Quincy that he never knew existed.

(If he hadn’t kept himself hidden for so many years, would they have found him and brought him here?)

(Would he even have wanted that?)

(He’s not so certain…)

There’s something about this white-white fortress filled with strange Quincy that sets Erich’s teeth on edge. He doesn’t think he could live like this; it’s too sterile, too pristinely military for his tastes. Every Quincy he comes across is wearing a uniform, and there’s very little sign of anything non-military. It’s almost like someone’s image of an ideal army.

(Erich is suspicious of anything that smacks of an ‘ideal’, after meeting the ‘ideal soldier’ in Tanya.)

Erich follows them all the way to the heart of the fortress, and carefully sneaks up to peer into the room that he can sense the trio – plus two other Quincy – in. He’s not sure what he expects to see, but the very human-shaped Hollow standing over a sleeping Quincy, claws buried deep in the Quincy’s body and a look of resignation on his face is not it.

It’s the Shinigami who spots him, the black-clad man not intent on the slow death of the sleeping Quincy the same way the other three are.

Erich curses and darts back, the Shinigami’s blade shattering his instinctive magical shield like glass. He conjures a saber and a pistol and starts to fight for his life, throwing anything and everything he can at the Shinigami. He mixes mana and reishi almost recklessly, going to the edge of his knowledge and then beyond.

(He doesn’t want to die!)

The longer he stands against the Shinigami, the more the man’s brows furrow and a fascinated light begins to emerge in the man’s eyes.

The man starts to toy with him, fascination trumping his interest in killing Erich.

(Erich isn’t certain whether this is a good or a bad thing.)

It’s the pure Quincy who stops the fight. “I’ve never seen him around before,” the pink-haired man admits when the hybrid Quincy asks. “Fighting like that, though, he should have been one of the elite.”

Erich finds himself cornered by the Shinigami, held at sword-point and threatened by some sort of spell held ready in the man’s other hand.

“Are you a member of the Wandenreich?” the hybrid Quincy demands.

“Wandenreich..?” Erich blinks and grimaces at the name. ‘Walled Empire’? “No.” he says firmly. A name like that is quite telling, and his bad feeling about this place starts to congeal even further. “I sensed you and became curious.”

The hybrid Quincy scowls and crosses his arms. “Curious? Or interested in seeing a tainted Quincy like myself die?”

“No,” Erich responds instantly, then shoots the Shinigami a dry look when the man laughs. “I’m surprised you’re as healthy as you seem, but being a hybrid means little. The company you keep is… fascinating as well.”

“Got a problem with it?” the Hollow asks tipping his chin up and baring his teeth, eyes gleaming gold and tail swaying lazily side-to-side.

Erich starts at the proof of what he’d suspected – hearing a Hollow speak is almost terrifying, and means that there is full intelligence behind the Hollow’s actions, not just instinct.

(Powerful Hollows driven by instinct are terrifying enough. But an intelligent Hollow?)

(He’d rather not tempt fate.)

The Hollow scoffs, clearly picking up on Erich’s fear and dismissing him because of it. “Yeah. Thought so. Whatever. You going to try to get revenge for us killing Yhwach?”

“Killing… Yhwach?” Erich frowns. Lets his saber dissolve. Coats his hand and arm with his strongest blut vene and pushes the Shinigami’s sword aside. He doesn’t step from the corner, but it’s relief enough that the Shinigami doesn’t begin to menace him with the sword again. “Someone here decided to name themself after the legendary father of the Quincy?”

“Not just someone,” the hybrid Quincy responds, a faintly amused smile on his face. “The father of the Quincy himself.” And then promptly recites a poem that Erich learned as a young child, and dismissed not long after. Except a glance at the pure Quincy results in a nod of agreement.

Erich tries to recall the legends he knows, and grimaces. “Then I should thank you for that. I have no interest in seeing any of those old legends coming true. A world like that… no.”

“Thought most of you Quincy wanted a world for yourselves,” the Hollow grumbles. “Or revenge on the Shinigami. Or something like that.”

“And does your friend?” Erich asks with an arched eyebrow, taking a chance on calling the hybrid and the Hollow friends. Which seems to be correct, when neither deny the claim. “I was an officer in the Great War. I know what it means when someone says they’re going to conquer the world. And I saw the result of revenge fixations, barely a generation later. I’m done with war at anyone’s behest.”

“Tch, whatever,” the hybrid grumbles, then gestures towards the Shinigami. “Let him go, Aizen.” He gives Erich a narrow-eyed look, then shrugs and turns away. “Up to you what you feel like doing, but I’d suggest getting the fuck out of here. With Yhwach dead, this place is going to destabilize sooner or later, and the Shinigami still don’t take too kindly to powerful Quincy. Bazz is coming back to the Living World with us. Up to you if you want to tag along.”

“If you can tolerate me,” the Hollow adds with a scowl. “Where Uryuu goes, I go.”

Erich hesitates, even as he steps out of the corner, looking between the group. The idea of trusting a Hollow of all things sends a shiver down his spine, completely separate from the quiet terror of being face to face with a Shinigami blade.

(Except is this Shinigami truly part of Seireitei? Fighting alongside a Hollow and a Quincy, listening to a Quincy’s orders…)

(Not very akin to the stories of the Shinigami that Erich grew up with.)

“Alright,” Erich agrees after a wary moment. “I’ll go back to the Living World with you.”

The hybrid huffs and shrugs, though there’s a tiny flash of satisfaction in his eyes. “Suit yourself. Now let’s get out of here.”

As Erich follows the odd group out of the white fortress, he has to wonder exactly what he’s gotten himself into with his agreement.

(But at least it’s something interesting…)

[vincord]

I really love you TordMatt drawings! Do you have any headcaons for them?

I think that in my texts, which I published here from time 2 time, it was possible to discern my thoughts about them. But yeah! I think it will be interesting to write something else about them, given that there are thoughts in my head that I couldn’t find the right moment to voice :] ___

They are very tactile. Physical, touch, movement > abstract and non-physical, words, promises and so on. Even if in the early years one of them could be talkative, the main emphasis was still on the physical expression of feelings.

I like to think that Tord acts as support for Matt at times when it comes to looks. In adolescence, they would hardly communicate, because Matt would try to stay away from all people in general due to his worries about appearance. Later, this will turn into irritation, anger, aggression and misunderstanding. "Why do others live happily while I have to go through something like this"

I think he and Tord had a rather strained relationship at first, and Matt would probably have killed him at night, if only he had not had to report to Edd later and explain all this. But after a while, they still managed to find a common language. Like, desire for power or control over someone, "treasure?" which they once said. They sit on the porch or on the roof and smoke. The clock shows midnight and it's deep night outside. Both are dressed in black.

Tord really likes to watch anime, and Matt at this time sits next to him with an unhappy face, because he does not understand at all how someone can like this (he himself will become interested in anime as soon as he sees a lonely and gloomy character on the screen, which extols themself above and better than everyone, pushing everyone else away from themself, but in fact they are very afraid of loneliness and wants to be loved, but crushes these feelings in themself. Matt never admits this to Tord)

OOOOOOOOOOH AND WTFUTURE WTFUTURE YAAYYY!!!

In the future, they talk even less than they used to. I mentioned in one of my texts that this is due to Matt's artificial jaw, as because of it, he can no longer speak clearly and clearly, emitting something incoherent instead. I mean, it's just a metal artificial part from the skull. There is no skin or muscles there, which means that he will not be able to pronounce letters that require a certain position of the lips either. Therefore, the manifestation of feelings in a physical way began to be much more important for them than in their youth. Now it is almost literally their only way to interact.

And maybe Matt would slowly learn sign language so he could interact with other people without using speech.....

It can be said that Matt would return to the state in which he was at a young age (even before Tord left for the first time). He moves away from the outside world and bad thoughts into paperwork, spreadsheets, physical training and so on, which Tord, who remembers the past, doesn’t like at all. And if Tord is busy and cannot stop Matt in time by sending him to sleep, he asks Paul, Patryck or Tom (he doesn’t have the best relationship with Matt, but this post is not about that) to do it instead of him.

And, ofc, Matt is very clingy when he and Tord are alone. He just clings to his arm or hugs him tightly, snuggling up, afraid that he will be left alone.

Tord showers kisses on Matt's face while holding his hands, because those are Matt's most vulnerable spots. He just wants Matt to feel loved again.

And i would like to talk about cute nicknames/pet names too! They just don't use it :) Tord uses the full form of Matt's name in particularly private and intimate moments, or when trying to calm him down, or to show his affection. This is enough for Matt, because, as I wrote earlier, words mean little to him in wtfuture.

Tord is just happy when Matt calls him by his name, instead of "Sir" or "Red Leader". Matt tries to maintain an exclusively working relationship because of all his traumas, fears and worries that he is so desperately trying to suppress and ignore. He has gone so far from the outside world and himself into work that the moments when he himself breaks this wall between him and Tord a little, Tord appreciates incredibly much. ___

I didn't write anything about TordMatt in the "legacy" because I didn't think much of it. Nevertheless, according to the canon, Matt erased his memory and doesn't remember Tord at all, so Tord is forced not only to start everything from scratch (he sits on the bed, hunched over and covering his face with his hands, and thinks whether it is worth starting everything from scratch at all), but and start from scratch with a completely different person, because this is not the Matt he once left. I mean, Tord is trying and he's glad that Matt confided in him so easily, feeling comfortable around him, but he keeps hoping to hear at least something sarcastic from the redhead.

At times I like to think that they are married in the future, but let's face it, it's TOO sweet. They just aren't ready for something like that yet </3

Thank you very much for asking me about headcanons!!!!!

[mackenzielovee]

hiiiii angel!

I have a request for rafe x reader x jj.

In which Barry uses the reader as a collateral after rafe accumulates late payments for the substances he consumed and jj steals the 25K from him. The reader has been hanging out with both boys since she has a strong connection with both. Barry has been watching them all three interact over the last month and finds the reader as the perfect way to make them pay for their mistakes. Barry confronts both boys and right when he’s aiming to shoot the reader either JJ or Rafe get in the way and take the shot instead ( you can choose who) and the other boy promises to take care of the reader and protect her from all dangers. Meanwhile the other one is bleeding himself to death while giving his life for reader. This idea was so random but I’m so obsessed!!! Please please please! I’m so excited it would mean the world to me<3

a/n: hey baby! thank you so much for this request. I actually loved writing this and i hope i did it just the way you wanted! please let me know if you enjoyed it! ily<3

Warnings: swearing, talk of drug abuse, gun play, gun fire, blood, mentions of death,

Word Count: 5.5k

my writing

protection - rafe cameron

It's a warm day out on the Cut. As you walk through the tall grass and slap away a mosquito that landed on your arm, you think about how JJ is going to want to swim once you get the boat out into the water, and you forgot your bathing suit. You hope Kie has one that she left over at John B's, maybe you could steal it.

Faintly, you hear the hum of a dirt bike as it gets closer to you, but you think nothing of it. You're holding a six pack of JJ's favorite beer in your hand, excited to get the day started. You, JJ, John B, and Sarah all planned to take the boat out for a joyride and a day on the water. Kiara's working and Pope is preparing for his scholarship interview, an excuse that made JJ call him a nerd.

You hear the bike start to approach you, so you turn to see who it is. You've never seen anyone with a bike this close to John B's house. You don't recognize the guy under the helmet, but you don't really have time, because he pulls the bike in front of you and stops, scaring the shit out of you.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you hear, and immediately know the voice of the slimy drug dealer himself.

Barry removes his helmet and smirks at you, eyeing you up and down. You look disgusted with him, not sure what he wants with you but knowing you want no part of it.

"Get out of my way, Barry," you snap.

Barry's an asshole, always has been. One of your other good friends, Rafe Cameron, buys coke from him on the regular. You've been trying to get Rafe off of it and even went so far as to see Barry to get him to stop selling to Rafe, but it didn't work out. Barry just called you 'princess' a lot and then told you he'd lose a fuck ton of money if Rafe ever gets clean.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Barry laughs, but it's sarcastic, "Are those beers up for grabs?"

You instinctively pull your occupied hand back, away from him so he can't grab it.

"No," you say, trying to side step him. He hops off his bike and walks in front of you, quickly boxing you in.

"Listen, sweetheart, it's nothing against you. But I'm gonna need you to get on the bike," Barry's voice is thick, making you swallow your anxiety.

You wonder if you screamed for JJ, would he hear you? Or would Barry rip your throat out before any noise even came out?"

"Not a chance," you reply, trying to keep yourself calm.

Barry snickers, then brings his beady eyes back up to yours. He steps closer, making you step back, until your back hits the bike and you had no way of getting away from him.

"I'm gonna say it one more time," he tells you, "And then it might have to get ugly. Get on the fuckin' bike."

Your heart is beating a mile a minute with no idea what this man wants with you or where he's taking you, but you know better than to go anywhere with him. You shake your head, sure words will fail you right now. Barry just sighs, then reaches up to his back and pulls a gun out from his pants. The beers fall from your hand to the ground, splitting open and spilling out on the ground.

"Oh, now, that's just a big waste," Barry uses the gun to point down at the beers, "Get on the goddamn bike. Now."

You don't see any other option; essentially it's live and get on the bike, or die right here, less than half a mile from John B's. You can already imagine the memorial JJ will build for you when they find out this is the spot you died in. Somehow, it comforts you. Only a little.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask him quietly as you turn to face the bike.

Barry watches as you sit down on the back of his bike, then uses the gun to slowly stroke up your bare thigh. You can smell his breath as he leans in to speak to you.

"Your boys both owe me. Big time. So, I'm taking the one thing I know they'll pay good money for," he smirks, then hands you his helmet, "Don't want you to get hurt, sweetheart."

You want to throw up every time he calls you that, but instead, you grab the helmet from him and put it on. You look back, hoping maybe, for some reason, JJ had wandered out and would just so happen to see you. All you see is trees. Barry hops on and starts up the bike, then turns back to you again.

"Now, you're supposed to hold on here," he tells you, wrapping your arms around his waist, "But if you feel so inclined to move your hand a little south of that, well, I don't mind at all."

You gag and loosen your grip on him as much as you can, not wanting to touch him any more than you have to. He starts up the bike just as his words sink into your mind. Your boys both owe me. What does that even mean?

Barry takes off, not bothering to go any slower with you. It's a pretty short ride back to his place, but feels longer to you because of how sick you feel. Every thought goes through your mind; he's taking you back here so he can kill you in private, he's going to rape you, sell you to some old Kook who will keep you in the basement. All sorts of things you think of, none of them good.

When you get back to his house, he stops the bike and you immediately jump off. So does Barry, who winds up just throwing the bike down in the grass. You throw the helmet down too, not caring if he wanted you to do that or not.

"What are you talking about?" you snap, watching Barry act surprised by your outburst, "Who owes you money? What boys? Why me?"

Barry rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then reaches over and grabs onto your wrist. You try to pull away, but his grip is firm.

"Don't fucking start that shit with me," he snaps at you, "Get in the house."

His tone scares you, and even though you know you shouldn't, you obey. You just want to know why you're here and what the hell is going on.

You walk up the stairs to the porch and sit down on the couch, the same one Rafe sits on every time he buys from Barry.

"Tell me what's going on," you say once you're seated.

Barry picks up a blunt from the table and lights it up, silently holding it out to offer you some. You shake your head and scrunch your nose up, disgusted with it. That makes Barry grin.

"Rafe owes me money," Barry states simply.

You raise your eyebrow, "So?"

Barry looks over at you, giving you the 'are you serious?' look. He sits down in the chair beside the couch, taking a long drag off his blunt before he speaks again.

"So," he says, "Did you know JJ stole 25k from my house?"

Your expression falters and your jaw drops, telling Barry you know nothing of it. That almost makes him feel guilty for scaring you so bad back there, if you were totally innocent. But he needs his money, and you're his one way ticket to it.

"JJ wouldn't do that," you say, not being able to stop the hesitation in your voice.

"Really?" Barry snickers, "Well, he did. And since both of them boys seem to be wrapped around your little finger, you and I are gonna become best friends until I get my money. Understand, sweetheart?"

You glare at him, now understanding what he wants with you.

"So, I'm just collateral," you confirm, watching Barry's lips turn up around his blunt when you speak.

"Exactly," he smiles, "Now. Do you have your phone with you, or did you drop it when you spilled my beers?"

You huff at him and roll your eyes, then lean over in your bag and pull it out of the front pocket. Barry snatches it quickly, then asks you what your code is. You tell him, knowing if he can just get the boys here fast, you won't have to be alone with him anymore.

"Should I send them a picture of you holding up a newspaper? Don't they do that in all the hostage shows on TV?" Barry laughs to himself, looking up at you for confirmation.

You shrug, not wanting to speak to him any more than you have to. Barry rolls his eyes.

"Them boys really put up with that attitude?" he snaps at you, "Goddamn, I could never. You better straighten up, honey."

You just stare at him, deciding it's best if the two of you don't speak. Barry hits send and then tucks your phone in his pocket.

"That should send those two idiots running," Barry laughs, taking another hit from his blunt and then looking over to you again, "You sure you don't wanna try this? Might help you fucking relax."

You glare at him once again and then shake your head, looking away from him. You can tell out of the corner of your eye that he stands up, but when he grabs your chin and forces you to look over at him, you gasp.

"Straighten out, or I'll do it for you," he says, then roughly releases you.

You sigh and sit back on the couch, praying that at least one of the boys will arrive soon. Barry sits back down in his seat and tries to strike up a conversation, pretending he hadn't just manhandled you.

"So, which one are you gonna choose?"

Your head snaps over as you stare at him, trying to figure out what the hell he's talking about.

"What?" you ask, your voice giving away your confusion.

"You know," Barry shrugs, "They're both, like, crazy in love with you. So, if I have to shoot one to teach the other a lesson, which one would you pick?"

You roll your eyes, "You're fucking crazy."

Barry leans forward and stares at you, blunt hanging from his lips. He slams his hand down on the table in front of you, trying to get your attention.

"They stole from me," he shouts now, "Both of them. Someone's going to fuckin' pay for that."

You just nod your head, hoping he'll just shut up now. You don't want to talk about how they stole or Barry teaching either of them a lesson. You just want to go home. You should've never been walking by yourself in the first place. Then again, you never dreamed some psycho with a gun would come along.

"I think it'll be JJ," Barry continues, "You seemed pretty bummed on Cameron when he refused to quit his shit. But, you know, take your pick. Drug addict or thief. Man, it's like the Bachelor or some shit up in here."

Your eyes roll so far back into your head that you swear you can see your brain. When you look over at him, he's still laughing at his own joke.

"They're going to pay you back, and then you're never going to see any of us again," you say confidently. Barry just laughs.

"Yeah, okay, sweetheart."

You look over form the porch when you hear a noise, then sigh with relief when you see Rafe's truck pull up. He's driving fast, too fast, and he hops out of the truck the second he gets within running range of the porch. He doesn't even bother to close the door behind him.

You try to stand and go out to him, but Barry grabs your arm and keeps you down on the couch.

"Easy," he tells you, reaching behind him and pulling out his gun. He sets it down on the table in front of him, and you take note of how his expression changes from laughing to pissed off.

Rafe runs up to the porch and swings open the door, and that's when Barry releases you. You stand and rush to him, feeling Rafe sigh in relief as he wraps his strong arms around your little body. All of your anxiety melts away as you know you're safe now. Rafe would never let anything happen to you.

"Please tell me you're okay," Rafe whispers against your head, squeezing you tight.

"I'm okay," you confirm.

He pulls back from the hug and starts checking all over your body for injuries anyway. He holds up your arms and scans those, stopping his finger over a bruise you already had. It happened on the boat with JJ.

"I'm fine," you repeat to him, laying your head back on his chest. You really just don't want him to let go of you.

"What the fuck, Barry?" Rafe yells, his voice echoing through your ear as you have your head pressed on his chest.

"Afternoon, Country Club," Barry stands and smirks, watching the way you cling to Rafe.

You don't look at him, you just close your eyes and breathe Rafe in, not wanting to remember where you are. In your mind, the two of you are hanging out and eating lunch at the club. You always love going, especially on windy days when his scent travels from across the table. You love the way he smells.

"I'd like to change my answer, sweetheart," Barry tells you, ignoring Rafe's confused glance, "I think this one might love you back, Rafe. How sweet."

Rafe instinctually tightens his arm up around you, keeping you pressed up against him.

"I swear to God," Rafe starts, "If you laid one hand on her-"

"I didn't, Jesus," Barry groans, "I wish you cared about getting me my money the same way you care about saving this bitch."

You don't react, not even slightly. You don't care what Barry thinks of you. You just never want his slimy hands to touch you. Ever again.

"She's not a bitch, man," Rafe's voice goes quiet, "And I'm going to get you your money."

Barry laughs and then pretends to cry, "Boo who, she's not a bitch. I don't care, bro. I gave you shit on two separate occasions-"

"And I gave you my bike as collateral!" Rafe shouts back.

"That piece of shit ain't worth half what you owe me," Barry spits, "Your girl liked riding on it, though."

Rafe's chest tenses against you, and then you feel him bring his hand up to stroke your hair. He's trying to keep you as relaxed as possible.

"Y/N, go wait in my truck," Rafe tells you quietly, pulling the keys out of his pocket.

"Oh, no, no," Barry smirks, reaching out and snatching the keys from Rafe, "You think you're the only person I called here?"

As if on cue, the porch door swings open again and JJ walks in. Your eyes open and you see him, his expression worse than you've ever seen him.

"You got her?" JJ points to you, but he's talking to Rafe.

Rafe just nods, tightening his grip around you again. You open your mouth to speak, but watch as JJ charges toward Barry and punches him square in the nose.

"What the fuck did you do?" JJ shouts, watching Barry tumble to the floor, "If I find out you fucking hurt her-"

Barry laughs from the floor, wiping blood from his nose, "Easy, bro. You two are so damn worried about this chick."

JJ's chest is expanding and then contracting every five seconds, telling you his adrenaline is going crazy. You know he's ready to punch him again. Barry stands and picks up his gun from the coffee table, pointing it directly at JJ. You try to push forward to stop it, but Rafe keeps his grip tight.

"Now," Barry says, spitting his blood onto the floor, "You bitches are gonna pay up."

"Barry, I'll get you your money, man," Rafe promises. When Barry moves and points the gun at Rafe, he quickly tucks you behind him. He gives you one of his hands to hold onto, while the other one goes up to stop Barry from shooting.

"Yeah, when?" Barry yells, "I told you, Cameron. It's not just me you're screwing with."

Rafe nods his head, doing his best to try and calm Barry down. JJ looks over at you, mouthing 'are you okay?'

You nod at him, your expression clearly giving you away. You're scared, and he knows it.

"I know, bro," Rafe says, "Some people still owe me from the party Friday night. I'm going to get it, I just need some time."

Barry laughs sarcastically and lowers the gun, "Oh, yeah, for sure, man. You know what, take your time, Rafe."

Rafe's expression changes, knowing Barry doesn't mean it. He just wonders what that means for getting you out of here.

"The girl stays with me until both of you are paid up," Barry tells both of them.

"Like hell," JJ mutters.

Barry, who is still pissed about his nose, turns around and hits JJ in the head with the stock of the gun. You watch JJ stumble back, and without hesitation, break from Rafe's grasp and rush over to him. Rafe reaches out to try and grab you, but his grip isn't good enough.

"JJ!" you say, grabbing onto him as he stumbles. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, allowing you to help him stand.

"Shit," JJ mumbles, gripping his forehead. He pulls his fingers back and sees blood.

"Damn, darlin'," Barry grins at you, "You really do love them both."

You glare at Barry for the millionth time today as you set your arm around JJ's waist and lead him over to sit down. He sits in the chair Barry had been sitting in and you stand in between his legs, moving his hand away to see his wound.

Barry looks over at Rafe, who has his jaw clenched as he watches you stand in between JJ's legs and clean him up. He watches as JJ's hand lingers on the back of your thigh, his fingers brushing your skin ever so slightly.

"That's gotta hurt," Barry says to Rafe, getting a lot of amusement out of watching the boys squirm over you.

You ignore whatever Barry says as you use the bottom of your shirt to wipe off some of the blood on JJ's forehead. It's not bleeding badly, which you're thankful for. You're almost sure Barry doesn't own a first aid kit.

"Now, JJ," Barry steps over to you two, "Let's talk about how you stole twenty-five thousand dollars out of my house, yeah?"

Barry presses the gun to the back of JJ's neck, making JJ tense up. You watch Barry, bringing your hands to JJ's shoulders and holding onto him, as if to comfort him somehow.

"I'll get it back," JJ says, his voice hoarse.

"You bet your ass you will," Barry tells him, "When will that be, exactly?"

JJ sighs, knowing it won't be any time soon. That money is long gone.

"Can we set up a payment plan?" JJ asks sarcastically.

He regrets it when Barry grabs onto your arm and pulls you away, pressing the gun into your stomach as he holds onto you. JJ stands quickly and Rafe starts to rush over, but stops when he sees the look in Barry's eyes.

"You know, I'm getting real sick of being treated like a bitch," Barry tells them, pressing the gun into you harder, "I want my money. Now."

You let out an involuntary groan at the pain, watching Rafe as he tries to figure out what to do.

"Let her go, Barry," Rafe finally speaks, "Let her sit down and I'll go get your money."

"All of it?" Barry confirms.

Rafe nods, "All of it. Just let her sit down over there."

Barry looks at both boys, noting how pathetic they are. He's glad, though, knowing all he has to do is threaten your life to get what he wants. He just doesn't understand what's so damn special about you.

He releases your arm and shoves you in the direction of the couch, Rafe stepping forward to grab you. He pulls you into him again, leading you over to sit down.

"You all right?" he asks you, taking a seat beside you and bringing his hands up to your cheeks.

"Yes," you reply, nodding feverishly as if to try and convince him.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? I'm so sorry, baby," he whispers as he pulls you into him.

Your breath catches in your throat as he calls you 'baby'. He's never done that before. Your mind wanders back to Barry telling you that both boys are crazy in love with you. You now sit there in Rafe's arms, wondering if Barry's right.

Rafe pulls back and looks at you in the eyes again, "Just sit right here for me, okay? I'm gonna go get the money. I'll be right back."

You nod again, silently promising him that you'll be here when he gets back. As if you could leave. He rubs the base of his thumb on your cheek and gives you a small smile, then stands up. He curses, knowing he doesn't want to leave you here.

JJ steps over to Rafe as he walks toward the door, grabbing his arm.

"Where the fuck are you gonna get twenty six thousand bucks right now, man?" JJ hisses, keeping his voice down for your sake.

"I don't know, JJ, I was thinking I'd walk into the bank and ask nicely," Rafe snaps, "I have no fucking idea. But I have to figure something out, right?"

JJ runs his hands through his hair and exhales loudly, then looks over and smiles quickly at you. Barry watches the boys, trying to figure out what's going on.

"Dude-"

"Just," Rafe starts, already annoyed with JJ, "Stay with her. I'm going to figure it out."

Rafe hates telling JJ to comfort you and be there for you, but it's the way it has to be. No way JJ could get his dirty hands on that kind of money right now. Or ever. JJ nods and starts walking over to you as Rafe thinks about how much money his dad might have in his safe right now.

"You know," Barry starts, standing up again with the gun in his hand, "I'm starting to think you don't really have my money, Country Club."

"Chill out, Barry," Rafe sighs, stepping toward the door once more. The safety of the gun being turned off is what makes Rafe stop dead in his tracks.

"Tell me the truth, Rafe," Barry says.

Rafe slowly turns around with his hands up, swallowing quickly.

"I'm going to get it," Rafe states again.

Barry shakes his head, "You're lying."

Before Rafe can process it, Barry moves the gun in your direction. He looks at you for a second, the horror on your face, and you know your body is frozen. You shut your eyes, not wanting to see it happen. At least you'll die with the boys.

The shot fires fast, but you don't feel anything. You hear a yell, then Rafe scream out, and when you open your eyes, JJ's lying on the ground. Your jaw falls open as you tumble onto the floor beside him, setting your hand on his bleeding stomach. Your hand is soaked instantly, but you don't know what else to do.

"JJ," you cry out, watching his eyes find yours, "JJ, oh, my God."

Tears fall down your face as you stare at him, his eyes glazing over. He's just watching you panic. Rafe comes over and sinks down beside you, not knowing how to help.

"Towels, Rafe," you order, "Hurry."

You spot a random shirt laying on the ground, one you're sure is Barry's and use it for the time being to soak up some of the blood.

"Hey, JJ, I'm right here," you tell him, watching your tears fall onto his shirt. They become invisible immediately, the blood stains swallowing them up.

"Are you okay?" JJ chokes out, spitting blood from his mouth onto the floor when he finishes speaking. You shake your head and try to swallow your tears, but you can't.

"I'm fine, JJ, just relax," you tell him, then look up, "Rafe!"

Rafe comes out of Barry's and onto the porch with towels in his hand, stopping only when Barry grabs onto his arm.

"I was aiming for her, remember that," Barry tells him.

Rafe just yanks his arm away and comes to you, placing one of the towels over JJ's wound.

"Rafe, what do we do?" you ask frantically, trying to ignore the blood that now seeps onto the floor.

Rafe shakes his head, having absolutely no idea what to do. He brings his hands over yours and puts more pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"You have to call 911," you tell Rafe, "Go."

Rafe stares at you for a second, still stunned, when JJ starts to speak from the floor.

"Rafe," JJ chokes, "You gotta get her out of here, man."

"Not a chance, JJ," you say, trying your best to smile at him.

JJ looks over at Rafe again, "Rafe."

His voice is serious, and Rafe knows exactly what he's telling him. He's a goner, and he knows it. But he doesn't want you to watch him die. Rafe nods to JJ, telling him he understands. He watches JJ relax and lay his head back down, then stands up. JJ brings his hand down to yours and wraps his fingers around you. You squeeze, trying to tell him it's going to be okay.

"Go call," you remind him.

Rafe steps across JJ's body and, without speaking, tucks his arm around your waist and picks you up. He knows this won't be easy, and he can already feel his emotions coming up.

"Rafe, put me down!" you shout, your blood soaked hands going down to try and peel his arm off of you, "Rafe, stop! JJ!"

He carries you over to the door of the porch, doing his best to keep his grip tight as you fight with every ounce of strength you have.

"Let me go, Rafe! I have to help him!" you're screaming your head off, and Rafe hates it, but he knows he has to do what's best for you.

He glances back only for a second and sees JJ's shallow breathing, knowing he doesn't have much time left.

"Rafe!" you scream, kicking and thrashing around to try and get away.

"I have to make sure you're safe," Rafe tells you as the two of you reach the truck, "It's what he wants me to do."

"He's going to die!" you scream, "Let go of me! I'll never forgive you for this!"

Rafe opens the passenger door of the truck and puts you inside, using all of his strength to keep you there.

"You'll be alive, though!" Rafe raises his voice at you, making you stop. He's never yelled at you, not once.

You choke on your sobs as you see the blood all over Rafe's shirt, then all over your own. He buckles you in and closes your door, then rushes around the truck.

"Don't think this makes us even, Rafe Cameron!" Barry yells from the porch. Rafe flips Barry off and then gets into the truck, starting it and speeding off without buckling himself.

"Rafe, stop!" you yell, "I can't leave him there! He's all alone!"

"This is what he wanted!" Rafe yells back at you, stepping further down on the gas pedal.

"I don't care, I don't want him to be alone!" you cry, reaching for the door handle.

Rafe locks the doors and puts child lock on, preventing you from flinging out of the truck. You bang your fist on the window as he does, leaving a blood stain there.

"Rafe!" you look over and scream at him again.

He gets so frustrated he pulls the truck off the path and sets it in park, then turns to you. He grabs onto both of your wrists and holds them down.

"Calm the fuck down, right now," he demands, "Calm down."

You sit back in the seat and do as you're told, but your tears still fall. JJ just gave his life up to save yours, and Rafe doesn't seem to care at all.

"You need to understand that my only priority back there was to keep you safe. I'm sorry about JJ, baby, I am, but staying would've only put you in more danger."

You shake your head at him, almost as if you're disgusted. You let out a sob and then try to wipe your eyes, only smearing JJ's blood on your face. He reaches over and grabs your cheek, pulling you to look at him.

"I'm going to go back there and get his body. You can say goodbye to him. I'm gonna pay off Barry and never go back there. But I'm going to protect you first, do you understand?"

You nod your head under his touch, letting out another sob as soon as you try to breathe in. Rafe brings his hands down to your hips and pulls you toward him, over the console and into his lap.

"Come here," he whispers gently, tucking his arms around you and holding you close.

He knows you're a mess right now and there's blood all over his truck, but he doesn't care. He just wants you to calm down.

"Rafe," you sob, not knowing what else to say. His shirt becomes soaked with tears quickly.

"I know," he tells you softly, "I know."

"He saved me," you say, more just processing what happened, "Oh, my God, he's dead because of me."

"Shh," Rafe hushes you, his heart feeling like it's breaking in two as he listens to you, "It's not your fault. None of this is. Just calm down for me, baby."

Your hands come up and wrap around the back of Rafe's neck as you nuzzle your nose into the front of it. He brings one hand up to stroke through your hair, trying to relax you.

"We're okay," he soothes, his other hand rubbing your back, "Everything's okay."

You two sit there for a while, Rafe just rubbing on you and calming you down, until eventually, you start to come to terms with what happened. He's thankful you're no longer hysterical.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," Rafe whispers against your head once he feels you relax against him.

You pull back and look him in the eyes, feeling his hand come up to wipe blood from your cheek.

"You'll go back and get him?" you confirm.

Rafe nods, "Yes, of course."

You nod your head and then bring your hand up to his cheek the same way he had on yours, observing how soft his skin is. You think about what Barry told you about them both loving you, and how he later told you that you love them both.

"Rafe?" you ask, your voice nasally from all the crying and screaming, "Can I ask you a question?"

Rafe nods, loving the feeling of your skin on his. It relaxes him, makes him feel complete.

"Barry told me he thinks you're in love with me," you say quietly, leaving out the part about JJ.

You watch as Rafe nervously swallows, and then nods his head ever so slightly. You feel your heart swell, not knowing Rafe Cameron could ever make you feel that way.

"It's true?" you ask him, searching around in his eyes for any kind of doubt. There is none.

"Yeah," Rafe barely whispers.

"Oh," you say, watching Rafe's expression change to hurt as you glance away.

He's sure you don't feel the same. When you look up at him again, he's staring intensely at you.

"Is it okay that I love you, too?" you ask him, voice fragile.

Rafe smiles slightly, then watches as you smile too.

"Yeah," he repeats, but with more authority this time.

He leans his head down and then hesitates, making you hesitate as well. You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to you. His lips make yours feel like they're on fire as they move together. He reaches up and grabs your cheeks, holding you to him. He pulls away after about a minute, staring at you in full adoration.

"I'm so sorry about today," he tells you, keeping his grip on your face, "I will never put you in any danger like that ever again."

You nod your head slowly, "I know that."

Rafe smiles down at you, bringing one hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"Let's go get you a shower," he says softly.

He doesn't make you get back in your seat, however. He just tightens his grip around you and puts the car in drive again, allowing you to hold onto him while he drives. It almost reminds you of being on the bike with Barry this morning. But instead of being completely disgusted, you're completely in love.

[edwardelricsrightarm]

Thinkin bout...... Nina surviving and being adopted by Greed and the Devil's Nest gang

Again-

Just! What IF, y'know! I love the content ppl make of this concept but the more I think the more it hurts and also feels like it could have a hell of an interesting take on Greed's redemption-

Scar doesn't find Nina, only Shou Tucker, so she isn't killed in that moment because she was immediately sent off to be kept as a lab rat. They take Nina from the lab (and whatever consciousness of Alexander that lives on within her), take care of her, not realizing what she is, until her speech improves enough that she can explain (in somewhat vague terms, I imagine her speech might remain limited for neurological reasons)

Dolcetto immediately attaches to her before even knowing, because they're both dog chimera even if he's MORE human, and I think he'd have an agonizing amount of empathy for this obviously child like creature, and upon finding out she literally IS a child??? Oh it's over that's his daughter now

Greed starts out as with all of them, pretends he doesn't *actually* care and is just acquiring a resource, meanwhile he obviously does care for others in some capacity, and the longer Nina is around and the more they figure out about her the more protective and caring he becomes to her specifically. She can't protect herself like the others, after all. That's just logical, isn't it? (Is his way of rationalizing his compassion)

Bido is a real caretaker type when it comes to Nina, I think Bido and Dol would be the two most likely to play with her and teach her things (like more speech, kinda like a cognitive speech therapy), as well as the two most obviously compassionate toward her bc Bido is generally pretty sweet mannered and Dol Understands her better than any of the others in terms of canine instincts, emotions, and the changes that come when one is spliced with a dog.

Martel would seem perhaps a little distant at first, but this is because she's grappling with internal conflict, not because of Nina herself. At first she hesitates bc she wonders if such an innocent thing belongs with their dangerous group, but as time goes on she understands there would be no better place in Amestris for the poor thing, who would no doubt have been subjected to many years of further experimentation. Nowhere else in Amestris (that they know of) can a post-human (homunculus or chimera) be safe and live out a life that isn't in a lab or cage. When she accepts this, she allows herself to get closer and show more care. She was never mean, just afraid to get attached to the kid in case of worst case scenarios arising.

Roa is his not very expressive self, but I think he's a big softie somewhere in there and would be another who goes out of his way to protect her, he's just less social and doesn't interact with her as much as Dol, Bido, and Greed.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk I have too many thoughts

[transmalewife]

Alright, let's talk about attachment

I can’t find clear information on when exactly the non-attachment rule was added to the code. It was either soon before or soon after the great sith war. Either way, for the VAST majority of the existence of the Jedi, it wasn’t a thing. Jedi got married and had families for over 20000 years, then added the non-attachment rule, which ultimately led to their destruction. And before anyone tries to tell me I believe they deserved to be genocided, I don’t. I have never actually seen anyone say that, but I see people argue against it constantly, and imply anyone who doesn’t think the Jedi were perfect and blameless thinks that. I don’t think they deserved to die, I think they needed to change. And Yoda says that himself, many times. The Jedi weren’t prepared for the return of the sith, or the war. They had separated from the military 1000 years before, and the galaxy was in relative peace all this time, so the order’s role changed to one that worked very well with their rules. Detachment meant they could be impartial when overseeing political disagreements, lack of possessions meant they would be focused on the mission at hand and not prone to taking bribes, and distancing themselves from the general population meant they were more or less uniform, and could be trusted not to side with someone for personal reasons.

All of this falls apart once they become an army again. Impartiality is a flaw when they have to defend one side at all cost and not even allow themselves to consider compromise. Lack of possessions and attachment to people means they are prone to taking unnecessary risks, because they have nothing to lose, and do things like send 14 year olds into battle, thinking of the “greater good” over the safety of children. And the order being a monolith, with set rules and philosophy distinct from the rest of the population meant the Jedi trusted Dooku long after they should have stopped, because he used to be a Jedi after all, surely he still follows the code.

Now, I am not saying non-attachment is always bad, I think it served a very specific purpose in the order, and to some extent worked for many years. However.

Humans are a social species. Human babies NEED physical contact and affection to develop physically. Children need a stable, strong, and supportive relationship to their caregiver to properly develop psychologically. And after last year I don’t think anyone will argue that adults don't need connection with other people just as much. And not just shallow interactions, but open affection and love. Love of any kind, because claiming that the Jedi only forbid romantic love is just untrue. I think people tend to forget that "Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is essential to a Jedi's life. So you might say, that we are encouraged to love." isn’t the actual doctrine, it’s a literal pick up line that Anakin uses on Padme.

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan both get criticized by other Jedi for their entirely platonic attachment to Anakin, and vice versa. Now, humans are the most common species in the galaxy, and in the Jedi order. Many other species are near-human, so it’s safe to assume at least some, if not most of them also need that companionship and affection to develop and live happy and stable lives. I do believe that non-attachment is a valid philosophy and chosen path in life if done carefully and within reason, I just don’t think we have a single major character that actually applies to. And chosen is an important word here. Jedi don’t get much of a choice. I’m not trying to start the baby-stealing debate here. I hear the argument of ‘force sensitives are dangerous if left untrained, and said training should start as early as possible’. I think finding a way to deal with that problem was an insanely complicated decision, and taking children into the temple as young as possible is not a bad solution. I don’t entirely agree with not letting them see their families later, (especially since in legends Obi-Wan was allowed to visit his family, which implies Anakin couldn’t go free his mother specifically because he was already too attached), but the idea is sound. I do also understand that no one is forcing Jedi to stay in the order and they can leave for whatever reason at any time. But that isn’t exactly a free choice either. Leaving the order means leaving the only home you remember, the only people you know to make your own way in the galaxy, and staying with those people means you can never fully love them. It’s a difficult solution to a complicated question, and for the most part, it worked (not always, and not exactly as intended, but I’ll come back to that.) Children grew up in the order, were trained to control themselves and the force, and became Jedi who were impartial, patient, and balanced. But everything falls apart when you introduce someone who wasn’t raised in the temple.

In The Rising Force, 13 year old Obi-Wan had barely been off Coruscant in his life. He describes himself as sheltered and unaware of all the pain in the galaxy, and says it was done on purpose, so younglings wouldn’t have to face the dark side before they were ready for it. But Anakin had seen nothing but darkness, pain and injustice before he joined the order. He was severely traumatized, and while the temple might have had some ways of dealing with trauma and PTSD in adults, they had no experience in treating the same in a child, because their children were kept safe and protected. The idea of letting go of your pain and fear only works if you know you have a safe place to come back to, if you’ve spent the first decade or so of your life in the most protected place in the galaxy. Anakin spent the first decade of his life as a slave. He couldn’t let go of his fear, because fear was what kept him alive. Fear is not irrational if you are constantly in danger, it’s what protects you, keeps you aware of the limits you can push before you get punished. And that mindset doesn’t fade just because you’re out of that situation, especially if your only family, the closest person to you, is still facing that danger every day.

I’ve seen people use every excuse possible to explain why Anakin didn’t see his mother again to avoid blaming the council, including, and I shit you not, “He just didn’t have her comm number”. But to me that seems disingenuous, when we see in his first meeting with the council that they already consider him too attached. It's one of the main reasons they don’t want him to be trained, so it seems logical that they wouldn’t allow him to see her once he became a padawan. I also want to mention that what Yoda says, “Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.” Is just… blatant catastrophizing. Right? Like we can all see that the escalation is not rational there at all. Maybe it could apply to something else, but not to a child who just left his mother for the first time in his life and went from a tiny dustball in the middle of nowhere to the most populated planet in the galaxy, and is now being tested by a bunch of old people with the power to decide his future. Obviously he’s afraid, and obviously he’s not dealing with it the way Jedi younglings do. That, in and of itself doesn't doom him to fall. Also what Yoda misses there is that suffering leads to fear. This is a closed loop, and one that has defined Anakin’s entire childhood.

Let’s come back to how the system doesn’t always work. The way I see it, most of the characters we see are attached. Obi-Wan is considered one of the greatest Jedi of his time. Windu describes him as “our most cunning and insightful Master—and our most tenacious”. And yet, he was not insightful enough to look past his love for Anakin, his attachment, and see how close to falling he was. Ahsoka was so attached to Anakin she refused to listen to Maul on Mandalore, refused to even consider the posibility he could fall. She was arguably the person with the best shot at preventing the empire forming at that point, and she loved anakin so much she doomed him and the entire galaxy. Aayla admitted to thinking of Quinlan as her father, and also, apparently in legends had a long relationship with Kit. Even Mace didn’t follow the code when he decided to kill Palpatine, which directly led to his death and the empire. He also indirectly caused the war to start. According to wookiepedia “Windu viewed Dooku as the shatterpoint of the entire Separatist movement, which meant striking Dooku down would theoretically end the imminent clone war before it even began. However, Windu's prior attachments to Dooku clouded his judgment.” I’m not even going to mention Kanan and Ezra, who are obviously family.

So basically everyone is attached and lying about it. How has no one thought that maybe this isn’t the healthiest way to live and tried to change the code? Well, I have a theory, and it’s Yoda. He was 900 years old when he died, and was on the council for the vast majority of his life. I can’t find when exactly he became grand master, but it’s safe to assume he held some degree of power over the entire order for most of a millennium. At the end of TPM he tells Obi-Wan “Confer on you the level of Jedi knight, the council does. But agree with your taking this boy as your padawan learner, I do not.” Then he reverses that decision by himself. So either he has the power to veto the council’s word, or who gets trained is entirely up to him. Either way, not great, considering his lifespan is so much longer than most Jedi, and therefore his approach to life is vastly different. Humans need love and closeness to live. However, while we don’t know much about Yoda’s species, it probably isn’t a social one. You could count all the characters of this species on two (human) hands, and Yoda lived in complete isolation for 20 years on Dagobah, and only went a little bit insane. They are naturally rare, and therefore probably lead solitary lives in nature. Moreover, Yoda outlived every master who trained him, and almost every padawan he trained himself, (there’s a great post about that here) so even if he wasn’t naturally predisposed to non-attachment, he would have had to learn it to deal with all the loss he had to live through over the years.

A lot of people think that Anakin fell because he had attachments, which is not true. He fell because of how his attachments played out and/or ended. The most obvious example being Palpatine, who used Anakin’s trust and friendship to groom him for over a decade and actively undermine Anakin’s trust towards anyone else, especially the order. (more on that here). Obi-Wan refused to take on the role of a father figure that Anakin tried to shove him into, so he turned to someone who did accept it. It’s not Anakin’s fault that it turned out to be the worst person alive, nor can we expect him to notice when he’s known Palpatine since he was a child. Another failure of jedi non-attachment, because a loving parent or guardian would not let their child be used as a bargaining chip when the most powerful politician in the galaxy blackmailed the order into allowing him to meet Anakin regularly, but a distant teacher and detached knight thinking of the greater good might. The other attachments Anakin had were taken from him (Shmi and Ahsoka, the last orchestrated by Palpatine who was fully ready to give her the death penalty to make Anakin more unstable), or he was forced to lie and hide them, compromising his vows as a Jedi (Padme) or refused to choose Anakin over the order/their principles (Obi-Wan, and again Ahsoka, and to some extent Padme, but he’d already fallen then). All these people had every right to make the choices they made, but it wasn’t the act of loving them that made Anakin turn to the dark side, it was how those attachments played out.

I think everyone agrees that Yoda is as detached as a Jedi should, if not can, be, and that didn’t prevent Dooku from falling. We see that explored in more detail with Barriss and Luminara. Luminara is detached and distant, she’s fond of Barriss, but their relationship is not familial in the slightest, and she repeatedly shows her willingness to put the greater good and the mission before Barriss’ safety and even life. And yet Barriss still falls. A complex combination of events and choices caused each of those characters to fall, not the simple presence or absence of attachment.

And lastly, just as attachment can make you unstable if your relationship with that person is unstable, it can also make you stronger. There is a reason Anakin and Obi-Wan were the face of the army. Not only did their obvious attachment (the strongest between two jedi we are shown) make them more relatable to the public, but they, when working as a team, are shown repeatedly to be more or less undefeatable. They spend half of aotc flinging themselves off great heights because they know the other will be there to catch them. They know from years of experience that they have backup and they know each other well enough (or force bond communicate) that they can trust the other will be where he needs to be to help/save them. Contrast that to how Windu and Palpatine fight in rots once the window breaks- very carefully, clearly holding back to keep themselves safe. Neither of them has backup until Anakin arrives, but until the last second they can't be sure which one he will choose. Anakin and Obi-Wan fight the same way on Mustafar, especially when balancing on that thin bridge. No acrobatics, swinging arms to keep balance, keeping their distance, being almost uncharacteristically careful compared to how they treated heights in aotc, in tcw, and on the invisible hand in rots, because they both know the other won't catch them if they fall this time.

[liums]

Xiao X Mc/reader who is afraid of thunders/lightings. also fluff

Hello~ here's a small note: I wrote Xiao as a mix of his eng voice lines and Chinese voice lines, since they make him sound completely different.

Aka his eng makes him sound like he is edgy, aggressive and tsundere as hell, but his original voice lines and voice acting, The chinese, make him sound like a lonely, calm person.

here we go then:

-You and Xiao had quite the weird relationship, for all that matters you didn't think he thought of you as a friend, but you weren’t strangers either. sometimes, more often than not, when you went to the upper balcony he wouldn’t vanish in thin air.

- That had to mean something right? RIGHT?

- those were the thoughts passing through your mind as you stood in the upper balcony at night, looking at no particular point of liyue.

-you let out a heavy sigh and as you turned around to return to your room- you found yourself in front of Xiao.

- You took the scare of your life. though this happens almost every time he would just appear near you when you thought to be alone.

-HOW COME SOMEONE COULD BE SO SILENT !?

- Xiao just made his way over to the balcony and stood there looking over at liyue. Now that you calmed down a bit and started looking at the Yaksha, you noticed his hair was a bit messier than usual if that is even possible, and that there was some blood in his clothes.

-You wanted to ask what happened, but it was probably a bit too obvious, so you just returned to your place at the balcony, this time, with Xiao beside you.

- “You were returning to your room” Xiao said after a while of silence.

- “ Well, I decided to stay a while longer, I haven’t seen you in almost a week, and I'm sure if I go to sleep now I won’t see you again for a couple days” you stated with a hand making vague gestures in the air. You heard a small “humph” from him and both of you went silent again.

-Moments like these were becoming more and more frequent recently, and even when neither the two of you would say something, you thought it was quite enjoyable….out of curiosity you took a glance at him, and holy archon, the man was beautiful. ahhh..those fierce eyes looked so calming to you…and you could swear there was a very small hint of a smile on his face, though it was most definitely your imagination working up, you wouldn’t mind staying like that for a couple hours….

-And of course

-As if to ruin the moment.

-It began raining ….

-It was just a bit of rain and it didn’t bother you, and Xiao clearly didn’t care about it. So you just began playing with the drops who fell in the balcony support. And then you heard it. A ferocious thunder in the distance. You gave a little jump and froze on the spot.

-You probably just heard it wrong right? hah, why now? you weren’t eve- “I have seen many mortals who fear lightning… Incomprehensible, fear of something so com-” Xiao had not the time to finish his phrase before he felt something, or rather, someone, grabbing his sleeve and letting go not one second after.

- He was a bit startled since you had never dared to do this sort of thing. However when he looked at you to say something about it, your face was more white than the almond tofu he had this morning, and the words he wanted to say instantly died on his throat.

“Xia-”*thunder* you wanted to apologize, but you were yet again interrupted by that ominous sound and froze on spot, Your knuckles already white from the force you were exercising on the balcony support.” I …I think I’ll go back inside now haha…” you faked a small laugh and hurried inside without paying further attention to Xiao.

-Xiao just stood there looking in the direction you left to with his usual stoic face, but I assure you he was just ????????????????????? as possible on the inside.

………

-It has been a while since you wrapped yourself in blankets and covered your ears to minimize the sound of the thunders, your eyes were shut and you sometimes mumbled some words to yourself. And so, when Xiao approached your door and knocked you didn’t hear him.

-Well Xiao didn't know why he hadn’t left yet, but he also wasn’t going to come into your room without your permission, so he just stood there. He was going to knock again when he heard you give a shriek.

And at that moment one hundred thoughts crossed Xiao’s mind, and 99 of them included you being in danger, So in a split second Xiao’s spear was in his hand and your door was no more.” Y/N!?” Xiao called while rapidly scanning the room with his eyes.

You did hear a loud bang, but with your hands covering your ears, every sound sounded muffed, so you thought it to be another thunder. With your eyes still closed all you could do was pull your legs even closer to your chest. Now seeing you physically unharmed was like a pain killer to Xiao, his racing mind finally calmed down and he let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t sense any sort of demon in the room so that was obviously not the case. The only thing left was finding out what was happening to you, yes he thought you were a bit weird, but this was not like you. And honestly speaking Xiao preferred to fight some demon, not because he didn’t want to interact with you, but rather because he was aware of how bad he was when dealing with human emotions.

With his spear no longer in sight he approached your bed, “y/n” he called in a plain voice, however, since you showed no signs of opening your eyes anytime soon, he reached your shoulder and lightly touched it “y/n.”-  As soon as you felt someone touching you your first reaction was to reach for your sword that was beside the bed, Xiao had expected this much to happen, but he didn’t move a single muscle, and of course as soon as you saw it was Xiao, you just dropped the sword without a second thought and quickly began apologizing” Xiao I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to- I didn't hear you coming in….” you turned your face to the other side since you could feel your eyes wet and didn’t want Xiao to see you like this.

Xiao on the other side noticed you were avoiding his eyes right away because somehow you had developed the annoying tendency to always look in his eyes whenever you were speaking with him, well, he says annoying, but if you’d stop doing it out of the blue, he would feel weird and a bit bothered since he had grown comfortable with you doing it.

Xiao narrowed his eyes a bit, he wanted to know what could have possibly caused this sort of behavior from you and moved so he could see your face. You had stopped covering your ears ever since Xiao had touched your shoulder, so when he yet again attempted to call your name and a thunder soared in the background, you gave another shriek and froze for a split second, seeing this, Xiao got more worried again. Could it perhaps be that you were afraid of him???? But you had never feared him once, despite his attempts to shoo you away at first. So why would you fear him now??? Yes, his clothes had “a bit” more blood than usual but that would hardly make you fear him, right???

“Aha… I’m sorry Xiao, I left so abruptly” you began explaining, interrupting his train of thoughts. You were still with your legs close to your chest, but now you were playing with your own hands, still not looking directly at Xiao. “As you can see I'm fine, so there is no need for you to be here, I don’t want to be-”

“I’m not leaving until this situation is explained. Now talk.” Xiao had crossed his arms again. Aha…he really doesn’t know how to sugarcoat his words even when he’s worried, does he? But in your eyes, this was a very cute trait he had.

“It’s really a trivial matter, I don’t want to bother you” you had a small forced smile while looking at your own hands.

Xiao crossed his arms “I thought I told you to speak my name whenever you were in trouble” Well, that was not entirely the truth, he told you to speak his name whenever death came to you, or monsters, or knives at your throat, so obviously fear of thunders was not on the list, but of course you wouldn’t say this out loud. ”I’m not leaving until you explain. Talk” His voice sounded a bit aggressive and intimidating, but there was more than a hint of worry in it, so you gave up. You looked at him with a bit of reluctancy and sat more properly in your bed. Then you gestured to a chair that was by your bedside. Xiao sat and waited for you to start explaining.

You took some time to start speaking, and Xiao could only prepare himself for what you were going to say, as the vigilant Yaksha, the conqueror of demons there would hardly be a problem he wouldn't be able to solve for you. And when you finally opened your mouth, he couldn’t help but focus his eyes on you. “I….” You began ”I’m afraid of thunders….” once again you shifted your gaze to somewhere else. Xiao had lived thousands of years, dealt with countless problems and witnessed millions of troubled mortals begging for adepti help but this was something he had never expected.

He didn't know what to say, obviously thunders were insignificant to him, much less something to be afraid of. But you were afraid of them, what possibly could he say?????? Xiao was now in an internal conflict, of course on the outside he still had that poker face of his, eyes a bit widened with surprise while still glaring at you. If it were in another situation you would have probably thought something along the lines of “how can a thousand years adepti have such a cute and Innocent face….” but this was not the time nor the place.

“I bet you didn't expect that…” you smiled sadly as you hugged your legs. Xiao wanted to help, he really did, but how??? He had never dealt with this. He had started to think maybe you would be better without him there and should have left you alone, you had dealt with this situation a lot of times and you probably knew how to deal with it.

He really was about to get up when another thunder soared, a fierce one at that, and you unconsciously grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t leave…!”The words left your mouth before you could stop them. The ferocious Yaksha froze, you were looking at him, your eyes wetter than before and an expression of fear and despair on your face. This was happening way too many times recently, an adeptus like him shouldn’t be so easily surprised, and by a human no less. The thought of leaving left his mind immediately, and if he had slightly left the chair, Xiao sited again right away. He really couldn’t leave now.

Once you realized you had grabbed his sleeve again you slowly released it hoping he didn't realize you had grabbed onto it in the first place, was this becoming a habit????? it already happened twice!. On the other hand, Xiao obviously noticed, and that was one of the reasons a weird and warm sensation began growing in his chest.

“..Xiao I-”

As you were about to speak when Xiao cut you “Go sleep, I’ll be here”, he said with his eyes closed and a solemn expression. Well, Xiao had no experience dealing with this kind of situation nor he knew what to do, but if you said for him not to leave, he wouldn’t.

You were about to say he didn’t need to, and that he probably had other things to do, but three consecutive thunders were heard as if to say “shut up and thank him!!” So you just noded and covered yourself with blankets.

Now that Xiao was aware of the source of your unwellbeing, every time there was a thunder he would shoot a deadly look at the window with the corner of his eyes as if he could actually make them stop. After one final glance at your figure, he turned his head to the window, just calmly gazing at the rain, still, there was this protective aura you could feel from him.

Even looking at the window, Xiao could feel you flinch every time he heard a thunder, however after a while, you stopped, maybe you fell asleep. Even if that was the case he still stood there for a good half an hour. He probably wouldn’t admit it, but he was enjoying the ambiance.

When he looked at you as if to check everything was alright, it finally hit him “What am I still doing here?”. Without further thought, he stood up and was about to leave your bedside when he felt something slightly tugging onto him. When he looked over…. yes, you guessed it. You were peacefully grabbing the end of his sleeve.

You see, earlier when Xiao was looking at the window and you were trying to ignore the thunders and sleep, you sometimes stole a look at him, and in one of those times, you noticed part of his sleeve was on your bed, and reaaaally close to your hand at that. You looked at it for some seconds, and lightly touched it, then quickly looked at xiao, and since he didn't seem to notice, you slightly shifted your body closer to him and rested your hand on his sleeve. When you moved your head closer to your hand and his sleeve, you felt his scent filling you. You had never noticed since you never had got close enough to feel it, but he smelled like sandalwood and rain. After this, you stopped hearing the thunders and slowly fell asleep.

With anyone else, Xiao would have just pushed his sleeve and keep on his way, but it was y/n, a sleeping and fragile y/n. Xiao never thought of you as fragile, but recently he was always wary of his own strength when he was near you. And somehow, this situation had ignited that weird feeling on his chest again.

Xiao crouched down a bit and gently tried to pull his sleeve, he didn't want to risk waking you up, so as gently as a Yaksha could he grabbed your hand to move it to the side, and for some reason, even if adepti don’t feel hotness or cold, he was sure his face felt hotter than it should, how many years had it been since the last time he willingly had physical contact with someone? Back to the matter at hand, while Xiao was trying to put your hand away so he could remove his sleeve, somehow you had managed to grab his wrist instead, and when Xiao had finally freed his sleeve, it was now his arm that your hand was tugging into. He tried to move it out of there but you just pulled his wrist against you.

Now Xiao really needed to pull his arm out, he didn’t want to touch any part of your body without your consent. However when he slightly tried to move his arm out, you tugged him closer, fortunately, you pulled upwards, in the direction of your face. And even tho he let out a sigh of relief his face got more red than before once he felt your soft breath on the back of his fingers, his piercing eyes were wide as a scared cat, If you were to pull him an inch closer your lips would touch his fingers, so Xiao didn’t dare to move again.

————————

As the morning light began touching your eyelids, you slowly began waking up, shifting your body to the other side of the bed so the light wouldn’t hit your eyes, and stretching your body in a lazy way, after that you yawned and finally opened your eyes, still adjusting to the light you rubbed them a few times and slowly sat on your bed,” Good morning Xiao*Yawn*…!!!*cough cough* XIAO!?” only then did you notice there was a figure standing by your bedside, staring at you.”I- wh-what are you doing here??”

Xiao himself had only scaped from you some minutes ago, when you began waking up. He had just finished rubbing his still warm arm when you noticed him ”You are awake” he said in his usual tone. You slowly began getting up but before your foot touched the ground you began recalling what happened last night. “Oh dear Archon, how could have I said such things?? To Xiao nonetheless? ‘Don’t leave’??how come I said that!? Did Xiao really spend his night here??” You thought while trying to compose your messy clothes, failing a couple times before getting it right.

Amidst your thoughts, you head Xiao’s steps, and quickly turned to him in a weird way “ Ah-!Xiao, you shouldn’t have- hm? Xiao? what’s wrong with your face?” You slightly turned your head a bit to the side to see better a slight red shade in his face “Did he get bruised while fighting?” you thought.

However Xiao’s eyes narrowed a bit and he quickly turned to the door, his steps heavy, “Humph, we’re wasting time. Let’s go” and kept on walking his way. You were a bit surprised but quickly began walking fast to catch up with him, and even tho he wouldn’t turn his head to you no matter what, you could notice the tips of his ears a bit red. But you didn’t pry further on the matter.

                                                       The End

bonus

While both of you were walking down the stairs, Verr saw you two coming out of the same room, and when you looked at her you could only see her with a hand covering her mouth and her widen eyes silently following you two.

———————

Lol this was supposed to be HC kind of thing, but it became a whole 3k words oneshot XD

Anyway, I hope you liked it since this is my first time writing about Xiao, or anything in the “X Reader” category so I'm sorry if I did anything wrong.

I will try to keep my requests open, so feel free to go there  

here uwu  Requests

[remmammie]

*sees how adorable you are*

*sees how much you have always written for others*

*sees how hungry you are for TWEWY*

...

...

...

SAY NO MORE SWEETIE!!!! *cracks fingers*

Can I have a HC please *wink wink* from Neku with a best friend who loooooves the music and is quiet too? Or just how is Neku in terms of general friendship? Thank you~

Adorable-? Can't say I've ever been called that before, so thank you!

And I had a pretty meh day at college today (where I wrote this hehe,) so both you and your request has cheered me up massively. I hope this doesn't show my Neku bias because it is a little bit longer than any of my Kingdom Hearts stuff - I just love him a lot and haven't gotten to talk about him to anyone yet. I did a little bit of both as you'll see. Hope you enjoy!

Neku Friendship HCs

There are really three points in Neku’s life where his “requirements” for friendship change so I’ll cover them all.

If we’re talking before the events of the first game, then becoming close enough to Neku to become his best friend is a mighty task and can probably only be achieved by a select few. He’s not shy, but is pretty standoffish; he doesn’t take a lot of crap and isn’t afraid to tell people to get lost if he finds them annoying either (which annoying him isn’t a monumental task.)

As he’s said, he didn’t “get” people - Why can’t people leave him alone? Why are people’s emotions so touchy? Why are they so complicated? - so anyone who is his friend would have to be extremely down-to-Earth, someone who can understand what he’s feeling at given times and know whether to ask what’s wrong or leave him alone, someone who isn’t too loud and attract attention to him when he wants to be alone with them, and definitely someone who has similar interests to him.

The easiest thing for Neku to talk about is definitely music because it’s such a common thing in society: it’s like his “go-to” for conversations with strangers when he can’t be bothered or is too scared of someone to talk about his deeper interests. His best friend absolutely needs to have an interest in music or he’ll really have nothing to talk about, and he doesn’t really mind if that taste is different to his because that just makes conversations more interesting and he’d be more willing to talk.

A lot of the time Neku and his best friend spend with each other is over music, whether they’re alone with a speaker just relaxing in each other’s company while they listen or in public sharing a pair of headphones and taking turns choosing tracks. He really takes the time to think about how lucky he is that he found someone quiet like him, someone that can understand him.

If his friend shares his deeper, more secretive, interest of CAT and graffiti art in general, then they’re both set for life. He could talk for Japan about the design and meaning of CAT’s art, if he were only extroverted enough, so he’ll have to settle for talking his best friend’s ear off about it instead. They could bounce ideas off of one another about artistic skill and desire for hours, and they probably will.

Now, if we’re talking about Neku nearer to the end of the first game after all his interactions with Shiki, Beat, Rhyme, Joshua, and other Reapers and Players, then making friends with him simultaneously becomes a lot easier…and more difficult.

It’s easier because all of these new people he’s been somewhat forced to interact with have majorly brought him out of his shell and he’s less “judge at first sight” because he’s learnt that a lot of people aren’t just surface level with their thoughts and feelings: their true natures. He no longer really minds if his friends are loud because he feels comfortable and safe in their company, though he still cares a little about being bothersome to strangers and would prefer not to make scenes.

However, things become a tiny bit more difficult because, now that Neku has had friends, he’s deathly scared to lose them. If he has a friend, their bond needs to be strong, unbreakable. To find people that understand you and then immediately lose them (either due to the Game or because of his own attitude) is devastating, and Neku can only deal with that so much before he becomes like he used to, all isolated and abrasive.

This also means that any friend he makes at this point is going to have to be acquainted with his new friends and they’ll have to earn their trust (though they’re easier to get along with) before they integrate into the group’s life.

Finally, NEO Neku is definitely the easiest to get along with after taking the three years to mature, but he’s also the busiest with, y’know, a city to save. Neku himself is now a lot more down-to-Earth and has taken his past years to start understanding people as well as himself. He’s learnt what he wants out of friendship and that’s just someone who won’t judge him or anyone else for who he is, someone who isn’t going to leave him in the dust at the first sight of danger.

[retrievablememories]

matched | ten (m)

title: matched pairing: alien!ten x black!reader genre: sci-fi, angst, fluff, romance, smut summary: the quest for love leads you to a new dating app with a slight twist—and straight into the inbox of someone who’s light-years out of your usual dating pool. word count: 9.7k warnings: familial conflict, strained parental relationship, mentions of cheating, prejudice/discrimination based on species, body modifications/alien biology, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), dom!ten, photography during sex, cumshot, squirting, some spanking a/n: as always, i lose all impulse control whenever i get a ten request so i have finished this sooner than i expected

i decided to lean more into the romance plotline than stress too much over the realism of the science-fiction elements with this fic, so there are some inaccuracies/impossibilities...but that’s fiction for you 🙃

AM 2074 (After Migration)

You are lonely.

Your last breakup did not end well, to say the least, and you haven’t dated for a while since then. It seemed like a smart move—a safe one—to shun all romantic relationships until you felt ready again. At the beginning, you were glad to be alone for a while, to regroup and rediscover yourself worrying about another person’s opinions on everything you did. To not have to deal with someone else’s drama.

The toll of not having companionship is gradually getting to you, though. Even if your last relationship was a mess more often than it wasn’t, you still long for those good moments, like going on night dates on the weekends and sharing pillowtalk into long hours of the early morning. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed those things until all the emotions of it crashed down on you at once.

Your friend Malika claims to have a solution for your loneliness. Now, sitting at this outdoor cafe, you’re simultaneously eager and hesitant to hear what she has to propose, knowing her track record for silly plots.

With twinkling eyes, she looks at you and says, “You should try a dating app.” She clasps her hands together and puts them on the table like she’s made a grand announcement. You absorb her words for a few moments, looking out at the street across from you and watching cars—some hovering above the asphalt, some driven autonomously, and many still with human drivers—pass by.

You eventually sigh, your shoulders slumping. “That’s the big solution you called me out here for? People have been using dating apps for decades, that’s nothing new.”

“Exactly! The fact that they’re still popular even in 2074 is proof that they work, Y/N. You can put yourself out there and talk to dozens of guys without even meeting them in person. If one connection doesn’t work out, you don’t have anything to lose, and you don’t have to see the guy ever again.”

“Maybe I’ll lose my sweet time and patience during the process, though.”

Malika shakes her head and types something into her hologram pad, then holds it up for you to see. The hologram displays a dating app called matched—it reminds you of what Tinder was supposedly like before it became eclipsed by more advanced platforms, though that happened years before you were even born. “This one is kinda new, but it’s gotten popular fast and has good success rates. I’ve tried it before and met some nice guys. Give it at least one chance before you hate on it.”

“Ugh, I don’t know...there are always so many weirdos hanging out on those apps. What if I meet someone who keeps a collection of severed alien tentacles in an icebox in their house? Like that one guy who showed up on the news?”

“...Really?” Malika rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Stop getting in your own way and just take a risk for once.”

You shake your head at her optimism. “I’ll do it because I know you won’t leave me alone about it, but don’t expect me to find some great love story on this app.”

--

Once you download the app and start making an account, it becomes pretty obvious that this isn’t just a regular dating platform.

Choosing your gender and age preferences is normal enough, and you pass through those screens quickly until you get to one that gives you two new options.

➤ Species Preference ❐ Human ❐ Extraterrestrial

Whoa. Aliens? An alien-friendly dating app?

You weren’t overly familiar with the mechanics of dating apps, and you certainly didn’t consider that ones allowing aliens might’ve existed until now. It had been 15 years since the first contact with aliens was established, and a little less than a decade had passed since aliens began migrating to Earth and taking up permanent residence—and vice versa.

Humans had little problem with accepting aliens’ technological adaptations and claiming them as their own, though they were far less welcoming of the aliens themselves. That resulted in strained interactions between the two species, with aliens trying their best to assimilate and humans questioning their every motive. As far as personal relationships went, interspecies mingling between humans and extraterrestrials was still fairly uncommon—something that only people who were considered to be on the fringes of society participated in. There were “normal citizens of society” who built relationships with aliens, but many of them also kept it solely as a kink or fetish to be done only in the dark.

You decide to check both options. It feels a little scary, like diving headfirst into the unknown, but you are open to it either way. You’ve interacted with aliens before, both as kind acquaintances and near strangers, and they’ve always been relatively normal in the grand scheme of things—beings trying to survive and make a life for themselves like anyone else. Certainly not plotting how to take over Earth as many people have speculated. If they really wanted to, they possess the technology to have done that ten times over already.

You take a while trying to come up with a clever bio and spend an even longer time mulling over which pictures of yourself to choose, but you eventually complete your profile.

The first few matches you make are not very successful.

Whether it’s human guys feeding you terrible pickup lines or alien guys who can’t make it past the language barrier—or who ask you to move back with them to their home planet after two days of talking—you don’t see any potential love interests during your first two weeks of using the app. 

You’re not sure what kind of skills Malika used to make multiple good matches, but maybe you need to interrogate her so you can sharpen your own. So you decide to do exactly that.

“Don’t give up on it just yet. Just be yourself—which also means not being afraid to cuss someone out if they come at you crazy. Some of these dudes lowkey like the mean girl shit, though, which is kinda weird.” Malika speaks from the shimmering translucent mirage of your hologram pad as you walk through the park one afternoon. She couldn’t make it out to meet you today, but you managed to snatch a moment to talk to her even if it couldn’t be face-to-face. “You probably shouldn’t expect to find a boyfriend in the first few days—”

“Girl, I don't think anyone was expecting that. Duh.”

“I’m saying, just give it time!”

“Okay, but listen. You didn’t tell me it’s also for aliens. Have you dated one before? You never told me!” You lower your voice then, not wanting anyone nearby to eavesdrop on your conversation and hear that part. You feel kinda bad for even thinking that way, but it’s hard to shake the stigma associated with interacting with aliens.

“Yes, and it was the best sex I ever had, but maybe I’ll tell you about that later.”

“Sis. Don’t withhold tea from me!”

“Someday when you’re not literally standing in the middle of the park, okay?” Malika shakes her head, smiling.

“Don’t forget about it, either.”

“I won’t. And you know what to do if you find a guy. I want to be the first to know!”

“Sure, sure. I wouldn’t hold my breath on it, though.”

You decide to spend some more time on the app after that conversation instead of just deleting it like you’d planned to initially. And one day, you get another new match that catches your eye out of the many others.

“Ten? Like the number…?” Besides the interesting name, you immediately see that he’s an extraterrestrial. From the Sommu race, as it says in his bio.

You click on his profile.

You’re a little surprised by how pretty he is, which isn’t to say the other aliens you matched with were all hideous. But he doesn’t have tentacles coming out of his face or two sets of eyes, either. The most noticeable thing about his alienness is his blue skin.

“Likes...dancing, art, music, okay so we have an artist type here...dislikes...fruit. Huh. That’s...interesting.”

The pictures of him on his profile are all deliberately artistic, as in they aren’t just some half-baked selfies he took with a hologram pad. You grow increasingly curious. It’s safe to say he’s either super into himself or just appreciates the art of good photography, and you figure there’s only one way to find out. You decide to take the first step and message him.

➤ Nice pictures :) 

You don’t know when or if you’ll get a message back, since he’s not online when you send it, so you try not to get your hopes up too much. Maybe you should’ve tried to come up with something more cool and funny—nice pictures?—but you try to remember Malika’s advice and roll your eyes to yourself. There’s no point in getting stressed over a dude you don’t even know yet.

You eventually get a reply back from Ten.

➤ thank you 🙏 are you into photography too? you have talent for taking beautiful photos 

You giggle quietly to yourself; another line, but it’s definitely one of the tamer ones you’ve received. Why not see where this one goes?

The first conversation you have consists mostly of the regular getting-to-know-you talk, such as your personal interests and favorite things. You get him to talk more about his photography hobby, which he’s eager to tell you all about—as well as his penchant for art.

To your optimism, you and Ten quickly get comfortable with each other. You soon forget about all the other potential matches you have, but those don't matter much to you anymore. So far, you’ve connected the most successfully with Ten, which means you’re more than glad to stop spending your time reading boring messages from guys who’ve only pretended to have things in common with you.

Things go so well, in fact, that he asks you to meet in person not long after you begin talking to each other.

For your first meetup, you decide to meet at a park nearby—the same one you’d been walking through the day you were talking to Malika about that very dating app. You and Ten have talked through the hologram pad on multiple occasions, so you’re more reassured that you’re not starting from scratch with some faceless being. Still, the thrill of seeing each other in person for the first time is undeniable.

“Y/N?” You turn your head at the sound of your name, and you see Ten walking towards you.

“Ten!” You give him a smile, waving at him. You feel a little more nervous than you usually would on a date, though you can’t tell if it’s the good kind of nervousness. You mostly chalk it up to not having been out with anyone in a while.

Ten’s just as pretty up close as he was in the photos and on camera, if not even more attractive; he’s breathtaking in the light of the sun. His hair is styled nicely, meticulously-place strands curling over his forehead, and his clothes perfectly outline his slim body. He looks pleased to see you, his lips curving into a coy smile.

“You could’ve given me a warning,” he says as he outstretches his arms to you. You hug him, but not without a questioning glance on your face. He is warm and smells good, like juniper, which almost makes you forget about your question.

“Warned you about what?”

“How you’re even more beautiful in person.” He says this at your ear before pulling away, and it makes the back of your neck bloom with heat.

“Oh, you’re laying it on thick.” You giggle nervously, shifting on your feet.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks.

“Yes, let’s go!”

You leave the park to go to an aquarium nearby, which is the biggest one in the city. You find out quickly that Ten is easily fascinated by the wide range of creatures there. Despite living on Earth for a few years now, he hasn’t seen a lot of them until now.

You walk through the blue-lit hallways together, surrounded by water everywhere you turn. You observe the different animals up close and from far away, reading information about them from the signs beside their tanks.

“What the hell is that?” Ten says through laughter, looking at the squished-up mouth of a stingray as it floats in front of the glass, baring its pale underside to you both.

“It’s a stingray!”

He scrunches his nose up. “It’s ugly. But kinda cute, too…”

You both end up staying at the aquarium longer than you expected, with Ten wanting to see practically every animal they had on display; plus, you got to see some you weren’t familiar with before either.

After visiting the aquarium, you go downtown—which is otherwise known as food truck central, where you can get pretty much anything you’re craving. This area is always quite busy this time of evening, especially on the weekends. Food in hand, you and Ten end up walking through a few of the quieter back streets where there’s not as many people—streets where the closely-packed buildings give way to the grassy yards and paved roads of nearby neighborhoods.

“Should we talk about our families now, or is it too soon?” you say jokingly. “You know, that seems to be the only thing we haven’t mentioned after talking about everything else under the sun.” You’re not entirely sure why you bring this up while knowing your own relationship with your parents isn’t great, but you are curious to hear about Ten’s family.

“I don’t really know mine,” he replies.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You feel a little bad about it, thinking there was definitely a reason why he never mentioned the topic.

Ten looks confused for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. Sommu never form close bonds with their parents or siblings.”

You give him a curious look. “Why not?”

“Well, we aren’t born or raised the human way,” he explains. “Our parents have a bunch of us at once, raise us for the first couple of years, and then go off to reproduce again and continue the population.”

You’re startled at that. “Just for a few years? How do you survive?”

“We age faster...both physically and mentally. We become independent around 4 or 5 years old, and we can live without our parents.”

“That’s...definitely very different.” You try to wrap your mind around that information, though it’s difficult. Even with your not-so-healthy relationship with your parents, you couldn’t imagine having no family whatsoever at such a young age. You also can’t even begin to comprehend what it’d look like to be taking care of yourself at only 5 years old, fast aging or not. “But, you said a bunch at once...how is that possible?”

“We are formed inside things like eggs. It’s not like your form of childbirth. See?” And you become flustered when he lifts his shirt up to show his lack of a belly button, right there in the middle of the street.

“Uh, wow.”

“The human concepts of ‘family’ and ‘relationships’ are...very new to me.” He seems a little embarrassed to admit this. “That’s why I, um, joined a dating app, for more experience...I was told I need to learn to be more…” He searches for the word. “Im...pertinent?”

“...Empathetic?”

“Yeah, that.”

“So, did that come from a previous partner, or…?”

“Yeah, I’ve had two relationships since I’ve been here.” He seems wistful now, maybe a little sad. “They didn’t work out well. Maybe we were too different.” Before the mood can shift too far into negativity, Ten turns to you with a soft smile. “But maybe that’s not the kind of thing you want to hear while we’re on a date.”

You shake your head and smile. “I don’t mind, it’s interesting to know about.” More than interesting. You want to ask him a hundred more things about what his life was like when he first got to Earth. “Anyway, you can never have too many new starts in life. Let’s enjoy this one.”

--

At the end of your date, Ten walks with you back to your place. It’s almost midnight at this point, with you both walking all the way back from downtown. You’d drawn more than a few skeptical stares over the course of the day, but you both did your best to ignore those and just focus on each other.

“I’m really glad we got to go out today, it was fun,” you say, hugging your arms to yourself to shield against the cool spring breeze.

“I think I haven’t had that much fun in a while,” he agrees. Ten smiles wide then, the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his teeth, and you have to do a double take. 

“What—”

“Oh, that. Sometimes I forget everyone doesn’t have this...” And when he sticks his tongue out, you see clearly now that it’s split halfway down the middle. Sort of like how a snake’s would be. “D’you like it?” His expression is wicked when he asks this, and a strange heat sweeps through your body.

“Wow.” You cringe at your lackluster answer, but that’s the only thing you can muster up at the moment, too busy internally questioning yourself. You’ve seen body modders with split tongues in documentaries and on the internet, but it’s never appealed to you like this before, and you don’t know what to do with that new realization.

“It’s okay, it takes some getting used to.” He gives you a smile that might be called innocent by anyone else, but to your eyes it’s quite obvious he’s proud about making you flustered.

“Getting used to...yeah, I’m sure.” There are about 15 different questions you want to ask him about that, too, but you aren’t going there on the first date.

“So...can I expect to see you again?”

“Of course.” You smile again at the hopeful note in his tone. “Just let me know whenever you want to go out again.”

Before Ten leaves, he places a hand on your shoulder and kisses you on the cheek. It’s a simple and short kiss, but it still makes you blush beneath your brown skin.

You wave goodbye to him from your doorstep as he goes, feeling like you’ve finally done something right for the first time in a long time.

You’d taken a chance with dating an extraterrestrial, someone so different from yourself and your species, and you figured it would be a new experience. Obviously. What you did not bet on, however, was the idea that you’d fall for Ten so fast.

After three months of dating exclusively, you feel like you could say you love him, which is frighteningly quick for you; though you don’t tell him this yet.

You’ve decided to bring him to meet your family. The idea frightens you, because your parents have never been very receptive to the aliens’ migration. But you are still holding out some hope that maybe they’ll realize all their assumptions were wrong, and that you’ve found a nice man who you love and who you’re sure loves you just as much. Whether he’s human or not shouldn’t matter.

You manage to set a date when all your schedules match up so you can bring Ten over to your parent’s house. Ten is nervous—more nervous than he was when you went on your first date—which you find a little surprising. You’ve gotten used to him being the one who you can lean on, who always seems to know the right answer.

“Do you think it will go well?” he asks, his tone implying he’s not confident of the answer.

“I hope so.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring and squeeze his hand.

When your parents open the door, there’s visible surprise on their faces. You’d already told them your boyfriend was not human, which drew doubtful responses when you first said it, but they’re acting as if they never knew that information—as if this is the first time they’re seeing an alien, period.

“Um…hi, mom, dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ten says, though his own tone is overly formal, like he doesn’t know how he should speak. “I’m Ten.”

Your parents pause for a few moments longer. Finally, the awkward quiet is broken. “We thought you were just messing,” your dad says, though he steps out of the way to let you both come in, if a bit reluctantly.

“I—no.” You’re uncertain how to respond to that, though you don’t feel optimistic about what it entails. Your mother doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at you and Ten like you’re both strangers who’ve just waltzed in uninvited. She goes back in the kitchen to finish dinner once the door is closed, not saying anything to either one of you, and you already feel a cold pit settling in the bottom of your stomach.

Your dad sits in the living room with you and Ten, and another awkward silence ensues as your dad gives a stiff smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He clasps his fingers together and pulls them apart repeatedly, like they’ll give him the answers for what’s going on.

“This is just a fling, right? Of course you won’t be staying with this ma—” Your dad almost says man but then stutters, thinking maybe the term isn’t appropriate since Ten isn’t human. He makes a vague gesture to fill in the space of the missing word.

“It’s not a fling,” you say, feeling like you’ve had cold water poured down your back. You’re sitting straight and still on the couch, and it’s not comfortable, but you’re too tense to move. Ten is almost equally stiff beside you.

“Y/N, we just want you to make good decisions for yourself.” That’s what your dad says out loud, though the look in his eyes finishes the rest of that sentence: And I don’t think this is a good decision.

“I am,” you insist. “I don’t need to be told that over and over again.”

“Me and Y/N are happy together,” Ten explains, and your dad seems a little shocked that he’s decided to speak.

“Do you truly think you’re what she needs?” your dad asks. You’re not sure what makes you more angry; the question itself, or the fact that he keeps his tone non-accusatory and light, as if he’s only asking something like where do you work? Like the answer doesn’t matter because he’s already made up his mind.

“As long as Y/N wants to keep seeing me, there’s no reason to stop our relationship.”

A sound of displeasure comes from your mother in the kitchen, and your skin prickles. Your dad nods to Ten’s answer, but he does so in a way that conveys he just wants this conversation to be over rather than consider anything that was said.

You deeply regret not leaving straight after that failed discussion, but you soon find out just how bad it can get once you all make it to the dinner table. Your mother is chillingly silent for the first half of the dinner, acting like neither you nor Ten exist, while your dad attempts to make awkward small talk about how things are going.

There comes a point where you can no longer handle the cold sweat and the nerves, and you put your utensils down. Not that you had much of an appetite anyway.

“Why won’t you even talk to me?”

Your mother glares. “You can’t guess? What kind of question is that to ask?”

You falter. You don’t know why she always does this to you. Ask ridiculous rhetorical questions that you both already know the answer to. Now you must sit here and explain why you asked like it isn’t already obvious.

“I’m visiting after I haven’t been here in a while. With my boyfriend. I thought...I don’t know. The least you could do—” Your mother shakes her head at the word “boyfriend,” and you already know everything else you said went in one ear and out the other.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t just stay with Christian?” she interrupts. “He had a decent job, came to see us often, and was NOT an alien.”

“But he cheated on me,” you say, a sickness rising in you.

“That’s what men do sometimes, Y/N. You deal with it and move on. You’re supposed to be strong—fix whatever is making him do it.”

You and Ten exchange a tense look, and there is clear confusion whirling in his eyes, but you don’t say anything to each other. “That relationship is over. I’m trying to do something for myself for once, not whatever you think I should do.” Even saying those words makes you internally recoil, unsure of what the reaction will be, but you don’t take them back.

“You may be an adult but we’re still your parents. Frankly, you need to be with a man of your own race and species—not this blue Martian here. How would you even have kids?”

Ten gives a humorless laugh, like he wants to respond but doesn’t want to make the situation worse or offend you. “You know what, I should just leave,” he says abruptly, rising from his seat.

You get up quickly after he does, but your mom slams her hand on the table. “Y/N, you better not walk out of here.”

You feel defeated and exhausted, like you always do when dealing with your parents and their objections to every single thing you do, but you decide not to give in this time. “Stop treating me like I’m still a child, ma.”

“What does being an adult matter when you still act childish? Don’t come back here crying when this doesn’t work out. I’ve already warned you more than enough.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” 

“So now you think you know better than me, when you couldn’t even keep a man the first time around.”

“This is hopeless,” you sigh, feeling wounded and angry at all these cheap shots.

“Y/N, please just listen to your mother for once…” your dad interjects, but you try your best to ignore their protests as you grab your things and follow Ten to the door. You can still hear your mother’s angry complaints as you close the front door behind you, though you’re surprised—but grateful—that neither of them attempt to follow you outside.

The ride back home is uncomfortable and mostly quiet.

“I’m sorry, Ten,” you say, feeling like you’ve been frozen from the inside out despite it being nearly summer. You’re near tears when you speak. Ten shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“It’s not your fault…” he replies weakly, though his words aren’t very persuasive to either of you.

He still walks you up to your door when you arrive back at your place, trailing slightly behind you. The night air is distractingly humid, wrapping around the both of you like a physical thing. Neither of you know what to say to each other.

When you get to your front door, you turn to look at him. “I shouldn’t have made you come. I should’ve known...” 

“I wanted to come,” he points out. “You didn’t make me do anything.” Ten’s tone isn’t outright harsh, but the words are noticeably sharp. Maybe he realizes it, because his face softens as if he’s said something wrong.

You nod. It’s as if there’s a mountainous gap between you two that you just can’t cross right now. “I get it.” You say this almost mindlessly, because you’re not sure what you’re getting, exactly. Your hand rests on the doorknob. You don’t want to end the night on this awkward and painful note, but neither of you are making any progress with this lack of a real conversation. Maybe now isn’t the right time to try to talk about it.

“I think...I’ll just go home tonight.” You expected he’d say that, but the words still make your heart hurt, even if you don’t want them to. He looks like he might say something else, but he just gives you a small nod before starting off.

“Ten…” You don’t know what you want to ask of him or tell him, if anything, but his name slips from your lips like it’s something you can’t keep inside.

Ten stops for a moment and turns back to you. He steps closer again, leaning forward to give you a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulls back, his eyes hold you in place.

He mumbles, “I’m not mad at you,” before leaving.

More than anything, you want to know how Ten is doing, but you’re too ashamed to contact him for the first couple days after that mess of a night. Maybe he thinks you’re just like your parents and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. His reassurance at the door wasn’t enough to soothe your worries, and you end up tearing yourself up internally over it—repeatedly recalling the warmth of his lips and wondering if that’s maybe the last time you’ll ever feel it.

Similarly, nothing but radio silence comes from his end. He doesn’t respond even after you finally muster up the nerve to send him a text—a short text, but still a message all the same—and you fear he must really be done with you.

On Ten’s part, he does have one justification for it; he’s preoccupied with dealing with the avalanche of unpleasant memories and emotions that incident resurfaced. Everything about what your parents said and how they looked at him reminds him of his past and ongoing struggles with trying to assimilate on Earth.

Even though he’s often very sure of himself and what he wants, he begins wondering if he’s “enough” for you. Maybe you’ve just been humoring him this whole time, or you’ve decided your parents are right and you’d be better off with another human. 

Those thoughts keep him up into the early morning hours, and he soon realizes he doesn’t want to let you go. In fact, he’s not sure what he’d do with himself if you decided to walk out of his life right now, and the idea of it makes him ill. Which makes him feel even more foolish for tuning you out.

Ten’s anxiety over losing you culminates in him standing on your doorstep again after almost a week of emptiness and not knowing how you were thinking or feeling—which has been killing him in its own way.

You’re not quite sure how to feel when you open the door and see him on the other side, but relief shoulders its way to the forefront.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“Can you please—”

You both speak at the same time, your words breaking afterwards. 

“You can talk first,” Ten says.

“Come in.” You let him in the door, and the words start spilling before you know how to stop them. “Ten, I-I’m...really sorry. I should’ve known better than to put you in that situation, but I thought…” Your words trail off. You don’t want to let him know just how desperate you still are for your parents’ approval sometimes. Even though it’s a fruitless case. “I just wanted it to go well. I want things to work now, for us. I really, really want things to work for us.”

Ten surprises himself with how quickly he moves to take you in his arms before the last words have even finished settling in his mind. He hugs you tightly. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me anymore,” he whispers, like he’s telling you something forbidden.

“That couldn’t happen.” You’re saddened he’d come to that conclusion. “But...it’s not fair for you to leave me in the dark, either. I want to help you...so would you please let me?”

Ten squeezes you a bit tighter, as if you might disappear from his arms. “I’m sorry I ghosted you...it brought back bad memories of how things were when I first got here. When people were more open about treating me like some kind of enemy. I didn’t know how to deal with it.” You tuck your chin into his shoulder and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of his words. “Y/N, I’m not sure if I’m very good at love, or if I even know enough about it. Maybe the others were right and I’m kidding myself with something I’ll never properly learn. But, I…” His voice cracks. “I-I think I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Entirely overwhelmed, you answer his admission with a long kiss, cupping his face in your hands. His response to your kiss is automatic, the knots of tension unraveling in your embrace.

“I love you, Ten,” you whisper against his lips after you separate. Here and now, it doesn’t feel too soon at all; there couldn’t be a better time to say it. His expression is a lot of things at once. Relief, happiness, contentment...he’s blushing, but it shows up as a darker blue on his already blue skin. When he smiles, it turns his whole face into a picture of joy.

--

“I want to go away.” Quietly, you tell him this as you rest your head in his lap.

You’re both lying on your couch, the room dim and the sound of rain occupying the silence. A downpour started coming down soon after Ten got to your place. You’ve sat there just like that and listened to the rain on the windows for the past couple hours, not wanting to do anything else or separate from each other. You knew he wouldn’t want to go home, and you didn’t even have to ask him to stay.

Ten’s been petting your hair the whole time. The motion of his fingers in your kinky strands makes you sleepy, but now the movements pause at your words.

“Go where?” he asks.

“Away from all this. My parents hate me, and they won’t let me have any peace as long as I’m with you. I just want to go away for a while.” Despite you overflowing with love after finally getting your feelings out in the open, the thought of your parents’ disapproval has lingered steadily in the recesses of your mind. You close your eyes against the tears that begin to well up. Ten’s quiet for a few more moments, and then begins stroking your head again.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

A few tears fall despite you trying to keep them in, and your eyelids flutter when you feel Ten’s fingers on your face, wiping them away. “Then we’ll go away.”

Ten’s homeland is a planet where the sun—or rather, a star called Proxima Centauri that’s much like the sun—is always out, no matter what time of day it is. There are days where it rains or gets cloudy, but night never falls and the star never dips any lower in the sky, always staying pinned in that same spot like a tack on a corkboard. That everlasting light throws your body clock off, and combined with this weird new form of jet lag associated with space travel, you are a mess for the first week or so after your arrival.

Ten makes a few jokes about fragile human bodies, but for the most part he tends to you as best as he knows how and tells you stories about how he grew up to get your mind off the discomfort. He feeds you these neon green drinks that don’t look like anything on Earth you’ve had before, and although they do make you feel better, you begin to think maybe you should’ve had a wellness plan before running off-planet.

You aren’t the only human who’s ever visited or even lived there, though, which gives you reassurance about adjusting to everything. By now, there’s a small population of human beings living here due to the interplanetary exchange initiated by Earth.

Before you left, Ten told you he had a small home in his homeland. You didn’t quite expect to hear this, since he’d been on Earth for a while now and had no family to return to. Though he’d migrated, he still expected to come back to his planet every so often, if only to visit. Now was as good a time as any.

Although many differences exist, the scenery is much like Earth’s; there are ecosystems with plants and animals and other living beings—like the Sommu themselves. Ten’s homeland is not filled with wall-to-wall technology like you’d expect an alien city to be, based on the small examples you’ve seen on Earth. You might compare it to the tropics back on Earth, with the Sommu yielding to nature’s rightful place in their ecosystem instead of clearing out whole forests or continually mining for resources. Ten is amused by your struggle to comprehend the newness and unfamiliarity of it all.

When you feel good enough to explore, he starts taking you to the beach often. It looks mostly like any other beach, but there are large coral forms that grow out of the ocean, reaching up towards the impossibly blue and constantly illuminated sky. Because there is no moon to guide the tides, the water is eerily still, the surface mirror-like—like a huge lake or pond that extends in almost every direction for miles. You’d almost believe it was a mirror if you hadn’t seen a bird-like creature skimming across the surface as it flew by, creating fleeting ripples.

You swim around a little in the still waters after Ten convinces you that you aren’t going to turn into a fish or something equally scary. He has to hold both your hands the entire time to get you to step in, and he doesn’t let go until you’re confident enough to explore the water on your own.

“Just focus on me, okay?” His smile is bright and shining against his blue skin, and he looks you directly in the eyes as he backs into the water, breaking the surreal stillness of it with his movements. “It’s just like the water on Earth.”

“Okay, okay,” you say uncertainly, gripping his hands and stepping in tentatively. The water does feel like any other water you’ve touched throughout your life, which helps you calm down slightly. His hands stay tight around yours as you get waist-deep into the water.

When you’re finally able to let go of him, he claps his hands more enthusiastically than the situation probably calls for. “Yay, you’re a big girl now!”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re not funny, Ten.”

--

On a bright afternoon, Ten lets you into a room of his house you haven’t entered before. You’ve passed by this shining white door several times, but it’s always remained firmly shut until now.

“What’s in here?” you ask as you hold his hand.

“That’s what I’m going to show you.” He laughs and pushes the door open.

You think it’s a darkroom at first, seeing nothing but dim light and the shiny surfaces of what looks like photographs as your eyes adjust. But when he touches his hand to a panel on the wall and the lights come on, you realize it’s not a darkroom. More like a small gallery for all his pictures.

The “pictures” are physical, but they aren’t like the old Polaroids or film photos that have begun fading out of existence on Earth. They’re small crystalline squares that play eternally-moving videos on their glossy surfaces—a bit different from the translucent holograms Earth adopted. You step further into the room to look at them. It’d probably take days to explore them all, there are so many. Different scenes play out as soundless movies, and when you look for long enough, you realize they’re split into different categories. Numerous events within a life.

Many are of the beach, other scenic places around his homeland, oddly-shaped buildings, and plants in colors that there are no names on Earth for. You step closer to one of the walls to look at the collection of images more closely. You actually do “recognize” a select few, linking them together with old memories Ten had shared with you only weeks ago. There’s so much happening in these small snippets of time, so many stories you haven’t yet heard, that you feel like you could look at them forever and not get enough.

“This is...something else.” Your words seem inadequate, but you don’t quite know how to express your sheer wonder.

“I could take some of you,” Ten suggests, from somewhere behind you. “I want to.”

You glance back at him. “Hm, yeah.”

“I’m serious.” Ten comes up behind you to clasp his arms around your waist. He tucks his chin into your shoulder. His lips are close at your neck, and you let them linger there. One of your hands goes to his own hand that’s over your waist, and you run your fingertips over his knuckles as you gaze at the photo wall before you. “I think you’d be the perfect muse.”

“You could do that.” You’re still entranced with it all, and you already know you’ve made up your mind to let him take as many photos of you as he wants.

--

The next time you go to the beach, Ten takes some photos of you standing near the huge coral forms—or at least as close as you are willing to get—and he laughs at your lingering hesitation.

Still, the crystalline photos he takes of you are the embodiment of perfection. When you look over them later, watching yourself twirl around and strike silly poses in the water, you can almost hear the sound of your laughter twining together and feel the warmth of a star that’s not the sun on your skin.

“What if we stayed here?”

You ask Ten this while you’re lying in his bed, watching a kaleidoscope of shapes on the ceiling. The bedroom window is open to allow the breeze to come in. The ceiling of the bedroom—and every other room in the house—is more like an ever-changing reflection of shapes and colors than an actual ceiling. You might compare it to a mirror, like the surface of the ocean, but you think it’s much more complex than that. Sometimes you can see the distorted outline of yourself in it, like a funhouse mirror. Other times, you see the sky above.

Ten lies beside you with one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, and he turns his head to look at you.

“Stayed?”

“If we just decided not to...go back to Earth.”

He pauses for a few moments. “Is that a good idea? You have a whole life there...and your friends…” Ten doesn’t mention your family, which you are grateful for.

You sigh. Nothing like a quick injection of reality after letting your imagination get ahead of you. “We’d have to go back. I’d have to tell them goodbye. And sort some other things out. Maybe it wouldn’t happen right now. But, after I do everything I need to do on Earth...maybe I could migrate here.”

“That’s a big decision to make...and it should be yours to decide.” Ten pauses again, like he’s weighing his words. “You know I don’t have many connections on Earth…” In other words, leaving Earth and returning home for good might not be as big of a deal for him as it would be for you.

You sit up and look out the window, seeing how the warm wind stirs the trees outside. “I want to.” You say it almost inaudibly, your words nearly carried off by the breeze. You turn back to him only to find him already there, sitting across from you and looking at you closely. Your faces are only inches from each other’s as he searches your eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ll do anything you want to.” Ten’s voice is earnest, like he’d follow you to Hell and back if you asked, and you believe him.

Resting your hand on his cheek, you kiss him.

This kiss is a little different from the ones you’ve shared before—more yearning. More desperate. You kiss like there won’t be enough time to do all the things you want to do with each other—to each other. His split tongue bumps against yours, caresses it, and it causes a shiver to go down your spine, like it always does.

You end up lying back on the bed again with Ten’s body crowding yours in, legs tangling together and hips pressing against one another’s. Neither of you have made a move to take the other’s clothes off yet, but then he separates from your lips for a long moment and studies your features, from your eyebrows down to your mouth.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Your mouth drops open slightly.

“I want to see it.” He takes one of your hands and guides it up under your skirt and between your legs, pressing your fingers against your sex through your underwear, and you look at him with wide eyes, taking a deep breath. He lets go of your hand, and you keep yours right where it is. You’re slightly nervous about his black gaze trained on you, unrelenting and prying, but you begin to move your hand anyway. 

Over your underwear, you press your finger between your lower lips, sliding between them and over your clit, and a little tremor goes through your body. You find yourself getting wet more quickly than you normally would with Ten watching you as you tease your entrance. You breathe a little heavier but make no sound yet. One of Ten’s hands reaches out for your ankle, though he doesn’t do anything other than keep his fingers there, a light touch that keeps passing back and forth over your ankle bone.

You circle your fingers across your clit more insistently, your legs tensing as the pleasure mounts higher. Ten’s lips part as he watches you, a heavy breath escaping from his chest. The hand on your ankle slides higher up your leg, just below your thigh, like he wants to slide his fingers into the mix and take over, but he doesn’t make a move to do so just yet.

Finally, Ten reaches under your skirt to pull your sticky panties off, sliding them slowly down your legs and leaving them somewhere on the floor. You want him to touch you again, the brush of his hands against your hips not enough, but he doesn’t grant your desire. “Keep going,” he says, leaning back on his hands, and you can see he’s growing hard.

You bring your hand back to its original place between your thighs, sliding through the wetness more easily and shuddering when your fingertips graze over your clit. You slide a finger into yourself then. A small moan slips out, and you close your eyes, but Ten’s fingers pinch your chin—not enough to hurt, but the sudden touch makes you look at him. “Keep your eyes open.” His thumb presses into your lower lip, and he stares at your mouth for a moment like he’s imagining sliding something hard and hot between your lips.

Ten kisses you on the lips again, and this time he trails the kisses down your body until he’s gripping your thighs on either side of his face. You pause in your movements when he reaches the junction of your thighs, and you watch as he grabs your hand and slips your finger out of yourself. He sucks the slick digit into his mouth, and you cannot tear your eyes away from him.

He lets your hand go and pulls you a few inches closer to his face, dragging you across the bed, and you can barely get your bearings back to sit up again when he slips his tongue through your lower lips. You moan, and he responds to that by repeating it again, catching your clit between the split in his tongue, and wiggling both sides.

“Oh Jesus...oh fuck.” Your hands go to Ten’s hair, pulling on it as you push your hips closer to his mouth, your back curving up. He is alluring tucked between your thighs like this, teasing and sucking your clit with his split tongue and prodding his fingers at your hole until he chooses to slide two of them inside.

His free hand keeps you close against his face as he eats you out, that wondrous tongue sliding against the most sensitive part of your body and making you gasp with boundless pleasure. Little droplets of moisture bead at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, your stomach tensing and releasing as you try your best to keep still.

He has to keep his grip on your body tight when you come, as you try to squirm away from his tongue because of how stimulated you are. He only lets you go after he’s satisfied himself with licking up all the wet that’s spilled from you.

Then he strips your skirt off for you, because he knows you’re not quite in a state to do it for yourself right now. He peels the rest of your clothes off similarly, which doesn’t take much time or effort to do; you’ve dressed lightly for the weather.

Ten looks at you lying beneath him on the bed, his gaze stuck somewhere between awe and lust. 

He slips out of his own clothes with a certain practiced ease. Yes, he’s really blue everywhere. He looks mostly human-like everywhere, too, except for the lack of a belly button. 

Ten kisses you deeply as he slips into you, and you clutch at his sides. He tries to keep his pace slow at first, maybe for your sake or to just savor how it feels, but he gives into the feeling of you squeezing around him and starts thrusting into you faster. There is already sweat sliding down to his jaw, though you think it might be because of the heat, too.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” comes out of you in a voice you hardly recognize as your own.

His pelvis sliding against your clit from the proximity of your bodies makes you curl your fingers into the strands of his hair, wanting to touch every part of him you can. His lips go to the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder, leaving little wet kisses behind as he wraps an arm around your waist and simply fucks into you, his shaft dragging against your walls.

He eventually separates himself from your neck, though it comes with some effort, to gaze at your face again. However, he finds that your eyes have drifted shut.

“Do you wanna come?” Ten asks, softly, gently, like you might break apart if he speaks too loud.

You’re a little winded from how he’s thrusting into you and can’t yet see the motive behind this question—because of course you do—but you answer with a shaky “I-I want to.”

“Then don’t look away from me.” His voice becomes harsher on these words.

“I…” Your lips move without any real words behind them as he thrusts into you harder, sinking all the way into you before pulling out to the tip. You want do what he’s just told you, but you find it difficult with the way he’s intent on burying himself into you, his eyes piercing into your own. “Mmm, I-I…”

You don’t know if you can, but the way he’s kindling your rising heat with each thrust makes you want to try very, very hard. Ten keep his hands on the sides of your face so you cannot look anywhere but at him.

The pleasure bears down on you more with each second, and you try to keep your breathing steady as another climax approaches.

“You’re almost there, come on baby,” he coaxes you, sloppily kissing the corner of your mouth before slipping his tongue in again. The way you gasp against his lips and tighten around him signals him to your orgasm, and he sits back to watch it play across your face, smirking at how you moan his name desperately.

Ten’s continued thrusts make you shiver from the flood of sensations overcoming your body, and you whimper at his movements until he pulls out and comes on your abdomen.

Ten gives you time to recover after you come down from your second orgasm, though he makes sure to lay a few more enamored kisses on your weakened body. He gets off the bed and exits the room after that. You don’t bother to ask where he’s going, because you know he’ll be back anyway.

When Ten comes back, he has his camera with him. The teasing tilt of his lips never leaves his face as he points it towards you. He takes a photo of you lying on his bed nude, with the breeze coming in and rustling the tree leaves and your hair, your skin shining bronze under the light of the eternal star. Then he comes closer, making the bed sink under his weight, and nudges your legs apart. He takes more photos of your lower stomach glistening with sweat and his cum—and photos of him sliding his slender fingers between your thighs and bringing you careening into another bout of euphoria.

The camera is soon forgotten after you come again. Ten climbs fully back onto the bed now and pulls you into his lap. His dick is hard again, and the length of it nudges against your lower lips, making you whimper from how sensitive you still are. He shushes you with a kiss and lifts your hips so he can slide into you, his shaft nudging that soft spot inside you and making you grip onto his arms.

You’re too mushy and dazed to do anything but let him push his hips up into you while you cling to him, your head lolling back. Ten’s mouth goes to the open expanse of your neck, and he wets your skin with his tongue.

The kaleidoscope of shapes above you on the ceiling morphs into one glistening reflection, throwing the blurred shapes of your bodies back to you. It’s like looking through a dense fog. You’re a little caught off guard by it, and you stare up at your nude forms. Ten looks up as well to see the cloudy figure of you cradled in his lap, and he only grins and thrusts up into you harder and smacks your ass in reply.

He grinds into you while he has you sitting full on his dick, and you think he must have set off your internal “reset” button somewhere between landing slaps on your ass and repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your mind is blissfully, amazingly blank. The only clear thing you can distinguish is how he feels in and around you.

When you come this time, it comes with a gush of wetness that makes Ten whisper several smug praises into your ear for being such a good girl and making a mess on him.

As you quickly find out, Ten’s refractory period seems to be nonexistent, while his stamina is overflowing.

Ten knows how to mix the pain with pleasure in a way that enhances both feelings, and you don’t know if you’ve ever experienced anything more perfect. One moment, he’ll say something romantic and fairytale-like to you before shoving your head into the pillow and taking you from behind in the next moment, pulling one of your arms behind you for leverage as he thrusts into you hard. You want him to do whatever he desires to you, and so you let him hammer into you until you think your hips and ass will be bruised by the next morning.

You’ve never knew that sex could be so carnal and so loving at the same time, but this is all of those things, and it makes you feel so full that you could split at the seams. You scream, cry, and moan more times than you can count, so enveloped by pleasure that it seems like the atoms of your body will simply dissolve from the intensity.

When you both finally become too exhausted to continue, it’s still daytime. Of course. But Ten draws the blackout shade forward and seals all the light out, and so you know it must be time to sleep. Time blends together here. Even if it’s not yet the midnight hour, it will be as long as you deem it so.

“Come here,” he says, and rolls you over on the bed so you don’t have to sleep in the wet spot. You grin in sleepy amusement against his neck as he hugs you to his body. “Let’s stay right here.”

You know he’s talking about sleeping for the next few hours, but you can also imagine he’s referring to your new life—one you’ll create together.

[aminiatureworld]

Honesty

Characters: Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,830

Warnings: None

Premise: Some habits just turn bad over time, and not matter how much we try they can be terribly difficult to stop.

In which Kaeya keeps to himself.

Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon! I thank you once more, and I hope that this was as you envisioned it. Also didn’t expect this to be so incredibly long but I hope that’s not unwelcome!

Kaeya is one of my favorite characters to write, but I also find him one of the hardest as well. He’s very good at slipping through your grasp, and it can be hard to convey such an outwardly complex and flirtatious character without making him a cardboard cutout. But it’s also incredibly gratifying when you think you’ve done it well. I hope this is one of the times.

Non bulleted pointed version on Ao3

It wasn’t that Kaeya wasn’t used to attention. It was simply that he wasn’t used to your attention.

I mean Kaeya was hardly the most innocent man in Monstadt; almost everyone spoke of the handsome and slightly ill-behaved cavalry captain. Kaeya certainly did nothing to discourage the talk, or the flirting, not when it was so fun. It felt good to be looked at for reasons, well if not positive at least they weren’t in the same league as the notoriety he’d picked up otherwise. Disapproving citizens were certainly better than a disapproving brother, especially since said brother had a habit of parroting Kaeya’s darkest thoughts.

Of course Kaeya wasn’t looking for anything when it came to said flirtations. Not only because the appeal was never there, at least not in any legitimate sense, but because Kaeya secretly felt he was a bit of a burden, something he’d never even admit to himself. And no one wanted a partner with emotional baggage. If there was anything Kaeya was quite sure of it was that. And he hadn’t the time, nor really the ability, to fix all his problems, if he wasn’t permanently broken already. Better to keep away from any firm attachments, one that might ruin the lives of those around him.

This admittedly terrible conclusion was all perfectly fine in theory, but then you’d arrived and it’d all fallen to the wayside.

You were perfection to Kaeya, in more ways than he could count. He loved your smile, as well as the various other expressions you pulled, whether snarky or appalled or excited; he loved the way you laughed, even when you complained it sounded vaguely seal like at some points and like you were dying at others; he loved your every mood and whim, no matter how silly or reckless. He loved when you had a temper and when you showed more restraint than he did, he loved when you acted like a character you’d just read about and he loved when you later got embarrassed by it and begged him to forget it. The list went on and on and on, so many things did he love about you. Most of all he loved that you never seemed in a hurry, not that any of the others had, but the boundaries had shifted quite a bit this time.

So what had begun not so much as flirtation but as awkward friendship blossomed into something more, and Kaeya knew it. Not that there was any proper confirmation, but really was there a need? He told himself that the idea was ridiculous, no need to make things official. Besides, it wasn’t as if Kaeya had changed much at all. Indeed he’d done quite the opposite, determined not to let things shift in the way you two interacted.

Of course he’d excused his actions. After all, though the knight had many contradictory opinions of himself, of his actions, of his past, but they tended towards the negative. He was evil, he was cruel, a shameless opportunist and a failure even in that. Most importantly, in regards to the matter at hand, Kaeya tended to think that he was in no position to enjoy a proper and serious relationship; it wasn’t in him. He’d only bring disaster upon his head and upon the heads of those he loved. How could he let it happen?

That were what he told himself, what again and again he drilled it into his mind. And he ignored the small part of him that told himself it wasn’t any of that, the part which jeered that, if he were altogether truthful, the reason for a lack of meaningful reciprocation ultimately lay in the overwhelming fear he kept buried deep within himself. The fear of telling others about himself. About his actions, his opinions, his morality. The unpolished and deeply irritating bits that even Kaeya couldn’t stand.

But that was buried under too many layers of denial to play into what he was doing, and Kaeya had thoroughly convinced himself that his actions were for the good of everyone, yourself included. So the charade continue, with you saying more and more and Kaeya saying altogether nothing of consequence at all.

“Kaeya, what do you think of me?” You asked one day. It was a summer afternoon, the lazy kind, when all seemed static and half asleep. Kaeya was one of those things, and jolted to full wakefulness, surprised and ill at ease by the sudden question. You didn’t look at all upset, though maybe a bit bashful. The blush that dusted your cheeks and nose was the cutest thing, and if he weren’t so utterly afraid Kaeya might’ve wanted to tease you a bit, and see said blush grow a little bit deeper.

“What do you mean? You’re my fine adventuring friend.” He said, trying to relax once more, hoping the initial jolt of shock hadn’t been evident. It was hard to keep alert at all times around you, especially in what had just been such a relaxing atmosphere. But he had to keep calm and steady, suave as always. Who knows what might happen if not?

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” you began, cadence becoming a little slower, “I’m very glad to hear that. But, well, I was sort of wondering… if it might be a bit… different than that.”

“Is this a sudden confession?” Kaeya asked, tone light and playful.

“No!” You blurted out, gaze dropping. You started tearing at the grass slightly, but the action didn’t worry Kaeya too much. If it wasn’t a confession then it’d be easy enough to sneak out of, and then you two might go back to enjoying the afternoon as usual.

“It’s just…” you continued, staring intently at the ground “it’s just that I want to know. I mean I’m sure it’s obvious how much I care about you, well and truly care about you. You’re my closest friend Kaeya, but you’re also more than that. You’re my confidante, the first person I go to talk to about, well, anything. I said this wasn’t a confession, and it isn’t. But I want to know where we are. And I want you to be honest, what do you think of me?”

You lifted your head up, gaze piercing through Kaeya’s soul. He felt nothing in that moment but terror, the feeling of the ground suddenly giving way below him. What was he to say? What could he say? What did he think of you, the question seemed so simple but Kaeya found he couldn’t answer it, not truthfully. What you meant to him, well you meant almost everything. Kaeya loved you, loved you so much. He wanted to tell you everything about him, wanted to learn everything about you. He wanted to hold you in his arms and listen forever to your voice, to the things you had to say. He wanted to bask in your presence, to drown in it. He loved you, and he knew you loved him too; but it wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell you what he wanted to say, what you wanted to hear. It was for your own good, and, Kaeya was realizing very quickly, the idea of doing so, of confessing himself, of laying his soul bare, was something so utterly and completely frightening.

“Like I said you’re my dear adventuring friend.” Kaeya managed to get out, hoping there was no streak of falsehood in his voice. Picking up some of the torn up grass he scattered it onto your head, causing a groan of annoyance. Laughing at his childishness Kaeya steered the conversation towards another topic, hoping the former one would never come up again.

It didn’t, but Kaeya still sensed a change. It was gradual enough, indeed it was so gradual he hardly noticed at first. But eventually the change became too great, and Kaeya felt a distinct sinking sensation the first time he’d passed you on the streets on Monstadt and you’d done little more than smile, instead of running up like you usually did to ask him where he was going and tease him about missing work, sure that he was up to no good.

The initial realization having passed a bunch of little things came to the sudden forefront of Kaeya’s mind. Come to think of it you two never met outside of work anymore; gone were the days it seemed when you two would go for a walk after having sandwiches together, both complaining about the others work and wondering when you might ever have a break.

Gone too was the familiarity in some ways. When you two spoke now there was a formality, a distance that seemed to have popped up. You no longer asked Kaeya about his brother, and in return he stopped asking you about your own family, uneasy by the sudden loss of intimacy, and unwilling to be the one to break the barrier.

As the weeks passed by and you grew more and more distant Kaeya grew more and more frantic. He found himself thinking incessantly about you, about what you were doing, where you were going, whether or not you’d ever smile at him the way you used to, if you’d blush again at his teasing. A small piece of him knew that it was his own fault, and knew that it somehow connected back to the conversation you two had had in the summertime. But self-awareness doesn’t always mean change, and Kaeya still refused to do anything about it.

Then he started dreaming about you. He wasn’t sure why, you two saw each other less and less, and there was no reason for him to suddenly start these dreams, but somehow it’d happen. The dreams were mundane, painfully so. They were much like any other dream in content; the only difference being your presence. You were as before in his dreams, as if he’d somehow been able to rewind the clock, but only in his sleep. The two of you did this and that. You saved reckless Pallad, you rode Dvalin with the Traveller, you ran around the Winery, stealing glasses when no one was looking. Always you two were off, doing something completely normal, and always did Kaeya feel such joy that waking up felt rather like torture. He began to dread it, meeting you in his dreams. It felt painful, so very painful, as if he were betraying himself, as if he were betraying you too in some way. He shouldn’t’ve been dreaming of you, and yet he kept right at it, as if his mind were somehow unable to let go.

After three weeks of not seeing you Kaeya relented. He couldn’t go on like this, not one more moment. His work was becoming sloppier and sloppier, and he felt as if he hadn’t slept in years. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, so wretched from the whole situation that he felt like crying out of frustration. In the dark there was no one to pretend to, and he found himself staring at the curtained window, suddenly hit with his utter selfishness. He loved you, he loved you and you loved him, at least you had. And he’d thrown it all away, not out of any kindness or nobility, but out of his own fear, his own inability to be honest for even a moment. It was his fault that this was all happening, and as such he had to make amends.

He found himself at what had been your normal after-work meeting spot, leaning against a squat sort of maple tree. It was the perfect meeting place, far enough from the city to be picturesque, but close enough not to be a trip. Now Kaeya waited, praying to Barbatos that you might, by some miracle, appear.

Evidently the Anemo Archon was in a somewhat favorable mood, that or Kaeya was simply lucky, for he spotted you about fifteen minutes later, walking leisurely towards the tree. You weren’t truly paying attention to your destination, instead glancing in the direction of Cider Lake, expression slightly clouded. Turning your head you stopped dead in your tracks, shaking your head slightly, as if you truly couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.

“I…have something to say.” Kaeya began, not altogether sure what that was. Once he’d come to the conclusion that he was the source of the whole problem it became evident that the only was to solve such a thing was through honesty. But it had been so long since Kaeya had been honest, really truly honest, and he now felt awkward and slightly shaky, as if learning to walk all over again.

“What is it?” Your tone, though surprised, held no hostility in it, instead it seemed vaguely curious. The thought gave Kaeya a bit of strength, and he drew himself up a little more, determined to see this through no matter what.

“I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you. I haven’t… haven’t been honest. I think you realized that, indeed I think you realized it long before I did. But, now that I’ve realized it I want to say I’m so deeply sorry.” He paused for a moment, not sure how to continue on. “Do you remember when you asked me what I thought of you?” He finally asked.

“Of course I do.” You smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “You said I was your friend.”

“Well I was lying.” Kaeya’s voice was blunt, the flirtatious tone that he usually put on nowhere to be found. “In truth you mean so much to me, so much more than I could put into words. You said that you weren’t making a confession, but I am. I like you, no, I love you. You mean more to me than everything, than my past, than my work as a knight, than my shame I carry in regards to my brother. Being around you is like soaking in the sun, or gazing at the moon, and I took it for granted. I took your entire presence for granted, and I understand why you felt the need to distance yourself. Our friendship was built on dishonesty, all because I was afraid. I am afraid still, so very afraid, but I find what I fear more than telling you all of this is never having the opportunity to. You’d don’t have to reciprocate, don’t have to approve of anything I just said. But if there’s any little bit of you that felt as you did this summer I want to apologize to it, and tell you I feel the same.”

The silence was deafening, oppressive. For once Kaeya found he couldn’t keep your gaze; his entire affect, his personality, it was all gone, and what was left was raw and badly kept. Shifting his gaze towards the lake he held his breath and waited for your answer.

He felt your fingers glance his. Snapping his head towards where you were he searched your face for something that might reveal what you were thinking, but you quickly looked at the ground.

“Thank you.” Your voice was no more than a whisper, but to Kaeya it was a lifeline, the fact that he was able to hear your voice once more. “Thank you for being honest.” You slipped your hand into his. “And to answer your unsaid question, I do feel the same way I did when I asked you before. And this too is now a confession, or rather an assent. I love you Kaeya, I’ve never stopped loving you. And though I may still feel a bit hurt by your lack of honesty then, I only ask you this,” you finally moved to look him in the eyes, your gaze misted over by hope and joy and a hint of sorrow, “will you be honest with me now?”

“Until the day I die.” Kaeya breathed out.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” You replied, dropping his hand and flinging your arms around his neck.

Kaeya immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you” he whispered, over and over again. The fear that had once filled his mind was no more, instead he felt as if he were floating, kept tethered to reality only by your embrace. He was relieved, but more so he was happy, so unbelievably happy. You’d given him a chance he’d never give himself; you’d opened your life back up to him, and now you two might never have to be separated again, not truly anyways.

 “Want to know something?” Kaeya asked, tone playful, as you two walked back to Monstadt, hands linked.”

“What?” You asked, slightly curious. Kaeya smiled, before leaning over and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you.” He whispered against your skin. And he meant it. With his whole heart he meant it.

[ohheyitsokay]

overwhelming

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (g/n, no y/n)

Warnings: none? this isn’t explicitly Ace!Din, but it was more or less inspired by the concept

Wordcount: 1.6k

Summary: As Din grows closer to you, he navigates the overwhelming sensations of innocent skin to skin contact. 

>>

The first time the Mandalorian's skin touched yours he was woefully unprepared for it. It was innocent, just a brush as he caught you from falling, your hand grabbing at his – you were new and were still a bit clumsy around the Crest. The tips of your finger touched a gap between his gloves and the shirt under his armor. The moment wasn’t lost on you though, the two of you froze and you pulled away with quiet thanks. He had touched others with his hands, rarely, but this was different. Overwhelming.

He turned on his heels and left immediately, shutting himself into his room. Heavy breathing sounded worse through the helmet and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why he felt so vulnerable.

When you saw him again, he didn’t acknowledge it, but you felt guilty.

“Mandalorian…” his helmet turned just a degree or two. “I didn’t mean to offend. Please forgive me! Please…” you gulped, your anxiety obvious, “please don’t send me away.”

You weren’t useless by any means, but you knew he did not need you. But you did not want the only place that had ever felt safe to be taken from you so quickly.

He was confused. Send you away? Why would he do that? You were the only genuinely nice being he’d interacted with in awhile. Why would he give that up if he didn’t have to? Why did you look so sad? Was this because he told you about his creed? You thought he was mad at you?

His mind was running but he said, “It’s fine,” before turning back to his task.

And that was all.

-

It didn’t happen again until many months later, and the two of you were much closer. You had developed a rhythm, working through tasks like seasoned friends. You even talked sometimes, around the Crest, which was to say that you were special to him. He even told you his real name, and you kept it safe.

So when he came to the ship with a bounty, battered and bruised, he had a thought. It made him jittery but he was sore and exhausted to his very bones, so after the bounty was frozen away, Din went looking for you.

You were making sure everything was secure after he came in, and the protocols were all in place for your next journey. You noticed him as soon as he came into view but he didn’t say anything until he was close to you.

“Would you…” he swallowed, realizing he hadn’t thought this part through. “Would you help me?”

You looked confused, and he pointed to the back of his shoulder, where he’d already removed the piece of armor to reveal torn cloth, an ugly bruise, and a long cut. You nodded, following him silently back to where the medical supplies were.

Your hands trembled slightly as you cleaned the wound, gaining confidence the longer he let you. He was tense, nervous at the intimacy of the act, but your hands were gentle as you spread the cream and carefully applied the bandages for the night.

After you parted ways, however, Din Djarin was overwhelmed again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him like that – with so much care. His skin, even wounded, felt strange and he was afraid.

What the two of you had already was so good. Changing it was dangerous. He was afraid of being so vulnerable with another person. But greater than that, was the fear of how good it felt to have your skin touching his. A very small part of his mind was yelling that if he opened this door – to touching you – he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He would never be able to go another day without wanting to feel you, in some small way. This created a resolve in him: no more. He couldn’t, wouldn’t put himself at risk like that.

Over the next few weeks, this proved to be unexpectedly difficult. He began to realize he was drawn to you, how long had he been seeking you like this? Din kept catching himself stepping close behind you as you walked and leaning in as you talked. His hand drifted towards you: your lower back in a crowd, your shoulder as you worked, your hand as you sat by each other. When did it become second nature for his body to search for yours, to stay by it whenever possible?

Even worse than that was you seemed to gravitate towards him as well. You were respectful – enough to make his heart ache – but still. Once, you put your face on his shoulder, the cold armor squishing your cheek. Another time, your hand tucked itself in his elbow as you wove through a crowd. And when his gloves hand squeezed yours, you always squeezed back. These moments were impossible to ignore: they inhabited his dreams.

So caught up in his self examination, he didn’t realize that you had noticed something change.

You had been overjoyed when he had begun to share little parts of himself and his life with you. Every touch of his was tucked into your heart, the memories to be savored. So when he suddenly stopped, acting increasingly stiff around you, it took no time at all to realize something was up.

“Din,” you said one afternoon, nervous, but determined to make him talk to you. “Have I done something wrong? Have I hurt or offended you?”

He turned in his seat and despite his helmet, there was a familiar feeling of his gaze on you.

“No,” he said, just a touch of confusion slipping through the moderator.

“Have you grown to dislike me, then?”

“No,” he sounded more resolute this time. You smiled a bit, feeling less no less confused but not as anxious.

“Am I repulsive?” your smile grew, “Have I become unbearably smelly?”

“Why are you asking me these things?” his hands moved towards you, then stopped, and gripped the sides of his seat. Quieter, he added, “Of course you are not.”

You shrugged, chewing on the words, trying to find the best way to spit them out. The movement, and repression had not gone unnoticed.

“You are moving away from me,” you said finally, as simple as you could explain it.

He was silent for a long time, barely moving.

Eventually you stood up, hating the expanse the quiet made.

“If I have done nothing wrong, if I have not hurt or offended you,” you moved closer with each phrase, “if you like – if you do not dislike me, if I don’t repulse you, if I am not smelly,” you were right in front of him. “What is it, Din Djarin?”

His gaze had followed you, his helmet tilted up, then down as you sunk to your knees. The closer you got, the harder it had become for him to deny his feelings. It was hard to remember any good reason at all not to have you in his arms. What was he afraid of, again?

There was more silence, and any lightheartedness dissipated, but this time you waited.

The words that finally came out were the very last thing you expected.

“You are too soft,” he said, his tone indiscernible. Your brow furrowed.

“I mean,” he corrected, “I like to be near to you… to touch you…” his helmet turned away from you, almost as if he was embarrassed. “Because of this, I felt I must not.”

Your heart was hammering. You had so many questions, you yearned to dwell on his use of past tense, but you offered silence again, allowing him to explain in his own time.

“Touching your skin, it is intimate. Overwhelming.” He had never been so bold with his words, his feelings. The vulnerability made the silence scream, but his heart skipped as though it had been freed.

“Is it bad?” you asked, feeling a wave of guilt .

He shook his head, looking at you again.

“We move at your pace, Din,” you said honestly, trying to convey your own heart in the words.

They struck him, enough to knock the wind out of his lungs. His resolve crumbled and he was surprised to find that he was not afraid anymore.

Slowly, carefully, he removed his right glove. Your breathe caught, your wide eyes glued at first to his exposed skin, then flying to his visor.

“There is no pressure, Din, no hurry,” you said, but he shook his head again.

“I want to. It is the right time, cyar’ika,” he said, his hand touching your cheek gently, as though he was afraid you would break.

You were unable to resist leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed, warmth seeping into your bones. Spurred by your reaction, his large hand pressed against your skin, cradling it.

The two of you stayed like that - you kneeling in front of him, his hand on you, thumb bravely stroking your cheekbone – for what felt like eternity.

-

From then on, every day at some point, if the two of you were in the ship at the same time, he would find you. He would yank off his glove, with urgency and annoyance, and hold his palm out to you. You would move towards him, and he would gently touch you for a few moments.

The first week, he only touched your cheek, cradling your jaw.

The second week, his hand wandered across your face, tracing your nose your eyebrows, and reveling in the way your eyelashes brushed his bare skin when your eyes closed.

After that week, both his gloves came off for the first time, and he held your face still as the forehead of his helmet pressed against yours.

He did not need to tell you what it meant – you cried and smiled, and as his hands brushed away the tears, he felt himself doing the same.

Bonus:

“You are so soft,” he said reverently, fingers trailing up and down your arm. It had been weeks of growing with you and still he was in awe.

You laughed, “I would not say my arms are particularly soft.” You reached for his hand with one of yours and lifted the hem of your shirt a few inches with the other. “Here,” you said, putting his hand on the skin of your tummy.

He froze for a solid moment before abruptly standing up and turning with a large step away from you. His heart and mind were reeling, and he moved too quickly, and tripped, falling to his knees.

“Are you okay?” you were startled, scrambling towards him. “Din?”

He sunk down until he was fully sitting on the ground and as you made it to him, his arm slung across his helmet, covering it’s face. He began to shake and when he spoke, and you realized you heard laughter in his voice.

“Cyar’ika... You are going to be the death of me.”