terrorizing children at the family function

Close to Your Chest

T is for Temptation

You deserve to give into temptation. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, teasing, smut, unprotected p-in-v, soft!Joel turned jealous!Joel, angst, ambiguous ending. I'm sorry if this is rushed, I just felt bad keeping it hostage in my drafts for so long. So I didn't edit as much as I should have lol.

Joel Miller is the most beautiful man you’ve ever met. Looking at him, you wouldn’t know that he’s actually gentle and kind with a warm heart and caring stares. He looks menacing up close, but you’ve had the honor and privilege to work side by side with him. And you know the truth. 

Behind the rugged exterior, he’s soft and sweet with a voice like warm honey, soothing all your worries away. Well, with you, anyway. You’ve seen his darker side before, but he doesn’t bring that out around you anymore. He tries not to. He treats you like a princess, like you are the most precious thing in this world. And, oh, it makes you swoon. 

Others have noticed your little dance with Joel. Those that know him, think it’s cute. The ones who fear him, however, think it’s crude of him to use you, thinking he’s selfish. But what they don’t know is that nothing has ever happened between the two of you. Not yet. He’s respectful, careful of whatever boundaries you have in place. And you are the same with him. 

You know Joel’s been hurt in the past. You know he’s lost a lot and no matter how much time passes, that pain is still tender. Therefore, you don’t put any pressure on him or yourself. Something is blooming between you two, but you’re taking your time, nurturing it, and letting it grow.

Ellie’s annoyed at this game. She hates that Joel won’t make a move. And she’s furious with you for letting him get away with doing nothing. You’ve told her it takes time and that you’re happy just to be friends with him. She calls bullshit, though. 

But you don’t mind. You enjoy his company. He’s always taking you for outings, knowing how much you love to be outside the walls. Sometimes, when he’s out with Ellie, he’ll get sidetracked looking for the perfect little spot to take you on a picnic. Ellie pretends to be disgusted, mocking him for being such a teddy bear with you. But deep down, she thinks it’s cute that he cares so much to do these little things for you. 

“So where are you taking her this evening?” Ellie asks with a smug grin as she and Joel walk around town. He’s due for patrol in an hour or so and the girl won’t stop pestering him about his date. It’s the sundown shift, and he’s already thinking about showing you the sunset from the outpost with the spectacular view. 

Joel chuckles, gently nudging the young girl in the shoulder. “It ain’t a date,” he drawls, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “She’s just joining me on patrol tonight.” 

Ellie rolls her eyes. “I know I’m young, but I’m not stupid,” she sighs. “When are you going to tell her how much you like her? It’s exhausting watching the two of you sometimes.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kiddo,” Joel says with a small smile. Deep down, he knows she’s right. He really should just be upfront with his feelings. But no matter how old he gets, dealing with these emotions never gets easier. A grown man having a crush. It’s just silly. 

“You know her horse is out of commission, right?” Ellie snorts, wiggling her eyebrows at the old man. “Poor Sapphire is still healing. You gonna let her ride with you?” 

Joel bites back a smile, impressed by Ellie’s persistence. He loves that she’s become quite the cheerleader for the two of you. It’s important to him that she’s comfortable with you, and with his relationship (or lack thereof) with you. First and foremost, her feelings matter. She’s still his daughter-figure after all. 

“I will do what is necessary,” Joel clears his throat, stopping in his tracks as they approach the square. Ellie bumps into him, scrunching up her nose and rubbing her face in annoyance. She looks past Joel in the direction of where he’s staring, smiling when she sees you standing outside of the bar next to a group of your friends. 

“Aw,” Ellie chuckles, stepping ahead of him. “How cute! You’re blushing.” 

“I am not,” Joel grumbles, pushing her gently out of the way. “Go away.” 

“Wow, rude!” Ellie huffs but leaves his side to go find Cat. Speaking of crushes… "Let me know how the date goes, old man!" She giggles as she bounces off in a different direction. 

He watches her leave, frowning at her comments. "It's not a date," he mumbles to himself before drawing his gaze back to you. 

You look pretty this evening. You always look pretty. But right now, as the golden sun begins to settle, you look like an angel wrapped in a champagne glow from the warm rays above. Joel has to catch his breath before approaching you, as you literally always find ways to leave him speechless. 

If he wasn’t so comfortable around you, he’d be nervous to approach you in front of your friends. Hell, he’d be nervous to approach you in public at all. Luckily for him, you’re always welcoming and excited to see him. So he doesn’t hesitate walking towards you, mentally laughing at the way the girls around you squirm. 

As he gets closer, you turn around, smiling brightly as he closes the distance between you. Behind you, your friends whisper. But you pay them no mind. You don’t care what they have to say, sure that it’s some smart remark about the older man. All you can focus on is Joel’s handsome face and the long strides he takes to get to you. 

“Good evenin’,” he says with a grin, doing his best to ignore the snickers that come from behind you. It’s easy to do when he looks at you, lost in your glittering eyes and welcoming smile. Everything else just fades to black. “You about ready to head out?” He asks. 

“Of course!” You chirp with excitement, your stomach twisting into knots. “I’m really looking forward to working with you tonight. I’ve never been out that far before… You’ll keep me safe, right?” You feel your cheeks bloom with warmth as the words leave your lips. Maybe that last bit was unnecessary. But you’ve flirted with him before. It’s no big deal. 

“Of course, I will,” he smiles and it’s affectionate, sweet enough to melt your heart. He notices the flush on your face, admitting to himself that he wants to make you glow like that more often. Despite ignoring Ellie’s playfulness earlier, he does have a plan brewing in his mind. One he hopes you’ll be comfortable with. One that might make you swoon again. “You, uh,” he begins with a stutter. “Will you be okay with sharin’ a horse with me?” 

“Oh,” you frown as you think about poor Sapphire recovering from her injuries of the last patrol. At least she’s okay, just needs some healing time. And, okay, you’re a little thrilled to be riding with Joel, being that close to him. “It’s not a problem at all!” You beam. 

“Great!” He says a little too excitedly, but you find it charming. He’s so cute when he’s flustered. “Do you need to wrap anything up here? If not, we can head out early. Maybe we’ll have time to catch the sunset.” 

“That sounds amazing,” you muse as butterflies swarm your stomach. “Just let me say bye to my friends and I’ll meet you at the gate?” 

“See ya there, darlin’,” he says, then waves to your childish friends. “Ladies, a pleasure as always.” 

The giggles erupt behind you and you roll your eyes at their naivety. “Will you guys behave?” You ask, glaring at them. “You’re so immature.” 

“We are not!” One of them chuckles, hand to her chest. “How are you not a mess? He’s so intimidating!” 

“And handsome,” another adds, making you sneer. 

“Yes,” they all nod in agreement. 

You huff, knowing there’s no getting through to them. And it would simply be a waste of breath to try. “I’m leaving now,” you insist, totally ignoring their teasing. “Try to stay out of trouble, will ya?” 

“You try,” your friends giggle. “You’re the one going out with a hot man. A romantic ride at sunset? Please.” 

“Oh my god, goodbye!” You shout, leaving them behind as you quickly make your way to the front gate. They mean well, but they’re so annoying. And whether they know it or not, they’re fucking with your head. 

You’ve been anticipating this patrol with Joel for a while now. And like always, you’ve managed to build it up in your head way too much. The comments of your friends, the teasing, it’s all making you queasy. But you can’t back out. This is what you’ve been waiting for. More one-on-one time. 

Usually, your outings are short and sweet. This is the first time you’ll be heading a ways out from camp and you feel safe that it’s with Joel. But you’re also anxious. Anything could happen on this little adventure, right? Being truly alone together… Maybe you’ll find the confidence you’ve been searching for. 

A chill breezes through the air, making you tug your light jacket closer to your frame. For a second, you consider heading back to your place to grab something heavier, knowing that as the sun continues to go down, the temperature will drop. But you decide against it in case Joel’s already waiting for you at the gate. You really don’t want to keep him waiting any longer. 

So you wrap your arms around yourself, keeping your body heat close. When you arrive at the entrance, your insides begin to warm as well. The man who has a firm grasp on your heart stands there, a genuine smile on his face as he speaks to one of the female guards. It’s almost funny how he seems to make all the ladies in town go weak, you included. But he’s such a gentleman. And he’s never pursued anyone. Not really. 

You approach the pair, letting out a soft cough to announce your presence. Joel recognizes your voice easily, his attention shifting to you in an instant. The pretty smile he wears grows wider as you get closer and the female guard respectfully steps back, giving you two space and opening the gates alongside her partner. 

Joel extends his hand, pulling you forward to help you up onto the horse. “Why, thank you, sir,” you chuckle, trying to hide the giddiness in your voice. He beams up at you before joining you. 

“Don’t be afraid to hold on tight,” he says, referring to the way your trembling hands rest at your sides. “I know it’s not the most comfortable, but it’ll have to do for now.” You nod silently, body tensing as he situates himself into a steadier position. 

Letting out a shaky gasp, you wrap your arms around his middle, breathing in the scent of wood carvings and pine needles. The essence eases your jumbling nerves and you feel yourself relaxing against him. You’ve been close to Joel, of course, you have, but this intimate. This is the comfort you’ve been craving. 

What you don’t know is that Joel feels the same way. The moment your arms stretched around him, his stomach flipped. The warmth of you surrounding him is pleasant, a feeling he could get used to. 

As he signals for the gates to part, you sigh and wonder if he can feel your heartbeat against his back. You can certainly feel it taking over the rest of your body, worried it might actually beat out of its cage. But you can’t help the way it reacts to Joel’s presence, or his scent, or his warmth. 

“Ready, darlin’?” He questions, tilting his head back. You smile and nod, firmly holding onto him. He ignores the lump in his throat and confidently heads out, waving goodbye to the crew around you. 

For the most part, you ride in mostly silence. Every once in a while Joel will whistle a tune or point out the wildlife that hides behind the trees. It’s nice, peaceful, and you find contentment in resting your head against his back, just listening to him hum or talk.  

After the first checkpoint, as you and Joel ride along the stream of the creek, he starts talking about the moment he realized how important Ellie was to him. You’ve heard the brief story from both of them, but they’ve never gone into detail. But as Joel tells you about this guy named David and everything Ellie had to endure, you see a whole new side to him. He tells you he’s made some mistakes, he’s done things he wished he could take back, but you can hear in his words, feel it in the way his muscles tense - he truly loves that girl. And it makes you fall even harder for him. 

“You have a great relationship with her,” you say quietly, respecting the serenity of the moment. “She respects you, I can tell.” 

“Yeah,” he frowns, momentarily flipping through his memories. There’s so much he would change. But it’s too late for that. “She’s a good kid,” he sighs. 

His tone changes, but you decide it’s best to not push and instead take in your surroundings. You notice you’re a bit off course as you can no longer see, or hear, the babbling of the creek anymore and instead see a clearing just beyond the trees. You don’t question the direction, just go along trusting Joel. He knows what he’s doing. 

When the horse comes to a stop, you look over Joel’s shoulder and let out a gasp followed by you quickly dismounting from the animal. He chuckles at your excitement, following your actions by jumping down from the horse and guiding her along behind you. Just ahead is a slight cliff for you to look out from, and the view in front of you is breathtaking. 

You can see all of Jackson from this little spot, and watch how the sun sets behind the walls and through the clouds. The lights from the town twinkle on as it livens up for the night, parting with the day. Everything around it looks delicate, like a painting, and you’re so thankful Joel brought you here. 

Sometimes you forget that this world still has beauty in it. You’ve seen firsthand what humans can do to each other. You’ve witnessed enough carnage and bloodshed to last you a lifetime. But this right here. This picturesque dreamy view strikes something within you that you feared died a long time ago. 

At that moment, your eyes flick over to Joel. He’s staring, taking in the scenery as you were. And you can’t help but examine him, the way his lips slowly tug into a smile, or the flecks of gold swimming in his eyes sets your heart ablaze. 

He lets out a content sigh and turns to look at you, shocked when he finds you already staring at him. You look away quickly, hiding the blush that threatens to give you away. The urge to reach out and touch is strong. It’s practically all he can think about. And this moment is perfect. Oh, what the hell?

You jump when you feel Joel’s hand reach for yours, but you relax as your fingers lace together. He tugs you closer, forcing you to look at him even though your cheeks are burning. It’s okay. His are, too. You can see the pink dusting his face and you think this is it. This is the moment your relationship changes. 

“Sweetheart,” is all Joel can get out before you’re both on high alert. From the branches, there’s a deep growl that causes you to tear your hand from Joel’s and find the source. Just behind where you stand together, a stray infected comes stumbling out through the leaves. Its dead eyes set on you, lunging at your paralyzed body. On instinct, you reach for your weapon, shaky hands barely grasping the handle of your blade. Joel pushes you out of the way quickly, plunging his knife through the creature’s decaying skull before it can touch you. 

You’re breathing hard as you fall back against the rocks, hand over your beating heart. Joel is panicking, retracting his knife from the now dead body before rushing over to tend to you. Your nerves are shot at this point. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” He asks as he holds your face in his hands. You nod, but his face still holds concern, touching your cheeks, your neck, and your arms for any signs of injury. 

“I’m o-okay,” you whimper, pushing yourself into a stronger stance. “Just shaken up,” you admit. 

“Fuck,” he laments as the fear pumps through his veins. He’s still scared, thinking about what might have happened if he was a fraction of a second too late. 

He kisses you. It’s harsh, and nearly knocks you off your feet, but it’s tender. His lips mold to yours perfectly and you lose yourself in the adrenaline, kissing him back with just as much force. Your head spins with shock and wonder, you almost miss the words he speaks against your lips. 

“Let me take you home,” he pleads and you kiss him in response. 

Your back is flush against Joel’s mattress. He’s hovering over you, kissing your lips soft and slow unlike before. You’ve finally given in to temptation. And you have to say, as his hands pin yours to the bed with such strength, you have no regrets. His fingers lace with yours, holding you tight afraid he might lose you even though you’re safe in his sheets. But his mind keeps flashing back to that moment outside. The moment he almost lost you. 

It’s like you can feel his worries against his lips. So you kiss him back with overwhelming emotion, whimpering softly into his mouth, moaning when his tongue meets yours. It’s a warm and passionate kiss that shoots shivers up your spine. It’s been a long time since your body has felt this loved and you’re coming undone quickly. 

Joel moves from your lips and kisses down your cheek, to your neck, nuzzling his face into the warmth of your body. His breath is hot as his lips graze your soft skin, goosebumps forming in his wake. And his beard tickles you, making you laugh lightly. You were never attracted to guys with facial hair until you met him.  

“Joel,” you whisper his name through faint breaths. His head spins at your noises, loving the way his name falls from your pretty lips. He has to kiss you again, squeezing your hands tightly in his, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth before swallowing your delicate moans. 

He grunts as you wiggle beneath him, an erotic sound you’ve never heard before. Eager to move things along, you free your hands from his and slide your trembling arms over his bare shoulders. The weight of his body increases on top of you as you gently scratch your nails over his skin. 

“Baby,” he groans at the feeling of you digging your nails into him. It’s hot, especially coming from you. He kisses you harder, dragging his fingers down the front of your stomach, making you shiver. He smiles against your lips as he feels your belly twitch under his touch. “So perfect,” he whispers. 

Arching your back, you let out the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, spreading your legs, inviting him in. Your noises are all the encouragement he needs to slip a finger into you. You almost shy away at the intrusion. Not having been touched by a man in some time has made you nervous. But this is Joel and you trust him. And he’s sweet, kissing your nose to comfort you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he assures you, gingerly dragging his finger up your slit. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Just relax. Let me make you feel good.” The way his deep voice fills your ears makes you shudder with want. He dips his finger past your folds, curling it inside of you to pull out an adorable squeak from your throat. “Good girl,” he praises. 

“M-more,” you stutter, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Joel,” you nod. He smiles down at you. You don’t ever have to beg for him. He will give you everything you ask for. As his lips find yours again, he slides a second finger into you, stretching you nice and slow, preparing your tight heat for him. 

Your mind goes foggy, drunk off the feeling of Joel’s fingers filling you up. He’s pumping them in and out of you, a sensation you’ve only ever dreamed of. But right now, it’s real. It’s happening. He’s brushing his slender digits against your walls, pressing against spots you didn’t even know made you moan like that. He kisses wherever he can, dragging his teeth down your neck and then biting at your chest, sucking pretty purple bruises into your flesh, and reveling in your melodic sounds. 

God, you want him. You need him. Wiggling beneath him, you signal to him that he can continue, craving more of his touch, craving him inside of you. He’s so perfect. Everything about him turns you on. Your hands begin to wander and glide across his chest. Your fingers touch the scars that litter his body, softly tracing over each bump. 

He falters for a moment, fingers slipping from your wet pussy as his mind short circuits. He’s not used to such soft touches. Looking at you, something inside of him cracks, joyful feelings leaking into him. All this time, you’re the one he’s been searching for. He’s certain of that now. 

“Joel, I need you,” you whimper, gliding your hands up to his shoulders. “Please. I need to feel you inside of me.” 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, wrapping his fingers around his hard cock. He pumps himself a few times, and you watch with lust-filled eyes, mouth watering at the sight. When he’s ready, he looks at you, searching for any hesitation. When he finds none, he slides into you, moaning immediately as your heat surrounds him. 

“Oh, god, Joel,” you mewl, lifting your hips up to meet his. His thick cock inches into you slowly, taking his time to make sure you feel safe, comfortable. A burning heat surges through your bloodstream. You’re not sure if it’s the intense emotions in your heart or the feeling of him inside of you, but being this close to him ignites your soul. You’ve truly never felt like this before. 

Joel thrusts into you. And the way his body moves against yours is sinful. He fits you perfectly, and he knows exactly what to do to make you feel good. 

“God damn,” he murmurs in your ear, bracing himself on top of you. His head is lost in the clouds as he drinks in this moment. You smell like sugar and you taste even sweeter when he kisses you. He can’t get over how beautiful you are, how lovely you sound. Each gasp or touch from you goes straight to his heart. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it just like that.” 

All of those emotions he feels have him increasing his speed, thrusting into you harder, deeper, and giving you everything he has. And you welcome it, pushing yourself against him, clawing at his back as he reaches those pleasurable spots inside of you, holding him close. 

You let out noises of pleasure, running your hand through his hair and tugging just to hear him groan. Your lips meet his in sloppy kisses as you greedily clench your slick walls around his cock. “Faster, Joel,” you breathe. 

You think back to the last person you were with. Each time with him was nice, good. And you hate to compare. But with Joel, you feel alive for the first time. Being with him feels so right. You haven’t felt this safe, this cherished since before you came to Jackson. 

It’s not fair, but your mind briefly drifts to Noah, the man you loved before Joel. You never thought you’d find that kind of passion again, but Joel is everything. Joel is more. You’re falling for him. Hard. 

“Feel so good, baby,” Joel hums, breaking you from the thoughts of your past life and bringing you back to the present with him. His hands grip you by the waist, pinning you to the bed as he pushes into you. Your eyes meet his and it’s such an intimate moment, you feel your climax rising. “So fuckin’ good,” he utters again. “I love being inside of you.” 

Your eyes roll back at his admission, your legs wrapping around him and drawing him closer. His deep voice soothes your aches and touches on those lewd desires that swarm your insides. “Make me feel so good, Joel,” you whimper. “Fuck, I’m close already,” you whine in frustration. 

“It’s okay,” he coos, picking up speed. “I’m close, too.” He smiles at you and your heart swells. “I’ve wanted this for so long, sweetheart,” he admits. “We have all the time in the world. Go ahead, cum for me, baby. Please, cum for me.” 

His words, his tone, it’s all enough to invoke those lustful needs, drawing you to the edge. Joel reaches between your sweaty bodies, moving his lips to your neck as he rubs his fingers over your swollen clit. Your toes curl, and your eyes screw shut. Your breathing turns into pants and you cum, moaning Joel’s name and writhing under his firm body. 

Watching you unravel because of him sets him off. He pulls out of you with a hiss, positioning himself over your stomach. Your hand takes over his, pumping his dick quickly until he’s shooting his seed across your skin. 

He collapses next to you, trying to catch his breath. You laugh and roll over, laying your head against his chest. “That was quick,” you say with a giggle. 

He makes a sound of offense but joins in on your laughter. “We’ll just have to build our stamina, yeah?” 

You nod, unable to wipe the smile off your face. “All the time in the world, right?” 

Months pass by and you and Joel are happier than ever. After that night with him, you’ve become inseparable. It’s sickly sweet to everyone around you. But… you love him. And he loves you. 

For once, life is actually good. No, better than good. Almost perfect. 

And Ellie is thrilled. When you broke the news to her, she couldn’t stop yelling (with joy, of course). She kept telling you it was about time and how proud she was of Joel for finally acknowledging his feelings. And she welcomed you into their little family. You belong. 

Today is a day when Tommy and Maria are hosting a town meeting. You were informed sometime last week that some newcomers had made it to town. And they spent the last few days being examined and vetted. Today was going to be the introduction for those who had decided to stay. 

You were anxious for new people to arrive, but only because you were intrigued. Your relationship with Joel is solid. You know nothing and no one can come between you. But new faces around time always leave a sour feeling in your stomach. 

As you sit next to Joel, you can’t help that your leg bounces in anticipation. He squeezes your hand and gives your knuckles a kiss to tell you it’s okay. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says to you. “I doubt we’ll even spend much time with these people. Jackson is getting bigger. And I would never let anyone hurt you.” 

“I know,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “But still…” 

Tommy gets up from his seat and ushers in a new group of faces and you and Joel decide to pay attention. Joel’s somewhat of a leader himself. And since everyone knows you’re dating him now, they associate you with leadership, too. You know you’ll have to learn the names of these newbies at least. 

The group is small as they make their way through the crowds, introducing themselves to the other residents. It’s kind of like a mixer of sorts, which is weird, but nice at the same time. You know how difficult it can be to meet new people. This will help the newcomers fit in. And as you scan their faces, you think it won’t be so bad. 

That is until you spot a tall man rushing in, smiling awkwardly for being late. Your stomach drops as you recognize his face. Time slows and you find yourself letting go of Joel’s hand to stand up and walk across the room, taking baby steps. 

“Noah,” you whisper, eyes wide and mortified. All this time you thought he was dead. 

Joel walks up next to you, tilting his head in confusion as he watches you gawk at this mystery man. He puts a hand on your shoulder, but you can’t feel it. You can only stare in shock. 

To your horror, Noah heard you, and he turns, his smile beaming when he sees you. He looks just as awestruck as you feel. But there’s genuine joy in his eyes as he takes you in. 

“Is that my angel?” He gushes with excitement, running towards you, ignoring the curious looks of everyone else. You don’t know what to do as he charges at you.  

In seconds, he throws his arms around you, hugging you tightly. You’re stunned, unable to process. Your body is stiff as your brain tries to piece together the events that have happened in the last few minutes. Fuck, you’re going to faint. 

And you’re not the only one stunned to silence. Joel stands by, silently seething as he observes what’s happening in front of him. You’ve mentioned this man before. Noah, as in, your ex. The one who was supposed to be dead. The one you grieved for when you first arrived in Jackson. 

“Oh, angel,” Noah says, cupping your face in his hands. Your stomach shifts the nickname. No one’s called you that in so long. You can’t decide if it’s nice to hear or if it makes you sick. 

“I thought…” You say, still shocked. You can’t do this right now. You can’t speak. Words won’t work. 

“I made it out,” he laughs, answering your question. “I looked for you everywhere. Oh, fuck, angel. I never stopped looking. I knew you were alive. I just knew it!” 

He moves in to kiss you, make up for lost time, but you turn your head, dodging his lips. And that’s when you see Joel. Your heart sinks at the hurt on his face. You want to reach out and touch him, let him know it’s okay. But you can’t move. 

Noah steps back and frowns at your actions. He knows it’s been a while, but he’s been waiting for this moment forever. You aren’t even looking at him. So he follows your gaze to the man next to you. He looks between you and Joel with confusion. You feel yourself get queasy. 

Maybe you shouldn't have given in to temptation. 

Masterlist

Joel Miller Taglist: @swtaura - @chxpsi - @extraneous-trip - @cerebellam - @tiredbeebo - @kirsteng42 - @trickstersp8 - @detectivebarba

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I find these graphics @firefly-graphics

hi hi I'm the aspiring teume anon from earlier 🐇 hmm honestly I've just seen them around for so long and they seem so goofy (aka my fave thing abt groups) so I can't help but wanting to know them more.

I do think I have a few songs of them saved that I sometime listen to. lemme check- oh rightt I love darari and jikjin but that's basic of me and I do have boy as well that I listen to occasionally that I also like!

and ofc the thing that help me the most to get into a group is them just catching my eyes 👀👀 but yeah im not sure yet. usually I can guess my bias pretty fast just from looking at them but I'm not sure bc they're all cute 🥺 but maybe (definitely not for sure yes actually it is) hyunsuk and yoshi caught my eye a lil more (I remember esp when watching performance vids a few times).

hhhh who knew I have sm to say abt them, I would love to hear what/who u love most and also like if u have any recommendations like ur fave songs or vids of them (not necessarily what u think I'd like but what u like, I think for me seeing someone love their ults makes me fall hard for them too)

Sorry this turned out so long I was rambling. Hope u have a good day/night!🩷🩷

yaaay this is so exciting 🫶🏻 jikjin and darari are so valid i rly think that comeback got a lot of people's attention bc it was so strong! hyunsuk and yoshi are such a pair, i feel like if you bias one you kind of end up biasing the other 😂 they're both really soft and sweet but yoshi is also lowkey playful / an unexpected menace haha. this will be long so i'll put my ramblings under the cut 🤩

there is sooo much i love about trejo but i think a major thing is that i actually love their entire discography, like i do not think they have a single bad song. i'm mainly a b-side enthusiast (u, volkno, come to me, darari rock remix, be with me ...) but my favorite title has always been 'i love you' which is what initially got me into them; i saw the music video and it felt like it was tailored to my tastes with the bright colors, aesthetic sets and the more refreshing concept, they just looked like they were having so much fun. after that, it was over for me lol i watched everything i could get my hands on, including all of treasure map, which i always recommend to new teumes if you have time to just watch from the beginning because you really get to know them and see how much their relationships grow over time. but if i had to recommend just a couple episodes my favorite of all time is 30-31 it is PEAK treasure silly chaos. sadly, we did lose 2 members this last year but mashiho and yedam are back on instagram and working on their own projects so we're all just waiting to see what they'll do next, and supporting the group as a 10 piece!

i love that the members who are interested in it have opportunities to be part of the writing and production; and ones who aren't ready for that at the official album level still get chances to practice on their own. y/g may give me a headache 99% of the time but it's clear that they foster their idols as artists and i really appreciate that. asahi especially does a lot w this, he's behind 'orange' and 'thank you' ; and rap line also does quite a bit of writing, i rly think volkno is some of their absolute best work and you can hear how much influence they pull from iconic artists. treasure in particular is also first and foremost a performance team - so the focus was to have a balanced lineup that can really put on a show. hands down this group is top of 4th gen performancewise, their stage presence and command is INSANE especially given that they had a pandemic debut. i highly recommend checking out any of their end of year show stages if you haven't - even their early ones - but particularly 2022 mama , & their GDA performance is of all the songs you have saved !

as for my favorite members, i think everyone knows jaehyuk has my heart but actually my first treasure ult is jihoon 💖 i could talk about them for a zillion years so i won't go on that rant in this response lol but i do love all the members and i think what i really like about large groups (and why i keep ending up stanning them lol) is that you get to see a lot of different relationship dynamics, it's i think a lot harder to fake a 'we're all best friends' narrative in a big group and i appreciate that because i don't buy that all (or even most) groups are all best friends lol it's not realistic. i'd rather see a group that works well as a team and treasure is definitely that, they see themselves that way and you can tell by how they treat each other and work together that there's a ton of love and respect and yes, a lot of real friendships there. and they ARE goofy hehe. anyways ... i think that's a good start LOL i hope it is i really just kind of went into rant mode so i hope i didn't bore you and that you might find some helpful stuff in here 🥰

DOMESTIC NANAMI KENTO HEADCANONS

A/N: Because domestic life with Kento has been weighing heavy in my heart and I need to let it out

TW: none really apply, GN!reader

Let me set the scene; you and Nanami have known each other for quite a while, since your high school days to be exact, so you’ve been there for all the ups and downs in his life. You’re not a jujutsu sorcerer and definitely didn’t go to the same high school together. The two of you met at the library when you both went to reach for the same book on the shelf. It sparked up a conversation between the two of you, you found out you had a lot in common with each other, but that wasn’t enough for the two of you to ask each other out on the spot. It took a couple of more run ins and conversations with each other before you finally asked him out on a picnic date. It was a success and flash forward a couple years later, the two of you are a married couple and couldn’t be any happier. There’s no one he trusts more in his life than you.

First and foremost, even though he probably works the most out of the two of you, Nanami Kento is a househusband and you cannot convince me otherwise. Dishes in the sink from last night’s dinner? He’ll take care of it! Leftovers you forgot to put in the fridge after you two ate? He’ll get the Tupperware and stack them away! The house isn’t as tidy as he knows it can be? Catch him cleaning it up throughout the day! Anything to take some work away from his significant other and help them relax.

Something in my heart tells me that he’d love partaking in baking as much as he enjoys visiting the bakery. Which shocks some considering that it’s a pretty messy activity, but when you’re by his side he can care less about the flour that turn his blue shirt into a dusty color or the dough that sticks messily to his fingers after kneading it when the two of you are dancing offbeat to the soft melodies of ‘Let’s Stay Together’ by Al Green. Smiling and reminiscing on the earlier stages of your relationship as you dissect the lyrics with him, never relating more to such a heartfelt romantic song than you did in that moment. Don’t let his sweet nature fool you though, he’s definitely going to be a menace and put flour on your face. Which then leads to a food fight while the two of you wait for your pastries to cook in the oven.

Date nights are the best nights. Between your crazy work schedule and him disappearing every other week for days at a time to do god knows what with Gojo, it’s one of those few moments where the two of you can spend intimate time alone with each other and enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes you stay home and improvise; cooking your own meals and watching movies together for the rest of the night because you miss each other so much that you don’t even want to go out in public and deal with people who aren’t you two. Other nights the two of you go all; getting dressed to the 9s and finding a local restaurant that also doubles as a poetry reciting club to spend your night out. Nanami even goes on stage, which is a huge deal because it’s Nanami, and recites a haiku that he wrote about you. He reads you a poem once he gets home because he wanted his time on stage at the restaurant to be as short as possible.

He goes all out for you on special occasions like anniversaries and birthdays. Specifically anniversaries because, and I didn’t tell you this, but he’s actually a lovey dovey dumbass. Does the whole rose petals leading to the bed in your room thing, gets that expensive food catered by a chef or hires them for the night and has them cook for y’all, and showers you in gifts. Of course, there’s a few materialistic things in the pile like a very shiny bracelet with earrings to match, expensive name brand clothing, and bouquets of flowers. But Nanami really strikes me as a sentimental gift giver type. Something that’ll bring you to tears like one of those Spotify art things with a song played at your wedding, one of those necklaces that project ‘I love you’ in over a 100 languages when you open it, or he might even go all out and surprise you with a tattoo of your initials going over his ring finger for when he can’t wear his wedding ring.

The very first time you found out about Nanami being a sorcerer and your exposure and to the world of jujutsu happened when you were teenagers still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship. It was in the ungodly hours of the night when every working citizen and people your age were sleeping for school or work the next morning. You were too, but it was the banging at the window in your bathroom that awoke you and made you go check on it and to your surprise it was Nanami. You hadn’t seen him for a while prior to this, maybe a week or two, but you didn’t even have enough time to ask him where he had been because he was collapsing in your arms, exhausted both mentally and physically from a mission he had been on. Everything came spilling out, everything he had been through in the last couple of weeks and call you could do was hold him close in your arms and let him ramble on. Whispering words of assurance in his ear every now and then when he began to cry and wiping his tears away from his glossy brown eyes. It was also in this moment that he decided that he was utterly and helplessly in love with you.

Time to rest your weary head: The End!

FIRST AND FOREMOST; I KNOW it took me a DAMN LONG TIME to update this, but lemme explain: This was my first fanfiction ever written in english, my first Gwynriel long-fic and the first fanfic I ever published and I didn't want to finish it (although I knew it must come to an end)

I am so grateful for all the love, likes, kudos on AO3, comments and reblogs I've been getting since I first started posting it. You have NO IDEA how much it meant to me; I've always found myself a little insecure to post my own fiction work, but this one have payed off and it's all thanks to you guys!!!!

To @katiebellf the one who lovingly suggested WRITE A FANFICTION OUT OF THIS bday headcanon and i sure as hell did!!! To @madie2200 and @starbornsinger for being so supportive and always making sure I'd get feedback, and to @thecrispypotatochip for your constant reblogs with your opinions + to every kind soul out here in this crazy virtual space that made sure to make me feel loved! (i see you all, and i love you)

ANYWAY, that's it guys! <3 This chapter of my life is finally over (ik i'm being HELLA DRAMATIC but put up with me!!!!! i love gwynriel!!!!) and I can't wait for you to see what's to come :) (btw i know i'm technically LATE since here in my brazilian timezone it's 1AM but think on the bright side... I hope y'all have a great dinner/breakfast/lunch surprise :)

Chapter List here and my personal Gwynriel hymn that inspired the title of this fic RIGHT HERE

PART 15: FINAL.

Azriel knew what he had to do.

As he beheld the circle of people in front of him all gathered around the dining table, his family, he felt a sense of calmness and quietude he hadn’t for a long, long time. His eyes quickly landed on Gwyn, who was motioning for him to sit by her side.

It was dinner night at the River House, and he had it all planned out. His shadows bounced around his shoulders as he took the seat next to his mate. As she engaged in a conversation with Emerie and Feyre, Nesta and Cassian leaned on each other, Rhys played with Nyx while Mor and Amren discussed about something he couldn’t bring himself to care about, he felt at ease. Peaceful.

Gwyn held his hand under the table, and he let his shadows hung around her freely. It was almost as they belonged to her, and not him. They had started doing it a lot more often, so the Inner Circle was supposed to be more used to it by now. Still, Azriel ignored Amren’s inquisitive eyebrow and turned his gaze to his mate; those teal eyes were eyeing him, and she squeezed his hand, giving him an almost imperceptible nod; a go-ahead sign.

Just like they had previously talked.

“There’s something you should know” Azriel started, immediately earning the attention of almost everyone at the table, since it wasn’t every day he opened up like that. Only Gwyn kept staring at her lap, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Is everything ok?” Nesta was the one who asked.

“We’re mates.” She blurted out, startling him – and everyone around, for that matter. He looked at her, amused, and then at the confusion that reigned across the table. In a second, a squealing Nesta and Emerie lunched forward and embraced his mate in a tight and equally loud hug, while Cassian spitted his drink, Mor clapped and Amren muttered a “tell me something new”, quietly smiling and raising her glass at Azriel anyway.

Only Rhys and Feyre stood in silence at their spots at the table, knowing smiles mirrored on their faces quickly noticed by Nesta, still with her arms around Gwyn.

“Why are you two so quiet?” Her eyes missed nothing, raising her chin at her sister and her mate. Rhys merely took a sip from his drink.

“They already knew.” Azriel found himself saying, and Nesta’s stare darted to him, and then to Gwyn, who was still flushed from all the fuss.

“And you knew they knew?” She furrowed her brows; he couldn’t identify if her tone was menacing or curious, but Gwyn wasn’t the one to feel intimidated by it, given the way she chuckled in response.

“It was all me.” Rhys raised his hands. “It was an accident; I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I need to train more on my mental shields, apparently.” It was all the priestess admitted, but kindly smiled at Rhysand and Feyre from across the table. “The High Lo- Rhysand, I mean- kept it safe for me. He found out earlier than Azriel did.”

“You were the one to realize first?” Nesta sat again at her spot besides Cassian, and turned to her friend surprised. Gwyn smiled smugly.

“By a short amount of time” Azriel couldn’t help but grunt out, unconsciously falling into their usual banter.

Her warm eyes landed on him, and she winked, still with that Cauldron-damned smile on, causing shivers all over him.

“Still” She shrugged irreverently and smirked playfully. “I knew it before you. Quite the Spymaster, huh?”

If everyone else at the table stilled slightly at her words, all but Cassian, who bellowed in laughter, Azriel couldn’t notice. Not when his mate’s stare was unfaltering, with that challenging look in her eyes she knew he loved. He immediately found himself joining his brother, again not caring if it was the first in a damn long time his family even heard him laugh like that.

Some time passed between casual conversation and sips of wine. In that time, Azriel was secretly arranging his next words in his mind. Just like Gwyn and he had previously discussed, the news went well; as deep down, he knew it would. His family had understood and cherished them both, and Azriel reveled in the peace it brought him, quietly admiring those people around him.

When his eyes landed at Gwyn, though, deeply immersed in conversation with Rhysand, he took in a deep breath, determined. There was still one more thing he had to do, one more thing she wasn’t yet aware. Something he knew, in his heart, was the right thing to do. Was the best thing he could do.

“Rhys” He called, and Gwyn immediately turned her head to him, eyes shining with pure curiosity. “There’s one more thing.”

He leaned in closer to his brother, resting his arm behind Gwyn’s chair. Rhysand’s expression was equally intrigued, but his voice was calm and collected when he answered: “Shoot, brother.”

“I need a break.”

“Oh?” Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up with surprise.

“Oh?” Gwyn echoed quietly.

Her burning gaze made him tear his eyes from Rhysand and stare back at her; something was glimmering in her teal ocean eyes. He couldn’t discern what it was. The rest of his family was still talking to each other, though the conversation had dimmed a bit.

“I have well trained spies all over the country; I could spend the rest of this week getting them ready to take my place for a little while. I’d be back in two weeks, if you’d let me.” Azriel continued.

Rhysand smiled broadly and promptly retorted: “What about two months?”

Gwyn gasped beside him. Something stirred within Azriel’s chest. Two whole months, with Prythian in the verge of a possible war, didn’t seem wise at all, and he was well aware of the fact.

But Cauldron-damn him, he wanted that. Needed that.

Suddenly, a vision of a shining blue lake under the afternoon sun came into his field of view. In his fingers, loose strands of a long copper hair, like burning fire under the sunlight. The only thing he could hear was the chirps of birds and the soft breathing of the young priestess who rested against his chest. For whatever reason, he could see it.

He felt his brother’s claws against his mental shield, bringing him back from his reverie:

You deserve it, brother. You two deserve this and more.

He had to blink away the tears that he felt coming up, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Then he looked at Gwyn, that smiling, powerful force of nature sitting next to him. He finally understood what that was in her eyes; the same thing Rhysand showed in his.

Pride.

And he knew his answer.

EPILOGUE

A few years later

Azriel woke up to soft humming. He squinted against the morning light, and frowned when he found the other side of the bed empty. His fae senses discerned the familiar voice coming from the bathroom, a voice he always seemed drawn to.

He lazily got up and followed the sweet melody that woke him up and lived in his dreams; leaning against the door frame, he watched as Gwyn slowly brushed her damp hair, the smell of lavender filling up the air:

"Hey, you"

Gwyn turned around, and smiled softly at him. That morning sight still made his heart flutter, even if it's been years now since they shared rooms in the House of Wind.

"Good morning, love" She neared him and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "What are you doing up? Thought you weren't tutoring today."

"I'm not" He hummed, embracing her. "But the bed was getting cold."

His arms felt perfect around her back as she placed her hands behind his neck.

"Ha-ha" She pouted, rolling her eyes at his little drama "My Ilyrian boy is missing me already? It's been less than fifteen minutes"

"What can I do? I love my mate and don't want her to leave me just yet."

She looked thoughtful, a playful smile on her lips: "Well, I suppose I still got time before I hit the library..."

In a second, Azriel was picking her up in his arms and carefully laying her on their bed as she laughed, and he admired just how flushed she got after a hot shower. Gods, he could never get tired of that view. He started peppering her face with kisses, trailing down her neck and smirking against her skin as he heard her sigh and claw her hands on his hair.

"Az..." She murmured after a few seconds.

There's something.

The fact that his shadows had to alert him that made his head shot up and stare into those deep eyes in front of him. She was still smiling, but faintly, and gently stroked his hair as if to soothe him.

He straightened up, leaning on an elbow to face her.

"What?"

"I think we should discuss something."

She seemed nervous, but her tone left nothing to the imagination. Whatever something that was, Gwyneth Berdara was already set on it.

He nodded, brows furrowed.

"You know I love you, and I'm so happy the way things are going. But lately, with you training Ren to one day replace you as Spymaster and me opening up the public library in Velaris, well..."

He swallowed, feeling his heartbeat fasten. But she only smiled further:

"I feel like we should do it now. Accept the bond."

Seconds passed and Azriel didn't know what to say, as he scanned her face for any kind of discomfort or insecurity. There was none. A jest, maybe? Could it be...

"I'm not joking, Shadowsinger. In case you're wondering."

She interrupted his thoughts, and brushed her hands against his hair once more, pulling him closer to her.

"Gwyn, you..." He was speechless, something in his chest glowing brighter and brighter he felt it could burst out of him any minute now.

"I want this, Azriel. And have been wanting it for a long, long time." She breathed in "Do you still..."

"Yes. Yes." He answered in a breathless laugh; the reality of it hitting him. They were doing it. Mates. Forever.

"Mating ceremony and all?" She joined him in laughter now, they both beaming. Azriel felt his cheeks hurt.

"Whatever you say, Gwyn. I'd love whatever you wish. I just want to be with you for the rest of my life." The words came rushing out, but he didn't care. Not when his mate closed the space between them and kissed him intently.

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

Gwyn didn't go to the library that day, after all. They prefer focusing on other more... Urgent matters after their talk.

As they lay in bed together a few hours later, Azriel felt utter peace. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of Gwyn's body tightly embraced in him, her hair soft against his chin, her breathing even on his chest.

He suddenly remembered this ancient tune his mother used to sing to him when he was no more than a kid. It was a sweet, tender lullaby about peace and tranquility. The one song he always remembered to sing against the darkness. One that seemed to originate from every cell in his body, intrinsic to who he was.

Lately, that song's been bringing him comfort and solace for one more reason. And he was singing it to her now.

And if Gwyn didn't move, nor shift her position, he knew exactly why. Moments in which he sang were rare, since he much preferred to hear his mate's powerful voice. And that song, that one tune meant so much to him, he knew she could sense it. He could feel her smile against his chest.

His shadows expanded and retracted around them both, cocooning them in darkness and playing around the room; temporarily set free.

He felt himself slowly giving in to a peaceful slumber as he went on:

And you would say

"Time to rest your weary head

Take your wings and go to bed

I know you want to show it all, my darling"

And I'd say

"Set me down and rock me, rock me to sleep"

All he sensed before sleep took over him was one, single kiss against his cheek, and a soft whisper against his ear.

He loved her too.

Summary: In which Lan Xichen seems to be breaking curfew, and Wen Ning introduces A-Qing and the juniors to their soon-to-be-favorite love story.

Author’s notes: To everyone who was expecting to get to Lan Xichen and the night-hunt this chapter, I’m really sorry ;-; but this chapter ran over and had to be cut off yet again...help me

Excerpt:

A-Qing, to her new friends’ eternal disappointment, has never read a romance novel.

However, it isn’t because she  dislikes the genre, or the thought of romance in general. Rather, A-Qing’s mother (who really had been blind, from what little A-Qing remembers of her) could never teach her to read, and since her poor Daozhang was blind himself he never tried to teach her, either. But Xiao Xingchen—peerlessly gentle and tender-hearted as he was—had always loved the  idea of love, especially between sweethearts who fought the world single-handed to stand by each other forever.

Thus, he told A-Qing and Xue Yang love stories from dawn until sunset on rainy days, beginning with the tale of the cowherd and the weaver girl and ending with the happier West-Chamber romance; once, he even told them the story of his martial sister from Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, who was loved by the heir to Yunmeng Jiang but ran away with his servant to make a life in the wild instead. But none of Daozhang’s love stories were the kind that Lan Jingyi and the others like to read, full of thrilling elopements and duels to banish unwelcome suitors and maidens who defied their cold-hearted fathers to marry the men of their choice. A-Qing, therefore, knows nothing at all about candle-signaling from one’s balcony after dark, or hiding forbidden letters in the wrappings of parcels and packages, and even less about throwing pebbles to summon one’s beloved to their window—which is why A-Qing only lets out a scream of curses into the night when a shower of bone-white gravel strikes her own window a few hours after hai shi, startling her awake so suddenly that she falls out of bed.

“What are you  doing? ” she shrieks at last, looking down to see just who could have stolen into the girls’ leisure courtyard at almost a quarter to midnight. “Who let you in this late—and why are you throwing  rocks?”

But surprisingly (or not surprisingly at all, depending on how she looks at it) the gravel-thrower is only Ouyang Zizhen, hovering a few feet above the ground with one hand on the jasmine vine trailing up the wall.

“A-Qing!” he whispers, cupping his palms around his mouth so the sound carries up to her bedroom. “Are you awake enough to go out? Old Master Lan has a headache, and he warded his rooms against noise tonight, so Sizhui and the others are getting a party ready since he won’t hear us. Come down!”

A-Qing has  several questions after hearing that, but the foremost among them is how on earth Zizhen broke into the ladies’ compound in the first place.“What are you even  doing here, you menace? How did you get past the wards?”

“Hanguang-jun left the sect heir’s jade token with Sizhui before he went to see Wei-qianbei, and it’s keyed into all the wards in Gusu,” Zizhen explains, pointing to the cloud-shaped piece of white jade dangling from the belt at his waist. “Sizhui let me borrow it so that I could sneak in and bring you to the boys’ compound. Will you come? Jingyi and Jin Ling smuggled in food from the Hunan place in Caiyi this afternoon, and Sizhui made cold peach tea with ice in it.”

“Of course I  want to come,” A-Qing tells him. “But there’s always a patrol on this side of the Cloud Recesses, remember? I’ll have to pass them to get out the main doors, and I can’t climb down the wall.”

“Oh, right.” Zizhen frowns for a minute before brightening up like a lantern, leaping up and down on his sword until he nearly stumbles right off it. “I can take you on my jian, then! Have you ever been on one before?”

She has, briefly. Her Daozhang sometimes let her ride on Shuanghua when they went on picnics in the hills, and Xue Yang used to frighten her by snatching her up onto Jiangzai if she didn’t get out of his way fast enough, but somehow the sight of Ouyang Zizhen’s Xiufeng doesn’t remind her those two fraught weapons at all. It’s a simple, straight blade with a plain brown hilt, etched with only the sword’s name (whose characters spell out fair wind, Zizhen told her once) and a simple little inscription that says “To A-Zhen with love, from Mother.”  

Jin Chan and the Yao disciples teased him mercilessly for that, but A-Qing herself thought it was rather sweet.

“I have,” she answers. “But won’t someone see us?”

Zizhen bounces in place again and chews on his bottom lip.

“They might not see us if we’re fast enough, but they’ll definitely see  you since you’re all dressed in white,” he ponders. “Do you have anything in green, maybe? Then you’d blend in with the trees on the way back.”

“Of course I don’t have anything green,” sighs A-Qing, rolling her eyes. “No one wears anything but white here, remember? All I have are the clothes the Lan ladies made for me.”

“Then you can wear my outer robe and take it off when we get there,” Zizhen decides. “Is that all right?”

A-Qing nods and holds out her arms, and a moment later a dark blue gown comes flying  through the window with its belt tied around one sleeve. It takes a minute or two for her to struggle into it, mostly because it’s so much heavier than the clothes she usually wears; her own robes consist of a plain double layer of light embroidered cotton, while Zizhen’s gown is made of thick satin with fine silver stitching around the hems and collar—but she manages to pull it on, just before Xiufeng and its pink-cheeked master draw level with her windowsill.

“Come on,” he smiles, offering her his hand—and A-Qing takes it, stepping lightly onto the blade and laughing out loud as Zizhen nearly falls over again. “Qing-guniang, don’t laugh! I didn’t mean to!”

“If you do it again you’ll kill us both,” she snorts, poking him in the stomach. “Now hurry, let’s go find the others before the patrol comes round this side of the building.”

Sandwiches and Demons

I wrote the first part of this back in October and just finished the second part. It was posted to AO3 as a two-chapter work but is here in its entirety. I hope you enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207722

Ship: Logicality

Word Count: 2236

Summary: Patton is making a sandwich when an unexpected handsome visitor appears. How will it turn out when he develops a crush on the visitor? 

Patton thought he knew what to expect from today, but he couldn't have been more wrong if he tried. It was a normal day; he woke up early to feed and walk his dog, ate a healthy breakfast (sugary cereal and way too buttery toast is totally good for you, so thanks Virgil), and got some work done in his garden since it was his day off. To be honest, it didn't get weird until he started to make lunch.

He is squirting the squeezable jelly onto his peanut butter and jelly sandwich while trying to sing along with the anime opening he was watching in the background when it happens.

Suddenly a loud voice and a column of smoke comes from behind him and says, "What do you require, foolish mortal? I am a very busy demon and have much to do."

Patton whirls around to look at the unknown visitor behind him. The voice belongs to a humanoid creature that appears to be a man who could pass for a high school teacher, complete with khaki pants and black polo with an immaculate tie. What made him stand out, though, is his long pointed horns and bat-like wings that look like they could stretch across his kitchen and not brush the walls.

"Hello," Patton says undisturbed by his unique guest's menacing presence, "who are you, friend-o?"

With a raised eyebrow the figure states, "I am known by many names in many different languages, however, you may refer to me as Logan since it should be the easiest for you to pronounce. Now back to the first topic, why did you summon me?"

Patton tilts his head to the side, " I didn't mean to summon you... I was just making lunch though so if you would like some you can have it."

As he says this Patton holds out the now finished sandwich to Logan. A look of confusion passes across the demon's face before reluctantly taking the sandwich from the strangely calm man.

"How in the world did you summon a demon on accident? You don't have my circle anywhere nor do I see any text that would inform you of the words needed to bring forth a demon of my caliber."

"I guess I really messed up the lyrics to that song I was jamming to," Patton says pointing at the show still playing in the background, while Logan rolls his eyes at what he could only assume was a pun. "And I like to make weird fun shapes with my condiments when I make my food. My friends even got me squeeze bottles to put my jellies in to make it easier for me."

To show his point Patton starts to make a new sandwich. Logan watches him from over his shoulder as Patton make a sun with the jelly bottle. Then he adds more shapes to the circle until it looks like a complicated summoning circle to the demon.

"That explains it," Logan mutters under his breath as he absent-mindedly takes a bite out of the sandwich in his hand. He doesn't even need to eat so he could not explain why he does it, but as soon as he tastes it he lights up. "What is in this sandwich?" he asks.

"Oh, it is just Crofter's jelly with peanut butter on white bread."

"This jelly is some of the best mortal food I have tasted in my entire existence..." he trails off in bliss as he scarves down the rest of the sandwich.

"If you like it so much you can come back any time for some. All I ask is you don't make trouble while you're here," Patton says with a smile to the demon.

With a straight face, Logan replies, "That sounds satisfactory. If that is all I will depart since it seems you do not require any deals with me. I will inform you when I am free by a letter, so you are sure to have plenty of this Crofter's jelly for consumption."

"Thanks for that, I wouldn't want to be put in a jam." As Patton says this Logan disappears with a groan and puff of smoke. Patton decides to stock up on plenty of different flavors of the fruit spread for next time he sees the demon

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

Soon it became a habit for Patton to leave out his newest jar of Crofter's for Logan. As he soon learns, Logan would show up at the exact same time every other week without fail. Like clockwork, each alternating Friday, at precisely noon, the demon would rise out of the corner of Patton's kitchen ready for some delicious Crofter's. It was weird for a while but the human quickly got used to the way Logan would suddenly appear in his home.

He soon got curious about his demonic friend's existence. The first thing Patton says learns about is the demonic friend is that unfortunately, Logan was not really one for small talk; which makes his goal of learning much more about Logan extremely difficult.

The first few times his demon companion visits, any time Patton tried to break the ice the demon would either ignore him or scoff at him. (It probably didn't help that Logan didn't seem to care for puns, which are ninety percent of Pat's openers.) Patton swears to himself that he will never give up trying to make the Logan his friend. Eventually, his persistence (and the tasty fruit spread) wears down Logan's defenses, and soon the two would actually hold conversations at every meeting.

Then slowly Logan starts to visit the human more often. Patton hopes that this means that the demon is starting to feel comfortable in his home.

Suddenly Patton comes to a realization one day, he has started to fall in love with Logan. Which normally Patton would be ecstatic and confess to Logan the very next time he sees the demon, but the demon specifically said to him once that demons could not feel any emotions. This had bummed Pat out at the time and now it really makes Pat sad. So Patton does what he does best and bottles up his emotions and feelings.

It seems to work, Logan never acts any different when he is there, but eventually Patton's best friend, Virgil takes notice of Pat being a bit more withdrawn. That was a fun conversation to have. At first, Virgil was confused as to why Patton would be so calm with a freaking demon coming to visit every few weeks, but then he remembers how big a heart Patton has which makes more sense. Though how Patton fell in love with said demon still doesn't compute, but Virgil convenes Patton to at least try to tell the jelly loving demon how he feels.

After the pep talk from Virgil, Patton starts to make a plan to sweep his demon off his feet. He starts off with a classic, pick-up lines. The next time Logan came, Patton put phase one into action.

"Are you a dictionary?" Patton starts with after presenting Logan with his Crofter's sandwich.

"What?" Logan questions with his mouth full. He tilts his head to the side like a confused dog and if Patton wasn't already head over heels for the demon he would be now.

"Cause you're adding meaning to my life!"

The two just stare at each other in silence after Patton says that. After a few minutes, Logan just shakes his head before he continues to eat his sandwich. Patton deflates a little at the lack of reaction but pushes on anyway.

"You must be a broom, 'cause you just swept me off my feet."

"...Patton, you are sitting down." Logan side-eyes the human as he says this, a look of understanding on his face for a split second that Patton misses.

"There must be something wrong with my eyes, I can't seem to take them off of you."

"If there is something wrong with your eyesight you should go to an ophthalmologist then," Logan states with the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips that goes unnoticed by the human. Patton is starting to get disheartened by Logan's apparent misunderstanding of his intentions.

However, Patton has saved his best for last. With the most sensual voice Patton can muster he drawls, "Is it hot in here or is it just you?"

Logan's eyes go wide at this but other than that he shows no outward reaction to what Patton said, and Patton looks away. Logan quickly finishes the food and disappear in his normal puff of smoke without another word passed between the two.

=============================================================

Patton decides on flowers for his next attempt. This is only partially because he has to leave to visit family for the holidays during their next scheduled meeting and partially because of how bad the last attempt went. Luckily his friend Roman works in a flower shop so he was more than happy to help Patton woo his mysterious crush.

Armed with a bouquet of asters, gardenia, and peonies, Patton readies his kitchen for when the demon will visit while he is away. He leaves a note explaining why he could not be there, the flowers, and Logan's favorite Crofter's on the counter next to were Logan normally appears and sets off for his dull holiday.

===========================================================

When Logan appears he notices the lack of his happy mortal first and foremost. Then he sees a beautiful bouquet of flowers next to a jar of Crofter's. As the demon approaches the counter he sees the note next to the jelly and reads it first.

It reads: Sorry I jam not here for our meeting Logan. Last time you left before I could remind you that Christmas was going to be during the time you normally visit but I still wanted you to have a sweet time out of hell so feel free to eat the jar of Crofter's I left out for you. :) I should be back for our next meeting so you butter show up! Sincerely Patton. Logan rolls his eyes at the note, of course, the mortal would forget to mention he would be gone. Logan did notice the mortal's flirting during the last meeting, but he did not know how to respond.

Logan examines the flowers next. While the note does not mention the reason behind this new addition, he figures he can figure it out. If he reminders right asters mean patience, and peony means bashfulness, but gardenia's meaning slips him memory. He just shrugs and makes a sandwich like the note said to do and takes it to the living room. On the coffee table there is a book of flower meaning, coincidentally opened to the one flower the demon could not place. Logan decides to read the passage and blushes at the meaning. Gardenia is said to symbolize purity and sweetness and indicate secret love, joy, and they are used to tell the receiver they are lovely. Was the mortal trying to say he liked the demon?

============================================================

Patton hopes phase two worked well because he plans to push on to phase three anyway.

As he anxiously waits for his demonic crush, he makes special cookies his mom taught him to make when he was a kid. They are jelly topped, so of course, he uses the demon's favorite brand. Patton hopes to tell the demon his feelings out right this time, but he is still nervous that it will push away Logan.

"That smells really delicious Patton."

Patton gets startled out of his head as Logan states this from behind him. The mortal whips around and stares at the demon who seems to be more dressed up than usual.

"Thanks! It should be done in a few minutes." Silence follows as both awkwardly stare at the other, neither knowing what to say next. When the timer goes off both jump startled.

Patton retrieves the cookies from the oven as Logan takes a seat at the counter. The tension is so thick that they could cut it with a knife. While Patton plates the cookies he decides to break the silence.

"Logan..."

"Yes, Patton?"

"I know you told me before that demons do have emotions but..." Patton trails off as he turns to look Logan in the eye only to find a soft smile on the demon's face that renders him speechless.

"I think I might have miss spoke when I told you that Patton because lately have been feeling emotions. I just forgot what they felt like until I met you. I have deduced what you are planning to say from your actions over these last few visits and I would like to inform you I feel a deep romantic longing for you as well. It took the flowers you left out for me to realize it but I do...I am pretty sure I love you, Patton."

Patton's eyes fill with tears as Logan finishes his speech. At first, it concerns the demon, did he miss read the mortal's intentions? But before Logan can question it further Patton launches himself at the demon wrapping him in a strong embrace.

"I love you too, Logan," Patton states just before pressing a sweet kiss onto Logan's mouth. Patton tastes like the fruit spread that started all this and both couldn't be happier that Patton accidentally summoned Logan all those months ago.

Okie, I hope you love a good challenge >;) how ‘bout yandere MTMTE Swerve+Skids( together )Rodimags, Dratchet, and Cygate hcs for when they go after the human Liaison who is very naive and just adorable and sweet? I get it if ya don’t wanna write it. I mean, it is too much of a challenge for ya~

FUCK I LOVE YANDERE DON’T TEST ME PUNK

This gonna be LONG

—-

SwerveSkids

Skids is the one to initiate it really. He’s more of a smooth talker than he lets on. He sees you and immediately takes a screen capture and sends it to Swerve with the caption ‘Ours’

Swerve agrees and tells him to invite you to the bar. He does immediately, luring you in with ‘Our bartender has a ton of human knowledge on Earth. I’m sure he’d love to learn from someone who lived there firsthand.’

You go and yeah, Swerve’s got a lot of knowledge, but he’s also learned a lot from sitcoms, and things aren’t like that anymore.

You’re sweet, they realize. Sweet and a little naive and not necessarily innocent, but innocent enough.

Skids is the one to take the most action. After a while of buttering you up, asking questions, He tells you that it’s really nice to be on the ship, but nobody’s going to make you feel like home like he and Swerve do.

You watch movies together, the good ones that you recommend, because they always listen to your recommendation because you know best, of course.

It’s during these movie nights, the private ones between the three of you, you realize that they have holoforms, and that Swerve has more experience and control with his holoforms than anybody else on the ship, because he projected an entire planet once.

They do this a lot, when they’re with you. Skids tells you it’s because they want you to ‘feel at home’ since you’re ‘so far away from anyone that resembles family’ and ‘they’re very quick learners when it comes to making you happy’

Skids in particular gets a little miffed when others try to monopolize your time. He walks over and quickly shoots out a “Hey babe.” and brings his arm just enough around you to ward off anybody else who would think of getting close.

Swerve memorizes your taste preferences and when you tell him something tastes like something you used to have on Earth, he jots it down for future reference and makes sure to make that exact thing again the next time you have movie night together. Subtle manipulations to make sure you prefer them over everyone else on the ship.

After all, who else on the ship would go so far as to bring you back down to Earth when you’re millions of light years away.

Rodimags

They both agree that you need to be protected, first and foremost.

The obsession grows slowly for Magnus but Very Quickly for Rodimus, who jumps headfirst into any and every situation.

It starts with the introductions, and Rodimus insists on being with you for literally every one.

“You’re our liaison, and I’m the captain of the ship, so we should work closely together. I can tell you everything you need to know.”

Magnus schedules your shifts at the same time as either him or Rodimus. You rarely, if ever, run a shift without seeing one of them.

Rodimus becomes unnecessarily aggravated at Megatron literally any time he tries to get your attention.

“Anything you have to say to him, you can tell me. If he has anything to say to you, it can go through me too.”

Magnus realizes it one day while on shift when another member of the crew, Blaster, makes you laugh, and it hits him so hard that he never wants anybody else to be the one to make you laugh like that.

He shows you Minimus fairly quickly. His irreducible form. Because he wants to establish trust and totally not so he can gently lift you up and place you in his lap because you just fit there so well.

Proportionally, Rodimus holding Minimus holding you is their ideal.

Between the two of them if they see anybody else getting close to you, oh you KNOW they’re going to use their authority to stop that shit immediately.

Roddy is a little more manic let’s be real. 

Dratchet (God I fucking love Dratchet)

Okay so, as far as Yandere goes, imagine this one scene where the Liaison, ie you, are casually talking to somebody, and then this menacing presence pops up behind them with red eyes and glaring and all that shit?

That’s Dratchet.

They are your shadows, constantly. Drift moreso than Ratchet because Drift has more freedom to roam around but boyyy are they hooked.

Threats are pretty open, but like, side threats. Drift brings mechs to the side and threatens them to stay away from you. “Have you ever met me while I was Deadlock? Would you like to? Alright good. Stay away from the liaison. They don’t need you around anyway.”

Drift confides his past in you to gain your sympathy. Once he has it, he brings Ratchet into the fold, outlining their relationship, and convinces you that it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard.

Ratchet’s threats are casual. Served with dry wit over drinks at Swerves.

“I heard you were getting close with the liaison. That’s nice. Good for you. Though, if you get any closer I can’t say I’ll be very attentive the next time you’re in the med bay. I’m not what I used to be, you know. Accidents happen.”

They drive away pretty much everyone on the ship except a select few, and even then they’re super possessive.

They convince you that even if everyone else ignores you, they’ll ALWAYS make time for you because you’re Important enough to make time for.

Ratchet makes it a point to ‘take time off’ specifically so he can ‘spend it with you’, making you the ‘only reason he ever stops working’ and you get used to it, often asking him to take time off because the poor guy needs it, and if you’re the one to provide it then what’s the harm?

They both Can and Will kill anyone who gets too close to you. Or at the very least, maim them.

They’re the Hard Yandere Couple.

Cygate

Tailgate ropes you in, Cyclonus keeps you there.

Tailgate’s your best friend! Cheery, loveable, open and accepting. He wants to spend so much time with you and learn everything about you. Did you know that this is his first time ever really meeting an alien? But then again it’s probably your first time too!

The two of you chat amicably as Cyclons stares down literally anybody else who even thinks of approaching you.

Tailgate is very touchy-feely. He likes holding you in his lap and petting the top of your head. You let him do it because he’s probably just getting used to the concept of having an organic on the ship. You can see where the interest would be.

He once holds you out ragdoll style to Cyclonus, who gingerly takes you and ‘instructs’ Tailgate how to ‘properly and respectfully’ hold a human, highlighting that they’re doing their best to make you comfortable.

Tailgate monopolizes your time, coming to greet you every day once you wake up, and seeing you to bed pretty much almost every day as well.

Whirl makes a joke to them one day that “If you love the human so much why don’t you just make them your conjunx.”, offhandedly.

Tailgate does that. Very slowly. Very subtly. He tells Cyclonus and yeah, they’re both down for it.

Tailgate confides in you that he fell down a hole and missed the whole war. How he almost died, how he didn’t have very much to live for until Cyclonus came around. Cyclonus tells you about his past and how he’s trying to be better for it. You tell them about your own life and troubles. Act of Disclosure

Tailgate gets you a gift. He says it’s from both of them. It’s a softly knit blanket that easily wraps around your form four times over. Act of Profference.

They take you out on the viewing balcony to see the stars, telling you that Cyclonus often likes to gaze at space, gather his thoughts. They bring food and the big blanket and tailgate keeps you in his lap and takes your hand and tells you that they’re so so glad you came on this ship. Cyclonus takes the other one. Act of Intimacy

They’re waiting for the right moment for the Act of Devotion, but if anyone asks you’re theirs and nobody else deserves you.

Cyclonus also threatens people with his sword but that’s a given.

Rosalyn51 note:  Matt Brennan is the TV editor of Paste Magazine. He tweets about what he’s watching @thefilmgoer. 

He said he hasn’t seen Matthew’s ‘Stoker’. 

The Vampiric Appeal of Matthew Goode

By Matt Brennan, Jan 16, 2019

It’s said that scent is the sense linked most closely to memories, and in the absence of Smell-O-Vision, I choose to believe Matthew Clairmont (Matthew Goode). In Sundance Now and Shudder’s supernatural romance, A Discovery of Witches, the Oxford scientist and centuries-old vampire—frozen, fortunately for us, at an extravagantly handsome 37—inhales the wine he’s brought to dinner and sighs out a description as one might a drag on a post-coital cigarette: sugared violets, blackberries from hedgerows, cigar smoke, red currants in brandy. And then he does the same to his love interest.

If the moment captures Goode’s foremost asset—from Match Point to The Crown, he’s made sophistication a come-on—it’s an earlier sequence, on much the same subject, that suggests his urbane Jekyll’s insidious Hyde. After his paramour-to-be, reluctant witch Diana Bishop (Teresa Palmer), encounters an enchanted manuscript in the Bodleian Library, Clairmont stalks her to a boathouse on the River Cherwell, where the scent of sex is laced with threat. (It’s safe to assume the writers’ room hasn’t seen You.) As he holds her track jacket to his face, there’s genuine menace in Goode’s widening eyes, the flare of his nostrils, the strain in his neck, but the gesture itself is almost pornographic, and I mean that as a compliment: Here the series approaches the withholding allure of Deborah Harkness’ novel, a bodice ripper in which no bodices are ripped. It’s the frankness of their desire, rippling beneath the refined surface, that defines both Matthews, Clairmont and Goode. You want these men to sink their teeth into you, even if it means being devoured whole.

Lucky, then, that A Discovery of Witches—an otherwise unremarkable fantasy, a half-baked Harry Potter for horny adults—knows what it has in Goode’s seductive nastiness. His unblinking stare, pale skin, ramrod nose, and delicate frame suggest Twilight’s Robert Pattinson aged up for mature audiences, and the series excels when it commits wholeheartedly to romantic melodrama: as Matthew swans up the stairs at his country manor, sketching the outlines of his background; as he and Diana flee for his family’s estate, set to an almost embarrassingly earnest rendition of “Go Your Own Way”; as he slips out of his jacket, fires up a phonograph, and spins his mother, Ysabeau (the suitably imperious Lindsay Duncan), in front of their castle’s hearth. That A Discovery of Witches manages to sell such immoderation, and not the “horror” of Diana’s insistent, arachnophobic nightmares or the “suspense” of the shadowy cabal chasing her, known as the Congregation, is thanks to its understanding of Goode’s wary charm. Where it rushes its supernatural elements, eyeing home base before it rounds first, the series approaches Matthew himself with near-relinquished caution, anticipating his rages and persuasions as one does a man’s decisive touch. “What spell have you put on me?” he asks Diana at midseason, though it’s Goode’s presence, not Palmer’s, that binds and gags: One of the thrills of submission, after all, is the risk of self-destruction.

If there’s a dominant through line in Goode’s career, in fact, it’s his penchant for roles at the eye of the maelstrom. Tom Hewett befriends the tennis coach-cum-murderer of Match Point and brings him into the family; Charles Ryder traces the Flytes’ decline in Brideshead Revisited; Jim haunts his suicidal widower in A Single Man, Charlie arrives after his brother’s demise in Stoker; and George Wickham is the reason Death Comes to Pemberley. Henry Talbot caps off his Downton Abbey debut by telling Lady Mary Crawley (Michelle Dockery) that his sport is “cars”—which, as it happens, is what killed her husband—and Finn Polmar’s first case on The Good Wife, in “Dramatics, Your Honor,” is Will Gardner’s (Josh Charles) last. In this sense, Goode is always playing vampires. His men are harbingers of disaster, and there’s no guarantee you’ll survive.

When they’re unwanted, of course, such intrusions are off-putting. Our first sight of Goode’s Philip Durrant, in Ordeal by Innocence, is of sweat beading on his sculpted chest, performing push-ups on a set of parallel bars, but he soon turns out to be a boor/bore, going so far as to piss into a pocket-sized cask at the table while berating his companion for lunch. On the opposite end of the spectrum, against more forceful, prickly partners—Lady Mary, Alicia Florrick (Julianna Margulies)—his subtle slyness, the quaver of mischief in the lines around his mouth, often fails to come through, and he’s left to play the heroine’s handsome sentry. Goode’s sweet spot is period drama, or at least its locales (A Discovery of Witches is a feast of medieval façades), not simply because his brand of rakishness is out of fashion, but because its enchantments are, too. It’s bewitchingly illicit to want the wrong man, and whether middle-class artist, racing enthusiast, vampire, or roué, Goode’s men are almost never the right one.

It’s fitting, in this vein, that the finest application of the actor’s vampiric appeal should come alongside another creature poised on the border between privilege and rebellion: Vanessa Kirby’s Princess Margaret, in the second season of The Crown. In “Beryl,” Peter Morgan’s decades-spanning drama of the Windsors underscores the key feature of Goode’s on-screen persona and uses it, literally, to shine a spotlight on Queen Elizabeth II’s rueful, dissolute sister. The episode’s exhilarating climax features Margaret posing for photographer Toby Armstrong-Jones, whose wiles strip her down to her most vulnerable state before he presses the shutter, but it’s earlier, during their encounter at a society party, that The Crown elucidates Goode’s bristling magnetism. In the way she recoils from his lighter’s flame before leaning into it, in his naughty gossip about the partygoers’ predilections, in his claim to despise convention while seeming to embrace it, Goode’s Armstrong-Jones emerges as an outsider so at ease in the heart of the system he might adapt to it—or blow it up. “There’s a contempt in him,” Margaret reports to Elizabeth over lunch the next day, smiling at the observation. “For me. For us. For everything we represent. I actually think you’d like him. That’s what’s so dangerous about him.”

Goode is beguiling, I suspect, because he’s the wrong man in the right man’s clothing, plausible as a photographer, a wine aficionado, an attorney, a husband, and also as a radical, a turncoat, a subversive, a menace. From Matthew Clairmont to Toby Armstrong-Jones, Goode’s most compelling characters threaten the institutions—the gentry, the patriarchy, the Congregation, the Crown—by which their lovers feel trapped. If self-destruction is a side effect of this desire for freedom, so be it: You have to invite the vampire in before he can consume you.

Reposting what I wrote for the great event that the @fantasticbeastscalendar​ is, in case some of you prefer the tumblr format :3

Also, so sorry for not including a “Read more” as usual and making it a long post: it makes the post buggy and adds in some weird symbols...

Real or not real? | | Some Thesival pain I needed to write!

“Get away from me,” Percival groans, trying to get up, but the baked clay under his legs is unforgiving, trapping him and keeping him in place, the only sensation he is able to feel now being pins and needles all over the lower part of his body.

Theseus keeps moving toward him just as his friend looks up at his full height towering over him, and there’s menace in there; menace and fear and a deep sense of getting ready for whatever is coming for him.

“Perce, fuck’s sake, let me help you—”

“Get. Away.”

Biting. A caged animal bathing in his own blood. Theseus can even imagine him making choking sounds in the back of his throat as torture went on, stabbed a thousand times over.

Of course he’s feral.

“Percival, it’s just me, just—”

The black cloud of dark matter that threatens to reopen in his wounds hangs right there, right above his head. “Just who? Who exactly?”

”Welcome home, Percival. You’re never going to see daylight again,” Grindelwald had told him so many months ago.

Theseus arches an eyebrow in confusion.

“Just— me, Theseus—”

“Don’t even try to get closer,” Percival spits and keeps his face angled away so as not to look at who he believes to be his abuser. “I know your little game, it’s you, isn’t it? It’s you!”

You.

It dawns on Theseus, at that moment, that Percival is dissociating entirely and is still trapped inside his nightmare, his hallucination—

The memory eating him alive.

Trauma showing up. Another situation he’s already seen before.

“I’m not Grindelwald,” Theseus murmurs quietly. “It’s over, Perce. He’s gone.”

His pulse jumps in surprise for a few beats when Percival’s voice breaks through the silence.

“You’re lying.”

Theseus slowly stops moving, crouches to the floor before sitting down on the cold tile of the bathroom.

“I know you’re scared, but—”

“You don’t know anything!”

It aches something fierce in Theseus’ body as the words are thrown at him. Maybe I don’t know anything anymore, he thinks. Maybe I just know that I love you and never got to tell you how I feel. And now… now— this is what we have come to.

“Let’s do something,” Theseus says, and licks his lips, pressing them together before speaking up again. “Ask me things, things only the real Theseus Scamander can know.”

Percival stares at him and Theseus wonders if anything will come out of this, if the other man will ever remember, will ever stop dissociating, because Percival’s reality now is all that is fake and evil in this world; because he is drifting away by each and every second and nothing can stop that.

Theseus nods tiredly to himself. "Alright, that was a bad idea—"

“You hit on me straight away the first time we met each other. Real or not real?”

Percival’s voice so rough Theseus barely manages to recognise it; and there’s hope blooming in his stomach. His heart picks up a little in his chest; he will not falter. Will keep going, if not for himself, for Percival’s sake, so the hollow in his chest won’t end up overtaking him.

He chuckles and blinks to clear his vision.

“You look terrible. I mean, you look handsome, dear, but also awfully sick. Caught a cold in the sweet trenches?”

“Real. I told you you looked handsome but also very sick. But you were handsome first and foremost.”

For a second, Theseus thinks he sees a spark of recognition in Percival’s eyes, which forces hope to blossom again in the pit of his stomach; however, the look is gone before he can decipher it, and Theseus is not looking at him anymore.

Still, he can feel Percival searching his face, searching for something, and somehow this is worse, so much worse. Much like a sharp stab.

And so Theseus carries on; he must not let the feeling go.

“You had a coughing fit the first time you blew me because you were too proud to say my cock was gigantic for your mouth. Real or not real?”

Percival grimaces a little, tilts his chin down into the curve of his own neck. “Real,” and his eyes cloud over, something the British Auror didn’t expect. “Hopefully you’re not Grindelwald, because I’d rather die than have him know this. And I’m going to die anyway.”

Theseus can't resist the urge to grin before it turns sour and sad, weighed down by the words and the meaning they carry beyond their hills. “You’re not going to die. I’m here.”

“Well, unless you’re the real Theseus, I am going to die,” the other man answers darkly. There’s a sad chirp to his voice that punches the redhead right in the guts, even more when he notices the constellation of purple bruises that spreads evenly along Percival’s body.

There is it again, the faint crimson fire in his eyes, the melancholia and hurt.

It causes a shiver of anger to jerk up Theseus’ spine. There’s nothing to stop time from running all the way down to empty spaces and negative numbers.

Percival needs him, and fast, of this he is certain.

“You have never told me you loved me. Real or not real?”

Oh.

Word punched out of his chest.

Oh, that fucking hurts.

Theseus shakes his head as if to rid himself of the sting of the burn spreading throughout his entire body, the intertwined web of veins and muscles and bones.

“Real. Because…” Theseus bites his lip, looks like he’s deciding whether to lie to the other man or to tell him the truth. It’s an easy choice, in the end— if he lies, it could be over for Percival. And he doesn’t want that. Never. “I’m a coward and thought you never wanted more than… benefits, out of our friendship. Which is— which is why— why I’ve never said anything.”

Silence falls between them, still, just the distant sound of the wind pushing through the cracks, outside, and water dripping from the sink nearby.

Maybe he really has lost Percival forever, now.

Until—

Until he hears it.

The sound is distant, melting into the wet air, fractured but present.

“... love me?”

Theseus feels his face drain of colour. "I— what?"

He’s on edge now, feeling exposed and raw, defensive. The truth is—

The truth is that he's been hiding his feelings for his best friend for so long that he doesn’t know how to act upon them anymore; and Percival— Percival, he’s— he’s wrecked and can’t love him back, not like this.

Never like this, never never never, Theseus promises himself, even if he doesn’t know when that will be.

Half truth, whole truth.

Something should be found to be right in this mess, right?

“It’s…” and Percival’s hands start shaking as hard as the tears slipping from his eyes, furious rivers escaping at last. “It’s really you, Thes, it’s really you.”

Theseus squeezes his arms tight around him, drawing Percival closer to him, who sags in Theseus’ hold, letting him support his weight; a way of saying I trust you, I love you, help me.

Theseus loves him so much it hurts; breathes him in as their foreheads rest together. Percival eventually relaxes in his arms, storm passed, leaning on him trustingly where tears have formed wet puddles on the fabric, where fears and lies have melted away all at once to reveal what was meant to be all along.

“It’s really me, Perce,” Theseus says in a voice so weak he wonders how it made it through. “It’s really me and I love you. I love you so much and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry it took me this long—”

Percival finds himself to be a light. Broken, misshaped, but a light nonetheless despite all the darkness; the British Auror cannot believe his luck, and neither can the real Director of MACUSA.

“But you found me,” Percival half sobs, the level tone of his voice making Theseus shiver for all that it displays. “And you love me. You love me, real or not real?”

“Real,” and Theseus runs his fingers gently down the side of Percival’s face, until he finds Percival’s lips with his own, slow, warm and desperate.

Sass Attacks Star Wars --Part One: the Padme/Anakin relationship.

Alright. Okay. THIS has been a looonnnggg time coming.

I love Star Wars. It was my first major movie franchise. Star Wars holds a near and dear place in my heart, and it always will.

H.O.W.E.V.E.R.

There are a lot of parts that just...

No.

And, with this specific edition, I’ll be ranting about the Padme/Anakin relationship in Attack of the Clones, Star Wars the Clone Wars, and Revenge of the Sith.

Largely because I have determined that George Lucas doesn’t know how to write women.

-FIRST AND FUCKING FOREMOST: A twenty-three year old, independent, politically successful, financially well-off woman is not going to harbor a deep romantic love for a boy that she met ten years ago and hasn’t seen since.

Just... no.

It’s not going to happen.

Especially when you consider that a nineteen year old would barely be out of high school.

There usually isn’t the level of emotional maturity that would attract an adult woman to a teenager barely out of high school.

Especially when you consider that the Jedi’s version of emotional maturity is “REPRESS. EVERYTHING.”

-But, I’ll admit that Attack of the Clones Hayden Christensen is, undeniably, fucking hot.

-I mean, look at him.

-So, charitably, perhaps Padme sees Anakin --still expecting the chubby cheeked kid she met ten years ago--and goes “Hot damn.”

I mean, I would.

-And, equally as charitable, let’s assume: 1.) Anakin is better at human interaction than the lines offered in the movie and 2.) doesn’t reek of stalker-y obsession like he did in the movie.

-So, like, maybe there’s an initial physical attraction, but Padme knows that Jedi are forbidden to have attachments and that engaging in a relationship with one can cause a LOT of scandal for all parties involved, so that’s the end of that.

I know I can’t be the only one with this kind of mindset. Like, did any of you ever see someone you’d never met at a party or coffee shop before, go ‘hot damn,’ maybe flirt with them a little, only to find out later that they’re with someone?

Like, you automatically put that option off the table. Even if you have feelings for them, you don’t act on them.

That’s what Padme would do, in my opinion. She might be attracted to him, might be attracted to the power he exudes, but in the end she would know better and let the idea go.

Side note: There’s no contesting that Padme is gorgeous. She probably has a dozen Senators and nobles offering to court her at any given time. There’s probably at least five serious Republic based fanclubs for her, plus at LEAST one underground Separatist one. A Jedi PADAWAN with an obvious crush on her isn’t going to set her off-balance that much.

-And OH BOY does letting go of pursuing a relationship with Anakin end up being the right idea.

-Remember that scene in AotC, where Anakin’s bitching about the Council and Obi-Wan limiting his abilities and power while Padme packs to leave for Naboo?

-Yeah, THAT ONE.

-Any self respecting woman knows that when a guy starts bitching like that (and not venting frustrations or talking, BITCHING) an immediate red flag needs to go up.

I’ve met guys that did stuff like that, over similar topics that Anakin whined about, in a similar attitude, and WHOO BOY.

At best, they were apathetic disasters that had no motivation for life and minimal empathy for others. Classic selfish assholes.

At worst, they were actual sociopaths/psychopaths (and, yes, I’m dead serious).

-And, even if Padme has sympathy for Anakin’s “predicament” (more on that at another date), his behavior clearly shows that he’s not ready for a relationship --even if he wasn’t a Jedi.

-So, aside from being off limits, he’s emotionally immature. End of story, end of attraction.

-BUT THEN: the flight to Naboo happens.

-And it’s OBVIOUS Anakin’s flirting with her.

-Which, ya know, awkward, but excusable.

-Until he tells her that he dreams about her.

Even as a preteen, nothing about this line was romantic to me. It did not “set fire” to my loins then, and it especially doesn’t now that I’m twenty.

Like, if the guy is not your partner, there’s nothing sweet about hearing that you’ve been “dreamed about.”

It’s really creepy. Like, when I was younger, I thought it was just cringey. Now that I’m older, it’s just creepy and a clear indication that Anakin either doesn’t care about Padme’s comfort or is just EXTREMELY bad at reading emotional and social cues.

I mean, I’d buy the latter, because --ya know--the Jedi order, but the context doesn’t change that it only repels/destroys any growing attraction.

-So now, Anakin’s gone from “forbidden fruit,” to “arrogant and emotionally immature,” to “awkward, but forgivable,” to “awkward and creepy.”

-And they’re going to spend a lot of time together in an isolated location with minimal contact with other people.

-And, ladies, we all know what we do when we hit situations like that:

Spend as little time with the person as possible and contact for help/a replacement, that’s right!

-So, assuming that Padme goes this route, the kiss scene never happens. The scene with the black dress:

(Yeah, that ^^^^^ dress) Never happens. Ever.

-Anakin still has nightmares about his mother, and Padme still agrees to help, because one of Padme’s best personality traits is her compassion for others.

-They go to Tatooine. Padme dresses much more sensibly for the environment because she is a smart, educated woman with a vast wardrobe and because she’s trying to deflect attention from Anakin.

-Anakin murders the Tusken Raiders after his mother dies. Padme finds out (in a group setting, not one on one, because she’s smart enough to not isolate herself with him) and Anakin goes from an “awkward and creepy” to a “get me the fuck out of here, please.”

-They stay on Tatooine, as told, so that Padme doesn’t have to spend a lot of time with Anakin, in space, alone. This is because Padme is smart, and knows that going to a Separatist world as a Republic Senator without cover, a plan, or an idea of what she’s getting into with a guy that just murder dozens of sentient beings is not a good idea.

-Obi Wan is rescued. The Clone Army comes to save the day. Dooku gets away. Anakin and Padme are picked up by a Republic cruiser and escorted back to Coruscant.

-There is no confession of love from Padme, and no secret wedding. Padawan and Senator part ways, and Padme heaves a sigh of relief for it.

-Revenge of the Sith continues without the marriage/pregnancy sub-plot.

No one cares, because it wasn’t that convincing to begin with.

-Padme lives, and goes on to be a founder and major actor in the Underground resistance.

-Anakin goes on to be Vader by downfall via insecurity. There’s more than enough for Palpatine to manipulate without Padme in the picture.

Essentially, what bugs me about the Padme/Anakin sub-plot is that it’s deeply misogynistic and shows an utter lack of knowledge on writing women well. Padme’s status as a politician is little more than a necklace --a dazzling piece of flashy jewelry that, aside from looking good, serves no real purpose in the movies.

(I’ll grant that Padme’s status as a Senator is used far better in the TV show, but I think the full potential was never truly reached. But more on that later.)

Aside from a tiny handful of scenes, we never see her act as a Senator. We never see her using her years of experience and expertise to negotiate deals, suggest new policies, or advise the Queen she serves. We got to see Palpatine do that in Phantom Menace, but we never get to see Padme do it in the movies.

In addition, it’s abundantly and PAINFULLY clear that George Lucas doesn’t know how to write female characters, much less female characters in love. Padme doesn’t have a specific, consistent characterization in the movies. She’s all over the page, especially in Revenge of the Sith. Her emotional range is wildly underwhelming, and her intellectual prowess is completely stifled by having all the plot point lines go to the men around her.

(And I don’t mean that Natalie Portman’s emotional range is underwhelming. Movie!Padme’s emotional range is underwhelming. In my opinion, Natalie Portman got handed a shitty script and did her best.)

In the long run, Movie!Padme is nothing but Anakin’s arm candy. She rarely makes choices for herself, rarely gets to do anything that the men around her don’t approve of, and rarely has a scene without Anakin.

Also, Padme isn’t a woman in love. There isn’t one convincing moment of narrative in the movies OR the books. She just seems uncomfortable, unhappy, or disturbed. We can believe that Anakin has a crush on/obsession with Padme because of his behavior and body language, but that’s never reflected by Padme.

Side note: Anakin lists his reasons for “loving” Padme as her beauty (possibly her compassion) and the fact that she “kissed him.” Padme never gives one reason in the movies for why she loves Anakin.

Think about it.

Anyway, TL;DR: the Padme/Anakin relationship makes no sense, is poorly written, and goes against basic female behaviors towards guys like Anakin.

Sweet Memories (Tfp Knockout x Reader)

This request comes from http://skyannaj.tumblr.com/ who requested ‘ Can I get a Knockout x Reader where the reader is an Autobot fem, but built more like Bee than Arcee, & her alt is a purple 65 mustang? She & Knockout fall in love after discovering they share a love of racing & pristine paint jobs (though she's not as narcissistic as he is) & he leaves the Cons & begs his way into joining the Autobots because he loves her & can't stand the idea of possibly being forced to hurt her. (extra.. Breakdown ends up joining too because Knockout's his best friend).’ Hope this is something along the lines of what you were looking for.

It wasn’t that busy of a day at the Autobot base so you spent it waxing your frame in your berth room. It was a weekly ritual of yours, after a week of fighting Con’s and looking worst for wear it was nice to pamper yourself a little. You had just finished up your waxing session when Optimus called you to the control centre, Bee had been out on a run and it seemed that your partner had a small run in with a Con. Naturally, you were the one called to get him out of his mess, it was always you to go and rescue Bee. You were matched by Bee in most ways, from the shape of your frame to the training as a scout but while he chose a bright yellow alt mode you decided a deep purple best suited your personality.

“Expect hostiles when you arrive at Bumblebee’s location.” Optimus informed you once you arrived and the coordinates were punched in for the Ground bridge.

“Sure thing, Op.” You shouted back as you ran through the now open Ground bridge. The place you were standing was covered by a rain cloud which pelted water droplets on you, it seemed to be a large farming field of sorts. Bee stood out against the grim background, he was in alt mode being chased by a red Con who was hot on his tail. Upon seeing you, Bee changed his course so he didn’t run you over but as his wheels changed direction they kicked up a large wave of mud that washed all over you, covering you from helm to pede.

“Oh god.” The worried beeps of Bee reached your audials as he transformed out of alt mode and promptly backed away from you. He seemed to have the right idea because just as he was out of reach, you lunged at him in anger with a cry of rage.

“Bee!” You screeched his name as he continued to dodge your well-placed punches and kicks, you tired yourself out before he did which is when you actually took in the damage to your once beautiful frame. “I just waxed!” You shouted at him again. Your arguing stopped the Con in his tracks, he was a little blown away that an Autobot would stop a rescue mission because of her ruined paintjob. He transformed and shot a small beam between Bee and yourself so that now your optics were focused on him.

“He all but wrecked my paintjob as well!” Knockout shouted to the two of you making you look over him with a critical optic. The Cherry red Mech had indeed suffered some damage to his chest plate in the form of punch scrapes and burn marks but overall your damage was all over while his was concentrated, you deduced that yours was worse. It was different for a Mech to take such pride in his frame, it was a nice change to the Mechs that you worked with. Primus knows how much Wheeljack would look presentable if he let you give him a paint job.

“He sadly has no respect for things of beauty,” You informed Knockout as Bee stood defensively, you on the other hand was trying to remove as much grime as possible to at least look decent in front of the handsome Mech. “Like yourself.” You smirked as you said the last part, pretending to look over your digits before your optics flickered up to him in a teasing manner. Knockout looked at you quizzically before his intake rose in to a sly smile as he watched you nonchalantly brush some mud from one of your curved legs.

“It takes one to know one, Sweetspark,” He flirted with you, thinking that if you were going to start it then he can very well finish it. “Speaking of, how is it we’ve never met? Did the Autobots try to hide such a delectable specimen as yourself?” You let out a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff at his slick words, the Mech certainly knew how to sweet talk a Femme, that was for sure.

“I’ve been working in the background this whole time, probably because they were worried about what would happen if we did meet.” You explained, much to Bee’s annoyance who beeped irritably at you. In response, you flicked some of the mud from your servo at him. Knockout raised an optic ridge at your answer before grinning at you, a menacing yet enchanting action.

“Oh, what do they expect to happen, were we to meet?” He asked you in an innocent tone but you knew that there were probably thousands of scenarios running through his helm, like they were also running through yours. You opened your intake to reply but was cut off when Bee sent out a electric pulse towards Knockout, putting the Mech in to temporary stasis as he hit the mucky ground.

“Now that you’ve stopped making googly optics at the enemy, mind if we get back to base? I think you need an oil shower.” Bee communicated in an annoyed tone before you smiled sheepishly at him. You glanced one last time at the Con before you walked through the Ground Bridge, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time you met.

+-+

After the fiasco, today with the Con and the muddy situation, you decided to go out and race. Like the pampering sessions, it was a nice way to relax after a strenuous day especially a day like this were you spent a good two hours making sure you were fully rid of the mud you were previously covered in.

“Well aren’t you the most beautiful 65 Mustang I ever laid optics on.” You were barely in the starting line-up for 5 seconds when Knockout’s voice sounded over your Comms and the Red Aston Martin himself pulled up next to you. “You look a lot better than you did earlier.”

“Yeah, I was in the oil shower for hours making sure I was presentable for the race,” You said as your optics scanned his frame, seeing that it now gleamed instead of being marred by scratches and burns. “You clean up nice.” You spoke appreciatively, earning a rev from Knockout’s engines.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet, Sweetspark. I’m Knockout, Decepticon Medic.” He introduced himself, a small buzz of static was passed to you from his frame which jolted you slightly. You also noticed how his electro-field was changing in an attempt to interact with yours, according to Ratchet it was the Earth equivalent to pheromones released when trying to find a mate. It sent a shudder down your spinal strut to think he was already looking at you as a potential mate, while it was true Cybertronians usually knew who their Conjunx Endura was within the first few interaction, it was strange to think it was happening to you. But you would play hard to get for, it was in your nature.

“Y/N, Autobot spy.” You replied, not sending out any sort of electro-field but sending your own version of static his way.

“Oh, you are a little tease.” He purred through the Comms as the human running the race came to stand in front of the line-up of cars. You smirked to yourself at his words, watching as the human lifted up a piece of fabric. As they were about to bring the fabric down, you sent out a wave of electro-field which distracted Knockout so you and the other cars could speed off to the finish line.

“A little tease that’s going to win.” You chuckled happily as you watched Knockout finally start the race, trying his hardest to catch up to the other competitors and, more importantly, you as you lead the way in first place.

“You’re on.” He spoke in an almost threat but you could tell he was excited at the prospect of the chase. That night, you finished in first place barley an inch ahead of Knockout who had managed to catch up to you. You lead Knockout to one of your favourite site’s, a cliff overlooking the ocean, and you spoke of the Autobots and Decepticons, the war you were both stuck in and the wonders of the human planet. You hadn’t even realised you had fallen into recharge until you woke up to find a soundly recharging Knockout lying next to you.

-+-

About two months after the race, spending most nights in each other’s company without the knowledge of the factions, Knockout sent out a message to the Autobot base asking for a meeting with the Autobot ranks. You begged to go along with the others, not letting slip about you and Knockout, and after much deliberation Optimus agreed to you tagging along. Once all of the Autobots walked out of the Ground Bridge, you found yourself in a forest clearing surrounded by huge sycamore trees. In the centre of the clearing was Knockout, his arms raised to show he came in peace but that didn’t stop the Autobots from aiming their weapons at him.

“You wished to speak.” Optimus boomed out, staying diplomatic about the situation. You were being shielded by Bumblebee but you couldn’t help your spark pulsing wildly at the look of Knockout so vulnerable to the Autobots.

“I humbly request to join the Autobots.” Knockout spoke slowly and simply, making sure that he got his message well and truly across. You felt your spark drop in your chest plate at what he said, your optics growing wide at the notion he was actually willing to join the Autobots.

“You must be joking,” Wheeljack scoffed from next to you, guns out and focused on Knockout’s helm. “What a load of slag!” The Wrecker yelled out, you turned to him and shushed him non-to silently before motioning to Optimus who seemed like he wanted to speak.

“Why the change of factions?” Optimus asked Knockout once you quieted Wheeljack who was currently glaring holes into your helm. You kept your optics on Knockout, watching how his own red optics switched from Optimus to you momentarily.

“I first and foremost signed up to be a medic, my reasoning for siding with the Decepticons was because I abhorred the idea of caste’s. I fought for that ideal but now it has been blown out of proportion. Megatron now fights for power and to satisfy his hunger for causing pain and damage wherever he goes, and I don’t believe in that.” Knockout informed the autobots who seemed to actually take in to account what he was saying. Knockout had told you of how he was becoming conflicted with the Decepticon regime, you had suggested he join the Autobots in jest and he even laughed at the idea. Yet here he was, requesting to join.

“I’m afraid we can’t allow you to join, Knockout. You say you have changed but we have no proof.” Optimus spoke with authority, his answer surprised you in all honesty, you thought he would have at least gave Knockout a chance.

“Wait, what?” You asked, stepping out from behind Bumblebee so that you were now standing between the Autobots and the lone Decepticon. “How is that a reason for refusing him?” You asked Optimus who looked a bit startled that you put yourself in this situation. Bee looked like he was about to have a spark attack and tried to urge you to come back into the ranks.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.” Knockout told you, sending out soothing electro-waves to try and calm you down. It was risky for him to do this, no doubt the Autobots were aware of the waves which is why they turned to the both of you in questioning.

“No Knockout, there is no reason to refuse you,” You told him as you turned your helm towards him before turning back to face the giant that was Optimus Prime. “What about Drift? You allowed him to join once he swore loyalty, in fact I remember you being eager to say yes to him. So why are you hesitant now?” You asked Optimus, betrayal lacing your voice at the fact he was trying to turn away the Mech you had fallen in love with.

“Drift revoked his guns, and he showed his change. I’ve got no evidence that Knockout has changed for the better.” Optimus tried to explain his reasoning but you were having none of it.

“I have spent every night for the past two months with Knockout, there have been times when he has been called to fight you but do you know what he did? He ignored his orders in favour of staying with me. He is giving up the Decepticons because he has found a better life with me!” You raised your voice in plead, trying so hard to get Optimus to see what you saw. What you said struck a nerve amongst the Autobots who one-by-one started to lower their guns, instead opting to look at you with understanding. A few moments passed before Optimus smiled softly toward you, turning his gun back in to his servo before looking over your head to Knockout.

“I trust Y/N’s word, it seems you have changed for the better,” Optimus began before looking back to you. “I’m glad you have found happiness, old friend. Now bring you happiness back to base with you.” Optimus turned around to call for a Ground Bridge which caused a sigh of relief to escape from you, you then turned to Knockout and ran to the Mech who promptly scooped you up into his arms and held you to him. You never wanted to be separate from him again.

 =-=

“What are you doing awake?” The sleepy voice of your Conjunx Endura crept into your audials as he held you closer to him. You had been kept awake by memories of your past, mainly concerning the milestones in yours and Knockout’s relationship. A smile spread across your faceplate as you turned to face your red eyed love. Knockout’s vanity kept him from changing his optic colour to blue like yours and the rest of the autobots, he liked to keep his appearance uniform and impeccable.

“I could ask you the same question.” You replied cheekily to which the mech placed his derma to yours in a soft kiss.

“I have to go and help Ratchet in the Med lab, apparently Wheeljack has been trying to get his hands on some surgery tools.” Knockout explained, you laughed at the reason he was awake. You could imagine the Comm that he had got from the older medic. You nuzzled into his chest plate for a few seconds before three loud knocks sounded on the door to yours and Knockout’s berthroom, the door slid open to reveal Breakdown who beamed at the two of you while a certain red and purple sparkling hung from his arm.

“This one woke me up again.” Breakdown grumbled in fake annoyance at the antics of your sparkling. You sat up in the berth while Knockout remained laying and opened your arms out to the sparkling who immediately jumped to you.

“That’s because you are her beloved Uncle,” Knockout mumbled before smirking at his best friend. “Plus, I told her to.” He admitted as the little femme began giggling at the faces you were making.

“Mumma, Wheeljack promised to take me flying in the Jack Hammer today,” Your sparkling spoke excitedly before sitting down with a thought struck face. “He said he needed to repair it first though.” You laughed joyfully at your little one, she had been spoilt ever since she was a protoform and had been heavily protected by the Autobot forces.

“That’s why he’s trying to get the tools.” Knockout spoke in a tired manner, trying to slip back in to recharge however his medical assistant wouldn’t allow that.

“Come on Doc, you’ve been called.” Breakdown coaxed Knockout making the red mech groan in annoyance before he gave up and got out of bed, following Breakdown out of the room but not before giving you and your sparkling a kiss on the helm. Once they were gone, your little one turned to you with sparkling optics.

“I haven’t told anyone, Mumma,” She spoke quietly before placing a hand over your spark were not one, but two sparks were pulsing. “About my little brother or sister.” She said as she pressed her helm that looked a lot like Knockout’s against your chest plate.

“Good femme, it’s a surprise for Daddy.” In reality it wasn’t a surprise but you wanted to see the look on Knockout’s face when he realised you were once again carrying his sparkling.

Author Bio: Whether she’s writing about Celtic Druids, Victorian bad boys, or brash Irish FBI Agents, Kerrigan Byrne uses her borderline-obsessive passion for history, her extensive Celtic ancestry, and her love of Shakespeare in every book. She lives at the base of the Rocky Mountains with her handsome husband and three lovely teenage girls, but dreams of settling on the Pacific Coast. Her Victorian Rebels novels include The Highwayman and The Highlander. Summary: The Scot Beds His Wife is the next lush, captivating Victorian romance in the Victorian Rebels series by Kerrigan Byrne. They’re rebels, scoundrels, and blackguards—dark, dashing men on the wrong side of the law. But for the women who love them, a hint of danger only makes the heart beat faster. Gavin St. James, Earl of Thorne, is a notorious Highlander and an unrelenting Lothario who uses his slightly menacing charm to get what he wants— including too many women married to other men. But now, Gavin wants to put his shady past behind him…more or less. When a fiery lass who is the heiress to the land he wishes to possess drops into his lap, he sees a perfectly delicious opportunity… A marriage most convenient Samantha Masters has come back to Scotland, in a pair of trousers, and with a whole world of dangerous secrets from her time spent in the Wild West trailing behind her. Her only hope of protection is to marry—and to do so quickly. Gavin is only too willing to provide that service for someone he finds so disturbingly irresistible. But even as danger approaches, what begins as a scandalous proposition slowly turns into an all-consuming passion. And Gavin discovers that he will do whatever is necessary to keep the woman he has claimed as his own…

Chapter Two Union Pacific Railway, Wyoming Territory, Fall, 1880 Samantha Masters squeezed the trigger, planting a bullet between her husband’s beautiful brown eyes. She whispered his name. Bennett. Then screamed it. But it was the woman in his grasp she reached for as he fell to the ground. Though they’d known each other all of twenty minutes, she clung to Alison Ross as though the younger woman were the most precious soul in the entire world, and they sank to their knees as their strength gave out. Alison’s hold was just as tight around her, and their sobs burst against each other’s in a symphony of terror, shock, and abject relief. What in the hell just happened? Not twenty minutes ago, Samantha and Alison had been no more to each other than amiable fellow passengers on an eastbound train, chugging across the wintry landscape of the Wyoming Territory. What were they now? Enemies? Survivors? “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Samantha repeated the words with every short, sobbing exhale. Though she couldn’t have said who the apology was to, exactly. To Alison? To Bennett? To whoever had been shot on the other railcars? To God? This morning she’d been the irate, disillusioned wife of a charming and dangerous man. An insignificant and unwilling member of the outlaw Masters Gang. This afternoon, she’d been the new acquaintance and confidant to Alison Ross, commiserating over childhoods spent on secluded cattle ranches. This evening, because of what she’d just done, of what they’d all just done … chances were good that she’d be hanged. This train job was supposed to be like any other. Each of the Masters boarded on the last platform for miles and miles. To avoid detection or suspicion, Bennett, Boyd, and Bradley Masters would each take a seat in separate passenger cars. Samantha would be placed in the least populated car, usually first class, as it was also the least dangerous. Once civilization completely fell away, the signal was given, and the men would strike, rounding up all passengers into one car. This was done for the safety of the passengers as much as the Masters, themselves, as the gang didn’t generally rob people. Cash, jewelry, and personal items were never as valuable as actual cargo. The Union Pacific Railway didn’t only deliver citizens across the vast American continent. It delivered goods, sundries, and often … federal funds. Even in these modern times, when it seemed all the gold had been mined from the rich hills of California, American currency was still minted in the east. Which meant everything from company payrolls, to government bonds, to cash and precious metals were transported by transcontinental railways. And the Masters brothers, aspiring entrepreneurs, had decided that if the government wouldn’t allow them land, nor the banks grant them loans … Then they’d take what they needed. This was supposed to have been their fifth and final train job. It was supposed to have gone like the others. No one harmed or robbed. Merely a bit inconvenienced and perhaps a little shaken. The Masters would escape with a few bags of money that the government could simply print again, a “frightened” female hostage as played by Samantha herself, and the papers would have an exciting story to publish in the morning. The signal, both to each other and to the passengers, was one shot, fired at the ceiling, and then a command to disarm, get moving, and a gentle promise that all this would be over before they knew it. Samantha’s job was to act like any other passenger, and incite them to obey. Then, if necessary, act as the hostage to force compliance. “People are sheep,” Boyd had always said. “They’ll follow a sweet thing like you to their doom.” On this job, Samantha had been more comfortable than any other. At this time in October, with winter settling in but Christmas still a ways off, travel wasn’t foremost on the mind of the average American. Her railcar had only two occupants other than herself. Alison Ross, a lively, bright-eyed San Franciscan socialite, and a well-dressed businessman more interested in his paper than conversation. At first, Alison’s friendly overtures had vexed Samantha, as she found it hard to concentrate on responses when her blood sang with equal parts anticipation and anxiety. But, she realized, to not engage would be suspicious, and before long she’d found herself enjoying Alison’s company. She’d not known many women her age, least of all friendly ones. Samantha imagined that in another life, she and Alison could have, indeed, been friends. Had she not been about to rob the train. Had there not been more gunshots than were agreed upon … Had Boyd and Bradley not bailed with the money, leaving Bennett to come after his wife, his white shirt and dark vest splattered with blood. Oh God. What had they done? Over the deafening beat of her heart, she’d heard Bennett say something about federal marshals. About someone taking a bullet in the shoulder. Boyd? And then a shootout. Through vision blurred with tears, Samantha glanced at the businessman, dead-eyed and bleeding. Her fault. All her fault. Bennett had shot him without a word or warning. Then he’d grabbed Alison and put his pistol to her temple, because he’d known. He’d known the second he’d seen the horror and denial on Samantha’s face at the blood on his shirt, that she wouldn’t have gone with him. That, while she’d have stayed married to an outlaw, she could never love a murderer. “Come with me, Sam,” he’d ordered tersely. “Come with me now, and we will go to Oregon.” It was in that moment Samantha had known he lied to her. They’d fought about it the night before, when he’d said Boyd wanted to go south to Texas or the New Mexico Territory instead of north to Oregon like they’d planned. That oil towns were the new gold rush. She’d railed at him. It wasn’t the life he’d promised her. They were supposed to go to the sea to make their fortune in lumber. He was going to build her a grand house on a cliff and make love to her while serenaded by thunderstorms. They’d only just escaped their desolate life on a cattle ranch in the high desert. She didn’t want to go back to bleak sweaty days beneath the harsh, unrelenting sunshine. She wanted pretty green hills, trees, and meadows. She wanted to live somewhere she could wrap a shawl about her and listen to sea storms toss rain against her windows. Last night, she’d been shrill, and Bennett had been cruel. But he’d awoken his charming self, randy as he ever was before a dangerous job. And she’d lain beneath his thrusting body, unable to relinquish the churning of her resentments and worries enough to appreciate his affections. Then it was time to wash, and dress, and commit a crime. Bennett had promised to revisit the issue. To make her smile again, to fulfill her dreams. Problem was, Samantha had already lost faith in Bennett Masters’s charming promises. A part of her had begun to accept what she’d long feared. Bennett would never go against his brothers, brutal and backward as they were. If Boyd decreed the family was going south to work in stinking, desolate oil towns, then there was no other option but to do exactly that. Boyd had once whispered to her in secret that, while Bennett might love her, he feared him more, and fear was always more powerful than love. “He’d let me fuck you, if I wanted,” Boyd had threatened once when she’d been mouthy. He’d grabbed her through her trousers, his fingers digging painfully against her sex. “You’d best keep that in mind.” She’d never forgotten that night five months ago. Because she’d told Bennett of Boyd’s behavior. And, as Boyd predicted, he’d done nothing. Now, when Bennett held his pistol to this helpless woman’s head, and ordered Samantha to open the door to the railcar, she’d looked into the eyes of her husband of four years. And seen a stranger. “You’ll let her go,” she’d reasoned evenly. “You’ll let her go, and we’ll get out of here.” She’d opened the door. Bradley had the horses keeping pace with the train as it slowed around the McCreary Pass bend. She motioned to him, and he spurred his ride faster. They’d get off the train, and she’d figure out just what the hell had happened before making any hasty decisions. “She’s seen us.” Bennett’s words had frozen her blood as she realized that he wasn’t wearing his bandana. “People have seen us before,” she’d said over her shoulder. “Not like this, Sam. We can’t leave witnesses. She has to die—” Samantha had reached across her body, drawn her Colt single-action, turned, and shot him between the eyes in the time it took him to pull back the hammer of his highercaliber, slower-action Smith & Wesson. Only now, while clinging to a stranger on her knees, did she have time to think about what she’d just done. She’d killed a man. Not just any man. Her husband. “Thank you,” Alison said ardently against her ear. “Thank you. I know he was your man, but I wasn’t ready to die.” Pulling away from Alison, Samantha noted the mark that Bennett’s recently used gun left on her pale temple. He had to have killed before, hadn’t he? He just … murdered that innocent man like it was nothing to him. He didn’t even hesitate. And then to even consider executing a slight and lovely girl like Alison? Her husband of four years. God, had she ever known him at all? Wood paneling splintered above them as a bullet pierced the wall, and Alison screamed, lifting her arms to cover the green silk hat perched above a wealth of mahogany curls. Bradley. Samantha’s head whipped around to see that he’d gained on their car, and had witnessed the entire thing. Luckily, of the four of them, Bradley was the weakest shot and only the second-best rider. The distinction as the best, of course, belonged to her. Boyd was the gunslinger. Samantha dimly remembered Bennett saying that Boyd had been wounded, and with any luck, those wounds would be fatal. Bradley’s mount galloped closer, and Samantha realized that if he gained on the train, he’d be coming for her, and only one of them would survive the encounter. She’d found her gun where she’d dropped it, but Alison stayed her hand. “I know a way to keep your neck out of a noose,” she said, her blueberry gaze surprisingly steady through the tears. “But we’ll have to … to get rid of the body.” Samantha’s racing heart shriveled, but she and Alison stayed low as they rolled Bennett’s limp body the few feet to the door. “You’re dead, Sam!” Bradley, unable to reload his pistol on horseback, was reaching across his saddle for his rifle. Which gave the women no time to pause. No time to hesitate. Together, they pushed Bennett through the door, and the force of the train, the wind, and momentum pulled him sideways down the iron steps. The broken sounds his body made when he hit the earth nearly killed Samantha, but Alison slammed the door just as Bradley’s rifle had found purchase on his shoulder. Samantha could tell his shot went wild, and waited a few eternal seconds for another. Alison gathered her wealth of skirts and knelt on a seat, peeking through the window. “He’s stopped.” She breathed in obvious relief. “He’s stopped for your—for the body.” It was only then that Samantha began to shake. Great, bone-rattling tremors coursed through her. All warmth leached out of her, and she slumped into a seat knowing her freezing limbs wouldn’t hold her weight for much longer. Resolutely, Alison Ross claimed the seat across from her. A bone structure as sharp and perfect as hers was only accentuated by pink blush and rouged, full lips. Emeralds swayed and twinkled in her ears, catching the light as she leaned toward Samantha. “He called you Sam,” she noted in a sweet voice that contrasted with her sharp tone. “That’s your name?” “S-S-Samantha,” she managed through rattling teeth. “H-his brothers. T-they’re going to kill me. I’d rather hang.” “You told me you grew up on a cattle ranch. Was this the truth?” Samantha nodded, wondering if she’d ever be able to breathe again. Assaulted by the picture of Bennett’s handsome face marred by a perfectly round hole between his eyes. “You can shoot, obviously. Can you ride, herd cattle, work figures?” She nodded again, before the absurdity of Alison’s question registered. “W-why are you being kind to me? My—my husband almost—” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. It was too horrible. In spite of everything, a corner of Alison’s painted mouth lifted at Samantha’s expression. “Where I come from, in my country, saving a life is no small debt. Also, in my savage part of the world, from the time we’re very, very young one law is paramount to all others. Tha an lagh comraich.” “Comraich?” Samantha blinked rapidly at the lovely, obviously wealthy woman. Either she’d gone mad, or Alison was speaking in tongues. “It means sanctuary.” Shaking her head, Samantha tried to understand the woman. That word had no meaning to her. What was Alison talking about, her country? She didn’t look or sound at all like an immigrant. Was she not American? Had she not said she had a fiancé in San Francisco? That her family had been wealthy ranchers and she was forced to travel east to settle a land dispute? “I don’t know what you’ve been through, or what has happened to bring us to this place, but I think we can help each other,” the elegant woman was saying. “I’m lost,” were the only words Samantha could conjure. Hopelessly, incredibly lost. Adrift. Misplaced. In every conceivable way. Alison’s gaze gentled. “Tell me, Samantha, have you ever been to Scotland?” Copyright © 2017 by Kerrigan Byrne and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Beautifully Captivating! Oh how I love historical Scottish romance stories and this one is just so captivating from the beginning to the end. As with all of her books, the story pulls you in, leaves you a little breathless, and keeps you in its grasp until the end, not wanting to come up for air. 
Gavin St.James Earl of Thorne had seen and experienced terror and cruelty as a child by his father that left scars, not only on his body, but also his mind and heart. He promised that he would not be like his father or like a Mackenzie, ever, and it was that promise that led him to want to purchase the estate next to Inverthorne Keep, to be rid of the Mackenzie hold on him. 
Samantha Masters squeezed the trigger and shot her husband between his eyes, the woman in his grasp she reached for before she fell to the ground. She had only met Alison Ross twenty minutes ago, but she clung to her as she was the most precious soul in the world. That morning she had been the irate, disillusioned wife of a charming and dangerous man. A unwilling member of the outlaw Master’s gang. This afternoon she had been the new acquaintance and confident to Alison Ross talking about their childhoods spent on cattle ranches. What had she done? Nobody was suppose to die on this job and now she would probably be hanged. 
When these two cross paths as Samantha poses as Alison, when she gets off the train at Strathcarron Station, in Scotland, their attraction is shockingly captivating. But, Alison is not willing to give up the land that Gavin is so forcefully trying to get from her. Especially after her friend has been so kind to let her flee to, and stay on her property, as long as she wants to stay. She will need to make the most of her situation especially with a bounty on her head and her husband’s brothers out for possible revenge and may be after her. But the attraction between the two is hard for Gavin to ignore, and what better way to get what he wants but to marry in to it. But it will take danger and a lot more, for Alison to agree to his terms. Alison has more secrets than Gavin can even imagine. But will he find out to late to save his own heart? You will need to read this to find out. 
These two are incredibly sweet together and I loved their chemistry. I was expecting a much more rough around the edges type of man, but who I got was so incredibly kind and generous. I totally fell for Gavin and so will you. 
Received an ARC through the publisher via NetGalley and voluntarily wrote an honest review.

BASIC INFORMATION

♚┋FULL NAME: Ronan Morrison  ♚┋PRONUNCIATION:  Ro-nohn ♚┋NICKNAME(S): Buttercup (by Cían) ♚┋TITLE: The Damned ♚┋OCCUPATION: Escort  ♚┋~AGE: 30 ♚┋DATE OF BIRTH: 23rd July ♚┋GENDER: Genderfluid ♚┋PRONOUNS:  He/Him/His ♚┋ORIENTATION: Homoromantic Homosexual ♚┋NATIONALITY: French ♚┋RELIGION: Agnostic Atheist ♚┋SPECIES: Human ♚┋AFFILIATION: Morrison ♚┋GENERATION: Third ♚┋THREAT LEVEL: Moderate 

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

♚┋FACE CLAIM: Nicolas Simoes ♚┋EYE COLOUR: Hazel ♚┋HAIR COLOUR: Brown ♚┋DOMINANT HAND: Right ♚┋HEIGHT: 6′2 ♚┋WEIGHT: 176 lbs ♚┋TATTOOS: The name of his first love in his handwriting mirrored on his collarbone. ♚┋SCARS: actually has scars from a brain surgery when he was younger but they’re covered by his hair.  ♚┋PIERCINGS: No. ♚┋GLASSES: contacts.Glasses are ugly, he says. 

PSYCHOLOGY INFORMATION

♚┋JUNG TYPE: ENFJ ♚┋SUBTYPE: Intuitive ♚┋ENNEATYPE: 6w7 ♚┋MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral ♚┋TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine ♚┋SCHEMA: AS, DS, FA ♚┋INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Bodily-Kinesthetic, Musical ♚┋~IQ: 115 ♚┋NEUROTYPE: Neurotypical ♚┋AT RISK? No.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

♚┋HOMETOWN: Rouen, France ♚┋CURRENT:  Dublin, Ireland ♚┋LANGUAGE(S): French, English ♚┋SOCIAL CLASS: Lower class until he was adopted by Eoghan.  ♚┋DEGREE: Bachelor  ♚┋SUBJECT(S): music, music theory, vocal training, and musicology  ♚┋PARENT #1: Claire Brissaud neé Poulin ♚┋PARENT #2: René Brissaud  ♚┋SIBLING(S): none ♚┋MAIN SHIP: none ♚┋RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single ♚┋CHILDREN: none ♚┋PET(S): no, thank you. ♚┋ADOPTED? Yes ♚┋RAP SHEET?  No. ♚┋PRISON TIME? No.

VICES / HABITS

♚┋SMOKES? No. ♚┋DRINKS? No. ♚┋DOES DRUGS? No. ♚┋IS VIOLENT? frankly, Ronan is not the least bit prone to violence if it can be helped; but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t mugged or smashed a whiskey bottle over somebody’s head before either. So, when he is violent, it is almost always physical.  ♚┋HAS AN ADDICTION?  Yes. Although he hasn’t touched alcohol for nearly a decade and doesn’t show any signs of relapse, Ronan is very aware of the fact that he will never be addiction-free.  ♚┋IS SELF-DESTRUCTIVE? Yes. ♚┋HABITS: stubborn bare-foot walker (has walked bare-foot on the streets before no fucks given), playing with his hair when he’s tired, doesn’t like to stand in a room with his back exposed (always leaning on something if possible) ♚┋HOBBIES: baking in the middle of the night only to doze for a few more hours, eggshell carving, hard-core karaoke fan ( if you’re ever in a karaoke bar with him and hear we will rock you, just...........run), also a skater boi ♚┋TICS: List all tics your character has ♚┋OBSESSION(S): List all obsessions your character has ♚┋COMPULSION(S): List all compulsions your character has

MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION

♚┋HOUSE: Hufflepuff ♚┋VICE: Envy ♚┋VIRTUE: Lust ♚┋ELEMENT: Earth  ♚┋ANGEL: An angel that can be associated with your character ♚┋MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Anael ♚┋ANIMAL: Otter  ♚┋MUTATION: power absorption  ♚┋WOULD SURVIVE POST-APOC? Yes.

STATUS INFORMATION

♚┋DEVELOPMENT:  Semi-developed ♚┋SHIPPING: multiship ♚┋VERSE: crime ♚┋VERSE TYPE: crime ♚┋CANON: crime ♚┋PLOTTING: open  ♚┋CREATION DATE: technically, this is a refined version of Avery, so probably...2014. 

CHARACTER SUMMARY

The limelight loves him, that’s for sure, albeit not in thespian glory-sort-of way. From poor French suburbia into the lap of a criminal --- there’s enough material for several front page articles. So he is, perforce, a cat in human form: needy, self-absorbed, volatile and, quite possibly, really stellar at situational assholery. But his life became ever so skewed when Ronan had his face smashed into the front door for something he can’t control. His sexuality. Ever since then, home has been an escape from home; a from hand to mouth existence entirely at the mercy of passer-by. This, however understandable it might be, hasn’t made him resentful or cruelly righteous. All characteristic blemishes aside, Ronan is a good guy, a cool guy, and he can take the sorrow off your shoulders for a sweet night. He has been a perpetrator too often in his past; the crimes carved into his memory weigh heavily on him. Entertaining – dancing, in a word – is his take on atonement. That’s really all he can hope for, entrenched in menace as he is.

APPEARANCE DESCRIPTION

At over six feet, Ronan has well grown accustomed to towering over particularly tiny people. Unlike most members in the family, he is less than enthusiastic (the only interesting sport, he will have you know, being sex) about physical exertion than the rest of the Morrisons. As such, Ronan has to be dragged to his martial arts classes and is perpetually pestered by Alannah to follow his train regimen. Consequently, his physique is less defined; his muscles lean, his arms thin. Ever since he left France behind as a teen, moreover, Ronan’s originally thick accent has diminished exponentially, though if one listens closely, especially when he’s tired. Also, his wardrobe is situational: if it’s a client meeting, then a suit is non-negotiable. When Ronan has the choice, however, he kind of looks like Oscar in a garbage can. Really, vanity is so passé if you ask him. There’s nothing extraordinary about his face, however attractive it may be. Brown eyes, brown hair.

PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION

His personality is partially a chimera between a cat and a dog with a bone-idle work attitude towards most everything unless it includes giving him attention --- and ample of it, please. Simultaneously, though, Ronan will just as gladly do the same in return, showing a genuine appreciation for whatever people willingly give to him. If he trusts you, he will stick by your side, regardless of all the lies he is compelled to tell as to his occupation. Essentially, Ronan is hard to pin down. With strangers, he can be steadfast in his honesty, and quite affectionate if that brightens their day just a little. His entertaining, spontaneous persona as a dancer is, after all, his fraudulent shot at redemption. At the same time, though, Ronan is psychologically scarred, often leaving his mind in a place of constant vigilance. Especially around his family, he reacts defensively, sarcastic and all too belligerent. Because he can’t really shake off the monsters of his childhood, Ronan always feels anxious to some extent. Either he overindulges in physical escapades with others or he stubbornly confronts his fears in a futile effort to be free of them. Despite all his empathy, though, a paragon of decorum, he is not. In fact, he tends to be coercive (because he’s right), judgmental (because you’re wrong) and much too needy for attention. What he struggles with most is dissent; his self-sacrificing side is downright self-destructive.

SKILLS / COMPETENCES

First and foremost, Ronan is bilingual, able to speak French and English with proficiency. In contrast to this, though, are his non-existent Irish skills. Quite probably the only one in the family who doesn’t speak a lick of Irish, he simply cannot be bothered to make the effort. What he really excels at beyond compare is his astonishing body control when he dances. As a result of this, Ronan has an astute understanding of his own body and can be described as athletic. In his free time, he seeks to expand on the kind of dancing styles he has already “mastered”. Currently, Ronan feels most comfortable with ballet, though modern dances aren’t outside of his abilities as a dancer either. Though regarded an alternative to classical disciplines, he is also fond of contemporary dance. But that’s not all. Being able to play multiple instruments, it is not a stretch to say that this boy is quite the musician. He can play the piano, the saxophone and sometimes he also passive aggressively plays his ukulele. Don’t ask him to do your accounting lest you are keen on ending up in debt. Unsurprisingly, he has a degree in music and went on to pursue musicology and vocal training.

INTERPERSONAL MANNER

How he treats you is very situational. Around his customers, moodiness isn’t really good for business so you won’t really have any ground for complaints there. He will be engaging, flirtatious, amiable and fun to be around. Everybody has their shadowy sides as well, though, and this usually manifests in being judgmental, belligerent, coercive, insensitive, unfairly partisan in his opinions, hysterical, suspicious and backstabbing. When in an argument, Ronan tends to just shut down, stubbornly ignoring the issue for harmony’s sake. This is when he becomes spineless in his perpetual yes-sayer-dom. Moreover, as much as he wants to trust others, Ronan frequently finds he just doesn’t have it in him, preferring instead to keep his relationships casual and without any strings attached. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy being around people – he really does – but given his anxious inhibitions, he’d much rather play it safe and live according to how the guiding figures in his life tell him to.

INSPIRED BY: Dandelion (The Witcher), The Cheshire Cat (AIW)

SCHEMAS:

DS:  DEFECTIVENESS / SHAME  (DS)     The feeling that one is defective, bad, unwanted, inferior, or invalid in important respects; or that one would be unlovable to significant others if exposed. May involve hypersensitivity to criticism, rejection, and blame; self-consciousness, comparisons, and insecurity around others; or a sense of shame regarding one's perceived flaws. These flaws may be private (e.g., selfishness, angry impulses, unacceptable sexual desires) or public (e.g., undesirable physical appearance, social awkwardness).

AS:  APPROVAL-SEEKING  /  RECOGNITION-SEEKING  (AS)    Excessive emphasis on gaining approval, recognition, or attention from other people, or fitting in, at the expense of developing a secure and true sense of self.  One's sense of esteem is dependent primarily on the reactions of others rather than on one's own natural inclinations.  Sometimes includes an overemphasis on status, appearance, social acceptance, money, or achievement --  as means of gaining approval, admiration, or attention (not primarily for power or control). Frequently results in major life decisions that are inauthentic or unsatisfying;  or in hypersensitivity to rejection.

FA: FAILURE TO ACHIEVE  (FA)     The belief that one has failed,  will inevitably fail, or is fundamentally inadequate relative to one's peers, in areas of achievement (school, career, sports, etc.). Often involves beliefs that one is stupid, inept, untalented, ignorant, lower in status, less successful than others, etc.