and probably sent it to simon

onlygeorgeshelley  asked:

I'm intrigued by your post about the "legalgrind" thing in the teasers, and I'm fully on board with the possibility (more probability in my head) that this song is a drag/shade on Simon/Syco/Sony/SJPR and anyone else who's fucked him over these last seven years. I even sent Amy an note about it on Friday (I told her she didn't need to reply, I was just venting). In any case, you seem to be alluding the possibility that this may mean something else. May I ask what you think it might be?

I made a reply but mobile Tumblr ate it… I’m sorry.

I think Louis knew that he couldn’t publicly acknowledge that BTY was from personal experience– and maybe even suspected that he would have to say so during promo.

He compensated by using the BTY teaser to outline his reality, and also to mention that his album was honest.

I realized, while listening today, how BTY was an inverse of Just Hold On. Where the promised reunion in JHO was reassuring and consoling (“You can be who you were, or who you’ll become”), in BTY, reunion is not healthy. It’s poisonous, disorienting, and almost done against one’s will. It’s Stockholm Syndrome– without the warm overtones. “You got me cornered and my hands are tied.”

The singer has lost a sense of who he is– “I don’t even know myself, I don’t own the way I feel.” He’s in pain. He’s forced to play wicked games. The laughter is not joyful but numbing. The “someone else” isn’t a romantic partner but a business partner.

I know you say you know me, know me well
But these days I don’t even know myself, no
I always thought I’d be with someone else
I thought I would own the way I felt, yeah

I call you but you never even answer
I tell myself I’m done with wicked games
But then I get so numb with all the laughter
That I forget about the pain


He keeps getting pulled back into situations that are stressful and emotionally damaging. His reputation gets dragged (“you drag me down,” perhaps a reference to MITAM), he can’t stop it (“I don’t know how to make it stop,” “I can’t take it”) but he keeps going back– signing with Syco, working with JGG/ SJPR/ being interviewed by Wootton.

Whoa, you stress me out, you kill me
You drag me down, you fuck me up
We’re on the ground, we’re screaming
I don’t know how to make it stop
I love it, I hate it
And I can’t take it
But I keep on coming back to you

And I guess you’ll never know
All the bullshit that you put me through
And I guess you never know, no
Yeah, so you can cut me up and kiss me harder
You can be the pill to ease the pain

Compare these lyrics from Zayn’s lUcOzAdE:

Seeing the pain side in this house of fear
Time heals pain and promotes self-soothing
I’m getting caught up in the feelings that they bring
A lack of sanity, losing touch with reality
I’m tryna fucking scream but the words won’t come out.


I see lUcOzAdE as a metaphor for things they do to mask the pain– literal things, like pills and sugary drinks– as well as metaphoric things, like songs and albums.

“Cut me up and kiss me harder” is a violent imagery– to show the supposedly good things done for Louis (Triple Strings, AGT, girl band, Eleanor) that are actually unwelcome, like a forced kiss. The song’s spareness is no mistake. Louis wanted every word to be heard. And he does have full creative control of his art.

anonymous asked:

Sorry but am I the only one SOBBING after Louis' interview???? So much of it just hurt my heart but a lot of it just made me even prouder and jfc I have too many emotions rn pls tell me I'm not alone

…I mean…I liked the pictures? 

I’ve been thinkin about this a lot. So I’m going to elaborate.

When it comes to just about anything to do with Louis this is 100% me

And while there were definitely parts of the interview that had me wanting to cry in a very not so cool way, a lot of it just didn’t quite sit well with me. I’m not surprised with how they’re marketing Louis, since this is the same incompetent “team” that’s been behind his PR for years, but the content of the interview just had me like  

Let’s focus on the positive for a moment…he looks incredible.

Like

But then as you start to add headlines to these photos it’s gets a bit…eh

Louis is so incredibly talented as both a a singer and songwriter and this narrative is disappointing because when you’re trying to launch someone’s solo SINGING career, exactly what good does it do to begin a headline with “Not the best singer”? 

Which is why when people praise this article saying how great it is I’m like

There are certainly very honest and raw moments in this article, and I do think it was well written. The parts of actual dialogue are gripping, but the way in which they’re framed sells Louis short in my opinion. I can’t sit here and say, “Wow this part was great and I’m just going to ignore all the other bits that kind of stuck out as odd to me.” 

They are using the same, and I mean the EXACT same, marketing tactics that they used with One Direction.

They’ve always tried to sell him as this working class Donny lad figure, which I’m pretty sure is why his relationship with Jamie Vardy has been so heavily publicised (aside from the rumours that he’ll play him in the biopic), but they’ve really made it sound like if he hadn’t made it into One Direction that he’d be mining coal somewhere right now…

And as ever, his image is tightly wound around a heterosexual “he’s taken” narrative. 

The difference between the use of “girlfriend” and “partner” is significant in that it implies permanence and adding fatherhood to that really shows how aggressively they’re veering away from targeting a young female audience demographic in terms of traditional marketing. They managed to put all that information into this article without any actual words from Louis.

The unfortunate thing about this article, is that the two things Louis actually talked about the least are now becoming the focal point of the narrative. 

Like, okay. We get it. He is doing the sex with the women. And all these seemingly random pap shots and snapchat cameos are suddenly coming out of the woodwork and they still can’t get a new quote about it…

What concerns me is that they’ve used their first opportunity to market Louis’ solo career this way. The end of the article is oddly dark and unsettling…

What the hell even was that? Like a pat on the back and a “Good luck kid,” as he chain smokes into the sunset? The vibe was very

And yeah, there have been some aggressive injustices in Louis’ life, no one should have to lose their mother that young and that suddenly, and I thought that part of the article was extremely well handled and verbalised. But, as someone who has appreciated Louis’ talent for years now, this article really didn’t have to make his insecurities the focal point. He didn’t have to diminish his existing collaborations by saying that he couldn’t get “big names” in the studio with him, therefore now isolating himself from pretty much everyone in the music industry. And the fact Simon Cowell got a nod in the article was like, “Hi! I’m a red flag!”

Like, Jesus Christ, he was put in a boy band, not sent to war. And if you’re telling me that Simon Cowell can’t pick up the phone and get big name writers into a room with Louis Tomlinson then I don’t know what to say. What bothers me the most is that this entire article sounds like a regurgitated speech from Simon Cowell that he probably used to manipulate Louis over the past five years. Despite his HUGE fan base, which has made him the most engaged with celebrity on Instagram, someone is still telling Louis he isn’t a frontman, when he has a global audience telling him the exact opposite. This article makes it sound like Syco is taking some kind of chance on one of the most successful musicians of the last decade. Louis wrote more of One Direction’s songs than any other member and there’s absolutely no reason to make his debut album sound more dramatic than Dunkirk. Like, “In a world where no one believed in him…Louis Tomlinson had to learn to believe in himself…COMING SUMMER 2017!” 

Ugh. It just…   

Anyway, I’m crying in a cool way over how gorgeous Louis looks here as a dramatic cat lady. 

And now it’s time to sashay away. Thanks for listening!

simon imagine - play pretend

REQUESTED:   “an image about y/n and simon walking outside together as friends and y/n see’s one of her ex and simon pretends to be y/n’s boyfriend and make the ex jealous and simon is being all cute with her and in the end y/n kinda felt simon was actually her boyfriend"

sidenote: this is a lil different and is written from y/n’s pov but quite personally so ye tell me what you think

I think the worst part about a break up is the anticipation about seeing them afterwards. Because you know you will. Whether it’s five months down the line, or five years down the line, you’re gonna bump into them, and it’s gonna hurt. A lot.

The first few months are the worst; everybody creates heart palpitations. Any tall looking guy with curly hair - and there are a few of those around my area, believe me - are a warning sign upon first glance. But every time they’d turn around, and it would just be a false alarm.

It gets to a point where you almost hope it’s them. Not because you miss them, or you want to talk to them, or even want to see them…but you just wanna get it out of the way. You want to be able to say yes, it’s been five months, and yes, that one strand of hair still falls over his forehead like it used to, and yes, his eyes still sparkle just as much; but I don’t care anymore. I don’t need to worry about that anymore.

No matter how over an ex you think you are, deep down you know you wanna look good that first time. You want to make them regret. It’s not an ‘I want you back thing’ - it’s just a superficial, I crave other people’s validation way too much thing. I knew from the very first day without Y/Ex/N I needed to make him some sort of jealous when that interaction first happened.

And so I did.

It was a late night, sort of. Something like midnight. I was tipsy - not enough to lose responsibility over actions, but enough to be…confident. We were in the centre of London, just Simon and I, finding a place to carry on the fun of our night.

It wasn’t like it sounded - the fun was platonic. We were just a couple of close friends, stumbling around the city that never sleeps with warm, intoxicated breath and blurry smiles.

I heard him before I saw him; his deep, almost shrilling voice, so naturally pitched it was almost inaudible. I think Simon heard him too. I think he tried to pretend he didn’t.

“Y/n,” his hand met with my shoulder blade, his touch so familiar. “I…I can’t believe it’s you.”

I guess in hindsight, I was lucky. It was every girl’s dream. He liked when I wore red lipstick, and I just so happened to be wearing it. He always admired my thighs and on this cold night my skirt just so happened to show them. His eyes reflected the admiration, showing it still burned just as much as it had months before. 

“Jesus. It’s…you.”

The breath was knocked out of my lungs as he pulled me in for a hug, Simon’s hand taking home against my lower back, almost like a warm and comforting stop sign. The embrace was short lived as I pulled away. I edged closer to Simon. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yeah, it is. Me.” He nodded, his eyes scanning my grown and improved body. I felt Simon tense slightly. The awkward atmosphere was clear.

“So..are you here alone?” I asked, cringing instantly. Way to act smooth. 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” He smiled slightly before focusing his attention to Simon. “And you’re..well, not, I guess?”

I looked between the two men. 

“Oh yeah, um I guess I should introduce you?” It came out as more of a question than a statement, to which Simon couldn’t suppress a slight laugh. I reached out to hit his arm, but he grabbed my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing my knuckles. My lips parted slightly. I quickly shook my head.

“Simon, this is…well, you already know, I’ve cried down the phone to you about him before.” I wanted to hit myself. Drunk brain - STOP. “Y/ex/N, this is Simon. My-”

“Her boyfriend,” Simon interrupted. He reached out one hand as a greeting, using the other to wrap around my waist in order to bring me closer to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sort of.”

“Boyfriend?” The curly haired imbecile repeated, clearly surprised. Yeah, me and you both, I thought to myself. Where had this come from? Simon was my best friend…what had possessed this?

Part of me was kicking myself; the alarm bells were set off instantly at the warmth the word had sent through me. I moved even closer to Simon as he began to stroke up and down my back. My entire body tingled.

The two men continued a slightly, to say the least, bitchy conversation, but I had zoned out completely. Simon’s fingers traced patterns onto the exposed skin of my backless dress and I felt myself melt into him. I liked the secret intimacy of it. As I silently focused on this I felt him look down at me.

“Well, we should probably be getting home. You’re staying at mine, right?”

I nodded. I didn’t have any stuff on me to stay at his, but in all honesty, I didn’t care. In this moment of time he could have asked me to commit a double suicide with him and I most likely would have agreed - I was completely under his spell.

“Alright, babe.” My heart swelled. “Well, it was nice to meet you - sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

I watched as Y/ex/N’s jaw clenched slightly. He was quite clearly irritated, and I quite clearly didn’t care. It was nice to not have any feelings for the toxic fuck anymore. We said our goodbyes - involving him leaning in to kiss my cheek, and me backing away - before we turned around to leave.

“What was that?” I asked, feeling the alcohol’s effects starting to multiply.

“I know you’ve always wanted to make him jealous,” Simon spoke, his hand taking refuge in mine, our fingers intertwining. “I thought you might appreciate a little help in your stuttering state.”

My cheeks heated. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You look cute when you blush you know, Y/n.”

“Go away, Simon,” I laughed.

“That’s not a nice way to talk to your boyfriend is it?”

I looked down. Boyfriend. I knew the label was a playful tease, and after this night it would never be used again between me and Simon…

but I couldn’t help but wish that it would be.




was this shit?? im not sure idk leave feedback pls ty <3

Prompt #1

 This took way longer than it should have done… Anyway, this is for the two anons who both sent in similar requests!

Warning: smut, rated M

Hello,angel! I just want to give you a Malec prompt because I really like the way you write them. :) So basically Alec hears Magnus speak/sing something in Spanish and is angry and grumpy because he’s probably the only one who doesn’t understand and can’t talk this language (Izzy& Simon are like perf, Clary and Jace have the basics) . When he tells Magnus, the warlock decides to teach him, but in more intimate and erotic way, while they are in the bedroom. 


“Alec, are you okay?” Magnus asked, suddenly interrupting the previous fifteen minutes of complete silence.

They were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, the mattress between them  cold and the air between them still. Which was fine. Magnus of all people knew that everyone needed some quiet-time every now and again. He was spending this particular quiet-time reading his battered copy of Wuthering Heights for the nth time. Alec, however, did nothing except stare down at his fingers which must have been absolutely fascinating as they fiddled with the frayed hem of his baggy t-shirt.

Nonchalantly, Alec turned his head and said, “Yeah, I’m fine,” his eyes directed at Magnus but not looking directly at Magnus.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Alec nodded and shrugged. At the same time.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Magnus deadpanned.

With an arduous sigh, Alec said, “I’m fine. Really.”

After folding down the top of the page carefully, Magnus snapped the book shut and placed it on the bed-side table, then turned back to Alec. “You haven’t exactly been talkative this evening,” he stated. “Not that you’re usually particularly talkative… Let me paraphrase that: you haven’t exactly been more talkative than the less than talkative but sometimes pretty talkative that you usually are.”

Alec snorted and, despite trying as hard as possible to keep his expression stony, a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Mission accomplished, Magnus thought, feeling very pleased with himself.

“Really. It’s nothing, Magnus,” Alec eventually said.

“Well it’s your loss,” the warlock said, still not entirely convinced.

And then the silence returned.

“Did I do something?” Magnus asked.

“No,” Alec said in the most unconvincing way possible.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Magnus informed him. “And don’t think that I don’t recognise the silent treatment when I’m given it.”

“How am I giving you the silent treatment?” Alec exclaimed, a hint of uneasy indignation in his voice. “I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“Alexander.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I actually don’t.”

The warlock rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sent a quick prayer to any deity who may be listening. “Alexander,” he sang.

“Magnus,” he sang in reply.

“Don’t make me come over there,” Magnus warned.

“I’m not-”

Too late. Magnus was already crawling towards Alec and before the Shadowhunter could react, he was straddling Alec’s legs. “Come on. Talk to Aunty Maggie.”

Alec grimaced.

Magnus huffed. “At least give me a clue as to what’s wrong.”

All he got was a slow, displeased blink.

Magnus narrowed his eyes and considered leaving the grumpy Shadowhunter to stew in his own petulance, when a thought suddenly hit him.

Magnus gasped comically, a grin spreading across his face. “I know what it is!”

Alec gave him a sheepish glare.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that Alexander.”

Alec folded his arms across his chest defensively and glared at the duvet beside him. “S'not my fault,” he grumbled.

“Not your fault… what?”

“That I can’t speak Spanish.”

Magnus’ grin dropped from his face. “What?”

Alec’s head snapped up as he realised his mistake. “I thought you said…” At Magnus’ confused expression, he then said, “Wait. Why did you think that…?”

“I thought you were angry because I shrank one of your sweaters when I tried to do the laundry manually!” Magnus exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch as he spoke.

Alec frowned. “You did the laundry manually?”

“Yeah. Whatever. But what do you mean, you can’t speak Spanish?” Magnus asked, completely ignoring that last comment. “Why are you upset because you can’t speak Spanish?”

“You don’t remember, do you.”

“Remember what?…” Magnus asked, suddenly feeling a little guilty.

Alec bowed his head as he tried to hide the embarrassed blush that tinged his cheeks and he worriedly chewed his bottom lip.

Magnus was still straddling Alec’s legs as he sat in thought. He wracked his brain for something- anything. He’d tried to run through all the events of the day in his head, remembering what he did first thing in the morning, and then at midday, and then-

Oh.

Alec seemed to pick up on Magnus’ realisation, as he then said, “I know it’s not a big deal and I know you didn’t say anything bad, but Izzy and Simon understood you, and so did Clary and Jace and I–” He took in a deep breath. “I just want to know what you said.”

“You could have asked-”

“I did,” Alec said quickly. “But you… I don’t think you heard me at the time. And you had clients in the afternoon, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Not knowing how to respond to that, Magnus found himself yet again speechless because of Alec, who seemed so insecure and uncomfortable as he confessed what had been on his mind. This was a shadowhunter who was insecure about not being able to speak Spanish. Most shadowhunters, Magnus knew, would never find it in themselves to care about something as mundane as that. But Alec wasn’t most shadowhunters, and although Magnus already knew this, he still found himself surprised at some of the smallest things that Alec would do.

So Magnus leaned in and kissed him. The contact was slow and gentle, but deliberate. It was clear that Alec hadn’t been expecting it, but he eventually relaxed into the familiar contact and brought his warm hands up to the back of Magnus’ neck and rested them there as if the touch reassured him.

When Magnus pulled away slightly, Alec softly asked, a smile in his voice, “What was that for?”

“For being you,” Magnus answered easily.

With a light snort, Alec told Magnus, “You know, I still want to know what you said earlier.”

Magnus paused, in thought.

“It wasn’t anything bad, was it?” Alec suddenly said, worry creeping into his voice.

“No! No, of course not!” Magnus exclaimed.

“Then why…”

Magnus smirked, and then he was kissing Alec again, slow and teasing. The shadowhunter couldn’t resist at first, but when he seemed to gather his senses, he pushed against Magnus’ chest and pulled away. “Seriously, Magnus, I want to know what you said!”

“All in good time, my dear,” the warlock teased, taking Alec’s wrists and slowly moving them apart as he moved forwards and pressed his entire body against Alec’s so that he couldn’t escape. He nipped and kissed his way down the side of Alec’s neck, following the large, inky-black pattern of the deflect rune and ignoring Alec’s continued complaints as he did so.

As he reached the collar of the shirt, he released Alec’s wrists to snap away the inconvenience, causing Alec to squirm beneath Magnus as goosebumps broke out over his tattooed torso. Before Alec could push him off, the warlock snaked his magic around his wrists to keep him in place.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Alec cried indignantly, pushing against the force holding him down but to no avail.

“Did I ever mention being fair?” Magnus drawled. “I think not.”

And then he snapped away the last of the material between them: his own dressing-gown and Alec’s boxers. Alec blushed heavily as he lay completely bare beneath Magnus, who was equally naked. Even though Magnus had seen him naked many times before, the shadowhunter’s pulse would always increase nervously as his clothes were removed.

Magnus then proceeded to make sure Alec was as unselfconscious as possible. He pressed his lips in an open-mouthed kiss to every rune and scar that painted Alec’s chest and stomach, tracing the lines with the tips of his fingers as he went. Alec had ceased straining against the magic that bound his wrists, instead yielding completely to Magnus’ power and relaxed slightly.

When Magnus reached Alec’s throbbing erection, he didn’t dive in straight away. First, he kissed and licked at Alec’s hipbones, well aware o another particular part of his body that would like the same attention.

When his lingered at Alec’s hips for a few seconds longer than necessary, Alec stirred. “Magnus,” he said, his voice throaty and deep. “Magnus, please…”

The warlock cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, Alexander my darling? What is it?”

“You know damn well what it is,” Alec growled.

“I’m afraid I do not understand,” Magnus said nonchalantly. “You’re going to have to explain it to me.”

Alec merely grunted in response, the sound a mixture of a sulky huff and a pained whine.

“Use your words, Alec dear-”

“Okay okay!” the shadowhunter nearly yelled. “Please, Magnus. Touch me, suck me- anything!”

A second later, Alec’s entire erection was engulfed by Magnus’ mouth. Alec let out a choked cry, arching his back off the bed before he could stop himself as he felt the back of Magnus’ throat. Magnus held him like that for a few moments, swallowing around Alec’s pulsing erection, and then pulled off, only to go back down again, causing the Shadowhunter’s entire body to shudder. With his free hands, he gripped the base of Alec’s cock and kneaded his heavy balls, eliciting even more moans from him.

“You do realise,” Alec said shakily as Magnus continued to bob his head, slowly and without rhythm, up and down Alec’s cock. “Th-that I still want to know what you said earlier… This isn’t going to make me forget.”

Magnus pulled off and said, “I’m not telling you what I said. I’m showing you,” before returning his attention to Alec’s straining erection.

“M-Magnus,” he stammered after a couple more minutes of the torturously slow friction. “I’m gonna… I’m going to…”

Magnus pulled off with a smirk. “So soon, darling?”

Alec flushed a darker shade of red and looked away. “Shut up,” he mumbled.

“I thought you wanted to know what I said…” Magnus said with a teasing tone.

“I thought you were in the process of showing me,” Alec shot back cleverly. “Or whatever that’s supposed to mean- By the Angel!” he exclaimed as Magnus swallowed him once more, only this time Magnus set off at a pace designed to make his boyfriend come as quickly as possible. Which he did.

Not even thirty seconds later, Alec came down Magnus’ throat with a throaty whimper which he would have smothered with his hands if his arms weren’t pinned down by Magnus’ magic.

Once Alec’s body had relaxed and stopped quivering with the after-shocks of his climax, Magnus released his softening cock and shuffled up the bed to lie beside his boyfriend. His own erection was still very much hard and throbbing, but it could wait.

“So?” he asked. “Any thoughts on what it was that I said?”

Alec’s eyes were closed and he was still catching his breath when he sleepily said, “I dunno… Something to do with blow-jobs?”

Magnus chuckled. “Nope.”

“Ugh, why won’t you just tell me?” Alec whined.

“Nope.”

Alec pursed his lips. “Then at least let me finish you off,” he said with a glance down to Magnus’ cock.

“That does sound nice… But still nope.”

Alec sighed. “Fine then. Have it your way.”

A couple of seconds of silence.

“Magnus. Just tell me.”

“Okay then…” He pressed a deep, tongue-less kiss to Alec’s lips, and said, “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“What?!” the shadowhunter exclaimed. “Why tomorrow?!”

“Well,” he said, feigning deep-thought. “It depends.”

“On what?” Alec growled, narrowing his eyes.

Magnus grinned. “On whether that stamina rune of yours can get you up for a round two.”

Ain’t Got Nothin’ But Love

A Highschool AU SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Valentine’s Celebration


Admittedly, it might not be entirely truthful to say that Baz joined Vocal Jazz because he loved singing.  This is not to say that he didn’t love singing, it just wasn’t something that he tended to broadcast. And yes, Vocal Jazz was a good way of coming out of his shell, breaking past that barrier of shyness when it came to his own voice, plus maybe making some friends.

           However, let’s just say that Baz might not have auditioned if it weren’t for the blonde-haired blue-eyed tenor.

           And maybe he didn’t get up for those early morning practices before class purely because he loved singing, but because he loved something else.  Someone else.

***           

Baz was more than a little disappointed when the group was split into two for the Valentine’s Day Musical Candy Gram event.  Granted, some might find it a little overwhelming to have ten people singing at them in front of the class, but couldn’t he at least have been put in Simon’s group?

           No, because the ensemble only had two basses and two tenors.  Both groups needed one of each, and Simon couldn’t miss third class.

           So Baz was left to swallow his disappointment as he followed his group down the halls of Watford High, singing excerpts of Beatles songs at poor unsuspecting students.  Objectively, it was a cute little setup.  They would barge into a classroom with the chorus of “She Loves You”.  Then Trixie, one of the sopranos, would call out the names of any “lucky” students, who would then have to make their embarrassing way to the front of the room to accept a flower or a card or both from Trixie and be serenaded with “8 Days A Week”.  All in all, not horrible.  Objectively. Baz was just glad he wasn’t on the subjective side of things.

           After fourth period, which he spent both quietly chuckling at the sound of his choir mates in nearby classrooms, and also praying they wouldn’t burst into his classroom or, heaven forbid, bestow a Musical Candy Gram upon him, Baz returned to the empty music room for his coat, which he had left there when the group had met at lunch.  As he buttoned up the coat, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit melancholy.  He hated to admit it to himself, but while singing was great, it was nothing compared to singing with Simon.  Because when he was singing with Simon it made “I’ll Be Seeing You”, their competition piece, feel different.  He wasn’t just singing words; it was more of an outlet.  Like pouring his bottled-up feelings down a drain.  They weren’t going to Simon, but at least they were going somewhere.

           “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

           Baz’s heart sank when all nine of his choir mates filed into the room, singing and snapping their fingers, this time directing their song at him, but he had to smile a little.

           “Really?” he smirked as Trixie came forward to hand him a single rose with a card attached by a ribbon.  “Is this all necessary?”  In response, they burst into “8 Days A Week”, beaming at him like he’d won some sort of prize.  It was mortifying, but it was almost nice.

Baz snuck a glance at Simon, who was singing through a grin, and even though he knew he was probably blushing, Baz held his gaze for a few more seconds, saving the sight to replay later.

“Alright, who’s it from then?” he demanded when the others had finally finished singing.  “There’s no name on the card.”

“Oooh, a secret admirer!” squealed Trixie, but nobody had an answer for him.  Baz didn’t miss the smirk that twisted Simon’s mouth though, or how smug the boy looked when he left the room.

 ***

“You know, don’t you?”

Simon didn’t answer right away, but Baz saw his mouth twitch.  “Know what?”

“Who sent me the card and the flower yesterday.” Baz tried to sound indifferent as he trawled through the philosophy section of the library.  “I could see it on your face.”

Simon pulled a book on Aristotle off the shelf, not looking at Baz.  “It’s possible,” he drawled.  “After all, you are my best friend, I ought to know who has a crush on you.”

“What you ought to do is tell me, best friend.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“I can’t,” Simon turned to him giggling.  “If I tell you who sent the Valentine, it would be breaking confidence.” He solemnly put one hand over his heart and one in the air by his head.  “I am under oath.”

“Under oath to whom?”

“The person who sent it, of course.”

Baz shot a look at him.  “So you’ve talked to them about it?”

“You could say that.”

“You’re being annoyingly cryptic.”

“Do you have any suspicions?”

Of course Baz had thought about it all day yesterday after school, but his mind had kept wandering back to what Baz wanted.  Because there was only one person he wanted to be behind the Valentine.

And if Baz was being honest with himself, it Simon hadn’t sent it, Baz didn’t want it.

He just shrugged.  “No one I can think of really makes sense.”

“Most love doesn’t make sense,” Simon murmured in reply, so softly that Baz thought maybe it wasn’t for him to hear.  Granted they were in a library, but still.

“Would you tell me if I guessed correctly?”

“No guarantees, but you have permission to interrogate me.  Ask away.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Hopefully a boy.”

Baz raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean ‘hopefully’?”

“Well, in theory,” Simon stammered, “whoever sent it cares about you enough to know that you’re gay, and if it were a girl, hopefully she would respect you enough to know better than to send you a Valentine.”

Baz had to admit he had a point.  “So basically what you’re saying is that it was a boy?”

Simon smiled.  “If that’s what you think.”

A thought occurred to him.  “It wasn’t Agatha, was it?  Just to get that off the table?”

“No it was not,” Simon admitted, “that would be a bit weird.”

“Especially since she’s still carrying a torch for you,” Baz snorted, maybe a little louder than was appropriate in a library.  Simon gave a wry smile that Baz couldn’t quite interpret.

“It wasn’t her,” Simon assured him, “guess again.”

Baz was honestly stumped.  There just wasn’t anyone else who seemed even the least bit interested in him.  He had thought that maybe Dev had had feelings for him a few years earlier, but now Dev was happily involved with his girlfriend, which eliminated that possibility.

“Really?” Simon smirked.  “No one?”

“There just isn’t anyone who shows any signs of liking me like that,” Baz shrugged.

“You might be surprised at the number of people who would gladly date you.  I mean, you’re certainly not hard to look at.”

Baz shot a surprised glance at Simon, who was apparently very interested in a chapter about nihilism.  Did he just…

“Is there anyone you want it to be from?” Simon asked quickly, like he didn’t want Baz to question him further.

You.

“Yes.”

Simon looked up at him with a smile that seemed just a little bit painted, and looked back down quickly.  “You should ask them,” he said in an overly cheery voice, “you could get lucky.”

“There’s no point,” Baz shook his head.

“Why not?”

“There’s no way it was them,” he chuckled sadly, “absolutely no way.”

Simon shrugged without looking at him.  “Maybe that’s for the best.  If you never know who it was, you can just imagine that it was who you wanted it to be, and the person can just imagine that you like them back.”

Baz didn’t have an answer for that.  It sounded like an easy solution, to just let the whole thing fade away and imagine that Simon had picked out the rose with care, that he had skirted around Baz when the group prepared all the Candy Grams so that Baz wouldn’t find his own name among the Valentines. That he had done something silly like kiss the card before tying it to the bloom.

But it was too good to be true, and Baz knew it. He would never stop wondering if he didn’t find out for sure.

So he steeled himself and forced the words out of his mouth: “Was it you?”

Simon looked up at him with practiced innocence, but his eyes betrayed a touch of fear.  “Why would you think that?”

“I just had to ask,” Baz floundered, hoping he hadn’t gone as scarlet as he felt.  “So that’s a ‘no’ then?”

“… No.”

“No, what?”

“No, it’s not a ‘no’.”

Baz’s brain was going at a thousand miles per second, and yet he couldn’t for the life of him comprehend what Simon was saying. “Oh,” was his scholarly response. “So that means…”

Simon stared straight ahead into the bookcase. “I sent it.  You got me.”

“Why?”

Simon finally turned to look at him.  “Why?  Gee, I don’t know, Baz!”  He was whispering, but with so much force that it felt to Baz like he was shouting. “Maybe because in all the years we’ve been friends you have astounded me and I only just made sense of it all! Maybe because you’re brilliant and gentle and so goddamn beautiful and when you sing I never want you to stop, and even if you never found out who sent you the stupid flower or if you didn’t care, at least I would have tried to tell you how much I like you, at least I would have -”

The next sound he made was one of shock as Baz’s mouth covered his own.

The sound after that was one of oh god, finally because Baz had him backed against the philanthropy section and was tangling his fingers in Simon’s curls, burying his lips in heat and need and oh, this is what all the hype is about and it was a million times better than Simon could have hoped for.

“Under oath to whom, again?” Baz teased against Simon’s lips, and Simon laughed lightly as he snaked his arms around Baz’s neck, already desperate for more.

“You got me,” he whispered, reaching up for Baz’s mouth again, and Baz couldn’t help but grin as Simon pulled him down to meet him.  Baz angled his head and deepened the kiss, a low sigh escaping his throat.  In the back of his head he remembered the rose and the card, and took to moment to appreciate the fact that he wouldn’t be throwing them away after all before setting up a long, slow rhythm against Simon’s mouth like they had all the time in the world.

follow for follow

Jace knows his infatuation with his neighbor is kind of creepy.

He has been told several times, by Alec and Izzy and Magnus separately, that he needs to either talk to the guy or stop posting about him on Twitter. But that’s much easier said than done.

You develop a certain kind of intimacy with the person who lives in the apartment beside yours. With thin walls that accompany cheap housing, Jace could hear everything that went on in Simon Lewis’ apartment and vice versa. When Simon turned the volume up on his TV too high, Jace could hear direct lines from Ghostbusters. When he played his guitar, Jace could hear it. When he had friends over and he was laughing, Jace could hear it. He had a great laugh.

His crush had first developed nearly five months ago, and since then he’d been hopeless. He’d had a cold and was coughing non-stop, unaware at the time that his neighbor could definitely hear it.

There had been a knock on his door and he’d gotten up to answer with his blanket wrapped firmly around himself, hair unbrushed, looking completely disgusting because he’d assumed it was Alec and he didn’t care how he looked around his brother.

But Simon had been standing there instead, a bowl in his hands and a cheerful smile on his face.

“Hey!” He’d chirped when Jace answered. “I know we’ve only talked like, twice, but you sound really sick and I would’ve felt like a horrible neighbor if I just listened to you suffer and did nothing about it. So I, uh, made you some soup. I hope that’s okay.”

Jace had been overwhelmed and horrified with the fact that his cute neighbor had made him soup and that his cute neighbor was seeing him in a terribly unattractive state, so it took his brain a few moments to sort through it all and formulate an answer.

“Thank you,” he’d said sincerely, taking the warm bowl in his hands, “seriously this is so nice. Thank you.”

Simon had beamed, which Jace was fairly certain had healed him a little bit. “I hope you feel better soon. And you know if you need anything, just knock on my door. Or the wall, I guess.”

And from that moment on, Jace was smitten.

So occasionally, when Simon did something cute, Jace tweeted about it. So what?

It was all fine until he got a notification on his phone which read: @SIGHMONLEWIS STARTED FOLLOWING YOU.

At first, Jace’s idiotic brain had registered this as good news. And then every tweet that he had ever sent out about Simon’s face and his guitar skills and his cute Star Wars pajamas that he wore out into the lobby to get his mail came back in vivid detail and he panicked.

He frantically scrolled down his profile, hastily deleting any tweet that mentioned Simon. He was just starting to calm down, thinking that Simon probably hadn’t even bothered to look down his account, when a DM came through.

Simon had shared a tweet of Jace’s that said “Pretty boy next door is singing again……#blessed” and accompanied it with a message that said “appreciate the feedback, dude” with a laughing emoji.

Jace blacked out for a few moments from extreme terror.

He didn’t even remember dialing Alec’s number, but soon enough his brother’s soothing voice was in his ear, talking him down.

“It’s not as bad as you think.” Alec said calmly. “If anything, he might like it. They’re compliments!”

“Some people think stalking is a compliment.” Jace said with a slightly hysterical scoff. “He’s probably so creeped out, oh my god. He probably sent that message so that I would know he’s creeped out. He’s probably taking screenshots and sending them to his friends and asking them to look for apartment listings.”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion!” Alec insisted.

“How did he even find my Twitter?” Jace wondered aloud, realizing for the first time that he had never shared it.

“Well, Isabelle followed him. And she’s been to your place dozens of times, so he probably recognized her. And you’re always on her feed, because you’re both obsessed with taking selfies together, so he probably found you that way.” Alec sounded proud of himself for his deduction. Jace saw red.

“She followed him?” Jace hissed. “That makes it worse! He’s going to think I talk about him to my family and friends!”

“You do.” Alec pointed out.

“Okay, okay. I’m going to go talk to him.” Jace decided with a deep breath. That was the best course of action. If he avoided Simon, it would be a million times worse the next time he ran into him in the hall. He needed to fix this, or at least give Simon the option to choose never to speak to him again.

“That seems like a bad idea.” Alec advised. “Maybe take a few minutes to calm down first. Think about what you’re going to say.”

“No, no, I have to do it now or I’ll lose my nerve.” Jace said. “Love you, I’ll call you if I need to move in with you and Magnus, bye.”

And he hung up. He spent a few seconds messing with his hair and trying to calm his erratic heartbeat before swallowing his pride and knocking on Simon’s door.

Simon answered after a painstaking couple of seconds where Jace began to convince himself that he’d fled the country. He was in sweatpants and a yellow tee that read “Hufflepuff’ across the chest. His hair was slightly messy and something about him looked off, but he was still beautiful. He smiled at Jace, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Hey, it’s my number one fan!” He teased, effectively making Jace’s face heat up by twenty degrees. “You want me to perform a song?”

“Uh, I wanted to explain.” Jace said, trying to recall his improv skills from high school theatre. “I just, I know it might seem like I’m uh, obsessed with you or something, but I just tweet about stuff that happens in my life a lot so it’s not really you specifically, just…”

Simon seemed amused, his lips pulled into a permanent smirk. “It’s okay, man.”

“It’s weird.” Jace sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping. “I know it is. If you want me to delete my account and never speak to you again, I totally will.”

“What?” Simon shook his head. “No! I mean, really it’s okay. It was kinda…cute, actually.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Simon nodded, then cast his eyes downward. “And I may or may not have a Tumblr where I’ve occasionally posted about my hot neighbor. So.”

All of the panic in Jace’s body thawed and melted into absolute relief, shortly followed by ecstatic joy. He’d never even entertained the thought that his pretty neighbor might be into him, too. It had honestly never crossed his mind.

Simon looked like he was about to say something else, but he very suddenly pulled an arm up and muffled a quiet sneeze in the crook of his arm.

“Sorry,” he said with a sniffle, “I think I’m catching a cold.”

Jace smiled, already moving back toward his door. “That’s too bad. Maybe some soup would help?”

Simon beamed and nodded, already falling into step behind Jace. “That’d be great. And then you could tweet about it.”

“And you could post on Tumblr about it.” Jace countered.

Simon laughed, and it was a beautiful sound to hear on the opposite side of the wall for the first time. “We’re so creepy.”

“It’s not creepy anymore,” Jace pointed out, “now it’s cute.”

“You’re right.” Simon agreed, settling on Jace’s couch. “We’re so cute.”

I’m going to start a list of assholic thing Aldertree’s done, because it’s probability going to grow:
- Gave out a dead-or-alive for Jace
- TORTURED RAPHAEL
- Banned downworlders from the Institute
- Tried to get Magnus to leave Alec
- Basically wanted to leave Alec for dead
- Sent Jace to the city of bones
- Interrogated Jace about his relationship with Clary
- Didn’t raise ban for Simon, Luke, or Magnus for Jocelyn’s funeral
- Gave a lethal vampire venom “medicine” to Izzy
- Punished Jace for saving his life
- Stuck Jace on ichor duty
- Threatened to tell everyone Jace’s secret

Tense (Simon)

Requested?: Yes, thanks
Warnings?: Smut
Pairing: Simon and Reader

________________________________


Y/N POV


My boyfriend, Simon, has been out all day filming football videos. While I have been sat at home doing nothing but wanting him all day.

I’ve sent him multiple messages, but he hasn’t responded to any. Which I can only assume that he is busy filming. That doesn’t make me need for him any less though.

Not even ten minutes after I sent him the last text he walks through the door.

I can tell that he is tired and probably just wants to go to bed, but I have other plans.

“Hi Si, you back from filming?” I ask walking over to him

He nods “Yeah, gotta put it on my computer so I can edit it later.”

I nod and watch him sit down at his desk, before an idea pops into my head. I know how I can get Simon in the mood.

“You seem pretty tense.” I say walking over and wrapping my arms around his neck from behind.

“Well I did just come home from filming, and a lot went wrong so yeah I’m tense.” He says, not taking his eyes off of the screen

“Well I can help you relax a little bit.” I say turning his chair around to face me.

“Oh and how do you plan to do that?” He asks, looking me up and down

“I have a few ideas.” I say as I straddle his lap.

He places his hands on my hips as I press them down. Simon then begins to run his thumbs in a circle on my hip bones.

I then begin to slowly move my hips in a circle, leaning forward and connecting my lips with his. I try to my best to keep the kiss at a slow pace, but he keeps trying to speed it up.

“Si, let me be in control for once.” I say pulling away from the kiss, and trailing my lips down his neck.

I then get off of him and move in front of him on my knees.

“What are you doing?” He asks looking at me.

“Just let me.” I say, playing with the top of his sweatpants.

“Take off your shirt.” I say, looking at him

He complies and slips it off, while I pull off his sweats and boxers.

I then grab him in my hands, slowly moving my hand.

“Babe, don’t tease me.” Simon says

I look up at him and make eye contact, before taking him into my mouth. Making him throw his head back, groaning.

I look up at him through my eyelashes, before taking him further into my mouth. He begins to try and thrust his hips upwards.

I remove my mouth and look up at him “I’ll stop if you do that.”

Then I lick a stripe up the side before taking just the tip into my mouth.

“Babe, quit and come up here.” Simon says, pulling me up and back into his lap.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, biting my lip.

He shakes his head “No, but you know the drill. I absolutely do not cum before you.”

He then begins to remove my clothing, before pulling me onto his lap.

“I want you to ride me baby girl.” He says.

I then position myself above him before sinking down. As we both let out a moan of pleasure.

I then begin to move my hips, in a slow fashion.

Simon places his hand son my hips and helps me move up and down. Both of us, letting out moans of pleasure.

After while he picks me up, keeping us connected.

Simon then places me on the bed, crawling on top of me.

He then begins to move his hips at a faster pace. Making my grip onto his forearms, digging my nails into his flesh.

“Si, I’m close.” I mumble, after a few moments.

“Cum with me babe.” He says, moving his hips faster.

I close my eyes as my orgasm washes over me. Simon releasing not even a second after me.

I then feel him pull out and lay down beside me.

He then wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

“Did that make you any less tense?” I ask looking up at him

He nods “Yeah actually it did.” He says, softy “Now I’m just tired.”

“Well then, you deserve a good sleep.” I say, resting my head on his chest.

He kiss the top of my head, and brings me in closer to him.

“Goodnight princess.” He whispers. “I love you.”

Before long I can feel his breathing get steady, indicating that he is asleep.

“Good night Si.” I whisper “I love you too.”

Then before long I feel myself drift off to sleep.

Rescue •P9•

Avengers x Reader

Summary: reader is getting a tour of her new job at the Avengers tower, but happens to be the only one who notices an oncoming jet, about to crash into the building.

Word Count: 1618

Warnings: cursing

A/N: I’m sorry, this part is so boring. But next part has more oomph, promise 💛

I take a deep breath. In through my nose it comes, and out through my mouth like a wave crashing to the shore, and out again. I try to conjure up a joyful memory. My head wanders to my high school graduation. Penny was gripping my hand so hard I lost circulation in my fingers. But I didn’t care. I was becoming an adult. I was joining my community. I was being set free, and it I long for the feeling of knowing. Knowing what I wanted to do, what I was, who I was. Now, though, I’m lost. Completely.

I grunt in frustration and open my eyes. Wanda smiles at me reassuringly.

“Sorry.” I mumble. She shakes her head.

“Don’t worry. We’ve been working a while. Let’s take a break, yeah?” she says. I nod and reach for a plastic bottle of water on the end table by my couch. Wanda looks at me sympathetically. I sigh.

“It’s just. It’s hard to think good thoughts when I don’t even really know if they’re all real. Or if they belong to someone else or they were put there.” I murmur, picking at the skin of my leg as I sit cross-legged on the cushion.

“Of course. I understand. After my brother passed away, the only way I was able to use my powers was through negative feelings. Sometimes, it makes us more powerful when we use our powers out of negative emotions. But it makes us a hundred times more dangerous. So we don’t rely on it.” she says with an comforting expression. I bite my lip and nod. “Okay.” she says, getting up. “I think we can finish for today. I’ll give Tony a report later. If you want, you can join me for dinner. It’s not much, I’m just getting a pizza.” she shrugs with a soft smile. I return it.

“I’d like that.” I nod.

“Okay. FRIDAY will let you know where to find me. I’ll see you in an hour?” I nod, and she waves before exiting my suite.

I lay back on the couch, exhausted by all the damage control that had been done. The little meeting had only been yesterday, yet its results were instant. King T'Challa got his team back on the case of the trigger words and began a mad hunt for the employee who gave them the formula. Tony believes that my kidnappers wouldn’t just send in the Winter Soldier blindly. He believes there would be someone here to watch and supervise, so he has been using all his time to flush a rat out of his system. Wanda had been assigned to help me control my powers, as she is the only Enhanced Tony knows who can do that. I’m not sure what happened with the Winter Soldier, but he is probably back to being a guinea pig for King T'Challa’s team until they can figure out their own way to get the trigger words out. Tony has made me write lengthy reports whenever I hear any word in any language that isn’t English. Just today, I’d gone to see Dr. Simone, Dr. Banner, and an elite team of scientists to poke around in my brain. I had an anxiety attack halfway through and Tony sent me back to my living quarters, insisting I had been emotionally drained for the day.

After getting the chance to calm down, Wanda came to me and began our lesson which Tony issued. She’s incredibly sweet and understanding. Her level of patience is almost unbearable.

I decide to take a quick shower, as I’m probably really sweaty from all the effort of the day. After I come out and throw on black leggings and a hoodie, I still have twenty minutes before I need to seek out Wanda for pizza. I take the time to wander around the tower for a while. Most of the floors are open to me, but some are restricted. In the elevator, I peer at the buttons intently, looking all the way from the garage to the 70th floor. What fills them all?

I spend twenty minutes pressing random floors and sailing through the elevator until I reach them, never actually stepping out and onto the floor. FRIDAY eventually reminds me of my meeting time with Wanda and sends the elevator to the 49th floor. Once I step onto the sleek wood floor, I need to place a hand on the wall to keep myself from getting dizzy after nearly half an hour of elevator riding. I shake away a few flashing images of old grainy footage in my mind and take a look around the room.

To my right, there’s a glass conference room with a long mahogany table and a large TV. The left of the floor has a large lounge room, filled with scarlet red and mustard yellow couches and another flat-screen. At the other wall, there’s a large opening a few paces from the kitchen leading into a wide hallway full of doors. Just as I notice them, one of those doors open to reveal a person. They begin walking in my direction, and I see him as he enters the light. Captain fucking America.

He notices my presence instantly and looks at me in alarm. He cautiously walks across the room so he stands a few meters from me.

“Uh…hello.” he says, but it sounds like a question. I try to tell myself to breathe, but the elevation in heartbeat makes a few random Chinese words race through my head in a sinister whisper, the same three words. 提取,部署,疏散. Extract, deploy, evacuate. I shudder and look up at him. My shoulders square as I try my best to seem unbothered.

“I’m uh, here to see Wanda. I’m Y/N—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“I know who you are.” he nods. His hand extends to shake mine. “I’m Steve.” I tentatively fit my fingers into his in a handshake, but my arms feel to weak to move. He shakes it and then drops his own arm. He knows me? “Wanda’s room is the third one on the right.” He looks like he wants to say something, his mouth opening with brows furrowed in conflict. Instead, he bows his head in goodbye and heads to the elevator.

Wanda’s door opens and she peaks out of it to look at me.

“Oh, hey.” she smiles. “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

After a dinner of greasy pizza and Friends reruns with Wanda, it’s almost midnight. It didn’t take us long to finish the pizza, but we spent a great deal of time talking and watching the show. Time got away from us. It’s nice to click with someone so easily, even after all that’s happened. It reminds me that even though it’ll take me my whole life, I still have a chance at being normal.

Once I finally leave, I’m not anywhere near ready to sleep. I decide I want to do a bit of tinkering with the resolution of the holographic projections on the watch Tony issued me. The design interests me, so maybe I can try to make one of my own. I’ve been learning about it in my workshops.

I head down to the private neuroscience lab because I don’t know where else to go. It’s not a good idea to wander into unfamiliar labs in the middle of the night, so I figure I’ll go to a lab I see everyday and know my way around.

When the elevator door opens and I get past the steel doors with a quiet beeping, I am met with the sound of quiet arguing. It stops almost momentarily at the sound of the door opening. I stiffen with effort and look at the two people debating. Tony and Dr. Banner are staring at the door in confusion, wondering who came in. A smile dances on my lips. They can’t see me. I did it. Thank you, Wanda.

“I’m just saying, Tony.” Dr. Banner redirects his attention and shakes his head in disapproval. “You think it won’t get out somehow? It’s not your choice. It’s hers.”

“I’m not offering her a choice to essentially get herself killed, and on my account.” Tony retaliates. “Do you think it’s a good idea?” he says rhetorically.

“Of course I don’t, but it doesn’t matter what I think. Just like it doesn’t matter what you think because it should be her. Choice.” Dr. Banner presses. Tony shakes his head, clearly not convinced.

“Bruce, you know I can’t. It’ll kill her. I’ll kill her.” he says quietly. I stare at them in confusion.

“Okay.” Dr. Banner says. “But…just indulge me and just tell her. You don’t need to let her do it, but Y/N has enough secrets kept from her, by her. Don’t keep a secret from her.” My heart jumps into my throat and sinks to my knees at the same time, if that is even possible.

“What are you keeping from me?” I ask quietly from my place at the door. Both their heads whip to the door, but they still can’t see me. They know who it is, though. There’s only one person in the tower who can go invisible.

Regret instantly washes over Tony’s expression. I purse my lips like an upset child. My body stirs back to visibility. There’s a crestfallen look on my face.


“Y/N…” he began. But there’s no way to recover.


“I thought you were the exception.” I say in defeat, looking down to the ground. I’m out of the door as fast as I had come into it.


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Soulmates

Thank you @snowbaz-fics for the encouragement sort of.

In this AU their soulmates first name appears on their wrists at the age of five in their soulmates handwriting.


Baz

I got my soulmates name when everyone else did, noon on my fifth birthday. I expected it to hurt but it just felt warm and tingly. I had shut my eyes closed wanting it to be a surprise and all, when I looked down in messy handwriting was written Simon.


Simon

I grew up completely oblivious to the fact that I was a mage (but knowing I was different) therefore when at the age of five I one day suddenly wake up with a fricking tattoo on my wrists of the name Tyrannus in highly neat handwriting, my first reaction was tot freak out. But of course the orphan ladies thought it was just a stupid cry for attention while the other kids thought I had secretly snuck out to get a tattoo during the night. From then on I hid my tattoo fearing other people would have a similar if not worst reaction.

That was until the Mage asked to see it and explained to me what it was, I was shocked to find out I had a mate someone who would actually love me. When I went to Watford I didn’t completely hide it but I was sure not to go around showing it off like most of the others did.


Baz

I hadn’t expected to meet my mate before Watford but hen I figured out it was Simon bloody Snow I knew I had no chance, when I first met the boy and he introduced himself to me I knew it was him. My tattoo tingled and his name was Simon after all, that’s why when he took to hating me I felt completely broken I though I had found the person that would finally show me unconditional love after my mother died only to be met with another disappointment. From then on I was sure to keep my tattoo hidden and to call him by his last name as calling him by his first name only caused the pain to worsen as it already hurt like hell being roommates with him.


Simon

I had hoped to find my mate at Watford but when I got there I was met with a roommate that hated me and no one with a name even close to Tyrannus.


Baz

It was miserable being roommates with the love of your life and having to hate them. I avoided looking at his tattoo, I was scared I would see a different name or worst my own. I don’t know why I was so scared of it being my own I guess because it’d most likely lead to Snow hating me even more causing him to drag our final battle even longer.


###time-skip###


Simon 

I felt like a complete moron why didn’t I think to ask Baz’s full name before? Probably because he hates you said a voice in my head. I felt dizzy, and my stomach lurched I ran up from my seat in class running straight to the bathroom, at least I planed to. But on my way there my knees started to wobble and after trying to regain my balance against the corridor walls I collapsed into a heap of tears and pain. I was so stupid. After all these years of hating him he was it, he was my soul mate, I could have at least tried to be his friend but I was too selfish and stupid. 

My only chance at love gone because of my pride. 

I felt strong arms wrap around me but I felt numb.


Baz

We were in class with a cover who didn’t know any better but to read my full bloody name off the register, she was going through the class everyone stating they were here after hearing their name “Simon Snow” I winced inwardly at the name, after years it still hurt “here” she nodded and continued the list, my name was near the bottom due to its length “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch” I cringed visibly, I hated my first name. Before I could answer Snow was stood up from his seat and ran out of the classroom looking as if he might be sick. The teacher looked just as confused as the rest of us, she sent me to go see what happened and the whole class stared at her in bewilderment probably expecting me to kill him at the vulnerable state. Idiots did they not know if I wanted to hurt him I could just as easily do it during one of the many time he stupidly followed me. 

I walked out of the classroom trying to keep as much dignity as possible but as soon as I was out of their line of sight I ran, looking around desperately. I found him in a heap on the ground sobbing. I chose to take him to our room rather than the nurse. 

Once in the room I gently placed him down on his bed but when I went to move away he tightened his grip so I sat there trying to comfort him to the best of my abilities. When he seemed calmer I risked asking what had happened “Snow, wh-what happened? What’s wrong?” he still ad tears running down his face and simply shoved his wrist to my face, I didn’t realize what I was to do but then I recognized the handwriting on his writs and when I read the name written I gasped. This was the wrong reaction as it brought fresh sobs to come fro the boy. “I-I’m s-sorry. I-I di-didn’t mean to b-be s-so mean. I w-was selfish and s-stupid so now my mate hates me and it’s my entire fault.” He rasped through choked sobs. I held him tighter, how could he think any of this was his fault? I was the one who acted bitter and snobby. I had to hold back tears of my own as I voiced these things “I’m the one who’s sorry. Simon look” I placed my wrist and watched as he turned my hand over having a similar reaction to the one I had. “But you hate me. Why would the universe put us together if it made us hate each other?” I lifted his head to look at me; I wanted to see his eyes. Those beautiful ocean blue eyes that seemed to shine, I gave a weak smile happy I didn’t have to hide anymore, that the pain would finally end and I would finally know love.

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“But Simon, I never hated you.”

Anger Issues - Peter Pan X Reader

MASTER LIST

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF TORTURE, THREATENING, AND LANGUAGE

“Y/N?” I heard Peter call out as he walked into our shared treehouse. “What’s up, Pete?” I said smirking, knowing he hated when I called him that.

“You know I told you never to call me that right? I hate it.”

“And that…” I said putting my arms around his neck and pecking his lips, “Is exactly why I continue to call you that.”

I leaned in for another kiss but Peter turned his head so I couldn’t, “Uh uh,” He said, amusement in his voice, “You don’t get a kiss after calling me Pete.”

“Fine by me,” I said simply, playing his game and turning and walking. I however didn’t get very far before Peter appeared in front of me, stopping me and leaning down, giving me a sweet yet passionate kiss.

“I knew you’d crack,” I smirked. Peter just rolled his eyes.

“Now was there something you needed, or what?”

“Oh, yeah, shit.” Pan said remembering, “Have you seen Simon? I sent him to get some pixie dust over three hours ago, and he’s not back yet.”

I shrugged, “No, I haven’t seen him.”

“Dammit!” Peter said angrily. Peter knew where his lost boys were 24/7, so one disappearing was definitely unusual.

“I’m sure everything is fine Peter, Simon probably just got a little lost, he’ll be back soon,” I said, placing my hand on Peter’s cheek, calming him down.

He nodded, “If he isn’t back in four hours, we’re going to search for him,” Pan said. I nodded in agreement.

….

Four hours passed by slowly, and Pan spent the whole time obsessing about where Simon was. And I spent those four hours trying to calm Pan down.

“Peter, you need to calm down,” I said, getting him to sit down and running his back.

“It’s been four hours, we’re going to-”

A rustling in the woods cut Peter off, and in a matter of seconds Simon came bursting through the bushes, stumbling, but catching himself.

I saw Pan’s eyes go dark and his face morphed into rage. Oh shit.

“SIMON! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN FOR THE PAST SEVEN HOURS!” He yelled, drawing attention from the other lost boys.

“Pan, I-I’m so sorry-” Simon started but a strangled sob escapes his throat. I now noticed the injures which covered his body.

His lip was busted, he had a black eye, there were cuts that scattered his body, some deep, some superficial. His clothes were ripped and tattered, blood stained his shirt.

The poor boy had been tortured.

Pan, however, didn’t seem to care. He pinned Simon against a nearby tree, “Where. We’re. You.” Pan asked him again, his voice dark and threatening.

“Peter, calm down!” I said, growing worried for Simon, who was still sobbing. “Look at him! He’s hurt!”

I tried my best to pry Peter off of the poor boy, but his grip only got tighter.

“Peter!” I yelled. “Shut up!” He countered, not taking his eyes off Simon. I was taken aback by his outburst, and I backed down.

“Talk.” Peter instructed Simon, who was trying desperately to collect himself. “I-I was ge-getting the dust from where we hi-hide it, but one of Hook’s crew caught me before I could get to it.”

“Th-they kept hurting me until I told them wh-where the dust was. I’m so so-sorry, I couldn’t- it hurt so much.”

“So you told them where we kept the pixie dust?” Pan said through gritted teeth. The boy hesitantly nodded, bursting into tears again.

Pan reached into his pocket and took out his dagger, holding it to the 9 year old’s that. Simon let out a whimper. “Pan no!” I screamed.

“Traitors don’t get to live!” Peter announced.

“Peter stop! He’s just a kid!” I yelled, but Peter still kept the knife to his throat. “What if that was me? Would you kill me too?” I said, that seemed to hit him, but he still didn’t break.

I slowly walked towards Peter and placed my hand over his hand which gripped the dagger. Blood began to drip from Simon’s throat.

“Peter, let him go.” I said quietly, yet firmly. He still wouldn’t budge. “I SAID LET HIM GO!” I screamed, yanking Pan’s hand back, pulling him off of Simon.

Simon crumpled to the ground in a sobbing mess, and Pan turned to me, staring at me with menacing eyes, he still held the dagger tightly.

He held the dagger up to my throat now, I knew he would never actually hurt me, but his anger took over his entire body.

“Go ahead, I fucking dare you,” I challenged him, there was no fear anywhere to be found in my body, I was only worried about Simon.

Peter stood there, his evil eyes not breaking contact with mine, after a few seconds he stormed into the woods, mumbling to himself.

I quickly made my way to Simon who had his head in his hands. When I touched his shoulder he let out a yelp. “It’s okay, it’s just me, Simon,” I said softly.

Simon instantly wrapped his arms around me, and clung to me, his tears and blood staining my shirt.

I held Simon for a good thirty minutes, waiting for him to stop crying so I could take care of his wounds.

I looked into his eyes with nothing but care in mine. I ran my fingers through his curly, golden hair, and wiped the tears from his face.

He let out a shaky breath, “I’m so sorry, I messed up. Pan’s gonna kill me.”

I shook my head, “Pan isn’t going to lay a finger on you. This is not your fault. Now come on, let’s get you all fixed up.”

I took Simon’s hand and led him to Peter and I’s tree house. “I shouldn’t be in Pan’s treehouse,” Simon said, worried.

“It’s also mine, and I say it’s okay,” I said, giving him a small smile. “Besides, all the medical stuff is in here.”

After patching Simon up I got him to lay down in Pan and I’s bed. He laid his head on my shoulder and cuddled up close to me. I ran my fingers through his hair, causing him to doze off.

Hook and his crew had really done a number on the poor kid, and Pan surely didn’t help the situation at all.

It took about two hours for Pan to return to the camp. “Y/N?” He asked as he walked in. I quickly shushed him, gesturing to the sleeping Simon.

Pan gave me a weird look and started walking towards me. I hugged Simon tightly, “Get away from him, Pan. You’re not going to hurt him.”

Pan rolled his eyes but backed up. “Can we talk?”

I looked down to Simon who was sleeping peacefully. I looked up at Pan and nodded, I kissed Simon’s forehead and got up, being careful not to wake him.

I walked outside into the chilly night with Peter. “What?” I said, still mad at him.

For a moment I thought he was about to apologize, I should’ve known better. “What the hell was that earlier? You have no right to challenge me like that, this is MY island. These are MY boys.”

I scoffed, “You are so far up your own ass, oh my god Peter! The poor boy had just been beaten and tortured and you were going to kill him!”

I tried my best not to tell so I wouldn’t wake the lost boys.

“He needed to pay-”

“He already did Peter! Have you seen him? I held him for half an hour while he cried! He’s been through enough.”

Peter stared at me for a bit, but I wasn’t going to let him win. “And you think that gives you the right to challenge me in front of my boys.”

“Well it looks like one of us needs to calm the fuck down,” I spit at him. Peter just stood there, I could tell he was trying his best not to yell at me or hurt me.

“There’s s difference between respect and fear Peter, I suggest you learn it, cause right now I have neither for you. Come find me when you grow up.”

As ironic as that last statement was, it was true. I turned to walk away, but I heard a scream coming from the treehouse. Simon.

I quickly climbed the ladder and ran into the room, Pan following. Simon’s eyes were still closed, but he was thrashing around.

I wrapped my arms around him, “It’s just a dream Simon, wake up,” I said. Simon’s eyes shot open, I was quick to comfort the crying boy.

“It’s okay, Simon. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.” Simon hugged me tightly and buried his head into the crook of my neck.

I looked up at Peter, who for the first time, had a look of concern and guilt displayed on his face. He slowly sat down on the bed, and placed his hand on Simon’s back. Simon flinched and looked at Pan with fear.

Before I could tell Peter to fuck off, he did something unexpected. “I’m sorry, Simon.”

Both Simon and I were shocked, “And I’m sorry to you too, Y/N.” I could tell it was hard for Peter to admit that he was wrong.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to Peter. “Go back to sleep Simon, I’m right here, and so is Peter. And we’re not gonna let anyone hurt you. Isn’t that right Peter?” I shot Peter a look.

Simon turned his head to look at Peter, who nodded, and simply said, “You’re safe now.” Peter looked extremely uncomfortable.

It took a while to get Simon to fall back asleep, but I somehow managed it.

“You’re really good with them,” Peter said, “The lost boys.”

“They need a loving mother figure, just like any other kid,” I said simply. “You’re pretty good with them too, well, when you’re not threatening them.”

Peter sighed, “I said I was sorry.”

“I know. But you have to remember they’re still kids, Peter, they’re going to make mistakes. Show a little compassion every now and then.”

“Are you still mad at me?” He asked. I raised my eyebrows and gave him an ‘are you serious?’ look.

Peter leaned over Simon and pecked my lips, “What about now?” He said smirking. I rolled my eyes.

“You’re not out of the dog house yet Pan.” I said, a small smile playing on my lips.

——-

Also posted on my wattpad @ infinite_fandoms_

#6 - What went wrong?

Read: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5

Saturday, 11th June 2017

You haven’t been back home since Wednesday. Staying at Jasmine’s house wasn’t bad since she is a workaholic. She would leave home early for work and usually comes home late. This meant you had the whole apartment to yourself during the day. But the silence during the day sometimes drove you mad. The silence made your head wander to dark parts of your head as you try to figure out any early signs that led to Jay doing what he did. 

Jay is usually invited to many parties and clubs and what not given his celebrity status in Seoul. You don’t always go with him because it’s not something you enjoy doing. He understands this and doesn’t blame you when you don’t accompany him. When he is out at a party or club, he doesn’t come home till the early morning. He would reek of alcohol, sweat and different female perfume scents. The scents never bother you because well, it’s Jay. He has a big female fan base so you write it off as fans hugging him and taking photos with him. And being Jay, he won’t refuse a fan photo. But what if, one of the perfume scents didn’t belong to a fan. What if it belonged to someone else? Someone like a secret girlfriend. 

Jay had tried to call you and had sent many messages over the last few days but you didn’t reply to him. Since you weren’t replying to him he started to call Jasmine and Hallie but they just tell him to leave you alone. Yesterday Jay came by to Jasmine’s house but you didn’t open the door. You just locked yourself in the bedroom and put your earphones on blasting music into your ears for hours. You tried to ignore and delete his messages and voice mails but you didn’t have the courage. Sometimes you would listen to his voice mails just to hear his voice. It wasn’t a healthy thing to do but you missed him. A lot. 

The guys at AOMG heard what happened between you and Jay because they sent you several messages. They don’t ask anything in particular just the usual, normal stuff like how are you, are you coming to the office, when are going to bring food (Simon was the one who asked this the most) etc. You replied with short answers and sometimes even just one worded answers. Everyone knew you didn’t want to talk about it so they stopped messaging you. You didn’t care as they were probably busy with their schedule so you don’t blame them at all. However, Gray hasn’t stopped messaging you. Along with the daily how are you messages, he would sometimes send memes to cheer you up. And it did. 

Sunday, 12th June 2017

Jasmine suggested that the three of you should go out tonight as you have had no outside interaction in so long. You didn’t really want to go but as you looked at yourself in the mirror probably you changed your mind. You looked hideous so why not put on a pretty face for the night. 

You didn’t have any suitable clothes to go out with so you borrowed Jasmine’s black dress, her black heels and her black leather jacket. The three of you had dinner and after dinner you girls decided to go to a karaoke place. The only karaoke place that was nearby was the one that Jay took you and the AOMG crew  to when you guys first started dating. It was for some album release. You couldn’t remember whose. The three of you sang your hearts out. You wanted to stay there until closing time but both Jasmine and Hallie had work tomorrow. Whilst waiting for your Uber ride, Jasmine bought up Jay. 

Jasmine: Hey you know you gotta at least talk to him about it. He has been messaging me more than my mum does. And from the texts he sent, it seems he has been missing you a lot. Talk to him soon ok? Don’t leave it too long otherwise you will regret it. And fyi, I still hate his ass. 

You: I know, I know. I have thought about it so I might… call him or something.

Jasmine: Well, that’s good to hear. And hey if you need help whooping his ass, let me know. 

When both of you arrived back at the apartment, you decided to stay out on the seats because you just wanted to feel the chill air against your face. You were sitting there for nearly an hour, when you decide to go back upstairs. Just as you got up, a car pulled up and parked in the empty car spot next to where you were sitting. You recognised that car because it was the same one that day when you went shopping and you knew who was inside it. 

You: Hey you. What are you still doing out at this time?

Gray: I’m nocturnal remember. Are you waiting for someone?

You: Ah yes, Gray the night owl, I forgot and no, I’m not. I just got back from a girl’s night. What are you doing here?

Gray: You haven’t been replying to the memes I’ve been sending so I thought something was up. 

You: Oh right, sorry. I didn’t know you knew where my friend lived. How did you know? 

Gray: Jay told me. I drove him here on Friday. He is not in the right state to be by himself, let alone drive. 

You: I see. So how is he holding up? Probably been drinking all day I’m guessing? 

Gray: I’ve been staying with him over the past few days just to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. And to be honest, I’ve never seen him like this. Ever. He misses you, [Y/N]. 

You: Yeah..well you probably know what happened right? I want to call and talk to him Gray, I really do. But I’m afraid of what is going to happen when the phone call ends. Like would our relationship end or we get back together and further down the road, he does it again. I-I don’t know, Gray. 

Gray: All I can say at the moment is to call him. Even better yet come back home. Come home and talk to him. Please? 

You: You’re not the first person to give me that advice. Where is he now, by the way?

Gray: He’s at home and I hope he’s sleeping. I took away all the alcohol at your place. You two have a lot. I mean, a lot a lot. 

You: Ha. Your boss buys them, not me. And thanks Gray. Jay is lucky to have you as friend. 

Gray: And he’s lucky to have you as his girlfriend. Jay is one lucky person. Stupid but lucky, right?

You smiled. It was strange hearing Gray say “girlfriend” because you weren’t completely sure what you were exactly to Jay. 

Well come tomorrow morning, you will find out exactly what you are to him and what he is to you. 

roads far from home (1)

a fanfic

pairing: jace wayland/simon lewis
past clary fray/simon lewis, past clary fray/jace wayland

summary: Simon wonders what the protocol is for when your ex’s ex forces his way onto your solo tour / journey of self discovery.  Surely it can’t be to let Jace Wayland ride shotgun all the way to Minnesota.

aka - a jimon road trip mundane!au, with some musician!Simon and snapchatter!Jace

genre - angsty? slice of life?

note: i’m just going to leave the first scene of my long ass wip up here. it’s inspired by a moodboard someone posted ages and ages ago somewhere (probably @jimondaily), but I don’t really know how to use tumblr so…. if anyone can help me find the original post to attribute that would be great.

I don’t know these roads / These rolling hills lead me far from home

Jace leans against the gaudily painted van with his arms crossed, keeping one eye on the phone in his hand and the other on Simon’s house. He watches as Simon emerges with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and acoustic guitar case in hand.

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I imagine young gabe was like a simon Cowell wearing tight white shirts and generally very hard to impress. Diff is he probs was handsome as fack n wore contacts.

Tbh i cant draw gabriel for shit 8D


Pilot: YES YES he was probably crazy crazy handsome. i have a fun daydream about some getting sent back in time, probably adrien, and he gets helped out by this cool handsome dude and hes like “who are you?” and he just goes “Gabriel, not that it matters. See you around.” and adrien is like “oh my god”

(art by drfm)

Hell of Hells - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne
Summary: They always say the hardest thing to do is admit something to yourself. And Dick can’t believe how right Dr. Simon Hurt was. 
A/N: A directly post-Nightwing 19 thing. Like immediately after the last two pages of 19. Let’s take the assumption that Damian was ‘killed’ and this is his soul getting taken away/Dick bringing back. Not great, oh well. I just really want these two spinning in the void remembering how much they love each other. It’s not really Hell, I don’t think. Just say it’s some kind of afterlife. 

~~

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I’ll Just Take a Sickie

Request: Negan dropped all of his wives for Talia, an Australian beauty who is a killer marksman and fighter. Based around the events of the season finale.

Author’s notes: I am not Austrailan so I did my best with the slang. I’ve never had to write based on an actual episode, so I hope I did alright. Enjoy!

warnings: cursing, Smut, blood, death


Talia stood watching Negan speak to Sasha. His tone stern, but jovial. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She watched as he bent down and his shirt rose and showed a small patch of skin. When he finally finished his meeting and came out, she felt like she could jump him right there.

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You Don’t Have To Answer

Some Snowbaz fanfiction for you! Featuring tipsy!snowbaz! Smut free, 4.1K words :)

Baz doesn’t know how he’s going to survive another 3 semesters of unrequited love for his roommate. Agatha has just broken up with Simon. The actual piece is better than this summary, I promise.

Baz

It was getting harder and harder to live with my secret.

It wasn’t that I wanted to tell Simon that I was in love with him. As far as I was concerned, it was just as well that Simon would never find out. But it isn’t easy being in love with your enemy.

Sometimes, when I was leaning against his headboard attempting to study for Politics or some other class, and Snow would walk out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his head, or even just be doing homework on his bed, I couldn’t help but watch and ponder. What would happen if I shoved my books aside, pushed Snow up against the wall, and started kissing him? There was a small part of me that thought Snow would whisper finally and kiss me back, mirroring my own lust.

There were so many things wrong with that, though. Snow was straight, wrapped around Wellbelove’s finger—oh yeah, and he hated me. It was an obsessive hatred, one that drove him to follow me and keep track of everything I did, but hatred all the same.

If I watched Snow for too long, surely he would notice, and then I would have to talk to him and pretend to hate him, and honestly, it was exhausting. So I would sigh and go back to my schoolwork. It was the same every night. Always wondering, knowing the entire time that it would never go anywhere.

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The Family That's Left (Don't Let Go)

Simon shoved open the doors of the hotel, staring Raphael in the face.

“Dude,” he said seriously, “We need to talk.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow and turned slightly towards him. He sent a hard glare Simon’s way.

“And why should I speak to you?”

Simon threw his hands up in frustration. This conversation was already going downhill.

“Look, Raph, I’m—I’m worried about you, okay?” Jeez, Simon felt super awkward but he forced himself to keep eye contact and prove he meant it. “You haven’t come to bother me in a while and I—I get that you’re probably not—forget it. I’m not the person you’d want to talk to and you probably don’t even want to talk about the institute and you’re probably upset about—well, I’m sure you’ve heard about me and—“

“Shut up, Lewis.” Raphael huffed.

“Okay, that was just rude.” Simon turned around, “I guess I’ll just go.”

“Stay.” Raphael’s words made Simon pause and turn around.

“Uh, what?” He blinked stupidly, wondering if his vampire hearing was malfunctioning.

“Stick around,” he said quietly. His face lacked the hard expression he usually wore. It broke Simon’s heart to see him, the strong and dependable leader of the New York clan, looking so tired.

“Okay,” Simon nodded. He stepped closer, hoping it would be comforting and not seem like an invasion of Raphael’s personal space.

“I’m not sure how you became a daylighter, but with all that’s happened—you’re still my kind and part of this family. Your concern proves that—though you’re still an idiot for barging in here when I never said I retracted the kill order. In these times, that means more than any grudge that you can live in the sun.”

Simon couldn’t help but smile. Becoming a daylighter as Raphael called it was great, but it also made him feel different. He already felt ostracized from Clary with the whole shadowhunters vs. downworlders thing, but then he realized he was different from every other vampire too. That hurt a little.

“I wish I could give it to you.”

Raphael was silent for a moment. He brought his hand up to Simon’s cheek and Simon stared in awe at the unexpected tenderness.

“Thank you.” Even his words sounded soft. “But I’d rather you keep it. You don’t deserve to live in the dark.”

“Neither do you! Besides, I—I haven’t exactly been a great member of the clan. I can’t see how you think I deserve it.”

“You only became a vampire because I forced your involvement in the downworld. Otherwise the shadowhunters would’ve kept you out of the way. You were taken unfairly and before your time without any choice in the matter of coming back.” Raphael rubbed his thumb against Simon’s cheek. The motion made Simon want to close his eyes and lean into it. “I’ve accepted my life. I’m glad you don’t have to live with at least that much.”

“Raph,” Simon felt tears prick at his eyes. “Thank you. Do you—do you want to talk—“

“Come home.” He interrupted. Simon huffed out a laugh.

“You could wait until I finish, you know. How rude.”

Raphael smirked. “If I let you finish your rambling we’d be here all night.” His smirk faded. “Come home, baby. We need to stick together. Your sunny personality could really help,” he took a deep breath and attempted a wry smile, “Could really help everyone here.”

Raphael didn’t need to say the true meaning. Everyone who’s left. Everyone who didn’t die. Everyone I couldn’t save. Simon understood despite his usual oblivious nature. Simon understood grief. He’d felt it with his dad, he’d felt it with his mother’s depression. He felt it for the life he thought he’d no longer have.

“Hey, that beats living in a shack any day. Don’t tell Luke but after a while werewolves do kind of smell like wet dog.” He hoped Raphael understood what he meant too. If he was gonna be welcomed back for his sunny personality, he’d be that light. He’d make the dumb jokes the clan would roll their eyes at and smile like a goofball and support Raphael and the clan members that remained.

Raphael smiled the most real and genuine smile Simon had ever seen on his face. Simon couldn’t help but smile back. Raphael paused, scanning Simon for a moment. Without warning he moved his hand behind Simon’s neck and pulled him towards him. It took Simon to process that Raphael was hugging him before he returned it.

Raphael whispered into his ear, “Welcome home, baby.”

Simon relaxed into the hug, a feeling of safety and home filling him. It was strange to think that a week or so ago they’d been at each other’s throats. In that moment, Simon swore he’d do what he could to keep this family—his family—together.

“I’m glad to be back,” and, despite everything that’d happened up to now, he meant it. He knew nothing had been fixed between them, nothing had been done to deserve forgiveness on either side. Still, Simon hoped this would be a good start, a new chance to make things better.

Maybe they could even have more hugs.

How a Near-Death Experience Helped blackbear Make His Most Successful Album Yet

In 2012, following a stint in a Florida punk band and an apprenticeship under R&B polymath Ne-Yo in Atlanta, Matthew Musto joined the singer/songwriter Mike Posner for a co-write in Los Angeles. “Our first real session, we wrote Bieber[’s ‘Boyfriend’],” Musto remembers. That song subsequently went to No. 2 on the Hot 100 and sold over three million copies. 

“It made me think I’m never gonna miss,” says Musto, who now records as blackbear. “I went crazy. I was poor my whole life. When I was a millionaire at age 21, what would you do? As soon as I got rich, it was mimosas every morning. I was taking my friends to Six Flags every weekend; we were flying to Hawaii; we did whatever we wanted.”

At least, until last year, when the hard living caught up with Musto. What he thought was a nasty bout of acid reflux turned out to be a life-threatening case of pancreatitis brought on in part by substance abuse. “One in three people would have died from the severity of my attack,” Musto says. “I had a large surgery where they cut me wide open.”

While recovering in the hospital, Musto started to come up with many of the songs for the new blackbear full-length, Digital Druglord, released last month. Lead single “do re mi” charged onto the Hot 100 last week at No. 87, the first blackbear track to ever crack that chart, and Digital Druglord debuted at No. 14 on the Billboard 200. “It’s a good time in the Beartrap world,” says Musto, who no longer drinks. “I’m waiting right now for the president of a label to see if he wants to buy my label for millions." 

It’s fitting, then, that Musto is talking on the phone poolside. "I’m in some suede jumpsuit shorts, a cut-off Raf Simons tee, a pink Supreme hat,” he says. “I’m really livin’ my fullest potential life." 

A little over a decade ago, Musto dropped out of high school when his punk band was signed; he was just 16 at the time. Soon he ditched the group and started putting songs he describes as "electronic folk” on MySpace. He was discovered there by a manager named Tabari Francis, who still helps Musto today.

“Tabari sent my demos out to anybody and everybody,” the singer recalls. “The ones we got bites back from were Ultra Records, who probably wanted me to be the next Matthew Koma [a writer who frequently works with electronic music producers] before Matt Koma even happened, and Akon, [but] I don’t know where I would fit in that camp. So we decided let’s go check out Ne-Yo.

"I was such a huge Ne-Yo fan,” Musto adds. “I respect anybody that is very in tune with their feelings.”

The time he spent in Atlanta served as a crash course in the music business. “That’s where I learned: whoa, I can sell these songs that I don’t want to necessarily sing for me,” Musto says. He wrote daily and put some of the demos out for free on PureVolume, an early MP3 site. Some recordings also found their way to Mike Caren, a longtime A&R who is now the CEO of Artist Partners Group and a Creative Officer at Warner Music Group. Caren flew Musto to L.A. and put him together with the producer MdL, who would also work on Bieber’s “Boyfriend.”

Following the success of “Boyfriend,” Musto became a big spender, and pivoted almost immediately to start recording himself. (He still writes for other artists occasionally, but only on projects he wants to work on, like the new Linkin Park album.) The second blackbear project, Deadroses, included a listless, love-drunk tune called “Idfc,” which stands for “I don’t fucking care.” The track came out on Valentine’s Day in 2015 and bubbled quietly on the internet; roughly 18 months later, it cracked Billboard’s Hot R&B songs chart. “If it didn’t have the F word in the chorus, I’m pretty sure it would’ve played all over the radio,” Musto says. “I have an independent plaque, and I’m so proud of it. That’s my baby." 

blackbear uses polished rap beats as a backdrop for fuzzy, half-remembered tales of sozzled nights and white-hot eruptions of emotion, often directed towards unnamed romantic partners. Though the feelings come fast, Musto sings in an unemotional tone, and the instrumentals rarely alter or shift dynamics, so there’s a strange disjunction between medium and message. His songs induce whiplash as they swing between overwhelming feelings of attachment - "Tell me that you love me/ Even if it’s fake” - and vindictive kiss-offs: the refrain of his latest single is, “I’m so fucking done with you.”

When asked if any female fans might be put off by the direct broadsides on songs like “do re mi,” Musto says, by way of explanation, “It’s kind of like watching Mean Girls. A lot of drama in L.A., a lot of talking, a lot of telephone. That’s Hollywood.” And in a sign that Musto’s fans perhaps prefer the hot-blooded, accusatory stuff to the blasé numbers, “do re mi” debuted higher than “Idfc” even peaked. The more drama, it seems, the better. 

Though he has plenty of label connections - when he released a collaborative album with Mike Posner as Mansionz earlier this year, the pair obtained a deal with Island almost immediately - Musto continues to pursue the independent route. Part of this is practical. “I’m gonna be completely honest: my annual income is more than what a label could offer me at the moment,” he says. But this is the way he wants it, too: “I like to be in charge of how everything happens.”

Someone Better

Originally posted by gangnamclique

‘I swear to god if you-’ you warned Ugly Duck who was sleeping under the thick and warm comforter. Some of the guys tried to wake him up but when they failed. They quickly gave up and opted to go for breakfast instead. His two CEOs jumped on top of him and shouted in his ear and he didn’t even move an inch. Jay then had opted to call you who was having your breakfast downstairs to settle Duck.

‘I’m up okay. I’m up.’ He pushed the comforter away from his face after your last warning. You tried playing nice, shaking him slowly but it was already 9 and they had a flight to catch back to Seoul. You put your hands out to get him out of bed as he groaned but took your hands anyway. You guided him towards the bathroom and gave him a towel that was hang on the chair. You heard him locked the door before you knocked on it to get his attention. 'I’m coming to check on you in 10 minutes.’

You heard him cursing and grumbling inside the bathroom as you turned around to look at Simon. He clapped his hands, his body leaned against the doorframe, at your spectacular performance. He had always been impressed at your ability to whip the boys into shape.

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