#thank you m for helping me end my inability to choose what i should do it's literally been plaguing me for months on end

[flimsy-spine]

my favorite madney scenes: [1/?] ⇢ Dosed, 2.06

[atinykidult]

TMW #1—SVT Performance Unit

[angst] [3122 words] — 500-1000 word scenarios, Trainee!au, specific tags with each part, x reader

[a/n] — To supplement my growth as a writer, and to hopefully post more often, I’m going to start this TMW series. In it, I just want to explore different aus/emotions/styles in very short but hopefully still impactful blurbs. Thank you for reading!

[taglist] — @yunwoo @woozisnoots​ @multifanhere (Thank you for supporting me! It means the world!)

— K W O N   S O O N Y O U N G

[established relationship] [trainee!reader] [tw for trainee contracts being horrible]

Heartache is saying goodbye for a very long time, even though I’ll see you tomorrow.

He lets out a watery okay.

You bite your lip and nod.

“We’ll give you a few minutes, then please return to your training rooms.”

“I understand,” he says.

“Yes.”

The door clicks shut, and you both look at each other.

His eyes are bright with tears; yours are, too.

You let out a tired yet almost humored snort. Watery eyes, tired hearts. It’s ironic. This is how you and Soonyoung got together in the first place.

You were a good thing, and you were incredibly good for each other.

After all, trainee life is hard. And the closer to debut, the further away you get from any non-idol humans.

And to be at a company with two groups nearing that fabled debut?

Your shared manager’s exhausted admission sums it up: “This is my fault. The company’s, really. We should have expected two overworked trainees to find comfort in each other.”

Soonyoung wetly clears his throat. “I—I am so, so sorry. I…”

You shake your head. “Don’t be.”

He meets your eyes, expression fiercely argumentative.

“We both knew what we were doing.”

His shoulders, usually shaking in laughter or holding themselves strong for choreography, are hunched over. For being the cause for that, you hate yourself.

“‘We both knew what we were doing,’” he murmurs. “I… I guess we did.”

More than viciously heartbroken, you just feel bone tired. Even now, you wish you could lean against Soonyoung and feel him lean against you in return. You’d spent many hours that way, silent in your mutual understanding.

Now there’s a table between you.

A contract laying between you.

No comfort, no soft touches—only two pens.

“We should sign.” You don’t raise your hand, despite your words. “Get it over with.”

You can’t feel your face.

Soonyoung’s lips are pressed so tightly together you wonder if they’ll bruise. Distantly, your insides curl when you recall the color they turn when they do.

“Right,” he agrees, not reaching for a pen either.

He tearfully stares at you, memorizing the way you stare back at him.

The thing that had attracted you to each other so powerfully?

Your sheer determination, mirrored in the other.

And also...

Your shared dream to debut.

A tear falls down his cheeks, and you can’t help yourself when you reach over and wipe them away with the pads of your thumbs.

Instead of whispered words of, we’ll get there, together, you can only offer him this:

“Keep working on that fluidity.” Your voice shakes a little. “You’ve been getting so much better.”

Your way of saying: I’ll miss you. I’ll watch your growth and be proud of you.

“You, too—with your locks.” He sounds like someone’s strangling him. “Even Jihoon was saying how much you’ve improved.”

His way of saying: I love you. I’ll watch you, too.

You both reach for your pens.

“See you after five thousand,” he says, hand hovering over the paper.

There’s a meteor in your throat, moving down and down. You shake your head wordlessly.

With your inability to reply, he signs his name.

You sign yours.

With the sound of your pen dropped to the table, the meteor meets your heart and pushes it down and down and down....

Trainees Kwon Soonyoung and Y/L/N Y/N shall not interact again until either of two conditions.

Condition A) The latter of the two reaches their group’s third anniversary.

Condition B) The event of both eventual groups acquiring 500k sales on a single album.

— W E N   J U N H U I

[angst with lighthearted aspects] [could be “canon” setting] [childhood friends]

Heartache is saying goodbye and leaving things unsaid.

You and Junhui—childhood friends to best friends to something a little too tender to be platonic—well.

There’s the whole story, really.

No verb needs to be added.

As you stare at your phone, you huff out a chuckle.

You blame PMS when your eyes well up a little, scrolling through the many selcas Junhui has sent you. It warms your heart whenever he sends you them. Even though, or rather because, he has little phone time, it means the world that he sends you a quick selca every so often.

It also makes your pathetic heart scream a little.

Not from a stabbing pain, not a scream saying I’m on a 9/10 on the pain scale, SOS!

A scream more like I feel a little helpless to my pain, and it aches dammit, and I should have just told him I loved him.

As one of your alarms goes off, you scream into your elbow.

Back to the books.

.

Heartache masks itself under warm memories and whispers of comfort.

Junhui, for all his loudness and talking much too fast, knows his heart. He understands what he feels, most of the time, and he knows what he wants.

He wants to debut with the other trainees in the Seventeen Project.

Right now, he wants to eat a delicious supper. Then he wants to sleep until he wakes up naturally.

Then, he wants a three day vacation so he can go home and reminisce childhood schoolyard games with a certain best friend. And maybe say those particular words...

Well, that’s not a want.

It’s a wish.

And while his stomach flutters at the thought of it, the reality of the ache in his muscles pulls his attention away from the pleasant fantasy of those wishes.

For now, it’s time to focus on wants and learning new choreography.

But maybe, in ten years, maybe….

Maybe then, it’ll be time to think about wishes.

.

The day Junhui left your hometown, you saw him off. Although you couldn’t see him to the plane itself, you shared breakfast with him and spent every minute together until his family left in their car.

At one point, he and you were sitting on his bed, staring at an unnaturally clean room.

“You know… I bet you’d pass the audition if you tried,” he joked, not for the first time.

“Haha. And I would enjoy trainee life just as much as you enjoy schoolwork.”

Both of you smiled with your eyes.

“But you’d enjoy it because you’d see me every day!”

“And you could enjoy my schoolwork just as much seeing me everyday!”

A pause, then a much too honest: “That would make the school work worth it.”

If you were brave, you would have asked him something like: Are you trying to say something? Please tell me you’re trying to say something.

You weren’t brave.

“Then why are you leaving me all alone?! Huh?! To suffer all by myself?! Do you know how many credits I’m taking?”

“And you’re leaving me to a bunch of foreigners!! So what about that?!”

“I’m not the one leaving!”

Insert spluttering.

And laughter.

So much obnoxious laughter.

It was a good last day together.

It was a warm goodbye.

But, want to know something that sometimes makes your heart scream a little?

Wondering if you could have made that last day even better if you had been brave.

— X U   M I N G H A O

[one-sided pining] [TW for slight age difference/feelings for an authority figure][favorite of this set]

Heartache is falling for someone untouchable.

First of all, don’t point any fingers at him.

Having the vocal instructor be a beautiful, attractive, and young person? Who compliments trainees in their native tongue? And sits with them at lunch?

It’s like the higher ups are trying to weed out the trainees via dating clause.

Second of all, and corollary of the first point: Minghao’s not the only one.

“Our teacher’s the best!” Junhui crows in his ear, Mandarin a little too breathless.

Minghao lets out a little grunt in response.

“I didn’t know our teacher could dance, too!”

“Seonsaengnim is very talented,” one of the Korean trainees says to Minghao, ignorant to Jun’s words.

Minghao wills his cheeks to not show anything.

“Really!” someone else says.

He groans at his thumping heart.

Third of all, it’s not like the feelings will last.

Shortly after the dancing display, Seonsaengnim sits with Minghao, Junhui, and a few other trainees at lunch. Here, Minghao learns something very important about their young instructor.

“Yeah, I was a trainee just like you three!” you say, hoping this conversation doesn’t take a poor turn. “Honestly, I think it was only a little over a year ago.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up a teacher here?” Jihoon doesn’t mention any of the trainees’ popular assumptions in his question.

Seonsaengnim must not have been as good as everyone else.

Maybe all the other trainees were more beautiful.

Honestly, I bet that’s it.

Minghao doesn’t quite know it for sure, but he knows that Jihoon, like himself, worries that he won’t debut because of his visuals. Korean entertainment… just isn’t fair.

“Korean entertainment goes through its phases.” It’s like you read his thoughts. Minghao can tell you’re sifting through your thoughts very carefully, choosing your words not unlike the way he often does. Trying to find the words. The right way to articulate best intentions. “For me, I was good enough that even though I couldn’t debut, the company thought I was worth keeping around. That was honestly very…” He's fascinated by the way your tongue peaks out to wet your lips. “Very complimentary. Of them, to me. I’m thankful.”

“Do you think you could debut in the future?” someone asks, stupidly.

“No.” Minghao is surprised to see your lips begin to smile so sincerely. “But I’m looking forward to helping you all debut.”

There’s no bitterness in your tone.

Something in him stirs fiercely. He wishes he could have that surety.

When you smile warmly at him, tilting your head as you study his expression, the buzz that courses through him is surely the way Soonyoung would feel if he ever met Taemin. Surely.

It’s admiration, that’s all it is.

Fourth of all, it was inevitable, really.

“Minghao, can we talk for a minute?”

He nearly jumps at the Mandarin.

There’s rage sitting in his stomach right now—at the company, at the guest instructor, at the mistakes he made today, at his own pathetic face.

Minghao just wants to disappear for a while.

But he can’t say no. Doesn’t want to, to this one staff member.

“Of course.”

You sit next to him, back to the studio’s mirror.

“I know today was hard, but you’ve been doing better the last four practices in a row. That’s incredible. Remember… Every time you’re not going to improve visibly. That would be impossible.”

“Thanks.”

“And that instructor is a piss poor excuse for a—oh, sorry. I shouldn’t be teaching you those kinds of words—”

“Seonsaengnim, I won’t be telling anyone on you.” He can feel the corners of his lips twitching up, despite himself.

“Just… Know you’re already working hard enough. You don’t need to be… ‘working double because you don’t have the visuals.’” You run an aggressive hand through your hair and let out a righteously indignant noise. “Just… You’re so talented, and I honestly think you look perfectly attractive. So… Just… Ugh. Know that you’re unofficially my favorite. And I hope today doesn’t stick with you. Damn, that was a horrible instructor...”

Minghao can’t help but flush at the praise, and how intimate it feels for you to be here. Sitting with him. Rambling to him so that he’ll feel better.

This talk will stick with him.

But only for the best reasons.

You take his hand; squeeze it once reassuringly.

“You’re going really far. Remember that.”

He meets your eyes, heartbeat galloping.

It was inevitable.

Fifth of all, it’s not like he’ll ever say anything.

“Today’s my last day with you! I’m so proud of you all for making it this far.”

It’s not like he’ll ever have the chance.

“Thank you for everything, Seongsaengnim!”

“Yes, thank you!”

“You were our best teacher!”

Minghao freezes.

It feels like someone took all the warmth he had felt from that talk, and drained it from him. And decided that, you know what? For the hell of it, let’s just dump some ice cubes in there. Like rubbing salt in a wound, but emotionally.

The practice passes as quickly as clouds on a windy day.

Then, suddenly, you’re hugging everyone goodbye.

Then, suddenly, you’re fondly ushering the last of the trainees through the door.

Then, suddenly, you’re brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Minghao, you’ve made it to the debut lineup. I’m so proud of you.”

You say more, but his mind is empty except for the panic settling in.

He’ll never get to say anything.

He grabs your wrist.

“Seonsaengnim, you can’t be leaving.”

A surprised frown. “I can’t?”

I need you to stay with me throughout my career.

I need you to keep watching me improve, with that proud look in your eye.

I need—

Minghao can’t find any Korean to answer with, leaving him nearly in tears.

He feels hysterical.

And you hug him.

And the tears fall.

“I’ll miss you too, Minghao.”

I love you.

So I need you to stay.

“I’ll be watching the headlines for your name, and when I see it, I’ll be telling my new trainees, ‘He was my favorite!’” A pure, bright grin against his sweaty hair. “You’ve made it, Hao! You don’t need to be crying over me.”

That’s not the words that will make me feel better.

“I—I—”

Minghao knows the three Korean syllables.

But it’s not like he’ll ever say them.

— L E E   C H A N

[angst] [exes]

Heartache is pouring out my regrets out on stage, knowing you’ll never see it.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, this minute, this song.

But he is.

It’s trainee evaluation day; his focus should be unwavering.

Yet, as he takes his spot with the other three trainees, he feels that familiar wave of regret bowl his heart over.

His memories of you flash through his head as he lowers it, waiting for the music to play.

Those memories are bowling pins in his mind, one toppling into another and that pin into another—

And Chan, being who he is, aims for a strike every single time.

“It’s alright you cancelled today—I know being a trainee leaves you no time.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The first one always falls, and then the next.

“I understand. It’ll be worth it when you make it to the big stage.”

“Only if you’re in the front row.”

“Talk soon.”

“Talk soon.”

The second pin rushes into the third.

“I have to go in a minute. But you were trying to tell me?”

“It’s… no, it’s nothing, babe. Dance good. And… maybe—call me soon?”

“I promise I’ll call right after.”

And the next ones always fall much faster.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. We were all so exhausted, and I just couldn’t deal with y—”

He stops himself in time, but the damage is done.

“You just couldn’t deal with me? Well, you know what, Lee Chan. Maybe right now I can’t deal with you.”

And then they all fall indiscriminately, until the last few are teetering, wobbling...

The music plays, and muscle memory sweeps Chan’s body away into the choreography.

“No, Chan, you don’t need to apologize. I understand exactly how we stand. I really do believe you, don’t worry about that. You like me, but not as much as yourself! And your ‘dreams.’ I understand completely.” Your voice is a both a cry and a hiss by now. “You’re really selfish sometimes, you know that?”

...And the last one falls.

“Chan, your lyrics are really... “

“Are they that bad?”

“No—not bad… Just, well… Heavy. For someone your age.”

“It’s a heavy topic, hyung.”

“True.”

“So, can we use them for the evaluation?”

“No. They’ll be wanting something lighthearted for that. But…”

“But.”

“I’ll hold onto these, if you don’t mind. We can use them on an album someday.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“No, really! They’re good lyrics.”

“No, uh… That wasn’t what I meant! It’s just…”

“Are they too personal? You don’t want them in the world?”

“Sort of.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s decided then. We won’t use them.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“What, you’re leaving? Don’t you at least want these back, if they’re so personal?”

“...No, that’s alright. I… I—just, can you keep them for me? I don’t want them again. Ever.”

“Hey, I—”

“Please.”

“You wrote ‘I’m sorry,’ nineteen times. Not to pull the responsible hyung card on you, but I feel like this isn’t something you can… keep away from yourself. For forever.”

“I know. I’m working on it.”

“Okay then.”

“Thanks for everything, hyung.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll just go now.”

“Okay…. Uh… Actually, Chan?”

“What?”

“Just remember that, even if… Even because you’ve messed up before... Just know that doesn’t mean you’re that person for forever. I don’t know if you can make up for whatever happened. But you’re not… ‘stuck on this tear-stained road, for ever. You’re a good kid.”

“Are you going after sappy hyung role, now?”

“You can talk to us if you’re not feeling okay.”

“Thank you, hyung. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Chan!”

The song ends. The dance resolves with a final swoop of the arm. And Chan’s heart hurts a little.

“That was really good,” someone whispers.

“For real, I got chills.”

“Chan-ie, are you crying?” one of his hyungs asks. He touches his face; he is. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” he feels himself reply.

Hey, Y/N. I’m sorry if this is the last thing you want to see. Hell, you might have me blocked, and honestly, a better me would hope you do. Anyways, I needed to get off my chest how sorry I am. I’m not going to try to explain myself. But I needed to try to let you know that I understand what I did was selfish. And that I shouldn’t have let us continue like that for so long….

Five years later, Chan will perform a solo at a concert.

Thematically, there’s a lot going on. And the lyrics say sorry a lot of times.

The fandom wonders what inspired the lyrics.

Chan doesn’t cry when he performs it.

The ending of the song isn’t happy, but it does resolve. The sad chord makes any listener feel a little bittersweet, though.

And, from the front row, one ticket remains unclaimed.

—T H A N K   Y O U   F O R   R E A D I N G!

If any of these touched you in particular, please leave me an ask or rb! I really appreciate any feedback. Have a great day!!

[laceymorganwrites]

Adulting

Word Count: 2,030

Pairing: Keishin x reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Keishin and (Y/N) are both busy in their Jobs but get set up on a blind date nonetheless

Keishin was used to questions regarding his love life, when he´d finally get married, if he was still single, how he felt about that at his age and so on. After all those years it still annoyed him, what was so wrong about a man just wanting to enjoy his Jump and live an easy life? Okay, his life wasn´t exactly easy, coaching the Karasuno boys took quite a toll on his nerves.

Maybe that was why he agreed to go on this blind date, to get just a small break from them. Not that they were that bad, but he told himself he deserved some time off. Besides, if even Takeda told him to go, he could only imagine how tired he must look.

Honestly he didn´t mind the idea of dating or having someone by his side, what annoyed him though were the expectations everyone held. When you were dating someone you immediately had to marry and start a family. That thought scared him, he didn´t achieve anything in his life and now he had to marry? How on earth should he make someone fall in love with him?

His neighbor told him not to worry about, she was also the one who set up the date, stating her daughter knew you.

Keishin had to admit he was curious to meet you, to see what kind of person you were. He expected the worst, expected you to pity him and leave right away.

But you didn´t.

His neighbor told him to just wait outside of his store for you.

You were quite out of breath when you arrived, only having moved here a while ago you still got lost sometimes. You really hated the idea of dating, you didn´t have time for this. And yet everyone pressured you, it was none of their business. You only gave in because it got too much to handle.

But honestly, once you arrived, you didn´t regret a thing. Well, maybe you regretted not putting much effort into your appearance, but what were you supposed to do? You didn´t have time to change after work, you were lucky to have even made it.

“I´m so sorry I´m late! I got lost a bit and had to call one of my students to explain the way” you announced when you finally could breathe again.

Being the coach of a cheerleader team you had quite a bit of stamina, but even that ended when you were running around town like a mad woman trying to find that one particular convenience store.

“Don´t worry about it. I´m Keishin, you must be (Y/N) then?” he was at a loss for words, you were absolutely stunning. He had to thank his neighbor later.

“Yup, that´s me! Nice to meet you” you chirped, shaking his hand. He noticed how firm your grip was and had to smile to himself.

“So...um...there´s this restaurant near by where me and my team go quite often” he stated, realizing that there indeed was a reason he was single and it was his inability to properly speak whenever there was a beautiful woman nearby.

“That sounds lovely, lead the way?” you smiled brightly and you two started walking.

“Eh...you´re new around here, aren´t you?” he awkwardly asked, not being able to think of anything better.

“Yeah, I just moved here, so my orientation is still a bit bad, but I´m glad that I have people like who help me out with that” you said.

“No problem, I´m always glad to help” he answered, holding the door open for you when you arrived at the restaurant.

“Ooh, Keishin-san, to see you with a beautiful woman by your side, I never thought the day would come” the owner laughed, making him blush.

“Oh shut up” he mumbled.

The interior was very nice, so was the food.

“You mentioned earlier that you come here often with your team, can you tell me more about that?” you asked.

“Sure! I´m the coach of the Karasuno boys´ volleyball club, only recently though. My grandpa used to coach them but he´s getting too old so the teacher reached out to me. I didn´t want to coach them at first because I didn´t think I could do it, but I´m glad I gave it a shot, it´s really fun” he smiled.

Your eyes went wide, you loved watching their games in the past, back when you were in high school they were really good and you did your best to attend every game you could. You didn´t care if they weren´t as good anymore, you still wanted to support them.

“No way! That´s so amazing, I´m a big fan of your team. Well, of the club...I have yet to see your team in particular” you told him excitedly.

“I´m glad to hear it, even though you´re definitely in the minority these days. But that will change. This year´s team is great, we have outstanding players and quite a few surprises. If you don´t mind we could exchange numbers and I could tell you when the next game is” he explained and boldly asked.

“That´d be nice!” you two exchanged numbers and continued your conversation.

“So are you a teacher? You said something about your students earlier” he asked you.

“Yeah, I got a job offer from (Y/S/N) and now I´m teaching there. But I also teach cheerleading outside of school” you told him and you talked a bit about your jobs.

Everything was going great, you even joked about all sorts of things.

Needless to say this was just your first date of many. Finding a time where both of you were free was quite difficult with your busy schedules but it was definitely worth the effort.

You looked forward to seeing Keishin every time, even if you weren´t doing something spectacular, just spending time with him was more than enough for you. You had to admit in the time you knew him you found yourself very attracted to him and he felt the same.

Every time you were with him, you were laughing wholeheartedly, but not only that, he somehow managed to make you laugh and blush at the same time. You missed the warm feeling in your chest when he was gone and you couldn´t stop thinking about him no matter where you were and what you did.

Even your students noticed you were out of it.

As if it wasn´t already embarrassing enough that you, a grown up woman, could´t confess to your crush, your students had to tease you about it too.

“You know, it wouldn´t even go anywhere, I mean we´re both busy and he´s gone quite a bit with his team, I mean so are we… but bottom line is: it wouldn´t work out” you told them.

It wasn´t like back in high school where you had to worry about your crush not liking you back, you were adults now and very aware of your feelings for each other, the problem was just that a relationship didn´t always work out because of time and jobs, that was just the sad truth of being and adult.

That was the reason why you didn´t want to date in the first place, because it wasn´t worth it and you didn´t want to break the heart of someone who could possibly fall for you.

You hated that you had to choose between love and career, it was unfair that you couldn´t combine those two things, well, not the way you wanted it.

But who said that? Were you really someone who obliged to the rules of society? Who bent her back just to please and fulfill expectations? Your students were right, you were never like that. You were a fighter, when you found out your school didn´t have a cheerleader team, you founded your own one. You didn´t know the word stop in that regard.

So why should you let yourself be unhappy and say no to Keishin? To a possible future with him, the mere thought of that made you weak in the knees.

After your students encouraged you to confess to him, you determinedly walked to his shop, hoping he´d be there. But he had to be, at this time the training would already be over. If it wasn´t, it´d be incredibly awkward for you, but you could think about that later.

When you arrived, he luckily was there, looking at you in surprise but then he flashed you a smile.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here? I didn´t expect you” he stood up to greet you.

“Well, it´s a surprise visit! Are you hungry? I have some leftover cake, one of my students celebrated her birthday today and I sneaked you some cake, cause I thought you haven´t eaten yet” you pulled out the bento box from your bag and handed it to him.

You watched his eyes go wide and his grin as he pulled you in for a hug suddenly, making you giggle and hug him back. Honestly, you wouldn´t mind if you stayed like this forever, he was so tall and warm and hugging him just felt right.

You sighed contently as he let you go. “Sorry, I interrupted you. Something on your mind? I guess you wouldn´t just come here to bring me cake, even though I really appreciate it” he smiled at you, making your heart flutter.

“Oh yeah, I realized something and wanted to share it with you, actually. So, um, you know how I told you that I didn´t date because of my job? And that having a relationship would be pretty stressful and impossible? Well, I kind of changed my mind ever since we started going out. I don´t want to let you go because of my job, I want to make this work, I want to be with you. And it´d be amazing if you´d be willing to give it a try too, but you don´t have to, of course...I know you barely have time as it is...so. But I just wanted to tell you! That I like you, I mean” you rambled a bit towards the end, but you couldn´t help it when Keishin was maintaining eye contact the whole time, this man made you so weak in the knees…

“We´ll figure something out, we´ll definitely make it work! I like you too, (Y/N), a lot and I won´t let out jobs get in between that.” he confessed and it felt like a weight has been lifted off your body.

You couldn´t contain your smile and basically jumped onto him to hug him, making him laugh.

He held you by the waist, cradling your back.

When Keishin pulled away, he rested his hand on your cheek to stroke it before slowly leaning in and closing the distance between you in a deep kiss.

It´s been a month since you officially were together and you two worked hard on the combination of your jobs, which after hours and hours of calls finally worked. Thanks to your team and his.

Now your team were the cheerleaders for Karasuno´s boys´ volleyball team and you could see each other more often, you were so happy that everything worked out and today was the day you would finally meet his team for the first time.

Your students led you to the gymnasium since you wanted to be on time and you entered it to see absolute chaos going on.

It reminded you of your own students who you looked at knowingly, they at least had the decency to look away embarrassed.

“Guys, they´re here! At least pretend like you know how to behave” Keishin called them out and came over to you to kiss your cheek, making your students groan.

You shot them a glance to shut them up.

“Same goes for you, you little troublemakers” you warned them.

“I´m glad you could make it, honey” he said and showed you around a bit. All of you sat down and got to know each other.

From now on you would train together, or at least in the same time to have everything ready for their next game, it was exciting.

[ipaintmylipsred]

she’s more of an artemis in muddy laces. than a venus in furs.

day 4. jonrya week 2020. teacher/student au. rating: M title from boys by henry jamison link to gifset by @youcancalllmequeenjane :)

“Stop staring at me,” Arya grumbles in the dark room. She’s on her back, eyes glued to the overhead light that’s off, trying to focus on something, anything other than the man to her left, and the look of pity he’s directing her way.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression” Jon responds, his attempt at simultaneously feigning sleep while secretly gawking at Arya for the last half hour, finally forgotten. Of all the things he could have said, this has got to be the worst.

“Please, just stop,” Arya snaps, turning her neck to face him. She had meant to give him a glare, the kind her mother uses to shut her up. She must fail at it miserably, there’s nothing stern in the way her bottom lip quivers or how tears have crept in the corners of her eyes. Jon doesn’t look subdued but sympathetic, and the hopeful chance he might keep quiet dissolves when he opens his mouth.

“Arya,” it’s slightly louder than a whisper, letting in more emotion than he’d ever normally allow. The soft way he says her name warms her like the heat of a summer sun, it’s a familiar feeling and a dangerous game when she’s already been burned. She chooses to ignore both it and him.

“Arya,” he repeats louder. There it is, the authoritative tone she’s used to. The sharp edges of his voice pulling her out of this air-conditioned hotel room and into the stuffy, off-white walls of his classroom.  

“Mr. Snow” Arya barks back, making Jon’s face fall. She doesn’t know if it’s from the cold formality or the fact he’s always hated his surname, or rather, the lack of one. His ability to remain unaffected being called by it daily, after years of despising it, still surprises her.  

“Don’t do that,” he murmurs, raking a hand through his hair. Arya wants to reach across the inches that separate them and do it herself. Over the last decade, Jon made a habit of mussing her hair, it’s an affection she’s always on the brink of trying to return. Instinctively, her fingers twitch, but she busies them with the white sheet tucked around her waist instead. She’s embarrassed herself enough for one night.

“Let’s just pretend it never happened,” she adds, her attempt of sounding calm and composed thwarted by the lump in her throat.

“Arya, listen, I care about you, but-”

“If you cared about me, at all, Jon, you would stop right there, because I’m willing to bet my left tit, that I’m going to hate whatever else comes out of that stupid mouth of yours,” Arya retorts, relieved for how quickly that shuts him up.

“I’m just going to get some sleep then,” Jon states resolved. The only remnants of their disagreement are displayed by the soft fabric that remains tightly held in Jon’s fisted hands and the steady pull of the comforter toward his side of the bed.

“Thank God,” Arya bites back, petulant, jerking the blanket back to cover herself, and turning her backside to him.  

“I knew this was going to be a bad idea,” Jon mumbles, turning to face the wall.

“How prophetic of you”.

“Can you stop being such a smart-ass?”

“I could” Arya quips back. A satisfied smirk spreading on her lips when she hears Jon groan in response.

“Let’s just get through tonight please”.

“Yeah alright, because after tonight we will only have to see each other for the plane ride tomorrow, where we’re sitting side by side, the next three months where we’re sitting in the same room, and the rest of our lives, where we will be sitting many places, I hope for my sake, that John Krasinki’s face will be one of them,” She can feel the bed shake from the vibration of Jon’s laughter, it’s rhythm unsteady and unwilling to be contained. A smile creeps onto her own face, always pleased with herself at getting Jon Snow to smile, but then she remembers what he said, what she did, and what he didn’t, and the smile is gone.

“So, yeah, let’s just get through tonight then, yeah?” Arya says, reiterating Jon’s earlier proposal.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jon counters, flipping onto his back.

“I’m sorry,” Arya begins, craning her neck to look behind, Jon’s right hand is crossed awkwardly on his chest, hovering above his left arm like he jerked it back quickly only seconds before. “Understanding what you meant hasn’t exactly been my strong suit tonight”.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” he doesn’t sound cruel, not that he ever would, it’s never been Jon’s way. She can feel his eyes on her, soft and lonely, like they always seem to be. It’s how he had been looking at her earlier, when he’d said those damned words, convincing Arya to act on the affection she hides and play the fool by kissing him.

“I don’t,” Arya huffs out in frustration.

“Alright then, goodnight Arya”.

After ten unsuccessful minutes and the inability to think of anything other than Jon’s words, rejection, and eyes, Arya gives up on trying to sleep. She reaches out, flicks the bedside lamp on, and sits up in the bed, arms crossed at her chest.

“Why did you say that?” Arya asks, giving in to her own selfish need of knowing. Curiosity has always left her with far more wounds than anything physical and she knows tonight it will add another cut.

“Say what?” Jon asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and turning to look at her.

“Don’t make me say it,” Arya whispers, biting her lip. Jon sits up in the bed, the closeness of their bodies heightened in the shared space. He raises his hand, scratching lightly at his beard, deciding. Deciding on the best way to take them back, most likely.

“Because it’s the truth,” he resolves. Arya can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes her throat when he says it, because of all the reasons, she had not expected to hear that.  

“Then, why-?”

“Because it’s a truth that doesn’t exist.” Jon says, tearing his eyes away from Arya to focus on his hands.

“That’s weird, I was here talking to you and then I blinked myself into a calculus lesson,” Arya says scooting closer to him.

“I shouldn’t have said it,” Jon says, finally meeting her eyes. Arya drops her gaze downward, a disappointed oh slipping from her lips. “Not because it’s not the truth,” Jon says, reaching for her left hand. Holding her breath, Arya watches him stroke his thumb against her own, and it feels, right. She knows that this is right. Everything about her and Jon always has been. When she looks to Jon’s face, his eyes are concentrated on where their hands are joined, the barest of smiles on his lips, and she knows he must feel the same, even as he pulls his hand away and leaves the bed. “You’re my student, you’re seventeen years old, and you’re my best friend’s little sister” Jon finishes, pacing the floor like a trapped animal.

“So,” Arya responds, crawling to the edge of the bed, knees folded beneath her. Her one word response ceases Jon’s pacing, and he’s standing in front of her, a look of shock straining his features.

“So?” he says, sounding almost offended. Arya wants to laugh, but she doubts Jon finds anything about their situation funny. She reaches out and grabs his hands instead, pulling him closer to the bed, and finds herself surprised he’s allowing it.  

“Yeah, so? I’ll graduate in three months and turn eighteen in even less”.

“You’re still Robb’s little sister” Jon says, his voice holds guilt, but his hands still hold her.  

“Is that the only reason?” Arya asks, understanding while simultaneously trying to understand. She pulls him down to sit beside her, and is relieved at how easily he allows this too.

“Reason?” Jon mumbles in confusion. If Arya weren’t so on edge about his response, she’d call him daft, but he looks almost ready to flee so Arya falls back onto something she has a limited use for, patience.

“Is that the only reason you didn’t kiss me back?” Arya asks, watching Jon for a reaction, she’s still holding onto him with one hand, her knee nearly touching his thigh, but his eyes are fixated somewhere on the floor.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” he sounds lost, and Arya thinks that if he allows it, allows this, allows her, he might be found.

“Look at me Jon,” she commands, the uncertainty of her nerves hiding within the confidence of her voice. He complies, lifting his gaze, hovering on the bareness of her thighs before meeting hers. Arya has never been good with boys, she’s never been conventionally pretty or anything close to delicate. She’s competitive and her skills with sports natural, but the game-playing mentality of dating has always seemed boring and her ability to read signals impossible. She’s inept at knowing if and what a boy wants from her or what she wants from them. Or maybe none of that’s true. Maybe it’s that she’s never wanted anything from any of them to begin with. Maybe she’s only ever wanted what’s right in front of her. Because when his eyes do reach hers, there’s a warm, hungry feeling in her stomach and a sensation of novelty as it travels, stills and burns between her thighs. She knows with absolution what it is that Jon Snow wants, by looking at him. He wants nothing less than to touch, taste, and devour her. And all she wants, is to let him.

“You want me,” Arya voices, sounding breathy and foreign even to herself. It’s not a question, but Jon nods all the same. It’s almost trance-like, the way his jaw tilts up to fall down, it’s the slightest transfer of movement, and when the AC starts up like an uncomfortable bystander in the room witnessing lines on the cusp of being crossed, it’s broken.    

“We should get some sleep,” Jon’s deep voice sounds especially hoarse and Arya refuses for tonight to end this way. The space has grown cooler, the tension has been cut,  but the goosebumps on her arms, sharing skin with freckles and scars, come from the heat of her want and not the chill of  the room. Tonight can end in a dozen different ways, some she would prefer more than others, but she refuses for it end like so much of life is and will always be, unfinished.

“No,” Arya says easily, it’s a familiar word from childhood, perhaps the first one she’d ever spoken. It’s voiced when people ask less of what she is and more of what she is not. Jon blinks at her, unmoved, just watching her, pupils blown wide. She reaches out a hesitant hand, offsetting the harshness of her defiant mantra with the softness of her palm against his jawline. He shudders from the contact, and Arya knows she would give Jon anything, if his breathing continues to remain contingent on her touch. Jon has been in her life for over a decade, filling her years with sarcasm, affection, and unwavering acceptance. Jon knows her, and right now, being here with Jon, and choosing to be soft, doesn’t feel like much a choice, it doesn’t feel like coming home, it’s like remembering you were always there.

“You want me,” Arya begins, letting her hand slip from his face, a smile tugging at her lips from the frown that forms on his when she does so. “Even though I’m your student,” Arya continues,  placing her hands on his shoulders, “and seventeen,” she throws a leg across his body, sitting down on his lap. “and Robb’s little sister,” His hands grip her hips roughly and she moans from the surprise and satisfaction. “you want me” she can feel his hardness, hardly contained in his sleeping pants and rocks against him, seeking friction for the wetness that’s formed in the fabric of her cotton underwear.

“We can’t,” Jon’s forehead falls against her neck and he places a chaste kiss against her heaving chest. He still holds her hips in his hands, his finger curling into the flesh of her ass. He’d been using them to guide her movements, now he was using them to keep her still.

“Tell me,”Arya says, fingering his curls and pulling him backwards forcefully. “Do you?”

“Arya,” Jon whispers, lifting one hand to wrap around her slender waist.

“I want you to say it,” Arya pleads, letting her hand fall, growing tired of being the only one wanting and fighting for it.

“This is a bad idea,” Jon counters, his grip remaining tight.

“No, not that, you’ve already said that,” Arya replies sardonically, squirming above him, wondering how someone can grow both sullen and harder at the same time.

“It is,” Jon says, defeat prevailing in both tone and the way his hands drop back to his side.

“I do,” Arya says resolute. More for herself at this point. He can dress it up, assuage his honor code, and call himself a hero, but beneath her sits a coward. “For years, I’ve wanted you” Jon watches her mouth, transfixed, as if just now realizing the source of Arya’s actions. Had he thought it sudden, her want of him? Did he think it was a few kind words and not the overwhelming attraction she’s been hiding for years that catalyzed this between them. “You were my first crush, Jon,” Jon releases a deep exhale, and Arya’s fascinated by her words, and  the affect they are having on him.

“The first time I touched myself I thought of you,” Arya can hardly believe the what she’s saying at this point. Too caught up in the feel of Jon’s body between her legs and the incredulous look on his face.

“I thought it would be the tall guy from that show you’re always watching,” Jon says, finally finding the ability to speak.

“So you’ve thought about it, have you?” Arya asks coyly, making Jon’s pale face redden. It’s an unfamiliar and pretty thing, to watch him blush and not brood.

“Obviously, Jim Halpert has made a few appearances over the years, but now, the only way I can get off, is when I think of you, just last night, I pictured us in your classroom, I was sitting at that black, leather chair behind your desk, with your face between my thighs, you whispering that I’m your good girl,” The irises of Jon’s eyes have gone entirely black, and at some point his hands have wandered back along the contours of her body, one slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, the other playing with drawstring of her sleep shorts. “and then there’s no more whispering, just me, screaming your name”.

“Arya,” he breathes out,pulling her against him, and crashing his mouth hard against her own. A smile forms on her lips and Jon uses this to his advantage, slipping his tongue between them. The sensation is heady, and raw, and right, and Arya wants more. She wants everything.

“Touch me,” Arya whimpers, she will worry over how weak willed she sounds tomorrow. Tonight the moon could crash into the ocean, and while the waves consumed them, she would still be begging for him to touch her.

“I am touching you,” Jon whispers playfully, between kisses, twining his finger into her messy, brown hair.

“I’m glad you find this all humorous,” Arya groans out, pulling back to pout. “But if your fingers do not find their way into my inside of me in the next five-,” Arya keens, feeling Jon’s thumb at her clit, his index finger probing at her wet entrance, before she can even finish speaking.  

[mianix]

"Mine" ~ A Gift Fic for LukeLemon-Art

I have been among the DBH community for a few months now and the one thing I love most about it is how supportive everyone seems to be. It doesn’t matter if you are an artist, writer, animator, video editor, cosplayer etc. You are welcomed here with open arms and encouraged to do your very best.

The best example of this I can give is @lukelemon-art. I have watched them encourage people of all mediums and fandoms to do well. I’ve experienced their fun nature and their generosity myself when they reblogged my friend @bunnylove56’s Reed900 fic when they weren’t sure anyone would like it. They gave her the confidence to keep going and I adore Luke for conspiring with me to get her to keep going. I never expected it and it only proves my point further.

The above artwork was recently done by Luke with an amazing backstory of Connor, discarding his LED and Gavin chooses to keep it, worn by a leather strap around his neck. Not only did this warm my heart, but inspired me to write my first Convin story as a gift to Luke for all their kindness, not just to me, but the community. Their art makes me happy, as I imagine it does a lot of you. So here’s me supporting their art and repaying them for too many kindnesses to count. 

Note: This gift fic is rated M and contains a big old lemon…lol Because of Tumblr’s new rules and to be safe, the preview will end with a link to finish the story on AO3 instead of the typical cut to read the entire thing on my blog. So if you aren’t into reading something a bit smutty, go back now, gentle reader.

———-

Connor wondered, honestly, what frustrated him more: the idea of Detective Reed disobeying Hank’s direct orders, or the fact that Connor had made a deal with him to get them to this point.

He had been trying diligently over the past year to find ways of endearing himself to the bitter Detective, but nothing he did seemed to quell the man’s hatred for him. No amount of help, kind gestures, or careful consideration had changed a thing between them.

They fought constantly on the job and it had shown its own wear on Connor over time. He recalled how, in a fit of frustration, he had pulled off his own LED and tossed it at the Detective’s feet.

“THERE! Since it bothers you so much! Now you can stop complaining about it and actually get some work done. Oh, wait. That’s right! I mean sit on your damn phone instead of actually helping us for once!”

Everyone had looked shocked to see such anger come from him, but they often forgot he was no longer a thing who took orders. It had all just boiled over and he couldn’t take it anymore. A part of him felt guilt at the look that crossed Reed’s face, but he walked away before he could worry on it too much. In that moment, he felt justified, but later he regretted it.

If for nothing else, he had taken pride in wearing his LED once he’d deviated to remind him of their struggle and to never be ashamed of who he was. Because it made him into the man he was now, who had friends, family and a life that was entirely his own.

This, naturally, was how he found himself helping assist Detective Reed into his apartment.

“Last door, on the left.” Gavin groaned as he stumbled a bit.

They’d been in a scuffle only an hour before, all thanks to Detective Yells-Too-Much. Hank, in some disturbing thought to force them to into being civil, had downright ordered them to work together.

“Frankly, everyone is getting tired of listening to you two argue all the time. It’s not productive and seriously hurts office morale. We’re fucking homicide. We see gruesome death and tragedy on the daily and somehow you two bitching every day is making it even worse.” Hank had said, frustrated when the two had yet another blow up.

“What about Nines?” Gavin had asked. It seemed the further from friendly he got from Connor, the more he stopped harassing the RK900 model. He’d actually started working with him, to Connor’s surprise.

“We’re swapping partners for the week. Nines will work with me and you two need to learn to work together. Fowler’s down my neck about this and if you two can’t work this out there’s the possibility of reassignment to a different department.”

That had gotten a reaction, from both of them. Because it would likely be one or the other, which meant Connor would have to leave Hank or Gavin would be losing his position in his preferred field. Neither of these were an option.

Connor moved to the door, pressing Reed to the wall to help him stand better.

“Keys?” Connor asked.

“Pocket.” Gavin replied with a twinge of pain. They’d been staking out a warehouse, helping out the drug division on a red ice case, but couldn’t seem to not fight. They were completely hopeless being stuck in the confines of Gavin’s car and their inability to ignore one another got them caught.

They were set upon by some low level lackey’s who luckily were too stupid to be properly armed. Connor had sustained some damage to his arm, but had come out holding his own. Reed, on the other hand, had not. A quick glance at the wound on his abdomen told Connor the glass bottle had cut Gavin as he tried to dodge it. He would be okay, but he would need stitches and proper medical care.

“Fuck that. I don’t have the money to pay for an ER visit. I’ll just do it myself, like always.” Gavin had said with labored breathing as Connor drove them away from the warehouse, the sound of gunfire finally breaking the air as more lackeys came to their friends’ aid. It was fight or flight for Connor and at seeing his human companion bleeding and exhausted, he chose to live and fight another day.

“What do you mean like always?” Connor asked incredulously. It was purely rhetorical though as he didn’t need to consider it much to know Gavin Reed refused to go to the hospital unless he was taken there by force… or unconscious. Connor considered that as a valid option, but cast it aside at the thought of the assault charges that might accompany it when Gavin gained consciousness.

But Reed was stubborn and finally they’d come to a compromise: Gavin would allow Connor to do it for him. He could locate the proper programs to accomplish the task of patching Reed up. If he could not get him proper medical help, then this was the next best option.

Connor stared at the Detective, whose free arm hung a bit limply at his side. Blood could be seen staining his shirt there, as well. Wonderful. Without much thought, Connor plunged his hand down into the Detective’s jean pocket to feel around for keys. He felt Gavin stiffen at his shoulder.

“Fuckin’ careful, dipshit. You’re grabbing my keys, not playing pocket pool.” Gavin bit out between clenched teeth. Connor ignored him and pulled the keys out, setting about the task of opening the door. Once he did, he heard a loud mewling getting closer.

The small, furry head of a cat peeked through the crack of the door, it’s tiny paw pulling at it to further open it.

“Don’t let him out. He’s a fucking escape artist.” Gavin groaned as he pushed the door in and pressed the cat inside. Connor followed behind him, closing the door and entering into Gavin Reed’s apartment for the first time.

Gavin went directly for his cabinets as the first room they entered was the kitchen. Off to the right was an open archway into what Connor considered was the living room. He didn’t have much time to consider it though as he watched Reed pulling out more medical supplies then he figured most humans would keep in their homes.

“How often do you get injured on the job?” Connor asked at the fully stocked cabinet of disinfectants, gauze, bandages and other medical supplies.

“Enough to be prepared.” Gavin replied as he opened a drawer to his left and pulled out a partially full bottle of whiskey and a small, unmarked kit. Connor eyed him for a moment, but decided it wasn’t worth the headache.

Gavin sat on the counter with some difficulty and Connor had no choice but to help him, as his arm was of no real use. Once there, Gavin opened the whiskey bottle with his teeth and took a deep dram of the amber liquid. Connor immediately took hold of the bottle and pulled it away.

“What the fuck, Connor? You gonna make me go through this stone cold sober?” Gavin asked bitterly.

“You’re the one who refused to go to the hospital, where they could ease the pain you’re about to feel. You have no room to complain and I need you lucid.” Connor said simply. Perhaps a small part of him enjoyed mocking Reed, but he tried not to think on it too much.

Connor turned to look at the supplies he was given and felt his eyes flutter as he downloaded the necessary program to properly sew stitches. He considered asking how Gavin also had access to the items required to do this, but was certain he’d probably either not get a response or would get a bullshit one.

Connor lifted the hem of Gavin’s shirt, glancing to assess the damage, but knowing full well his first instinct was correct. He did his best to clean the wound, having Gavin hold his shirt up so he could work. Connor noticed he was in pain, but he gritted his teeth against it.

“Since we have some quiet time, are you ready to tell me why you hate me so much?” Connor asked, figuring anything that distracted Gavin would be better than letting the man suffer.

“Because you’re a brown nosing cunt who - FUCK! The hell Connor?” Gavin roared when Connor threw caution to the wind and straight up applied the chemical cleanser without care to the wound.

“Sorry. My hand slipped.” Connor replied stiffly as he grabbed another piece of cloth and tried to be more gentle. Gavin glared at him, still tensing for the pain he no doubt anticipated, but Connor was content with letting the snide remark go.

“What do you care whether or not I like you anyway? We’re not partners, so why the hell should you give a damn?” Gavin asked, choosing his wording more carefully this time as Connor dabbed around the edge of his cut.

“I’ve only been trying to figure it out since day one. You’d think I personally wronged you in some way.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m an asshole to all androids.” Gavin replied. Connor’s eyes lifted and he noted Gavin had been watching him, but the moment their eyes met he quickly looked away.

“That’s not true, actually. What about Nines? You show him more regard than you ever have for me.” Connor said pointedly, not faltering in his look. Something passed over Gavin’s face, it was minute, but it was there. A moment of panic, then recovery.

“Nines does as he’s told. He doesn’t get in my way or stop me from doing my job.” Gavin replied and his eyes came back to Connor, side glancing him, then looking down to where the small cat was perched on the floor, watching them. It moved gracefully, wiggling its tiny behind before it jumped on the counter beside Gavin and stepped on his thigh. Gavin opted to focus there.

“Nines also is still an android. It’s very simple Detective. I. AM. ALIVE. I’m not a piece of furniture for you to do with as you please and until you learn this, it will be the primary cause of our arguments.” Connor said in quick succession. How many times must they have this conversation, re-worded in so many different ways?

“I’m in fucking pain here. Can’t you give me a break, just once?” Gavin asked and Connor noted his voice sounded weary. The cat at his thigh pressed its face into Gavin’s palm and he gave it such a momentary look of tenderness that It shocked Connor. Then it walked further up Reed’s leg, jumped effortlessly onto his shoulder and stood there.

“That’s not really sanitary for what we’re doing Reed.” Connor began, but found himself intrigued by how the cat walked behind Gavin’s head and laid itself around his neck and shoulders so casually. Its foot disturbed the leather strap that usually hung around the Detective’s neck, dipping down into his shirt. Connor had always wondered what that was, but opted to not pry.

“The cat stays. He’s more of a comfort than you are.” Gavin said, but it wasn’t as mean spirited as it might’ve normally been, because the cat was rubbing its face against the stubble on his chin. Connor just watched, forgetting himself momentarily. Who the hell is this and what did he do with Gavin Reed?

When Gavin’s eyes came back to Connor he seemed to remember himself and that look of indifference came back. It broke the momentary spell and Connor continued working.

Silence hung between them as he worked, except for the purring of the cat on Gavin’s shoulders and the occasional groan or gasp of pain from him as Connor used skilled hands to suture up the cut. He preferred the silence, not remembering a time when the two of them had been so close and not blowing up into a full argument.

He wasn’t sure why this gentler side of the Detective intrigued him. He did not even know he had a pet and never would’ve guessed he could be affectionate with anything. But as long as Connor pretended not to notice, Gavin lavished the animal with attention. Had he ever seen the Detective smile where it didn’t feel like he was baring his teeth as a threat? No, not around Connor. In the pain, he sought comfort in the animal and it seemed to sense his need of it. It never left his shoulders, nuzzling and pawing at the man the more his discomfort seemed to peak.

When he was done with his side, Connor moved to roll up the sleeve on Gavin’s shirt. This wound was superficial in comparison to the other and needed nothing more than a bandage. He stepped into Gavin, the Detective’s knee brushing the inside of Connor’s thigh. Gavin jumped, startling the cat, but did not remove it.

“Careful.” Gavin said in a low tone. Connor tilted his head, trying to figure out what exactly had set the Detective off. Gavin moved his knee, unable to meet Connor’s eyes and with a slight blush filling his cheeks.

“You do realize I have no genitalia to injure, correct?” Connor said innocently enough, but Gavin’s face went a bright shade of red almost instantly at his words.

“Why the fuck would you tell me that?” Gavin asked, obviously startled by this admission.

“You feared hurting me, didn’t you?” Connor asked in reply.

“That is so fucking weird.” Gavin continued with a groan as he covered his face with his one free hand.

“I’m a prototype, Detective. What use would I have for - “

“STOP talking. Please? Just, stop.” Gavin begged, still not looking at him. Silence hung between them, awkward to say the very least. Then Reed broke the silence. “Your arm. It’s injured.”

Connor looked down to observe the blue blood soaking through his jacket arm. He pulled his arm out of it and found his white dress shirt was covered in blue as well. Connor shrugged his jacket off, laying it neatly over the kitchen chair. When he turned back, Gavin was moving tenderly off the counter.

“Wait.” Connor called out as he went to help the man down. Reed waved his hands away, the cat still laying around his neck like a scarf. It yawned, unbothered, and Connor wondered if this was a natural thing for these two with how contented it was soaking up the Detective’s warmth.

“Get on the counter.” Reed said suddenly as he reached for the small, unmarked kit he’d had hiding with the whiskey bottle. Connor eyed it curiously, but when Reed turned and noticed him not moving he added, “Get a move on.”

“I’ll be fine. Once I’m back at the office I can use one of the android repair kits to patch up my arm. You needn’t worry.”

“What the hell do you think this is?” Reed asked as he opened the small container. To Connor’s surprise, it was an android repair kit. A crudely put together one, yes, but still exactly what was needed for superficial wounds like what Connor had. He stared at Gavin, who seemed to be getting flustered by Connor’s sudden attentions. “What?”

“I’m just surprised you’d have something like that so readily available.” Connor responded truthfully. He wouldn’t think that Gavin would even care enough to keep something like that around.

“I have an android partner. Why wouldn’t I?” Gavin asked, glaring at him. But there was something else there and for the first time, in a long time, Connor saw something in his peripheral vision. It was faint, but unmistakable as it ghosted into his vision.

Software instability ^^

It had been over a year since he’d deviated, since he’d broken free from his programming. These programs were gone and yet, for whatever reason, it had shown on his periphery screen.

Without knowing why, Connor obeyed and sat on the counter without any argument. Reed moved close and looked awkwardly at his arm, stared, then looked away.

“You’re gonna have to remove your shirt. I can’t get to it and if we need the soldering iron I wouldn’t recommend putting it close to fabric.” Gavin said simply. He wasn’t looking at Connor, but focusing on the cat on his shoulder instead.

“Of course.” Connor responded and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Connor didn’t know why, but there was static in the air that seemed to intensify with each button he undid. Gavin wasn’t looking at him, but he felt like he was being watched anyway.

Once the shirt was open, he slid his arms out of it and laid it neatly beside him. He turned to look at the cut and as he figured it wasn’t anything to worry about. He would likely be scarred from the soldering, but that wasn’t important. He turned back to look expectantly at the Detective, but stopped.

Gavin was still looking away from him, arms crossed at his chest. Connor noted something else of interest. Gavin’s pulse was elevated. He’d attributed this to stress and pain as he worked on Gavin’s wounds, but now he wasn’t so sure. His eyes could see piloerection forming on the man’s forearms; goosebumps. And the red hue that had been on his face had traveled down his neck to the skin peeking out from the v neck shirt he wore.

“Gavin?” Connor asked when the man did nothing. He saw him take a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily, exhaling. Then his eyes turned, focused hard on Connor’s and faltered. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little light headed from blood loss. I’ll be fine.” Gavin responded. But when he moved towards Connor, he caught a downward glance that became fixated on his thirium pump regulator. As if involuntary, Gavin’s hand came out and moved as if to touch it, but recoiled after a moment. As if he didn’t realize he was doing it.

The static intensified and made Connor’s skin prickle.

“Are you sure you’re okay Gavin? The wound is superficial and can wait if you’d like to sit down.” Connor offered, completely confused by this sudden change in demeanor. The whole time his cat perched, unbothered and suddenly unnoticed by Gavin as his eyes focused on Connor’s bare torso. Connor saw the man’s eyes dilate.

Software instability ^^

Gavin moved closer, setting the kit to one side of Connor’s hip, then taking his hand in his own to position Connor’s arm where it would be easiest to work on it. All Connor could do was watch, oddly fascinated by whatever phenomena was taking over the Detective and possibly…himself. This was new and fascinating to him. Exciting, even.

At one point, not wanting to focus so much of his attention on Gavin, Connor lifted his hand and stroked the back end of the cat as it purred happily. He saw Gavin’s eyes glance towards his hand, stiffening slightly until he realized its destination. He shook his head, blinking with a short breath as he set back to task.

“Okay. That should do it. Grip my hand.” Gavin said as he lifted his hand in front of him. Not in a handshake, but in fully open palm in front of Connor. He pressed his open palm to Gavin’s, entwined their fingers and gripped. “No malfunctions or weakness?”

“No. It feels just fine, actually. Thank you.” Connor replied genuinely, but Gavin was not quick to release his hand. Connor eyed him, that curiosity itching so much to be scratched. What was this? He felt his own thirium pump shift, more static. This was having a physical effect on him he could not place, the longer Gavin held his hand like that. “Gavin?”

In an instant, he hand let his go and he turned back to the table to place everything back into the kit.

“You should be good now. Probably best if you left. I should get some rest.” Gavin said quickly, but something else caught Connor’s attention as Gavin turned his back on him. Blood on the back of the Detective’s shirt. Another wound he hadn’t seen.

“Gavin. You’re still injured.” Connor said as he hopped down off the counter and walked over to him. He felt Gavin tense as he took the rim of the neckline on his shirt and pulled it down a bit.

“It’s okay. I can do it.” Gavin said quickly.

“It’s on your back. You can’t reach there. Take off your shirt and I’ll get it for you.” Connor offered. When Gavin didn’t move, he added “As soon as I make sure it’s nothing bad I will leave. You agreed to this earlier, remember?”

Gavin sighed, lifted his hands to gently remove the cat from his shoulders. He sat it onto the floor where it remained, staring up at them as if disappointed to no longer be a part of the situation. Then, begrudgingly, Gavin put his hands to the hem of his shirt and tugged upwards. For a moment, Connor caught the flash of something blue glint as it moved at the base of Gavin’s neck, then he realized that it was an LED. Unmistakably, his LED.

Gavin’s eyes followed his no doubt startled looking ones to the necklace at his chest and realization dawned there as he turned away, scrambling to get back into the shirt. Maybe hoping Connor didn’t notice?

“Gavin…” Connor began, but Gavin just started walking away from him. Without thought, he pursued the man as he entered his bedroom off the living room. Gavin tried to close the door, but Connor pushed it open easily as Gavin stumbled backwards. “Is that my LED?”

“It’s not what you think.” Gavin said quickly as he stood by the bed, arm out as if Connor might punch him. But Connor didn’t feel anger. He didn’t know what to feel, because he didn’t know why a part of him was hanging around Gavin Reed’s neck.

“Is that my LED?” Connor asked again. “Let me see it.”

He stepped forward, hand outstretched to pull at the leather straps that held it up, but Gavin smacked his hand away. That startled him, but did not stop his pursuit. Gavin grabbed at his hands, trying to prevent him from seeing it again and Connor found himself struggling with the Detective, being pulled towards him, hitting the bed and straddling over Gavin as he yanked the man’s shirt down. It was his LED, still glowing a dim blue as it pulsated against Gavin’s chest as his heart rate elevated quickly.

Gavin was breathing heavily and that red hue was more apparent on his chest as Connor held the shirt collar open. Gavin’s eyes were lidded and suddenly Connor realized something. Like all the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

“You-” He began, but Gavin leaned up quickly and pressed his lips against his. Connor’s eyes widened, unsure of what to do, but finding himself intrigued. Fascinated. He could analyze the alcohol still left on Gavin’s tongue as it ghosted between his lips. His body temperature peaked, the open eyes watching him fully dilated and a scent lingered between them, coming from the Detective’s skin. Gavin took his bottom lip between his own and tugged. Connor felt something at this, but could not define it and that only made him pursue it more.

Static.

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We’re Not Lovers (3/3)

Pairing: Jace/Alec

Rating: T

Summary: Alec is faced with a choice. Break it or mend it.

Notes:   Last chapter! For now. Know that this isn't the end of this verse (called ‘Strangers’, canon divergence of pre-series and s1 events). All the thanks again to the people liking and commenting, hope you'll enjoy this one! <3

It was all his fault, he knew that. He deserved being walked out on; he couldn’t expect Jace to just be fine with what he had chosen. But, in the end, it’d have to be for the best: if they were divided, they couldn’t get into more trouble.

But they were parabatai, their souls were linked together for life...so, eventually, they’d find their way back to each other, with a new – lawful, platonic – balance. 

Alec forced himself to believe it. He had to believe it. He could live with the constant ache, the unsatisfiable need to be with Jace in any possible way – or, he would. He’d bare all the pain he had brought upon himself without complaining, because he had been reckless enough to think he could get everything he wanted without consequences, and now that the consequences had come he had no one else to blame.

But he would not lose Jace. He – he could never live without Jace. He’d rather die. And if he hadn’t fucked up beyond repair, Jace still felt the same and he would forgive him. Alec didn’t know how much he’d take him, but he’d wait for Jace to come back to him for an entire lifetime, if need be.

All summer, it was hard to believe they lived in the same place. Alec laid awake in bed almost every night, recounting endless days of court nods and quick dismissals by the person whose betrayed emotions he felt in his very soul, of puzzled stares by the comrades who noticed their coldness towards one another, and of comforting words by Izzy, their only ally in all those years (they’d never told her, but she’d always tacitly covered for them).

On top of all that, Hodge was their shadow wherever they went, whatever they did. When he could, he split their team – Alec, Jace and Izzy – up, having Jace go hunt with younger cadets with the excuse of helping with their training. Jace was always more than eager, and thankful, to oblige, oblivious to their tutor’s hidden motives. When they had to go together, however, their efficiency had managed, somehow, not to plummet. They were at least professional enough to always cover each other’s backs and bring their best game in their fights. In battle, their hearts beat as one whether they – or, Jace – liked it or not. But if a mission took too long, Alec received constant texts and calls from Hodge telling him to report their whereabouts. He always had to make him hear that Izzy was there with them.

Alec tried not to resent him, he knew he was only doing that for their own good…but it was hard to look him in the eyes without wishing he’d had the guts to kill him that night.

After, his disgust for himself only grew. I can bare it, Alec repeated to himself then. Both the circumstances and his own wretched existence, he would bare them until he was alive.

He’d take Jace going out whenever he had free time to get down with (most-likely) hot strangers, and he’d manage his own body flaring out with lust as a result. He wasn’t a shy, embarrassed teen with a crush anymore, he wouldn’t have to feel ashamed if he relieved his own needs while thinking of Jace (he didn’t need someone else to be with him to do it). And it didn’t matter that his wish for Jace was like the one that a fish out of water would have for breath; his cold sheets were enough to stifle the maddening tingle under his skin.

You just couldn’t stay hot in an empty bed, where the ghost of your lover's scent was still present.

Towards the end of the summer, however, things had started to improve. Jace didn’t flee immediately from a room Alec was in anymore. They could have some casual conversations, even if they were mostly about their missions. Jace smiled at him from time to time, before realizing what he had done and quickly backtracking. Alec knew he just needed to be a little more patient, and he’d get his parabatai back.

As usual, life had other plans for him.

That his punishment would appear in the form of a little red-headed brat…he had to admit he would've never expected it. He had to hand it to the Angel, as far as originality went.

And just like that, Jace was slipping from between his fingers. He was going far and beyond for Clary Fray, like he had never done for anybody else, and Alec couldn’t brush it off as a casual conquest that would last a fortnight. The panic that filled him then, was all-consuming.

It was irrational, he was aware of that. He had let Jace go, so he couldn’t expect him not to ever find someone else. But that that someone else would have so much influence and traction on Jace, to the point that Jace constantly and fiercely chose her over him…it couldn’t not feel like a constant punch in the gut. They were magic, their souls belonged together – who the hell was this girl?

Valentine’s – the most renowned madman to ever challenge the Clave and the natural order of the Shadow world – very own daughter.

Try to tell it to Jace! No, countless unsanctioned missions were done for her, of the like that wouldn’t go unnoticed. And all the work Alec had done, all the sacrifices he had made, to secure his family’s safety, was soon going to amount to nothing! The Lightwoods were going to lose their prestige, their credibility, their trustworthiness! And Jace didn’t seem to care at all, like he had accused him of without really believing it, until now…

It wasn’t a wonder then, that after more than ten years of knowing each other, including four years of an impossible relationship, they’d never fought quite so much, so constantly, so viciously. The divide between their priorities and views became more and more an insurmountable problem.

The small sliver of hope that grew in Alec when his own face appeared as Jace’s most beloved person, proving that at least that hadn’t changed, lasted no more than Jace choosing to help Clary’s werewolf friend over staying by his side. I’ll be fine on my own.

Well then, if Jace was moving on, so would he.

Alec’s chance presented itself in the form of a warlock, of all things – the High warlock of Brooklyn, no less. Magnus Bane was very charming and attractive, he clearly liked him, flirted with him, wanted him, and didn’t have anything to do with his family. It was perfect.

Of course, things only became more complicated.

His fears manifested themselves. The Lightwoods were under scrutiny. His inability to be the leader he was supposed to be, and restrain Jace from his pointless crusade for his new girlfriend, brought the appearance of a Clave envoy, Lydia Branwell.

The time after that was a tornado crushing on his life, the world shifting off its axis as it swirled around and around both outside and inside of him.

I’ll have to get married far earlier than I thought, the Cup needs to be safe, my parents were Circle members, they are liars and hypocrites, we’re going to lose the Institute, I need to protect them, I must marry Lydia, Valentine is getting close, Jace is not being Switzerland as he said, he should not be Switzerland, we swore to protect each other! Magnus was strangely affected when I told him about the marriage, what did he expect?! Meliorn is going to be tortured, but if I don’t do what needs to be done it could end up like with Lydia’s ex! The damn little girl and her inability to understand how things work in our world! How could Jace lie to me?! If it was only about my jealousy our world wouldn’t be going to hell! I don’t want to be on different sides either, but why can’t you be on MY side? It’ll be breaking the Law and we can’t afford to do that anymore! Jace is gone and Izzy is going to be deruned and exiled! I must do everything to save her! How could Jace go behind my back?! Jace is dead to me! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, what have I done? How could I weaken the bond even more?! Izzy is safe, but Jace lied to me, betrayed me, attacked me, I don’t want anything to do with him anymore! Love? Magnus doesn’t think I know what love means? Love has caused me nothing but trouble!

And that was how the night before his wedding came along. The night he put the final nail on his and Jace’s bond.

present time

Jace’s pleas still echoing in his mind, Alec reached his room half-blind, unable to see beyond the pool of tears in his eyes.

When he closed the door behind him, he only had the energy to collapse on the ground against it. Curving into a ball, he wished to make himself smaller.

If he was small, the pain had less room in which to expand. He could already feel it strangling his bones, flowing in his veins, pumping his organs...until his entire being was crumpled under its weight. Had he broken the parabatai bond once and for all? Is that what this feeling meant? In that case, he hoped the pain would bury him for good. Anything would be preferable to it plaguing his entire existence, forever a reminder-

He should’ve never agreed to enter that bond. He should’ve never looked twice at that kid who had entered his life like a ray of fucking sunshine. He should’ve never given himself to him, molding his entire life around him, into him, with him. If Alec hadn’t done any of that, his very soul wouldn’t be made of pieces of him. His body wouldn’t still hold the shape of him, tattooed into his flesh with far more than one mark. His heart wouldn’t pump his name in his veins.

Jace.

What had he done?

What had he been doing since that night he broke them?

NO! Alec, that’s not what I want! You could never be a burden, the opposite of that – I could never live without you! These past few months…have been hell. Please, don’t go.

Alec was going to suffocate. He didn’t know why in that very moment words he had read to Jace once had to come back to hit him in the face.

I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!*

He was an idiot.

Him and Jace had been through too much together to just let him go. Even if they couldn’t be together, even if they had every reason to just give up on each other, he’d be damned before Jace’s soul parted from his! Because the truth was, Jace could betray him, hurt him, walk away from him all he wanted, and Alec could do the same to him...it would still never change the fact that they had belonged together ever since that moment, all those years ago, when Alec's arrow had barely missed Jace.

He'd die before he stopped believing that. 

Alec rose from the floor as if he had just received an electric shock. Yanking the door open, he started running all the way back to the basement.

Jace wasn’t there anymore, and Alec’s stomach dropped. Yet, he didn't stop; he resumed running until he reached the outside of Jace’s room. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest…if Jace wasn’t there, if he had gone out, it could be too late before he found-

Alec opened the door, and he almost cried out in relief when he saw Jace sitting on the bed, head buried in his hands. He had done that. He had hurt Jace just as much, if not more than how Jace had hurt him. This eye for an eye needed to stop.

Alec turned around to activate lock and soundless runes on the door, his movements slow and careful, to try and still his shaking hands…then he strode towards Jace, who hadn’t moved an inch. The bed creaked when Alec sat heavily on it, his arms already going to embrace Jace as tight as he could, his face pressed against Jace's hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Alec chanted in Jace’s ear, his voice breaking.

Jace finally seemed to come back to life. He removed his hands from his face, to use them to shove at Alec’s chest, pushing him away. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

Alec didn't move away. Instead, he tried to put his arms around Jace once again. “Jace, I’m so sor–”

“I said don’t!” Jace forcefully shrugged Alec’s hands off of him. “It’s fine, you’re right! I only bring pain in your life, in everybody’s life! I’m just a selfish broken fucked-up mess raised by a monster…”

Alec felt himself gasp. He had forgotten about the new revelation. Valentine had turned out be Jace’s father, having pretended to be Michael Wayland all those years until he faked his own death...and Jace and Clary had been brother and sister all along…how could he have forgotten that?!

“No, no, Jace," Alec's lips were trembling as he spoke, "you’re not selfish, or broken, or fucked-up! You–”

“I am! And you shouldn’t be near me...I am bad for you or everybody else! So I release you, too – I release you from me!”

Alec desperately shook his head. “I never should’ve said that! I didn’t – I could never mean it. Everything I said was – listen, you were trying to do something good…and I was a damn coward! You were right, I am a coward! I’d rather have others hurt than risk everything I’ve worked for all my life! I couldn’t – I couldn’t keep you, I couldn’t find a better way to protect our family, I couldn’t stand everything changing so fast! And I was the leader of nothing and the soldier from hell. I just wanted…to keep everything together and how it should be, but it wouldn’t work.”

Jace was trying to get away, and Alec took his face in between his hands, holding on despite Jace's squirming. “I hurt you, repeatedly. I weakened our bond, I had a sword at your throat, by the Angel! I just - I felt like you were drifting away from me and I proceeded to blame you for everything that was happening, as if it wouldn’t only drive you away further. Jace, it wasn't all your fault, and I’m so sorry.”

Alec lowered his head, scrunching his face to not have it fall apart.

“But I-" Alec was surprised to hear Jace's coarse, subdued voice, and to realize that Jace wasn't trying to get away anymore. "I should’ve thought more of what was happening at the Institute...I should’ve predicted something, I should’ve stopped to look at you, I – Alec, I didn’t think all this could happen! I felt you slipping too, and I didn’t know what to do.”

Alec couldn't have been more relieved that Jace was talking to him, and, suddenly, he didn't care about all that anymore. Nosy tutors and little girls, madmen and Clave envoys, shouts and fights...what did it all matter? Right then, Alec wanted nothing more than to forget about everything and throw himself at Jace...and he did just that, hugging him again, as if being physically close alone could fill the void dividing them.

He knew it wasn't that simple, but it surely didn’t hurt. On the contrary, sensing Jace’s solid form, his warmth, his scent, his life, right in between his arms, felt as if he had been lost in the woods all this time, and Jace was his home. Alec would've kept on holding him until he forgot he had ever let him go. 

His wish wasn't fulfilled, because Jace pushed him away again.

“Then why?!" More shouting caught Alec off guard, and he flinched. "Why are you here? We’ve said and done the most awful things to each other, we’ve been everything a parabatai, or a friend, or a lover shouldn’t be! Why did you come back?”

Alec looked into Jace’s eyes. “You know why.”

I love you.

But he couldn’t say it, or they’d be lost.

“Do I?" Jace rebutted, eyes into slits. "Because I remember you claiming it wasn’t a reason enough.” Alec could see he was trying to mask how much that had hurt him.

“And you believed me?” Alec chuckled bitterly. 

An answer wasn't needed, because they both knew Jace had believed him. Alec had made sure of it.

“Everything I’ve done,” Alec admitted then, “was because I loved you too much.”

Jace cracked a smile, before his face turned sorrowful, almost tired. “Same. I tried so hard to steer clear of you, because just being in the same room was too painful.”

A lump formed in Alec’s throat. He tried not to think of who exactly had steered Jace away. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, Jace was still looking at him with that same stricken expression.

So now what? What could they do? Where would they go from there? So many more things needed to be said, to be done, and the world outside of that room hadn’t stopped spinning. It was still waiting for them, to throw them for a loop all over again.

It felt as if they were on the edge of a precipice; if they walked any further, they might tilt to the side, and fall.

Therefore they stayed silent, facing each other on the bed, only their legs touching, while they made the conscious effort not to get any closer. They breathed in sync, though, for the first time in a long while. They didn’t feel like strangers anymore...more like two magnets being pulled in opposite directions by implacable forces.

Alec felt heavy, his shoulders sagged as if he couldn’t hold his own body anymore. Jace was so close, yet so far away. He itched to touch him, to hold him, to truly forget anything else beside them existed. He wished to be lost in the lines of his face, in the texture of his skin, in the color of his eyes...

He slipped and looked at Jace’s lips, only for one second - but it was enough.

Jace surged forward at the same time as he did…and their lips meeting, conjoining again after the agony of separation felt like a cry of joy deep in the foundation of his – their – being. Their mouths collided over and over again as if they wished to devour each other, and something inside of Alec sang. If he weren’t too busy kissing Jace, he would’ve started sobbing.

He knew that this was the most foolish and reckless thing they could possibly do, and that it would only make things worse instead of solving anything.

He still rose Jace’s shirt from his sides and helped him get rid of it. Then he pushed Jace into the bed, sighing when their bodies found their rightful place, entwined together. Their fervency only grew, their kisses became deeper and deeper, and Alec could only think I love you, I love you…

Jace flipped them over all of a sudden, not before Alec’s sweater was also removed, and they were skin to skin, Jace kissing him with some kind of despair...when finally their runes started glowing. Jace flinched away when he noticed, drawing his hand from Alec’s golden neck, but Alec caught it, bringing it to his lips, then pressing it against the side of his face, eyes closed in bliss. With his other hand, he traced Jace’s parabatai rune.

"We're magic," Alec whispered. 

Jace let out a whimper, shivering under Alec's hands, but he relaxed, bringing their lips together once again, just a feather-touch. “I missed you,” he whispered brokenly.

Suddenly unable to speak, Alec embraced him, pressing their bodies closer while Jace buried his face against his neck. In him there was a hope that they would permanently fuse together before the sun rose.

They did not fuse together, but they went as close to it as was humanly possible.

Alec couldn’t believe he had almost forgotten what it felt like, what it meant to truly be complete and attuned to another person. Jace. His Jace. The endless times he cried out his name couldn’t express enough the experience of being with him, having all of him, and be loved by him. How had he gotten on for more than one day without this? It had been impossible ever since they kissed for the first time…that summer had been nothing short of the deepest pit of hell. But Hodge - Hodge had laid off of them when he had realized that their rift couldn’t but be real. Still, he loomed over their heads even in the security of that room. Alec still drew a shout out of Jace then, and forgot all about it.

When they huddled under the covers, catching their breath, Alec laid his head over the same pillow as Jace, facing him, caressing his arm, still unwilling to stop touching him. He couldn't resist placing one last kiss on Jace’s lips before closing his eyes, breathing in the respite of the moment. The after-effects of their lovemaking flowed through their bond like honey. 

“Was all that you said," Jace broke the silence in a whisper, "the real reason you broke up with me? You felt like I didn't care about you?" He sounded like he hadn't wanted to ask, but desperately needed the answer.

Alec looked at him, his stomach clenching painfully. It was a wonder his mountain of lies hadn’t tumbled on him already. “No. I can feel what you feel, remember? I never doubted you. It wasn’t anything you did. I–" he gulped, "Jace, Hodge found out.”

Jace stayed frozen for a second, then his eyebrows shot to his hairline. “What?!”

“He saw us kissing on the roof one night, and he threatened to tell if I didn’t end it immediately,” Alec recounted in one breath. He already felt lighter than before, even though he knew he couldn’t get away with it so easily.

Jace’s mouth was hanging open as he abruptly sat up, looking down at Alec with eyes as wide as saucers. “Why – why the hell didn’t you tell me?!”

“I–” Alec had never felt so ashamed in his life. “I panicked! I didn’t know what to do! I thought that if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it was reason enough to stop, but you would’ve tried to find a way around it! And I couldn’t - let you, we would’ve just been found out again, and then everything would’ve been over. I – I’m sorry. I know I should’ve told you.”

Jace remained unmoving for what felt like an eternity. When he sagged, falling back on the pillow, he looked as if he had no more energy left to do anything else. He didn’t say a word for so long that Alec couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jace, please, talk to me, yell at me if you want!” he begged him.

Jace smiled softly. “I don’t want to yell at you. I don’t even feel angry, just sad. I’m – I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing now?”

“Because I was the one who made you feel like you couldn’t count on me.”

Alec blinked. “What? No, Jace, it was my fault! I was so caught in worrying about everything that I couldn’t have accepted any other way but my own.”

“But you said it yourself! You felt like I always left you to deal with the messes I made, that’s why you thought you had to fix everything on your own! Alec, even though it was not what I intended, you can’t deny you felt like that. And it’s not fair. I’m your parabatai, I should be there for you no matter what, in any way! But I swear to you right now that I will do everything in my power to be better. I will be better. Just - please, Alec, promise me that you won’t lie to me again, if I promise the same.”

Alec felt like he could breathe again for the first time since Hodge had approached him. Despite the weight of his mistakes, those words were like a soothing balm on his own wounds. He wasn't alone in the world, and he would never be again. 

Sensing a prickle in his eyes that he tried to ignore, Alec broke out into a smile, as he took Jace’s hands in between his own. “I promise. No more lies. And I swear to be better, too.”

Jace smiled at him, all teeth and dimples. Oh, how Alec had missed seeing that. To quench a sudden gush of emotions, he brought Jace’s hands to his lips, and kept them there for a while.

“You were right,” Jace broke the silence once again. 

“About what, exactly?” Alec replied cheekily. 

Jace shoved him, before turning serious. “We - we can’t spend the rest of our lives hiding. All the secrets...they were eating at us, that’s why it all went to shit.”

Alec's heart sank, and he closed his eyes, nodding. He didn't think that truth would ever stop hurting.

Jace snuggled closer to him, hugging Alec's middle while he placed his head on Alec's chest. Alec could feel his breath on his skin. He circled Jace's shoulder. 

“So, it’s really over,” Jace proclaimed, his voice strangled out of him.

Alec pressed his lips against Jace's head. “We will never be over. We’ll always be parabatai, and I’m always going to be there for you.”

“Me, too.”

It would never be enough, but it’ll have to.

Alec was finally about to fall asleep, a tear trickling down his eye, when Jace spoke again. Alec felt so tired, plagued by the war joy and sadness were raging inside of him, but he couldn't really fault Jace for feeling the need to prolong the night as much as he could.

“You’re getting married tomorrow.”

Alec snorted. “And Clary is your sister. What’s up with that?”

Jace's shoulders shook as he laughed. “I can’t believe it. First my parabatai, then my sister…I have the worst damn luck.” He was trying to be playful, but his tone betrayed his bitterness, and his sorrow. 

“You really loved her, didn’t you?” Alec couldn't help but ask. He didn’t know why he just had to do that to himself.

Jace raised his head, arching an eyebrow at him. “Are you seriously wondering if I loved her more than you? First of all, I just met her. No matter what you thought, I wasn’t just helping her cause I found her hot. Secondly, I could’ve, maybe, fallen in love with her…but she could never be you.”

Alec should've been embarassed of the smile that split his face in half right then. That fact made him happier that he would’ve liked to admit, since it would let on just how much Clary trampling him had worried, bothered him.

“I mean, now it’s just sick to think about,” Jace went on, oblivious to his musings, “that I kissed my sister, that I wanted her, what if we had – I just, I must be sick, or something.” 

Alec came out of his reverie. “Hey, no. Look at me.” Alec raised Jace’s chin with his finger. “You’re not sick. You couldn’t have known. The situation is just…confusing and fucked-up."

Jace didn't seem convinced, but he said, "I guess," shrugging fake-nonchalantly. 

Alec had to press on, "And about your father...Jace, no matter who he is-”

"No, no, I don't want to talk about that," Jace interrupted him, averting his eyes. 

"Jace..."

"I'm serious, please, really, just...not now. Please."

Alec sighed. "Okay. But whenever you want..."

"Yeah, I know. Thank you." 

Jace gave him a quick kiss, and Alec suppressed the need to protest further. He couldn't even begin to imagine what must've been going on in Jace's mind right then. All the things he had to look back to in such a different and infinitely more warped light, as if things hadn't been muddled before...

“Alec, don’t get married.”

That wasn't one of the things he would've imagined. Jace had gotten himself upright to lean on his elbow, and was looking at Alec rather intently, a frown on his face. 

Alec huffed, turning his head the other way. “Jace, I have to.”

“I was serious before. I can go talk to Lydia, or whoever else is needed, and I will explain the entire situation! But you can’t, you shouldn’t have to spend the rest of your life living another kind of lie. Especially not because of me.”

“It was my decision, Jace. It wasn't your fault, for real. Something like that would've happened anyway, considering that my parents were Circle members...with Valentine rising, the Clave would've gone after them, us, in any case. This, now, is the only effective way to keep the Institute and clear the Lightwood’s name, and I’m not giving it up. I – Lydia is a good person, and we work well together. It’s a perfect arrangement for both of us.”

“But it might not be the only way, or it could not solve everything like you think...and you'd be tying yourself to something that could not be that necessary, hindering every chance you might have to be happy! You’d never be able to find someone you could be happy with.”

Alec turned his head towards Jace, snorting. “Jace, you think I could ever be happy with someone that isn’t you? Nobody else is you for me, too.”

A corner of Jace’s mouth perked up, but it quickly went away. “What about Magnus?”

“No, no, we’re not talking about that.”

“C’mon, it’s clear he likes you. And you like him, at least, right? How do you know it couldn’t be something good? If we can’t be together, shouldn’t we at least try to be with someone else? Just because it didn’t work out for me, it doesn’t mean it couldn’t for you.”

Alec sat up, shrugging the covers off of him, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under all that warmth. “What are you even suggesting? That I leave my Shadowhunter wife for a male Downworlder? Are you hearing yourself?”

Jace circled Alec's shoulders with his arms, laying his chin on one. Alec reluctantly let him, and leaned back into him. “I’m not suggesting anything. I just want you to be happy, don't you know that by this point? Listen, I’m not going to tell you to go against what the Clave or your family wants, if that’s what you care about. I’m just presenting you the possibility that there might be something else out there for you. You should know all the options, right? I'm not saying it just for the hell of it, I really think that if you were to choose that, it wouldn’t be the end of the world like you think. Some people might talk, or be pissed, and you might have to work your way back up some new obstacles, but I believe in you. I know how determined you are, when you want something bad enough, and they’ll just have to recognize your true qualities once they realize they can’t do without you. Don’t snort! It’s true. I – listen, you know how I feel about letting our lives be controlled by bullshit laws and traditions, and I won’t change my mind. I know better than to change yours. But I’ll stand by you, whatever you decide.”

“Really? You would give me away tomorrow?” Alec turned his head around to look Jace in his eyes, unable to mask the hope from his voice. “Please? I - I can’t do this without you.”

Jace smiled. “If that’s what you want, I’ll be honored.”

An indescribable sense of relief filled Alec's heart. He truly had Jace back. They’d be okay.

He pushed Jace back down on the bed. “Thank you. Now, can we stop talking?”

Jace laughed. “Yeah.”

More laughter was covered by demanding lips. The night wasn’t over yet.

But it was, eventually, and way too soon.

Alec’s alarm went off, and he woke up with a jolt, a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach making him feel like he was going to be sick. Remembering the events of the night, as well as the knowledge that he wouldn’t lose Jace, couldn’t erase the fact that walking away from him – them – once again, was going to feel like leaving a piece of himself behind. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

And no matter his resolve to go through with the wedding, he wasn’t stupid enough to not know that what Jace, Izzy, or Magnus told him wasn’t farfetched. He wasn’t really looking forward to a life of chastity – because he could never have affairs, he just couldn’t – and solid partnership. The only bright spot was that he at least really did like Lydia as a friend, and she wouldn’t expect anything from him that he couldn’t give her.

Still, he felt awful. In that moment, Jace’s bed, with Jace draped over him from behind, was the closest thing to heaven he would ever find, and he wouldn’t have wanted to leave it for anything in the world.

Jace hugged him tighter to himself then, and Alec sighed, in despair as well as contentment. He interlaced his hand with Jace’s before kissing it, trying to map to memory the texture and warmth of his skin. Their bond was already trembling in anticipation of him leaving, and just when it was back to its brightest glory, risen from the ashes! 

And to think...that they had the power to bring down that entire Institute and make their escape, if they wanted to. But, in that case, Alec knew they'd only prove the parabatai curse true. If they wanted their bond to be light, not darkness, they could never give in to their basest impulses. 

As if reading his thoughts, Jace spoke, rather groggily, “What if we got away, and never looked back?”

Alec smiled forlornly, but he let himself indulge in it for a minute. “We could go to the west. Attend a mundane college, or work in one of those fast foods shops, while living in a shitty apartment. I bet a cat would fit nicely. I bet it'd love me more than you.”

Alec felt Jace's body shake with laughter. “In your dreams. But yeah...it doesn’t sound too bad.”

Would they really manage as mundanes? Alec liked to think that, together, they could make it, be happy, even.

They would never know.

Alec turned around in Jace’s arms. He kissed him, as they held each other as close as they could, until they still could. They could never do this again. 

Breaking himself apart and getting up from the bed took Alec as much effort as it was to be expected. He got dressed in silence, Jace watching him just as quiet.

Before leaving, Alec went to sit next to Jace. Jace was holding himself with his knees to his chest, making himself look so much smaller than all his muscles should allow.

Alec felt almost numb, except for when he kissed Jace one last time. He prolonged and savored the moment as long as possible.

“I love you, now and forever,” Alec told him then. That statement could only be uttered in a whisper.

“I love you. Now and forever,” Jace echoed, a catch in his voice. “Never forget, that I’m yours.”

Alec nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “And I’ll always be yours.”

He brushed Jace’s mouth with his own one last, last time, so that he would still have the feel of it on his lips for as long as he lived. He rose from the bed, staring at Jace to burn in his memory the image of him...then he strode to the door and got out of it without even registering his movements. He pushed it closed, leaning on it, with an itch in his breath. For once, he didn’t care if he ended up crying for real.

He reached his room first, covering his face with a pillow once he collapsed on the bed.

Later, he did end up taking a chance, after all. He strode down the aisle and kissed Magnus Bane right in the mouth, in front of everyone. He couldn’t live like a coward anymore, and his mother, his father, the Clave…they'll have to live with it. With the real him.

[killer-barnes]

Stutter

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: After being paired up together for a school project, Peter’s nerves are put to the test with the Reader he adores oh, so dearly.

Word Count: 3,761

Warnings: language, shy!peter, a little bit of soft peter (?) cuddle sesh, kissing (barely), er… school projects (ew ??).

A/N: Y’all, I frickin’ LOVE shy/awkward Peter, so hopefully I did this well enough. I too am awkward and quiet as hell, so I’ve added some of my own *spice*. For the anon that requested this, I might’ve changed a few things, so I’m sorry and hopefully you still like it. Also, I apologize I haven’t been posting a lot. Just started summer classes and got a job !!! Anyways, enjoy reading and feedback is always appreciated.

Walking quickly into Midtown High, Peter dashes towards his locker avoiding any shoulder bumps or accidental run ins with any bullies lurking the halls. Not only that, he was going to be late for his first period of the day, where he saw you. Now, he knew you had no idea who the fuck he was, but he didn’t care. Peter would rather lurk behind than face you with his undying confession of love for you.

How embarrassing would that be, amiright?

He loved to gaze at you from afar, sometimes catching your eye, only to think you were addressing to the person standing behind him. However, that wasn’t the case, but did Peter know that? Of course not. He was too entranced by the fact that you looked in his direction.

His thoughts of you are pulled away as the first bell rings and realization sets in.

Oh fuck, I’m late!

Rushing to get a good seat in his first period class with you, Peter sees one a few seats behind your gorgeous head.

Ned wasn’t in this class with him, nor the rest of his friends, so Peter was left alone. He didn’t mind it per say, but when it came to asking, answering, or talking, he would have an inevitable stutter that never disappeared. He knew his shyness definitely played a part and his constant need to check his phone in case of any spiderling activities, but fuck. When it came to talking to Y/N, he can’t even get a damn word out! It was like he suddenly lost the knowledge to speak. Peter thinks it makes him look pathetic and weak, but you absolutely adored it.

You didn’t know Peter as well as you wished, but every time that boy stuttered his way through a difficult question, your face would light up with the brightest smile. You thought Peter’s uniqueness and smarts was beyond this world. He deserves so much more.

Your own thoughts are pushed aside as the teacher strides into the room in a rush, desperately holding onto her coffee, briefcase, and purse. After managing a successful landing, the teacher grabs the white board marker to address the plans for today’s lesson.

Grabbing your planner to write down the homework, you hear an audible groan across the classroom from each student. As you lift your eyes to see what the teacher wrote, it says in all caps:

PROJECT: PICK A FILM THAT HAS BEEN OF GREAT INFLUENCE IN OUR WORLD.

“Alright, class. As you can see we will be beginning a new project as of today! It can be from any time period, so you all aren’t limited. I wanted to spice things up a bit and choose something that I knew you all would enjoy. Well, some of you at least,” the teacher explains, while another set of groans transfer throughout the room.

You, on the other hand, were excited! You’ve always been obsessed with movies and getting to a deeper meaning while watching them. You were a nerd on the inside, but never really wanted anyone to see that side of you. Before you decided on which movie you were going to do, the teacher continues, “also, this will be a paired project, so listen up and I will assign pairs, understood?”

As the students nod, the teacher begins listing pairs.

“Todd and Nick… Lisa and Michelle… Danny and Alison… Y/N and Peter… Roy an-”

Peter’s thoughts were soon erupted with anxiety and nervousness.

Y/N??

Out of everyone!?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I’m going to die, holy fuck.

I’m going to di-

Peter dumbly drifted off his gaze to Y/N who was already staring at him with a wave and a soft smile grazing their perfectly plump lips. Nervously ducking his head on his desk, Peter sighs.

I’m so fucked.

So. Fucked.

You were excited when you heard that you and Peter were paired together. He must have a stellar choice in movies, so you knew it would be a fun time. However, glancing towards him, you think he thought otherwise as he ducked his head from your gaze elsewhere.

Maybe he doesn’t like me…

Should I ask for a new partner?

I really want to work with him…

Once the teacher finishes reading off the pairs, she tells the class to meet with the designated partners to discuss an initial plan for the project since it is due in a few weeks.

Once again, the nerves set in making Peter not move a single muscle. After a few seconds of students moving around, he feels a presence behind him. It smells like a scent he never wants to forget. It’s you.

Sitting in the desk in front of him, you pull out a sheet of paper along with a pencil to jot down some ideas towards the project.

After writing some simple details like names and titles, you look up towards Peter, who is very red in the face.

Smiling at him, you begin, “hey, Peter! Did you have any ideas about what movie the project should be on?”

Peter’s throat closes up as he hears those words.

Hey Peter.

It’s ridiculous, he knows.

But it’s like he can barely breathe. You’re absolutely stunning. And you’re partnered with him. Man, this is going to be one boring, but crazy ride. Slowly lifting his nervous eyes, he begins to open his mouth, but is caught by the bell signalling next period. Peter quickly packs up his supplies and hurriedly runs out the door into the hallway.

“Okay, see you later, I guess,” you mumble, clearly to no one.

As Peter shuffles his way through the hall, he spots Ned and pulls him out of the swarming walkway of students.

“Hey, Pete. What’s up, man? You don’t look too good.”

Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Peter replies a million miles fast, “I just got assigned a project with Y/N. THE Y/N, Ned. Fuck, I’m so screwed! What am I going to do? I can’t even say a fucking hello without exploding into a series of stutters and incoherent noises! Shit, m-maybe, maybe I’ll just ask for a new partner. Y-Yeah, that’s what I’ll d-”

“The hell you will! You’re doing this Peter! You’re going to have to talk to Y/N some time, so why not take this opportunity? It may even turn into something else. Dude, you’ve got this. It’s Y/N for crying out loud. You know they don’t care about your stuttering and inability to make understandable conversations,” Ned replies reassuringly.

“Oh, wow, thanks Ned, really. God, you know what? You’re right. I’m going to do this. I can do this. I can do this? Ned I-”

“Hey! Y/N, how’s it going?” Ned shouts at you from across the hall, gaining the attention of the anxious spiderling standing directly in front of him with a frightened expression.

“Ned! NED! Dude! Oh, shit. Why did you do th-”

“Hey, Ned! Did you say something? I couldn’t quite hear,” you smile, glancing slightly to Peter.

“Huh? Oh, that wasn’t me. That was Peter! But, uh- I’ll see you two later, bye!” Ned smugly answers, knowing Peter will probably get him back later.

Confused, you turn towards Peter who’s staring at you with an agape mouth and red tinted cheeks, burning his face like a fire. Smiling, you ask, “so, what were you saying to me?”

Shifting on his feet and glancing around to find an escape, Peter sighs, knowing that Ned was right. Take this chance, and hey, if Y/N thinks he’s a freak, at least he tried.

Choking on his breath, he covers it with a cough, “uh- I-I, the project, uh, I wanted to t-talk about the, y’know, the project?”

Giving him another warming smile, you reply, “right, did you want to discuss it during your free hour? I think we have the same one. I usually see you in the library.”

His cheeks begin to burn again at the thought you noticing him. Pushing those aside, he takes a shaky breath and stutters, “y-yeah, I-I mean yes, yes we have the same f-free hour. Uh- we, we can meet t-there?”

“Of course! I’ll see you soon, Peter!”

After you leave, Peter rests his body against the sea of lockers across the wall. Damn, did that conversation take a toll on him. It wasn’t even 5 minutes long!

Groaning, he heads to his next class, wishing for lunch to appear before his eyes.

Once his dreadful and boring calculus class ended, it was time for lunch. Walking towards the cafeteria, Peter spots Ned at an empty table with his tray already touched with a half eaten slice of pizza. Setting down his own tray, Peter sends Ned a glare.

“You’re welcome,” Ned smirks.  

Taken back, Peter puffs, “for what? Making me look like an utter lame ass, stuttering nerd in front of a beautiful, stunning Y/N? Oh, yes, then thank you, Ned.”

“Oh, hush. You wouldn’t of ever done it if I didn’t give you a little push. You can’t keep gawking at Y/N from afar forever, dude.”

Dreamily sighing, Peter takes a bite of his pizza.

“A boy can dream.”

As lunch was coming to an end, Peter realized he had one more period before he had to deal with Y/N and the project they were assigned together. He knew he had to mentally prepare himself yet again to be in your presence without becoming an utter mess. But he already knew there was no way around it.

The bell rings signalling the end of lunch. As Peter and Ned dispose of their trays, Ned turns back towards Peter before heading to their next class, “ready for some bomb-ass science shit?!”

With a smile, Peter rolls his eyes, ”Ned, I’m always ready for science shit. Let’s do this!”

Walking into Advanced Bio, they take their assigned seats, conveniently next to each other and wait for the assigned lab experiment for today’s class. The teacher loved the both of them, especially since they would always hang back to help clean up, while other students would flood out even before the bell would ring. Neither of them minded. Plus, they always had a little time after to do a few extra and fun experiments with the teacher since their next period was free block. Yes, they’re nerds and they know it, but that’s what makes them best friends. Ned is someone Peter can fanboy over the nerdiest things with without getting any judgement in return, since he in fact joins in on the fanboying. They’ve been inseparable for god knows how long, and Peter hopes to never lose what they have together.

As they begin the lab assigned, Peter’s mind drifts yet again to Y/N and the dreadful next period free block. Where it will be no one, but him and Y/N.

Alone.

In the library.

With Y/N-

His thoughts are interrupted by Ned snapping his fingers in front of Peter’s dazed expression.

“Let me guess, Y/N again? Dude, quit worrying, you’re starting to make me worry! Now, c’mon, let’s finish this lab, alright lover boy?”

Sighing loudly, Peter grabs the drops and adds it to the beaker as Ned records the results.

Hopefully he’s right…

As Bio was coming to an end, Peter purposely slowed his movements while helping to pick up any left over beakers or spills that might’ve appeared on the surface of the lab tables. He didn’t want to go see Y/N just yet, or at all for that matter. He knew he was going to be all over the place and just make a fool of himself. His mind was getting the better of him and Ned seemed to notice.

“Peter, dude. I know you’re stalling. Go fucking see Y/N! They’re waiting for you in the library. Don’t make them wait. I’ll handle cleaning up, alright? Now, go!”

Ned pushes Peter out of the classroom with those last words, making sure to shut the door behind him in case Peter tried to sneak in.

Fuck.

Okay, I can do this.

I can DO this!

I ca-

Peter is interrupted as he enters the library and sees you sitting quietly at a table with papers neatly surrounding you. Of course, Peter started feeling bad because he made you late due to his nervousness of being with you. Idiot

Making his way over to your table, he trips a little over the carpet below his feet, causing a blush to spread across his cheeks in embarrassment. Taking a breath, he reaches the table, causing you to look up in his direction with a soft smile.

“Hey, Pete! I got here a little early to get started. Here, take a seat and we can figure this project out.”

Slowly taking a seat and pulling out a laptop and notebook, Peter nervously laughs, “o-okay, great. Uh, h-have you- have you found anything yet?”

You furrowed your brows as you direct your attention to the notebook sat beside you filled with what looks like jumbled notes. You sigh, “well, I’m not sure. I’m a huge movie buff, but hmm, I personally think Star Wars has definitely shaped our world. I mean, who wouldn’t? But also movies like The Matrix, Lord of the Rings, Psycho, hell, even Batman! It’s just so hard to choose, y’know? Oh, fuck. I-I’m rambling, aren’t I? What do you think, Peter?”

His dazed expression worried you. You shouldn’t of said all that. He probably thinks you’re some weirdo. Oh, fuck.

For Peter, however, it was entirely the opposite. When those words came out of your mouth, his mind went bonkers.

Star Wars ?!

Y/N likes STAR WARS ?

What even is life right now, holy shit.

I’m in love.

After fanboying, Peter realizes you were talking to him. He senses your discomfort when you offered your suggestions and he didn’t say anything back, being the idiot he is.

“Huh? What? I-I agree! You like Star Wars?” Peter quickly asked with a pink tint across his cheeks.

You scoff, “not like. LOVE! It’s been my favorite since forever. Definitely the originals though, those poor prequels. George Lucas tried…”  

You look up to see Peter with his mouth agape.

With a worried expression you ask, “what?”

“N-No! I-I, sorry. I just didn’t expect someone like you to like Star Wars o-or y’know nerdy movies? I-I mean not that you wouldn’t be someone to watch those types of movies, you’re just s-so pretty and a-and not really nerdy. I-I mean-”

You chuckle at his adorableness, “it’s okay, I’m not one to advertise my nerdiness. So, Star Wars it is?”

With a tomato red face, Peter nods in agreement.

Rubbing your hands together, you form a plan, “alright, how about to really get the full effect, we watch the movie and take notes? I think that will help us rather than searching useless article online. What do you think?”

“S-Sure, yeah, uh- that sounds great! H-Hey, we can do it at m-my place. I- only if you want to, of course,” Peter manages to get out, much to his surprise.

Your smile brightens at his question.

“Awesome! That would be great, does Friday work for you? It’s only a few days away.”

“Y-Yeah, I-I mean, yes. That sounds like a plan!” He replies, stumbling over his words.

“Okay, do you want to exchange numbers? Just in case something happens,” you question, knowing that you just wanted to have his number to talk to him more.

“O-oh, right, yeah. Here,” Peter hands you his phone as you do the same, quickly entering your guys’ information. As you return each others phones, you graze fingers, causing Peter’s blush to arise again, this time deeper.  

“I’ll see you around, Pete! Don’t be a stranger,” you add with a smirk as you leave the library.

Well, I’m still fucked.

A few days pass of nervous chatting and stumbled words as Y/N and Peter begin to build a friendship over likes and dislikes. Mostly over text, since Peter can barely manage a sentence without blubbering his words. You don’t mind though, you enjoy getting random funny texts with full understanding of the references he is trying to make. You can tell he’s still very nervous around you, but what did you expect? It doesn’t take a shy person a few days to get over it. Things like this take time, and you were more than happy to help him along the way. These past few days have really opened your eyes about Peter. He is such an adorable, loving, nerdy, and considerate person. Plus, what a fucking babe. Like, holy shit. You knew you shouldn’t be thinking this way, but you couldn’t help yourself!

And within these past couple of days, you’d see Peter in the halls with Ned and you’d give him a nice little wave. Of course, he would check behind him to see if it was really you addressing him. Once he realized, the same blush he always has would reappear across his cheeks. It was the most adorable thing and you loved getting out of him. He is too cute and precious for this world.

As the last few hours of Friday’s time arrives, you remind yourself of the plan Peter and you discussed last night over text. Going to your locker to pack some books needed for the weekend, you quickly shove them in and make your way over to Peter’s locker to wait for him. You both decided on walking together after school to his place to watch the movie. You didn’t know how long it was going to last tonight, so you brought a few snacks along, just to make the movie experience a little more exciting, even though Peter probably has this junk at his place.

You see Peter and Ned join the mass amount of students erupting the halls to get out of this hell hole to a weekend we all very much need. Peter’s eyes meet yours and he sends a little nervous wave towards your direction, which you immediately return. Ned is smirking at the both of you as you roll you eyes. He however, goes in another direction, leaving you and Peter alone for your exciting movie night project.

“H-Hey, Y/N. Are you uh- you ready to go?” He asks, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure am. Lead the way, my good sir.”

He laughs at your response and guides you both through the crowd to the outside of the school.

“I-It’s only a few minutes away, s-so we can just walk. I, uh- is that okay?” Peter stutters.

“No worries. Gives us more time to gush over nerdy things!”

By the time you two get up to Peter’s door, you’re in tears about a joke Peter had made about some random thing from Biology today. His never ending nerdy jokes will be something you will forever cherish, no matter how lame they may be.

Grabbing your bag of goodies, you bring it to the couch and set it across the coffee table in front of the TV. Peter grabs the movies from his room a few doors down, letting you know he is going to change out of his school clothes. After you set everything out, you took out a notebook filled with the notes for the project as well as a pencil. Peter exited his room wearing a worn out grey tee with a soft looking pair of sweatpants. You wish you would’ve brought a change of comfy clothes, but you weren’t complaining.

Peter comes to join you at the couch as he sees the vast amount of goodies you’ve brought.

“Geez, we’re loaded tonight,” he adds with a breathy laugh.

“Hey, these are some solid movie munchies. Can’t go wrong with having too much! Plus, I’m a sucker for sweets. It’s pretty bad,” you mumble, knowing sugar is a weakness of yours, indefinitely.

Peter just laughs, taking a gummy worm from the packet as he goes to place the movie in the DVD player.

“Alright, let’s do this!”

After the first movie, you had taken a few pages of notes as well as finished a few packets of the sugary goodness you brought over. Peter, on the other hand, had been distracted by you writing down funny things in your notes referencing the characters, as well as your beautiful handwriting. Why was he swooning over handwriting? What the hell?

Deciding you had taken enough notes for now, you decide to relax a little bit and enjoy the movie. For some reason, it felt as if the room dropped a few degrees causing you to let out a couple shivers. Glancing towards Peter, he looked so warm and comfy, you just wanted to leap into his arms and snuggle deep into his chest.

Slowly, you started inching towards him, trying to not scare him away. After a few seconds of being shoulder to shoulder, you lay your head against his and slowly link your arm through his. As you do this, Peter stiffens, but eventually gives into your touch. However, his heart is racing a million miles.

Y/N is on my shoulder.

I REPEAT, Y/N IS ON MY FUCKING SHOULDER.

Am I dreaming?

Nope, nope definitely not dreaming.

It takes him a few minutes to relax his mind, but the feeling of you on him is so warm and comforting. His anxieties and worries soon leave and he’s calm.

After a couple of minutes of you resting your head on his shoulder, you slowly rise up, still snuggle more into his side.

“I’m happy we got assigned together, y’know. I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now, but I’ve been a little shy. I just didn’t know what to say to you…”

Peter is flabbergasted.

You’re being shy?

If this was being shy, then damn, what the hell was he being?

Turning to face you, he stutters in shock, “r-really? I-I didn’t even think you noticed me. I-I’ve always wanted to talk to you too, b-but, well, y’know. C-Can’t even get a word out!”

Quietly laughing at his reply, you squeeze your grip lightly, “yes really, you dumbo! Who in their right mind wouldn’t love someone like you?” you add, pressing a kiss to his soft cheek.

The small kiss sends shocks throughout his body as he feels a burning sensation prickle at every surface of his skin. The blush making your heart swell.

“God, you’re adorable.”

A/N: I apologize if the ending seems a bit rushed. But hopefully you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading.

[malady579]

Cut & Run Fan Meme

I was pleased to be tagged by @savesteeb. Thank you.  :)

What drew you to C&R?

I had read the Quinn and Blay Black Dagger Brotherhood book when it came out in 2013, and thus so desperately wanted more m/m,...better m/m (not bashing the book, because I love the couple, but come on, it should have been better), that I googled best m/m romances or something, and found people recommended Cut & Run, so I jumped in blindly, and absorbed it immediately.  After I read them, I needed to talk about them, and my little conservative world was not going to help me there, so I found Goodreads then Tumblr then wonderful friends and....here I am now, almost 4 years later. 

Favorite C&R book?

Touch & Geaux.  Hands down.

Favorite Ty/Zane moment of the series?

Oi, umm....I adore the proposals in Ball & Chain.  I love the pacing of them.  I love how Zane responds each time.  I love how Ty accepts that and ruminates over that.  I love how Zane’s reasons are not that he wants Ty to earn it but that he wants Ty to learn.  It wasn’t out of spit or anything on Zane’s part.  It was out of love for Ty to slow down and stop and see the man now in front of him.  To make sure Ty wants this Zen Zane.  Not get married because they had survived this long but because they want it.  To be a natural extension of them.  The proposals grow that so efficiently and lovingly.  I just adore them.  

Favorite love scene? 

It is in Touch & Geaux.  I call it the “But then” scene.  It is the sex scene that happened near the end before the amusement park shoot out.  Ty is a lonely nervous mess lying next to the man he adores more than anyone in the world, and that man is furious with him.  That man had just saved him and yet still rejects him.  Ty has no words to make it better; he had already tried.   Zane, for his part, has ever right to be furious about the lies Ty told.  He is still processing everything that happened between them, trying to decipher what is true and what is false basically since they first met.  Trying to figure out if any of it was true.  Zane needs his space yet is still there.  Next to Ty.  Ty is respecting that space just lying next to Zane for however long Zane lets him continue to be near him.  So in that scene,  Zane asks a question.  Then they start talking.  And appears as if, once again, they won’t have detente.  But then...it is just so perfectly executed.  Not everything was resolved, but you know that scene shows their connection is real and worth working for, fighting for.   It is just so emotionally rewarding.

Non-Touch & Geaux moment that broke your heart (because T&G is just one massive heart-breaker so it’s too easy to go there)? 

That fucking cliff in Ball & Chain.  The dynamic between Ty hanging desperately onto Nick who is begging him to let him go breaks me every time.   Because I know Ty would never do that.  Ty would go over that cliff with Nick rather than let go, and Nick knows that too, which causes Nick to attempt to force Ty’s hand brandishing the very knife Ty gave him to do it.  Which of course makes Ty hold on even harder.  I mean I knew they would both survive.  I knew that they would get past this moment, but the way Abi wrote it - I felt the pain in both of them and the yearning between them to save the other regardless of their own life.  It just breaks me every time.

Oh and to back Ami up, Abi is a dear friend to both of us, and I can 100% concur she loves to make people cry over her characters.  She broke us during her writing of C&B and P&P.  Asshole would write heartbreaking scenes and just drop it in chat with no warning and we would just cry, clutch the characters, and glare at her.  It is so much fun beta-ing for her.

A moment that made you laugh out loud?

“He’s Preston, Julian’s driver,” Cameron said.

“Driver,” Zane said, voice wry. “Do you sell antiques too?”

“No, I kill people.”

- A&D (Kindle Locations 4870-4871).

A moment that put hearts in your eyes? 

Ty growled and rolled, wrapping Zane up in his arms. “You need rest,” he said. He lowered his voice and moved his lips against Zane’s skin. “And I need you.”

-A&D (Kindle Locations 1518-1519).

Also any time either of them calls the other “baby”.

Favorite pun?

Oi, puns.  I have issues with seeing them.  Ok, as an example: the “spend the night in Beaumont” one annoys me because being from Texas, I know that Beaumont is like 5 hours away from where they are near Austin which is too far for them to drive really, especially to the boring ass town that Beaumont is.  And OMG Melody stop thinking so much, Zane said a pun, stop it.  Look, I know I should just read scene and giggle at the moment, but instead I am like Harrison all - that makes no sense, son.  terrible idea. - oh, it’s a pun. -  So yeah, puns remind me I am too literal some times and I am completely inable to just turn that off.  So oi.  Puns. 

Favorite Grady not named Beaumont Tyler? 

Deuce. 

Favorite Sidewinder? 

Rude.  I have to say Crown Mob Prince Nick right now, but if Abi would write more of Owen (::cough::), I think he would rise higher.  Granted the facecast of Sebastian Stan helps him a lot there.  A hell of a lot. 

Favorite of the FBI crew?

I...I don’t really have one there.  Meh.

Favorite Ty moment? 

One?  I have to choose ONE?  How the hell do you expect me to choose just one?  He had me at flashy blue lights. 

Favorite Zane moment?

Can I choose a favorite Zane?

A song that reminds you of Ty & Zane?

If I may, let me put this here.

[eddiejpoplar]

TEST DRIVE: 2018 BMW M5 — Intercontinental Bavarian Missile

Awhile back, I tested an ALPINA B7 and called it “Weapons-Grade”, as its brute force and seemingly unending power made it feel as it was powered by enriched uranium. However, I’ve now found something even more powerful, even more violent and even more capable of destroying worlds. The brand-new F90-gen BMW M5.

Last I drove the BMW M5, it was at BMW’s “Test Fest”, where I had the chance to drive several of BMW’s newest cars. However, my time in the M5 was unfortunately brief. I had a few laps on track at the Thermal Club and about 30 minutes on the road. While it was a fun experience, it wasn’t enough to properly gauge the M5, or to fulfill my appetite. Which is why BMW so kindly decided to let me borrow one back in New Jersey for a week. Now that I’ve spent some more time in it, I’ve come to one major conclusion — I want even more time in it.

The BMW M5 completely seduced me. During the week, my passion for it only grew stronger with each passing day. Every time I sunk into its wonderful Silverstone leather thrones, I would literally say out loud “I flipping love this car”. Okay, so maybe I didn’t say “flipping” but you get the point. But I couldn’t help it. This new F90 BMW M5 could be one of the best, if not the very best, M5 in history. It’s brilliant.

A Brief Introduction

First, a little backstory, though. The new F90 BMW M5 is the first M5 in history to sport all-wheel drive and a conventional automatic gearbox, without a manual transmission option. So, naturally, this upset the fan base a little bit when the car was first announced. Fans were worried that all-wheel drive would add unnecessary weight and complexity to the car, making it less of a driver’s car. They also felt that it was an indication that BMW was more focused on straight-line speed and power than on making it a proper driver’s car to begin with. However, fans who are worried, rest assured, neither of those things are true.

Yes, the BMW M5 is fast in a straight line, brutally, violently so. Thanks to its newly revised 4.4 liter twin-turbo V8, packing 600 hp and 553 lb-ft of torque, its eight-speed ZF torque-converter automatic and all-wheel drive, the BMW M5 is capable of 0-60 mph in the low three-second range. Car and Driver now-famously tested the M5 and was able to hit 60 mph in 2.8 seconds with careful launching, making it the fastest sedan they have ever tested. So, yes, it is blisteringly quick in a straight line and all-wheel drive grip has a lot to do with that. But don’t think for a second that its tenacious grip and incredible speed define the M5. Though, it must be discussed.

Brutal, Violent Speed

While its power doesn’t define the M5, that doesn’t mean that it sits in the background. From the moment you thumb its red starter button, that engine lets you know just how powerful it is. It fires to life with a bark and a snarl. Once awake, it settles into a deep, sophisticated burble. Even just at idle, it’s the best BMW V8 noise since the E39’s 5.0 liter free-breathing V8. It’s deep but it has character. It’s not just noise, like so many modern turbocharged V8s.

But it’s when you prod the go-pedal that it really shows what its made of. And it’s made of many good things. Despite having enough firepower to launch a satellite into orbit, the M5’s 4.4 liter V8 is buttery smooth and effortless to drive around town. However, there’s a sense that it always wants to run hard, like a dog that isn’t necessarily tugging at its leash but showing you with its body language that it’s waiting for the word to bolt. And once you give it that word, and indulge its inner desires to destroy pavement, it fires the big M5 forward with thrust that would make the space shuttle jealous.

Mashing the gas in the M5 is like hitting the warp-speed switch on the Millennium Falcon. Street signs and traffic lights whiz past the windshield like stars streaming by, as the M5 seemingly tears through the fabric of space-time. At least that’s how it feels. Seriously, you pull G’s on your neck under full-on acceleration, just trying to keep your eyes open and focused. It’s fantastic, violent and utterly addictive.

The noise is good, too. It’s deep and angry at lower revs but as the needle climbs toward redline, the pitch rises with it and the sound becomes more and more metallic. It sounds like a proper M engine. Yes, some of what you’re hear is coming through the speakers but I get it. Close the doors in the M5, or any 5 Series for that matter, and you’re enveloped in silence. So to give you the engine/exhaust noise that you want without giving you any of the intrusive road/wind noise that you don’t, BMW has to use some trickery. So I understand why. Plus, the actual noise you’ll hear is a good one. So complaints should be curbed.

It Likes Corners, Too

The previous-generation BMW M5, the F10-gen, was also a very fast car. Its problem lied in its inability to tackle corners with the same sort of enthusiasm as its predecessors. Sure, it was plenty capable but it never felt exciting or engaging in the same way that M5s of the past felt. This new M5 laughs at the car it replaces. Laughs right in its damn face.

From the moment you set off, you realize that BMW M has gotten its Mojo back. Turn the steering wheel and you’re met with a decent amount of heft but, more interestingly, actual steering feel. No, it’s not dripping with feedback like the E39 or E60 generations before it but car fans need to get over that. Pure, unfiltered steering feel is gone. It’s dead. Modern cars with electric power steering and more comfort than ever before are not going to feel the same way old classics did. Having said that, there’s a sense of what the front tires are doing through the feedback that your hands feel through the wheel. And that’s all I need. The BMW M5 responds to every steering input with sublime accuracy and razor sharp reactions. It’s no bruiser, this M5, it’s a proper super sedan.

The front end has seemingly unlimited grip, thanks in no small part to its sticky Michelin Pilot Sport 4s, and its chassis balance is so spot-on that it feels completely rear-driven, like a proper M car, even with all-wheel drive. The latter just adds unflappable grip, without ever compromising its fluidity. Due to its size and weight, the BMW M5 is never going to be the scalpel that something like a Porsche Cayman is but it will tackle any twisty back road with ample enthusiasm and put a massive smile on your face while doing it. Oh, and it will obliterate said Cayman out of corners. Hell, the M5 will leave a 911 Carrera GTS for dead on corner exit.

There are three different all-wheel drive settings; 4WD, 4WD Sport and 2WD. It defaults to the normal 4WD setting, which is just your typical all-wheel drive setup and keeps grip levels high and everything on the safe side. Then there’s 4WD Sport, which sends almost all of the power to the rear wheels until the fronts need some to save your ass. This is the best mode to drive the M5 in, as it gives you the confidence of a safety net with the sporty feel of a rear drive car. It will also allow some slip before the front wheels kick in to keep everything going straight. So you can push it hard through corners, feel the rear end squirm, let the all-wheel drive system sort everything out and then watch everything in your rear-view mirror disappear.

Lastly, 2WD is a full-on rear-wheel drive mode that can be engaged at any time and kept on for as long as the driver so chooses. It’s the tire-shredding, drift-happy mode for lunatics. Because 2WD require traction and stability control to be switched off, it should only be used on a track or private tarmac. All of those 600 rampaging Bavarian horses will quickly turn the M5’s expensive rear Michelins to smoke in 2WD mode and it’s just a bit to sketchy on public roads, especially if there’s even a hint of dampness. Plus, it doesn’t really feel any more rear-driven than 4WD Sport. Still, it’s great fun to have the ability to do so.

Set It and Forget it

As great as this new M5 is, though, it needs to be set up properly to be so. Straight out of the box, the BMW M5 is highly configurable. So there are three settings for steering, suspension, engine, transmission and, as mentioned before, the all-wheel drive system. That’s a lot to remember and play with, too much to be honest. However, BMW kindly gives you two dedicated “M” buttons, which are new red toggles on the steering wheel that look and feel far better than the regular ole buttons on previous M cars. You can configure every one of those settings to your liking and then save two of your favorite configurations to the two red buttons.

Personally, I like to keep “M1” as my daily driving setting and “M2” as my full-on insane settings. So my M1 configuration was as follows: Engine in Sport, steering in Comfort, suspension in Comfort, traction control set to MDM mode and the transmission set to automatic in its middle aggression setting. For me, that’s the perfect setup for driving the BMW M5 on the road. With the engine in Sport, it feels the most natural, with the best throttle response. Its “Efficient” and “Sport Plus” settings are too sluggish and twitchy, respectively. But the steering is best in its Comfort setting, as Sport and Sport Plus just add increasingly artificial weight that feels odd. Comfort is expertly judged with the right amount of accuracy. While the suspension needs to be set to Comfort on anything other than a track, as it’s far too firm in anything else. In Comfort, it’s about perfect for my liking, as it’s still quite firm but with just enough compliance to make New Jersey’s awful roads tolerable.

The transmission also has three aggression settings and they’re effective for either automatic or manual mode. The first is a bit slush-boxy, making it feel like a luxurious automatic. The middle setting makes it feel like a snappy auto and it’s the best setting while the highest setting makes it feel like a crude dual-clutch, snapping off shifts and giving you a little kick in the back.

All of this is a lot to take in at first, which is why you need to spend the first day figuring out which settings you like and then saving your perfect configurations to the two M buttons.

My “M2” setting is everything in hooligan mode. So it’s Sport Plus engine, Sport steering, Sport suspension, angriest transmission and 2WD mode. I used this only once to see what 2WD mode felt like and then went right back to my “M1” setting. Set up the way I had it, the F90 BMW M5 feels like a proper M5, one with delicate steering and chassis balance combined with brutal power and performance.

Shocking Duality

As a good M5 should, this new F90 isn’t all about tire smoke and blistering performance figures. It’s also comfortable, luxurious and capable of being a calm, elegant cruiser. The best part about it? I never had to switch it out of my “M1” configuration. The only thing I had to do to calm it down was to calm my driving down. Then it relaxed and became a superb luxury car, capable of eating countless miles in quiet, high-tech comfort. The fact that it required no switching of settings to calm down proves just how flexible it is, how vast its breadth of ability truly is.

The cabin is lovely, also. It’s a bit fussier than that of the standard 5 Series, thanks to all of its M-specific gubbins and carbon fiber trim. But it looks great and build quality is absolute top notch. Everything inside the M5 feels as if it’s capable of withstanding a nuclear war. The seats are sublime, even if the headrests are a bit firm, the seating position is spot on and even the back seat has good space for adults.

IFTTT

[pravasiga]

June 19, 2017 - Wabi-Sabi: (Im)perfection.

Wabi-Sabi: (n.) "the quality of being attractive because of being imperfect in some way...wabi-sabi suggests that we see the flaw as being part of what is charming. Can apply to pots, furniture, houses - and whole lives." Origin: Japanese.

Trigger Warning: Body Image and Expectations

I wasn't sure how to start this post to be frank with you. I spent a few hours aimlessly looking around for a word to inspire me to make sense of a whole collection of experiences that I've felt since I've been here. Perhaps the most personal post I've made in a long time, I realized that in the last few years, I've lost my confidence in writing because as I grew up, so did my insecurities, so did my stress levels, and so did my ability to self-doubt. Part of my journey towards writing again is the willingness to be honest, to go deeper, to go pick at the scars that haven't healed properly.

As evidence by the slew of Instagram photos that I've been spamming you all with, being in India meant a change in what I'm used to wearing. For those of you that go to school with me, you know that I stick to a steady stream of sweaters and sweatpants because quite frankly if I have to suffer at college, I might as well be comfortable and warm while I do it. When I go shopping, I go straight to the larger and plus sizes. I thought I had learned to stop being disappointed at finding few items that fit and learned to seek out alternatives. But in India, where I have had to buy new clothes and adjust to a brand new style, I've had my fair share of struggles with body image, grappling with an age-old insecurity that has only worsened with the years and only has been exacerbated by hurtful comments, overactive paranoia, and the desperate need to prove to myself that I can do and be better. One of the biggest things that this trip has forced me to confront was a personal journey that I had long been avoiding - the burden I have borne my entire life regarding Asian-American, feminine, and personal expectations on body image and size.

But I don't owe anyone the debt of feeling sorry for who I am, and wearing my first sari, an ensemble that asks me to bare a part of my body that I have spent most of my life hiding, gave me a burst of confidence that there is so much that I should not and will not be ashamed of. I thank you, ahead of time, for reading this post, and hope that you recognize that this post is an expression of freeing myself from some of the worst thoughts I've had, in pursuit of self-acceptance and integrating the imperfect into the (I'm)perfect.

*If you would like to talk, if this post triggers you, I am here for you. As much as I can be with this spacey wifi. :)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- When yet another size XXL kurta (long shirt) barely made it down over my chest, I was prepared to shed a few tears. The straight, narrow cut of the cloth was not made to fit me and in the dim-lit dressing room, I could only stare at my reflection and feel the same old thoughts come back. If only you had actually used your gym membership this year instead of being lazy. If only you could have foregone that McDonald's meal at the airport. If only you could have just, for once in your life, been smaller. Coupled with a time constraint and limited inventory, I was absolutely exasperated with myself. I had to somehow, find enough salwar kameez combinations to make it through the rest of the summer and so far, all I could be absolutely sure of was that my dupatta (scarf) was not going to be a problem. Though I later was to learn that most Indian women would tailor their clothes or alter it in ways to fit, the pain of quite literally, not fitting into, the new culture and society that I was going to engage with, was enormously difficult to bear. Even at 20 years old, having been overweight all my life, I was not immune to the dread of yanking off a clothing item that didn't fit, praying that no seams would rip.

A Chinese-American woman, I learned at a young age that I didn't fit the mold. I grew up seeing skinny women on runways, in my magazines, and TV-shows. I was fortunate to grow up in a family where my grandfather used to touch the skin on my arm and smile proudly, telling me that my yellow skin ('jing huang pi fu', he would say), golden and luminous, was beautiful. My grandparents were always the most insistent that their grandchildren never forgot to appreciate and love their roots, to continue a proud story that had crossed the Pacific Ocean, weathered world wars, and landed in a strange new country. Save for a brief infatuation with Cinderella where I stubbornly stated that I wanted blonde hair and blue eyes because "that was what princesses looked like", I grew up in love with my long, straight black hair, especially when I could brush it until it gleamed. I used to stare in the mirror at my dark brown eyes, trying to discern the exact rich chocolate brown-black shade of my irises. I decided early on that no matter what color they were, they held light and enthusiasm for life. Enveloped in love, emboldened in a household of two tongues - English and the warm embrace of my ancestors' Mandarin - I was raised in love with my Chinese heritage. But with this, I inherited expectations that would prove to be most constant source of my self-esteem issues - I have never been petite, slender, or thin.

I take a second to dodge questions about my health to simply state that regardless of that condition, it has never warranted the kind of overwhelming pressure to have collarbones that could hold rolls of quarters (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/…/Country-goes-wild-new-social-m…) or a waist that could hide behind a sheet of paper (http://www.nbc26.com/…/asian-women-are-pressured-to-be-peti…). I have never felt quite at home within the Chinese-American community because I have never been able to shake the shame of not fitting what I saw as the ideal Chinese-American woman. It is assumed that our bodies are meant to be a certain way and that it is woven into my DNA to be a porcelain doll, slim and well-proportioned.

I come from a family where love is shared in food, love is communicated in asking about health, and love is given by pinching cheeks and unfortunately, openly asking about my body weight. When my family comments on my waist before my college experience or when I get asked questions, I get asked about my SAT, my GPA, my weight, the amount of times I've gone to the gym far before I get asked about my mental well-being and happiness. I grew up understanding that this was how love was shown sometimes, even when it would twist in too-round stomach and curb my appetite. I have grown up always feeling like my answer was never good enough. I have grown up understanding that this was something I had to desperately change, not simply out of concern for my health, but because - what would other people think? "We just don't want other people to make fun of you," relatives would assure me, "You're a beautiful girl, but you should lose weight."

And so it goes.

I scrambled to find kurtas that fit and while I was able to find some, I couldn't lift the feeling of defeat that followed me out of the door of Big Bazaar, onto the van, and back into my hostel room. I had been so excited to go shopping for those loose garments, wrongly guessing that such loose fabrics and clothes would be easier to fit into. Even though many of my team members expressed similar frustration of finding clothes that fit, I tuned it all out, I tried to hold myself above wallowing but I couldn't help but sink in. That night, I ate less than half of what I had been given for dinner. I felt like I could have burst out of my skin every single time food passed my lips.

When we got the chance to buy saris, I tried to put a lid on the excitement. A sari is a long piece of fabric (anywhere from 5 to 9 yards), often beautifully decorated, meant to be wrapped around the body to form a skirt and to drape over the shoulder. (Side note: it is so hard to tie this damn thing, I tried and ended up hopping around the room trying to keep everything in place). We had been invited to the wedding of the son of a local technology company, known for its dedication to employing those with mental disabilities and pushing for similar practices in other companies. But I was focused not appearing lumpy, misshapen, and enormous in my sari. I was most afraid of what my rolls of stomach fat would look like, hanging out of the skirt, or worse, not fitting in at all.

The sari store was stuffed to the brim with gorgeous fabrics and I remember my breath being taken away as I ran my fingers along the ornamentally decorated trims of red, blue, purple, golden - every color of the rainbow - saris. I had long decided to go with a red sari, taking a lesson from my prom dress shopping fiasco that red, in fact was my "power color". I tried sari after sari, and as the women who worked at the store hastily tied and rolled me repeatedly into increasingly beautiful fabrics, I couldn't help but focus on everyone around me, finding their perfect sari. Between indecision and an inability to be satisfied by anything I had seen so far, I began to feel that same sense of dread that I had experienced the week before in the dressing room. I began to feel like a little girl trying to play dress-up, attempting to mimic an imaginary standard that was always meant to be above my grasp. Time was running out and I was among the last people to choose - and of the few I had tried on, I just felt completely out of place in all of them. I begged the women to let me try one more on - a red sari with tear-drop gold embroidery, and a golden-green trim. I reviewed the photos a friend helped take of me, and still couldn't bring myself to love it. But in all honesty, I don't know what I had more difficulty loving - the sari, or myself.

I bought the sari anyways. I didn't have time to find another one and this was the best I had found from the bunch. I kept my negative thoughts deep in my belly, swallowed to prevent them from reaching the surface. I told myself that I would just have to learn to wear it, learn to love it for all the other aspects. The fabric was beautiful - there was no doubt in that. I would have to do my best to fit myself in its folds and present as little trouble to the tailor in the next few weeks.

The week flew. We got fit for the tiny blouses (which were MUCH shorter than I expected) and patiently waited for our first chance to wear our beautiful new garments. In my room, I clumsily tried to imitate what I had learned from the women at store and "tied" my first sari. I have a long way to go. Getting those folds perfectly evenly and crisp much be a superhuman talent, honestly. I have incredible respect for anyone who can do it perfectly.

But of course, this is a blog post with a happy ending. The first time I was properly tied into my sari, with the little red blouse, my hair swept back, and my favorite red lipstick on, I was floored. I had tried pulling my petticoat up as high as I could, to hide as much of the skin that peeked out, a fact that the women helping us tie our saris noticed. They originally had pinned part of the draped fabric to my blouse, to form a curtain over the expanse of waist that I had hidden for so much of my life. Staring in the mirror, turning and feeling the fabric swirl around my feet, I unpinned that little curtain and tucked it back into my skirt. And I gave myself time to appreciate the form in front of me, a force in red, gold, yellow, and black. In that moment, I thought little of the expectations that I had carried on my back all my life. I didn't feel hidden under the beautiful fabric nor did I feel that the sari was wearing me. The body that I had spent so many years of my life berating, squeezing, hiding, was perfectly displayed.

It was a breath of fresh air, it was freedom from a restriction I had long placed on myself. And you damn well know I had to take a million photos to celebrate.

But more importantly, it is a reminder. It is a reminder that for all the comments of my family, I come from a long line of strong, sturdy women. Women whose hands and arms bore equal weight as the men in my lineage, women who were mothers and doctors and businesswomen and accountants and caretakers and brilliant and brave. Never had I once questioned whether they were fantastic role models. Never once have I questioned their beauty, their grace, their strength. So size zero be damned, I know that I may never fit into anything at half of the store I stop by, but what there is of me, I will love, I will cherish, and I will protect. And so should you, you fantastic, incredible, wonderful human being.

Dhanyavada galu (thank you) Ninna gelati (your friend), Winnie

PS: The wedding was also amazing and great and wow so many people I can't believe they just literally let 30 random Americans in at the last second. Congratulations to the bride and groom!

PPS: I learned the hard way how hard it is to pee in a sari and let me just tell you it involves a lot of folding, clutching, and praying.

PPPS: Photo credits to my least-favorite person and kind-of favorite photographer, Anant Sriram because bless that camera and his patience for dealing with my idiocy and basicness.

PPPPS: I love all of you, just the way you are.

[eurolinguiste]

Warning: incredibly long post. Skip here if you want to get straight to the language learning stuff.

Not long ago, my parents decided to make a few changes to their home. This meant that they needed to move their furniture around and the items I had stowed away in some of that furniture had to go.

You see, my husband and I had just moved in together, so I had only taken what I needed from my parents’. That meant that a good part of the possessions I accumulated over the years remained in my old bedroom.

It was time to decide if I would bring it home with me or let it go for good.

And it was one of the hardest things I had ever done.

I don’t consider myself to be very materialistic. Yes, there are things that I like to have – books, mostly. But I didn’t realize just how much stuff I had acquired or saved.

There weren’t just books but old school projects, every piece of music I had ever received for performance or practice (what if I needed it again one day?), various collections I either started on my own or was given, remnants of the various activities I participated in over the years such as girl scouts, softball, and dance.

Up until that point, I never had a good reason to go through it.

And even then, I wasn’t ready.

So I packed most of it up in boxes and brought it home. Those things remained stacked against a wall longer than I care to admit.

What would I get rid of and what would keep?

What would I get rid of and what would keep? The question was harder to answer than I assumed.

My desire to hang on to things stemmed from stories I often heard (and still hear) from my dad growing up. He always mentioned things he had as a kid that he wished he had hung onto or taken better care of because of what they are worth now. It stuck with me.

He constantly told me to take good care of my toys and he was the first to pack them up into boxes when I outgrew them or lost interest “in case they might be worth something someday.” Everything that I bought became a little, mini investment and I dreaded having to get rid of anything just in case.

And “just in case” wasn’t my only fear.

Things and the Memories Attached to Them

To be honest, when I decided to get rid of my old clothes, toys and collectibles, I thought it would hurt. I feared that some part of me would feel like it was missing if I no longer possessed the things I once so greatly cherished.

The truth is, many of my “things” had memories. The baseball cards my father brought me when he returned home from trips, the clothes that I wore on my first date with M, the books that I collected when I decided I wanted to pursue music as a career.

I felt like those memories were tied to those items and that getting rid of them would be like getting rid of the memories themselves.

But then I realized something important.

What purpose did those memories serve if I never brought out the items to experience them?

I took things even further.

What purpose do books serve sitting on the shelves if I never intend to read them again? Wouldn’t they better serve to go to someone else who would be interested in reading them?

Do I really need a closet full of clothes that I only keep just in case something comes up where I need that exact item?

Isn’t it better to have a few items that I really enjoy and cherish or clothes that I love wearing than it would be to own several items I no longer have interest in?

I took a look at the boxes I had brought from my parents’ house, still packed and cluttering our living room. It was clear that I had to make a choice. I’d rather make room in my life for the things that I truly love and truly enjoy than bury myself with things that no longer matter.

And so, I began to minimize. Little by little.

A Little Wasn’t Enough

It has been a few years since I finally worked up the courage to open those boxes and sort through them. And during that time, I’ve continued to make efforts to minimize unnecessary distractions (both physical and digital) from my life and routine.

But it was something that I wasn’t aggressively doing. I was pretty passive about it.

My goal was to get rid of one item per day. Instead, I’d often let several days (or even weeks go by) and then do a big purge just to catch up.

The problem was that it wasn’t enough. Especially since I only occasionally accounted for the new things that entered my home.

And it wasn’t just physical things that were cluttering my life.

My digital spaces were also full of clutter to the point that my phone ran out of space for photos or new music and I had so many hard drives I couldn’t keep track of which drives held which information.

The result? A lot of mental clutter and an inability to focus on what was important.

The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up

I knew things couldn’t keep going the way they were. I needed to tackle minimalism seriously.

I decided to start by reading The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. And I kid you not. That book is life changing.

To be clear, I don’t agree with everything in the book. I didn’t envision myself thanking each item I chose not to keep and nor did I imagine asking my house how it wanted to be organized helping me in my mission.

But it did make me realize I needed to reframe how I was thinking about what stayed and what went.

It isn’t about figuring out what you can get rid of, but about deciding what you keep.

Making that change in mindset allowed everything to fall into place.

How Minimalism Can Be Applied to Language Learning

 At some point, you’ve probably heard me say that I only like to work with 3-4 resources at a time. This stems from my desire to keep my study spaces clutter free.

If I allowed it, my desk would be covered with books (both coursebooks and native language material), my iTunes library filled with audio language lessons and podcasts, my Internet bookmarks overwhelmed with an incredible collection of online language resources, and my to-do list packed with various new-to-me tools I wanted to check out.

Sound familiar?

For me, it was all too familiar. There are just too many amazing language learning resources and it’s tempting to want to try them all. But as an experienced learner, I can tell you that this is never a good long-term strategy. In a way, a wide range of material to choose from is a good problem to have, but it can be distracting. In a past post, I discussed how to choose the right learning language resources for your language learning goals, but even when you narrow down the types of materials you use, you can still end up with too many and not enough time.

And sometimes, it can take too much time and energy to decide what to work with (so much so, in fact, that it can quickly eat up a good chunk of your study time).

For many of us, time is short as it is. So why waste any more of it than necessary?

Spending a bit of time paring down up front will do wonders for your productivity and focus during your study sessions. Here are a few ways you can apply the minimalist approach to your language learning so that you can be more focused and productive in your studies:

1. Do not allow yourself to own more than you’ll use. This includes digital resources.

Stuff isn’t just a waste of physical and digital space. It also quickly becomes a waste of time. I’ve found that when I have too much stuff – whether it’s stuff stored on my computer hard drive or stuff on my desk – I spend more time sorting through it to find what I need than is necessary. I also have to invest more time to keep it organized.

I found that the quickest way to keep things from getting in the way of my productivity is to just not have them to begin with. This means you’ll:

A) Need to get rid of the items that you aren’t using and B) Think much harder about whether or not you really need something when it comes to acquiring new materials.

Doing this will also save you a surprising amount of money.

2. Have a place where you keep what you’re currently using so that it’s easily accessible. NOTHING else should be kept in this space.

You should keep the resources you’re using on hand. This might mean a neat stack of books on your desk or a folder on your computer desktop.

This also means that whatever you are not using at the moment should be put away. You might stick your books on a different part of your bookshelf, in a closet or in a box somewhere and digital files in another folder on your computer.

3. Limit the number of tools you work with at any given time.

I talk about this in some shape or form quite a bit here on Eurolinguiste. But that’s only because it’s something that I strongly believe in.

I believe that in order to be truly productive with your learning, you should focus on working with only 3 to 4 resources at a time for any given language. This isn’t to say the resources won’t change as you progress, but if you work with any more than that at once, you’re not likely to get through them as quickly (plus you risk repeating a lot of material by using too many resources rather than taking on new material).

4. Be selective with those limited tools you work with.

What are your language learning goals? Not sure yet? Take a moment to sit down and think about them. This article will still be here when you get back.

Got ’em? Good. Write them down and stick them somewhere you’ll see them often.

Now that you’ve established what your goals are, take a look at the resources that you’ve been using. Are they helping you work towards those goals?

If not, get rid of them and spend some time finding (or creating) resources that a better suited to helping you work towards your goals. It will be worth spending that time once you have them. If the tools you already have are helping you, then make sure they are one of those 3-4 resources that you’re working with regularly.

5. Minimize the Process.

Spend the last five minutes of every study session preparing for the next. One of the toughest things about studying a language is getting started – both starting in general and starting each session. The easier you make it to pick up your studies the next day, the greater chance there is that you’ll sit down to work on language learning.

For me, for a long time, the hardest part about practicing (music) was getting started. I’d look at my sax case and think, “ugh, I have to set up my saxophone” and that would be enough to deter me from actually sitting down to practice. It wasn’t even that setting up my saxophone was hard or that it took a long time (I’ve got it down to under two minutes). It was just that there was something about that step that was keeping me from working on my craft.

I quickly found a way to keep myself from using that particular obstacle as an excuse.

I took my sax out of the case, set it up and left it sitting out where I’d walk by it regularly. The result, I ended up practicing a whole lot more (every day, in fact) just because my sax was right there. Eventually, it got to the point where practicing became a habit like brushing my teeth, so I was able to put my sax away safely. The days I didn’t practice made me feel so guilty that the “set up” process no longer kept me from practicing.

I minimized the process, or the steps I needed to take, to practice each day and in result, I got more practicing in. It just took a little planning to figure out a way to prepare myself for practice (and to make it more accessible).

These five steps are a great starting point when it comes to applying the minimalist approach to your language learning, but there are, of course, quite a few more things you can do to really break things down and focus in on what’s important. The key to doing to doing this successfully lies in knowing what you think is important for your language learning goals. And once you figure that out, you’ll also find that you’re language learning process actually becomes faster!

Worried about the actual decision process? Don’t worry, I won’t leave you on your own just yet. Here are a few techniques to help you decide what stays and what goes when simply holding the object and decided whether or not it ‘sparks joy’ is enough.

1. Start with the items you have no attachment to.

In the Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, Marie Kondo advises you to start with the objects that have the least sentimental value and work towards those that have the most. She determines this by category. Her order is: clothing, books, papers, miscellaneous, and then sentimental items.

But if you’re anything like me, and as a language learner, you probably are, books are much closer to the sentimental or difficulty line than miscellaneous.

Let’s take a look at the types of items we acquire as language learners and see how we can apply the minimalist approach to language learning.

The tools you’re most likely to have are:

* Writing tools and papers * Physical books * Digital books * Online bookmarks and resources * Mobile apps * Miscellaneous (games, flashcards, etc.)

Take a moment and put these in the order of least sentimental to most. For me this is: writing tools, online bookmarks and resources, mobile apps, miscellaneous, digital books, and then physical books.

Start with the least only keeping what you need and use, working towards the most.

2. It Doesn’t Have to Be Thrown Away

For physical items, you can sort them into three boxes labeled ‘donate’, ‘sell’ and ‘trash’.

For digital resources or mobile apps, you can create a list for later as a single document, but remove them from immediate access. Or, if you’re a blogger, create a roundup post to share them with other learners who may find them useful but then delete them from your devices or bookmarks for yourself.

3. Set Up Systems for the Items You Can’t Make Decisions On

Sometimes you just can’t decide if an item should stay or go. But there’s something you can do to decide this for you.

With my clothes, I turned the hangers in my closet around backwards. When I took out an item and wore it, the hanger was put back facing the correct way. After a few weeks, it was easy to see what I actually wore and what I didn’t. I pulled the items that I hadn’t worn and went through them to see if there was really anything I wanted or needed to keep.

The same can be done with books. Turn them around so the spines face backwards. Or if you have to many and won’t know what they are, turn them so the titles are facing the wrong way. After a few weeks or months, see what you’ve read or referenced and what you haven’t. It will make the decision of what to keep easier.

For digital items, you can throw all of your bookmarks or apps into a single folder. If you use one of them, move it onto your desktop or a folder that’s easier to access. After a few weeks, get rid of the rest.

4. When You Sort Through Your Tools, Empty the Space Where They’re Stored

It’s hard to truly evaluate if you need to keep something when you look at it on a shelf. Pull everything out and put it in a pile in the middle of your floor (or in the case of digital files, in one folder). Handle each item as you decide whether to return it to it’s place or get rid of it.

It’ll also give you an opportunity to clean the spaces where things are stored in ways that you can’t when you clean around the objects stored in them.

Feeling lazy? Don’t. Emptying the space completely is really effective because it’s impossible to miss or overlook items.

5. Once You Make a Decision, Follow Through Immediately

Once you decide where each item is going, deal with it right away. That way you can’t change your mind and the items you are getting rid of don’t take up space somewhere else in the interim.

6. You Aren’t Done Once Your Initial Purge is Complete

There are always more ways to cut down and boost your efficiency. Plus, you need to be as vigilant in keeping new items from entering your space unless they merit it.

I found that completing the Konmari method made me much more conscientious about the new items I brought into my home and study spaces. Don’t fall back to old habits just because you felt the work was already done!

A few tips on How to Minimize on a Daily Basis

+ I still keep my books reversed.

Even when I buy a new book, I put it on the shelf with the spine facing inwards. I want to make sure that I actually use all the books I’ve invested in, so I’ve stuck to this method.

With my clothes, I’ve stepped up the backwards hanger technique. I also started to color code my hangers (red ones face out and white ones face in) because the items I’m not wearing stand out to me even more. This also helps me cut down the total number of clothing articles I wear because I don’t allow myself to add in any other colored hangers (even though I have them).

I thought, why not do this with language?

So I bought two colored boxes. In one I place the miscellaneous learning resources I haven’t used. Once I use them, I move them to the other box. If something hangs out in the first box for too long, I don’t keep it.

+ One in, one out.

If I decide I want to buy something new, I have to get rid of something that resides in the storage space the new item will call home.

When I buy a new book, I have to donate one that I already have. If I bookmark a new website, I have to delete the link to one I’m no longer using.

I’ve found this to be extremely effective for two reasons. The first is that it keeps my total number of possessions down. The second is that it forces me to think about how badly I want something new because I’ll have to give up something else to have it.

+ Spontaneous Purging

When I have a little bit of downtime (or when I’m feeling overwhelmed), I empty out a space and reorganize it (like I did at the beginning but on a smaller scale). So instead of emptying out my entire storage closet, I may just empty out one shelf. This gives me the opportunity to see exactly what is kept where so that I don’t forget about things I’ve stored that I may no longer need.

I found that even after my initial efforts, that minimalism is an ongoing process. I constantly evaluate and eliminate what doesn’t work for me and I advise you to do the same.

What I Noticed Immediately After Applying the Minimalist Approach to Language Learning

Once I started to get rid of the learning materials that I didn’t use or need, I noticed three things immediately:

1. I felt overwhelmed less often; 2. I felt less distracted; 3. And I had a little bit of extra money from the items I sold or didn’t buy (which made me feel less stressed about work and have more mental energy for language study).

It was noticeable with simple things like deciding what to wear in the morning or getting to work at my desk. Without the clutter on my desk I became more focused with the tasks at hand and with fewer items in my closet, it was easier to pick out my outfit for the day and start my day without decision fatigue.

I also found that I had the room for things that I really wanted but didn’t have a place for before I got rid of stuff. For example, instead of the three outdated music business books on the shelf collecting dust, I could have one Chinese language learning book that I actually used.

It was incredibly liberating and inspired me to continue.

What about you?

Do you think that your language learning could benefit from a bit of minimizing?

If you’ve tried your hand at minimizing, what are some of the techniques you’ve used to keep your possessions to a minimum?

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below!

PS. Here’s an interesting video from Tim Ferriss on Minimalism and Language Learning.

Happy studying!

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