#Nothing too private or personal but just enough to add a tender human touch.

[maddymoreau]

Thinking about the notes Mr. House wrote at the bottom of his unfinished obituary 😂😭

“/// Will revise and finish this up later. Have set the age at death to update automatically. Obit makes salient points but “pearls before swine,” of course. Let’s hope the ingrates never have cause to read it. Who knows how many of them are even literate!”

[akitokihojo]

Stay

Woah, two posts in one day? Yeah... yeeeeeeah. I don't usually post so late, but as I sat here staring at this document, I realized that if I don't post it now, I never will.

Okay, look, this story is extremely personal for me and I want to give a warning about that. If you know me or have been following me for a while, you may have noticed I tend to keep to myself, I'm quiet, and I'm private. But, as most humans, I have things I battle, too. I've been through things, too.

My coping mechanisms are humor and "add to cart." My therapy is writing. I decided to give this a shot. I've gotten personal with older fics before, but it's vague and I sort of lightly mix it in there like food seasonings. "Everything's Okay" and "A Moment" are examples of which. This story is largely based off something real. The emotion behind it is real. Very real.

Now, I will admit, the comfort added isn't. It's something I've realized over the past couple of years that I both crave and deserve. It's something that would help me incredibly, and maybe it's unrealistic, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I want it. So bad. So, I wrote. I made it happen.

I decided to project everything into my comfort otp, so if either Kagome or Inuyasha seem out of character, it's because they are. Sorry about that. It was difficult to keep their characteristics in tact. Particularly, Inuyasha. He's unbelievably soft here.

This is sloppy. I did my best to edit, but like I said, the longer I sat on it, the less likely it was bound to be posted. Just consider it unfiltered emotions if it seems messy, because that's what it's supposed to be.

Some disclaimers that I'll open up about: Yes, all of those negative things have been said to me by a past ex. What Kagome tells Inuyasha is very real for me. Also, replace "abusive father" with "abusive mother" and you've got it. :) I just didn't feel comfortable disrespecting mama higurashi with such slander, so since Kagome's father isn't in the picture, it was simpler.

Okay, I'm done. Thank you. If you read this, thank you. Again.

---

“Come on, Kagome. Show me.” Inuyasha encouraged supportively.

Kagome sighed, adjusting the shorts a bit better around her waist as she stared at herself in the mirror on the inside of the door. She’d comfortably tucked herself away in the walk-in closet of her boyfriend’s bedroom, preferring the space she had and the length of the mirror as opposed to the bathroom that only showed her up to her hips unless she bounced to her tippy toes.

“Houston, we have a problem.” She spoke.

“Define ‘problem.’” Inuyasha proposed. “Because, I realized a long time ago that you and I have two totally different definitions of the word.”

No, this was a definite problem. Unfortunately, it seemed she’d purchased clothing from one of the retailers that didn’t quite grasp that some woman had thicker asses and thighs. The shorts fit, but they hugged her in places she needed a little more room in. God forbid, she sit down. Then, they’d fit her like underwear.

The band was comfortable along her hips, but felt a little better if she pulled it up a smidge toward her waist. But then the underside of her booty cheeks popped out, and that for sure wasn’t something she could sport in public. Or, she could. She just wouldn’t be comfortable doing so. It wasn’t her style. She preferred a hint of more modesty. Not to mention, the shorts were very tight against her lady bits, and that was definitely something she didn’t want her clothing riding up on.

“Babe.”

“Curse these thighs.”

“Oh, see what I mean?” He chimed from the other side of the door. “That’s the exact opposite of a problem.”

“It’s a problem if the shorts don’t fit, Inuyasha.”

“Show me.”

“They don’t fit.”

“Okay, we’ll return them. But, show me first.”

“Why do you want to see them if they don’t fit?” She laughed lightly.

“Why wouldn’t I? Do I have to spell this out to you every time?” Inuyasha asked, making it obvious that he was feigning irritation.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Alright, first of all, I know you’re ridiculously critical of yourself. I have a more objective point of view, and therefore that makes my opinion the only valid one here.”

“Hey -“

“I’m not finished. Second, I love seeing you in tight clothing. That’s a given. You don’t have to keep it, and you should always wear things you’re comfortable in, but at least do the right thing and let me see first. I think I deserve that much. Third, and most importantly, ass and thighs. Your ass and thighs.” Inuyasha made a chef’s kiss motion even though she couldn’t see, losing himself in the thought of some of his favorite assets of hers. “You know damn well how much I love them. So, please - please - come out and show me, Kagome.”

Behind the door, she fought her smile, losing so quickly it was as if she hardly stood a chance against it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her body, but he was right. There were some imperfections that had her self-conscious at times, and he knew without saying when they started dating over five months ago that her thighs were one of them. And, she could tell the half demon she called hers genuinely adored everything she deemed unworthy.

Giving a minor adjustment to make sure the area between her thighs had enough room to breathe, she sighed out any apprehension and opened the door. Inuyasha sat on the edge of the bed waiting, golden eyes instantly on her. He skimmed over the way she’d tucked her shirt into the underside of her bra to keep it out of the way, gazed at her tummy for a small moment, then drifted his sights down to the shorts hugging her snuggly.

He barely blinked, his expression practically blanking, and Kagome’s cheeks went red hot.

“Inuyasha?”

“Shh. I’m concentrating.”

Kagome laughed, turning away from him bashfully.

“Shit, no! I wasn’t ready for that!” He cried, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples as if he were in a panic. Her ass. It looked phenomenal. He wasn’t mentally prepared to see just how plump it looked in those bottoms, and it sent his mind reeling.

“What!?” She gasped, her hands instinctually falling to cover her butt as she spun back to face the way she’d originally been.

“Oh my god.” Inuyasha mewled. “Are you kidding me, Kagome!? Where’s the problem!? Where’s the mother fucking problem!? Because, I don’t see it!”

It was thought to be impossible, but she felt her face flush even hotter. So hot, she wanted to hide it, knowing full and well her embarrassment was visible and prominent. She kind of tucked her head down slightly, hoping the dim lighting in his room would be her ally and shade her blush while she presented her issues with the garment of clothing.

“Well, it’s tight on my thighs. See, when I do this -“ She explained as she lifted her leg slightly as if she was going to take a step forward. The bottom hem of her shorts tightened against her quad, squeezing around the plush before riding up an inch. “It’s not very comfortable. I like a bit of a looser fit. And, then my butt. It’s suffocating. I’m scared one wrong move will make these shorts rip.”

“God forbid.”

“Inuyasha, seriously.” She deadpanned.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening. Anything else?” He apologized with a grin, conceding.

“Yes. I can’t sit in these.”

“Why not?”

“Too tight.”

“So, you literally can’t sit?”

“No, I mean I’m sure I can. It’s just not a good idea.”

“Because, they’ll rip?”

“That. Or, they’ll turn into chonies.”

“What?”

“Underwear.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you got such versatile clothing. I could have sworn we were nowhere near the lingerie section.”

Kagome laughed through her groan, tossing her head back in minor exasperation due to her boyfriend’s sarcasm. It was going to be hard to describe, and she was sure if she attempted such he’d only throw more jokes her way, so she shut her mouth and decidedly took to demonstrating her vexation. She crossed the floor, hoped for the best, and plopped into a seat right next to Inuyasha. Her thighs fluffed out and her shorts effectively rode all the way up, giving her legs the attention they apparently demanded.

Inuyasha’s eyes were glued to her thighs and the way her clothing wrinkled along her anatomy. He’d had to press his lips into a tight line to prevent their proud and joyful crinkle, but it was so desperately difficult to fend off. Kagome was quick to notice and her brows pinched together, a small pout forming.

“You tricked me.” She murmured. “You wanted me to sit down, didn’t you?”

“I’ll admit, it was a lot easier than I expected it would be.” He said, gently stroking the pads of his fingers over the softness of her legs. “Again, I find it important to remind you that you and I clearly have very different definitions of what a problem is. This… this is not a problem. Not at all.”

“Well, see, I sort of wanted to be able to wear these outside of your apartment.” Kagome giggled, inadvertently melting into his touch. It was so light, it almost tickled, but she felt his warmth radiating from his hand, she felt his attraction, she felt his good-natured and honest feelings toward her body, and it was nothing short of what she both wanted and needed right now.

“I know, I know. We’ll return them and get a larger pair. Still, not a problem.” He grinned, planting his whole palm on her thigh and sliding it inward, shoving it to sit in the heat between. He leaned over and kissed her temple.

“Don’t even think about it.” Kagome hummed, leaning into his tender touch.

“Hm?”

“You’re about to lay down on my thighs, aren’t you?”

“What? I can’t?” The half demon pouted with legitimate shock on his brow.

“The moment you’re down, you’re down. You know damn well you’re not getting up if I let you, and I want to get out of these shorts.”

“But, Kagome -“

“Boy, if you knew exactly how these are constricting certain areas, you’d understand.” She laughed, playfully shoving his hand off of her as she stood. Before walking toward the closet where she’d left her skirt, she turned to face her boyfriend, bending at the waist and pushing his bangs from his forehead to plant a kiss against his skin. “I should get going soon, anyway. It’s getting late.”

“Don’t go, then.” He said, tone gruff as his amber eyes met hers. “Stay with me.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her to stay the night, impromptu. Far from it. Every time, though, caused something in her chest to stir, something in her stomach to flutter, something in her bloodstream to effervesce in both a wonderful and unsettling way - the unsettling part deriding from a different emotion she’d recently noticed planting its roots somewhere inside of her. Inuyasha grabbed her hand, running his thumb over the tops of her fingers while his expression shifted to one of seriousness. No jokes, no funny business, no sarcasm was present any longer.

“I don’t feel like I got all the time I wanted with you. Since we were out and about most of the day, I feel like I had to share parts of you with the world, so now that it’s just you and I, I’m not quite ready to let you go. Will you stay?”

Internally, Kagome was telling herself to keep it together. It was such a small gesture, such a tiny request, but it was always the little things he said to her, like this, the mannerisms he displayed when he was sincere, the way his amber eyes met hers when he waited for her answer that had her feeling unstable. Like, she could cry. Like, she was more afraid than she was thirty seconds ago, or an hour ago, or when she saw his smile earlier this afternoon when they met up, or last night, or when she crashed and burned upon realizing what, exactly, it was she felt for Inuyasha a month ago. She swallowed, forcing herself to show none of that as she made a small smile appear on her face.

“Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

A grin sprouted on Inuyasha’s lips as he kissed the hand he held, standing to cross over to his dresser.

“You want your favorite, or a different one?” He asked, ignoring the twitch his own sensitive ear gave as the wood scraped open.

“Whichever. Can I take a shower?”

“Of course.” He said in a manner that suggested she knew she didn’t have to ask by now. He was well-acquainted with her routine and how she preferred showers before bed as opposed to first thing in the morning. That, and they’d recently gotten her some extra toiletries to store in his bathroom for times she stayed over. He was equipped for her company, and sooner or later, Kagome was bound to learn that she was more than welcome to treat his place as her own. Her scent, her voice, her contagious laughter were all he needed, and if his apartment was filled with it, Inuyasha couldn’t think of anything that would make him happier.

Kagome took the large band tee the hanyou offered with a grateful smile and snagged some boxers from the top drawer he’d just opened with a playful, little scrunch of her nose before ambling over to the closet to pick up her skirt and reach for a towel on the shelf.

Why? Why was her heart thumping uncontrollably? She was so happy. So, so, so content. But, yet a crippling sensation was crawling its way up her esophagus to make home in her throat; to grow large, and dense, and sit there to make it impossible to swallow any longer. Ever since that night a month ago, when she’d hung up the phone after a goodnight call with Inuyasha - who was traveling at the time for work, was beyond tired, spoke to her in that husky tone she was utterly weak for, and who’d called out of mere courtesy to let her know he’d made it to his destination safely - she hadn’t been feeling secure. Not because of him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, despite their little, bickering spats and his tendency to get a bit jealous over guys she spoke to, he was doing everything right. He wasn’t the one giving her reason to fear. It was her.

It was what she’d been through.

It was something she was so terrified he would turn around and say to her, that it practically debilitated her rational mind.

But, still, the feeling it stemmed from grew and expanded, the tree roots burying themselves in the soil of her heart, and Kagome was positive by now, after thirty days had passed with no decrease but, instead, the exact opposite, that there was no convincing herself that it wasn’t there. Because, every time she saw him smile, every time he held her hand, every time he expressed himself to her, it banged on her walls like an innocent prisoner demanding freedom.

When she was sure her emotions weren’t superficial, when she was positive there was no changing anything on her end, Kagome had to really look within herself to figure out how to maneuver about things. Did she openly tell him? Was there a right time to say these things? She even debated never saying anything at all, and for a good while, she was settled on that option. It wasn’t the right thing to do, though. It was like she was allowing her past, her previous broken heart, to dictate how she expressed affection toward others, and the potential ‘others’ who hadn’t done her wrong didn’t deserve that. Kagome had always been the type to wear her rather large and vulnerable heart on her sleeve. The cage she held it in now, it wasn’t locked. She wanted to put it back where it belonged, but she was so scared, it made her nauseous. The cage door was opened, held cracked from the inside, the weary organ protecting itself behind a barrier that just needed some encouragement to come out from.

Again, she’d wondered to herself countless times: was there a right moment to say something like this? Was there a procedure she needed to follow? She’d said it first last time, and nothing ended in her favor, so maybe she shouldn’t be the one to initiate this topic? Maybe it applied too much pressure? Should she just keep it to herself behind lock and key? Was he going to be receptive? Was it going to scare him away? Please, don’t scare him away. Please, please don’t leave.

And, countless times, she ended up in tears from the crushing weight of it. Kagome knew the truth. She didn’t have to consult anyone to know what the right thing to do was. It didn’t matter how many nights she stared at the ceiling obsessing over right and wrong, this or that, pros and cons, yes and no’s, because in the back of her mind, the answer was right there in big, bold letters. She was just trying to dance around it. It was so stressful. Something that was depicted as a happy and liberating occurrence was reduced to horrifying and anxiety-inducing for her.

The fact of the matter was, no one should have the power to change her heart. More so, Kagome shouldn’t give anyone that power. The way she felt so deeply was, in fact, a good thing. It was. It was. It was a fight just to get herself to understand that again, feeling like she was convincing herself of something she no longer believed, but she knew the only way she would, once more, feel that freedom was to open up. Stop hiding.

The thought was heavy. It didn’t sit comfortably with her. There were certain things Kagome was okay talking about, and there were certain things Kagome would rather eat up, swallow, and take to the grave. But, that was vulnerability, and she understood that if anyone deserved that part of you, it was your partner. Inuyasha was her partner. He was patient. He listened to her about things that made her uneasy, he took into account how she could be both a social butterfly sometimes and introverted during others, how when she was overwhelmed she had a tendency to shut down, how physical touch was her love language, and he even went so far as to ask her how she would prefer he respond to certain predicaments if she were to ever get overstimulated with him around.

Inuyasha had proved time and time again that he not only wanted to experience every side of her, but that he deserved it. He deserved it.

It jostled her to the core as she considered telling him now, her stomach churning, her heart pounding erratically, her bottom lip quivering as she’d learned to expect rejection. It was why she struggled initiating anything. It was why she had trouble saying the words to anyone but herself, “I want.” It was a learned reaction to her past trauma, but Inuyasha, the half dog demon she called hers, the silver-haired man who always did everything he could to make her feel safe while with him, the person who treated her as special as he’d insisted she was, wasn’t the one who’d hurt her. So, she’d decided over a week ago, she was going to do it. She was going to do it and let him know. Best case scenario, it was always nice to hear you’re loved and he may end up appreciating her confession. Worst case, things were going to get awkward and tense and it may end their relationship for good.

Kagome wanted to be Kagome again. Not the person she was before she’d met her ex. Not exactly, at least. She still wanted the lessons she’d learned with him to be applied to who she was. They were valuable, and not everything she learned had her closing off. As an open-minded thinker, she realized that not every wound left a scar, so not everything that happened made her a victim. Some things are just incidents that taught her lessons to take into tomorrow. So, she wanted to return to Kagome, the bright girl who faced her fears, who wore her precious heart on her sleeve, her loved with everything she had no matter what, but who was just a few experiences wiser. But, no one could do that for her. No one could give her that push she needed. It all came from within.

Of course, so did fear. So did nausea. So did that anxious part of her brain that said, “Let’s do it tomorrow, instead. Or, the day after that.”

Kagome took a deep breath, trembling as it may have been, and looked over to her boyfriend. He’d just removed his shirt from over his head, his short, tousled, silver strands appearing slightly messier than before once he was free, and he glanced over his shoulder her way, most likely feeling her eyes on him.

“Inuyasha,” She tried to come off as stable as possible, but there was an obvious waver in her tone that gave her trepidation away.

“Hm?” He hummed, the corners of his lips twitching downward before he dropped his shirt on the floor and faced her better.

“Can I - um…” It was impossible to hold her eyes steady on him, her deep, brown gaze falling to the floor every time she picked them up to look at him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. I’m all yours.”

Kagome took another breath, willing her body to stop fidgeting. It was Inuyasha. It was just Inuyasha. As soon as she realized there was no stilling her fingers beneath the clothes and towel she held, or the way she bit hard into the inside of her bottom lip, she felt the best course of action was to simply carry on; wavering eye contact, trembling fingers, quivering lips, and all.

“Let me first preface this with: please don’t say anything. Just let me get it out there. I don’t expect anything from you in return, there’s no pressure whatsoever, and I would rather you not say anything at all. Like, at all. Okay?”

Truthfully, Inuyasha was freaked out. Had something happened? Was she about to admit to something bad? Kagome looked about ready to breakdown and cry, and the fact that she was asking for him to remain completely silent only told him she was afraid of judgement. Never had she asked him to stay quiet before. And, he hated how apprehensive his girlfriend looked right now. His instinct was to solve the problem, so what was he supposed to do here but agree to her terms?

“What’s going on, Kagome?”

“Please?”

“Alright. I won’t talk. Now, spill.”

She pinched the back of her wrist to stay grounded, to keep from crying. God, she was so pathetically nervous, and three times now, she’d almost convinced herself to back out and pretend it was a joke. That wouldn’t be right, though. She wanted to cry so bad and she hadn’t even said anything yet, so she pinched herself harder, her nails incidentally digging in. As soon as she felt a degree of control fall back into her grasps, Kagome leveled her gaze at him.

The words sat on her tongue, weighted with the shackles she’d placed there herself. A lump had formed and solidified in her throat, clinging for dear life and making everything so much harder than it needed to be. God, she was really shaking. Her breathing was becoming unsteady as if she’d already started crying and she could feel her expression crinkling into something terribly sad. She knew that was how she appeared only from the way Inuyasha’s lips parted, how his brows curved in worry, how he wanted to reach for her but seemed so confused that he could only stand there and wait.

Like a bandaid. Once the words were out, it wouldn’t be so bad anymore. She just had to get through it.

“Um - I - I - I am -“ The stammering was relentless, and out of sheer obstinance, Kagome shied away for one moment, took a short breath, huffed it out, then faced him again. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, and his chin inched to the side minutely. Very slowly, Inuyasha’s lips sealed and his gaze hardened, falling to the ground. Hastily, Kagome followed her confession with disclaimers, irrevocably panicking.

“A-and, I don’t expect you to say it back! You don’t have to say a word about it! There’s no pressure at all, Inuyasha! I swear!” With each statement, he seemed to be growing more and more tense, and Kagome was terrified she was only making matters worse, but she blinked profusely so her tears didn’t have the chance to breach the brim of her lids. “I just wanted you to know. So, yeah. Now you know.” Her voice had fallen to a hitch just above a whisper at that point, admonished.

Inuyasha kept his promise. He didn’t speak. Kagome was stiff in her spot, not quite knowing what move to make next. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. It was hard to think beyond her admittance in the first place. It was too quiet, and she could hear the clock in the living room loudly ticking seconds by.

“Just nod or shake your head; do you still want me to stay?” She asked sheepishly.

Finally, Inuyasha’s glowing stare rose to hers again, and it frighteningly seemed to grow harder, more tense. She saw the rigid muscles of his jaw clench, and his chest rose with the very slow inhale he took through his nose. Steadily, the hanyou responded with a firm nod. In the next moment, he gestured for her to head down the hall to the bathroom with a notch of his chin, which she wasted no time in complying to. Kagome bit her lip, hard, shakily turned on her heel, and left Inuyasha alone in the room.

The second he heard the bathroom door lock and the shower turn on, Inuyasha dropped his seat on the bed, crumbling forward as he braced his forehead in his hands, elbows jabbing into his thighs. His chest was physically aching, his throat tight, and Inuyasha felt thoroughly crushed. He could literally see the fear in her eyes, the anxiety holding her by the neck. Why? Had he given her some reason to worry? Had he made it seem like that was a taboo topic?

It didn’t take long to rationalize. Logically, he knew it wasn’t him. It wasn’t personal. And, he knew that because he knew exactly how it felt to be afraid of unadulterated vulnerability. It felt like you were naked, exposed to the world, trusting someone with something so valuable and important when you weren’t even sure if you could trust yourself with something like that. It was hard. It was nerve wracking.

But, there was something deeper to it.

Why else would she insist he didn’t respond? It was clear as day. He knew that feeling. He’d been hurt before, too. They’d been together for almost half a year, he knew a good portion of her story, and she knew just as much about his. It was impossible to know it all quite yet, though. Five, six months may seem like a long time to some, but it’s honestly nothing in retrospect. They’re just scratching the surface. He knew the general aspects about her abusive father, he knew she had an emo phase in high school, he knew the superficial shit like her favorite colors, foods, drinks, what medications she needed to take and how often, he knew how she tasted, her tickle spots, where the heating pads were stashed in her apartment - because she had multiple for easy accessibility depending on what room she was in while she was down for the count on her period, and he knew she’d had her heart broken before. But, he didn’t know every little detail about certain things yet.

Inuyasha had had his heart broken before, as well. He knew that feeling. He knew how gruesome and tedious it was to start over, how awful the idea of opening up all over again was, how awkward and weary it felt to tiptoe around specific subjects until you felt comfortable enough describing them, so on and so forth. He knew. Just, apparently, not as well as Kagome did. He was willing to guess that her heart wasn’t just broken. It was trampled on.

His most recent relationship was up and down. He and his ex were never on the same page. He fell quickly but his feelings were unrequited. Then, later on, she began to show more affection, but he’d become closed off by the time that came. Nevertheless, neither of them spoke those words. They never truly opened up about what they felt, how they felt, or why they felt anything, especially romantically. Up until now, Inuyasha had never heard the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Up until recently, Inuyasha had never felt the urge to say, “I’m in love with you.”

No.

That’s wrong.

Sure, recent was a broad term, but it happened several months ago. Several months too soon, he’d deemed. Kagome was playing with his niece, teaching the six year-old how to use a toy compass she’d brought home from class, and congratulating her excitedly whenever Rin got something right. His niece wasn’t shy by any means. She was talkative, playful, bubbly, and bright. But, she had this thing about being touched. She didn’t like it. Only certain somebodies could hold her, hugs were off the table unless you were one of four people, high fives were a maybe, and yet he watched the little girl ask Kagome to watch a movie with her when she was done with the compass, cuddle up next to her on the couch, and fall asleep on her lap without persuasion.

That was it. Kagome respected Rin’s autonomy and boundaries, and Rin let her in by the third time they’d met.

And, Inuyasha fell. Hard.

Again, too soon. So, not saying it was easy. No big deal. After a while, it sort of began spilling out in his idiosyncrasies, in the way he touched her, worshipped her, in the way he craved the knowledge on how to properly care for her. In his terms, he was being painfully obvious. It was almost humiliating how obvious he was being.

It just looks like it wasn’t obvious enough. How could he have expected her to understand? It’s not like she was fluent in his body language or habits. At this point, if she needed it spelled out to her, he’d happily do so.

Because, despite her overwhelming and damn near crippling fear she’d just waded through, Kagome still told him the truth. Kagome courageously stood there, attempted to look him in the eyes, and told him she loved him, no matter how scared or nervous she appeared. If he needed to say it back in order for her to understand, he could return the gesture without hesitation.

First, though, he needed to comprehend what was going through that head of hers. He wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. This wasn’t the time to do so. What she was feeling, that look in her eyes, it stemmed from something deep, something that wasn’t quite healed. He needed, desperately needed, to know what happened. He’d promised to keep his mouth shut earlier, but he hadn’t promised how long he’d hold that. She may have meant about that topic entirely, but that was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t agree to. There was no way in hell he was going to let this slide. Eventually, they were going to have to discuss this.

Now was that time.

Inuyasha suddenly stood, filled with a rage that had surfaced as soon as she shakily asked him if he still wanted her to stay, feeling so irate that he could only clench his fists and pace the floor. There was a good fucking chance this originated with her ex. Maybe her father, but his gut told him otherwise. The things he knew about that relationship were vague. Kagome didn’t like to fixate on it, which was reasonable for anyone who’d moved on, and they never really found a good time to open up about nitty gritty details pertaining to failed relationships; they were more focused on one another and their individual lives. He was fuming. What the fuck had that motherfucker done?

He knew they broke up over two years ago. He knew he’d dumped her just before their anniversary. He knew their relationship wasn’t entirely horrible, but much like he and his own ex-girlfriend, they were rarely on the same page. That’s about it, though. He’d heard a thing or two about how she’d realized way after they’d broken up just how toxic their relationship actually was - one of those late night, shower-thought epiphanies - but she never much elaborated. Hell, she talked about it all so rarely, Inuyasha had even forgotten the fucker’s name. He was her ex-boyfriend so that naturally deemed him irrelevant, because Inuyasha was her current boyfriend and that was all that fucking mattered. But, now he wished he remembered because it would make it at least a little easier to track the bitch ass down and punch his lights out.

She’d opened the door, and he needed to know what was on the other side of it. Inuyasha not only craved, but found it a foundational necessity to understand what had her so anxious to tell him how she felt. First, he recognized he needed to calm down. He couldn’t approach this with heightened emotion because it would cause Kagome to feel insecure and unsafe, which he would never allow her to feel around him.

That was hard for him to do, though. To swallow his frustration, push it aside. He felt things passionately, much like Kagome did. For her, for the light he always looked to for a sense of peace and felicity, for the woman he respected and cherished, he would do it. He could do it.

It took a moment, but Inuyasha left his room and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water to sip on and an extra one for his girlfriend. The shower had stopped running moments ago, and the hairdryer was now blowing. She was biding time. Kagome, more often than not, let her hair air dry. This was killing him. The fact that she was so afraid, so nervous, the fact that she felt anything but contentment in the face of pure and unbridled emotion. Inuyasha just wanted to burst through the bathroom door and tell her to stop, demand she look him in the eyes and say it again and watch how he would never turn away from her. What could he have possibly said that had her more content with silence?

Content wasn’t what she’d felt at all though, was it? Even after he’d kept his mouth shut, Kagome was still trembling, still incredibly uncomfortable.

He was going to the bottom of this.

But, something in his heart wrenched. Overall, he just hoped with everything he had that she didn’t regret telling him.

There was careful deliberation on where he should wait for her. He’d debated standing outside the bathroom door to guide her back with him, but that would apply a lot of pressure straight from a safe zone. There was always the option to sit on the couch until she emerged, but still, he was worried she’d feel like she was under a spotlight. No matter what, Inuyasha was going to be taking her back into his bedroom. It was cozy and comfortable, and he just wanted to fucking hold her. The best course of action was to let Kagome come to him. When she was ready. No matter how much patience wasn’t his virtue. So, he ambled back through the doorway with both water bottles in hand, placing them on the nightstand as he got himself into more comfortable clothing. He’d never finished changing after dropping his shirt on the floor. He grabbed his grey sweats off the end of the bed and shoved his legs into them after removing his jeans, then fished a black tank top out of his dresser, easily and quickly pulling it over his head.

It wasn’t a bad thing that she’d told him. Kagome should be proud of herself. Over and over again, she’d repeated that in her head, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she’d done something wrong. Maybe she’d put him on the spot and made him uncomfortable. She should have at least given him the space to tell her he wasn’t ready to say it back if that was how he felt. That she would have completely and wholeheartedly understood without fault.

Now she was stuck in an unknown area, her head was foggy, her fingers kept trembling, and her eyes were puffy from crying like a baby in the shower. The goal was to tell him how she felt. It was a step in the right direction. A step toward who she truly was behind the protective walls. From this point on, depending on how Inuyasha was feeling, it might be best to pretend nothing happened. Sweep it under the rug.

Everything was so conflicting, so turbulent, and Kagome could bring herself to do nothing but stare at the bathroom doorknob. Her hair was dry, she was dressed in her borrowed outfit, smelling purely of Inuyasha, and even though he still wanted her to stay, she couldn’t believe anything other than the possibility that she’d ruined everything.

What would happen once she exited the bathroom? Would things be uncomfortable? Would he be laying down in bed, facing the wall away from her, silent? Would he ignore her? Would he say something she was terrified to hear right now? Or, was she trapped in her unhealthy thoughts? Was she preparing a response to something that wasn’t waiting for her outside that door? Was she not giving Inuyasha the opportunity to respond in his own, organic way, expecting all the responses she was trained to anticipate before?

With a deep breath, Kagome reached for the knob, twisting it to exit. The apartment was as quiet as it was when she locked herself inside, the clock in the living room ticking loudly as she slowly sauntered through. Lights were dim, but the bedroom, through the opened door, was inhabited. The lamps shaded the white walls in warm hues, and as she got closer she noticed a very soft hum of music playing through the bluetooth speakers he had set up in there, quiet but still melodic and comforting.

Though her heart was pounding and a jittery sensation within her chest was causing her to tread cautiously, she followed the path into his bedroom, spotting Inuyasha sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He was quick to notice her presence, sitting up and glancing at her, and even though she faked a smile with a curious notch of her head, it was clear he saw right through her. How wouldn’t he? If he already didn’t know her so well, it was obvious she wouldn’t go from cripplingly apprehensive before her shower to sweet and happy immediately after.

Inuyasha noticed the pink in her cheeks, the stupidly cute but feigned upturn of her plush lips, the way her deep eyes bounced away from him before coming right back only to repeat the same motions. His Kagome. His sweet, hurting, beautiful Kagome.

With an arch of his brow, the hanyou wagged his finger at her, ushering her over to sit on his lap. She was hesitant at first. She knew what was coming, but still, despite her slight discomfort, he released a small, breathy chuckle so she knew he wasn’t upset with her.

“C’mere.” He requested softly, patting his thighs.

“What?” Kagome returned, unsure.

“I want you. C’mere.”

Slowly, she crossed the floor, accepting her boyfriend’s support as she straddled his lap and got comfortable. An uncontrollable pout formed on her face when he looked into her eyes, she felt it, and humiliation washed over her, causing her to hide her expression between his shoulder and neck.

Inuyasha was patient, making sure she was secure in her seat before his hands traveled over her. At first, he couldn’t help but hug her tight. In this moment, Kagome seemed so fragile and he could already feel her body shaking against him. She knew he was going to talk whether she liked it or not.

Still, he gave her a little more time, relaxing against him, her chest melting on his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders but accepting his full support as his hands rubbed over her back soothingly.

“You want to tell me what happened back there?” He asked, opening back up the topic.

“Did I do it wrong?” Kagome spoke, her voice small.

“I’m not worried about right and wrong here, baby. Can you look at me for a second?”

Carefully, Kagome leaned back, giving him the attention he requested. His large, warm hands cradled her jaw, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eye contact firm.

“I never want you to be afraid to tell me something, okay? Especially, how you feel.”

Immediately, Kagome began to crumble. Her cheeks grew hot and her lips twitched downward sadly. Tears too quickly threatened her eyes, and Kagome was hasty to hide her face in his shoulder again.

“I need you to talk to me, Kagome. What’s going on?” He asked, returning to rubbing her back. In the silence as he waited, he picked up the back hem of the large shirt she wore, pushing his hands beneath so he could gently massage her skin. The heat from her, the softness, he craved it right now. “Was it something I did?”

Kagome fervently shook her head against him.

“I’m never going to understand unless you tell me, baby. That wasn’t the normal amount of nervousness you’d expect when saying something like that. So, what’s going on?”

“I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to say it back if you weren’t ready.” Kagome sniffled, hugging him tighter.

“Okay, I get that. And, what else?”

“That’s all.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“Can we just pretend nothing happened and go back to our happy date night?” She whined playfully.

“Unfortunately, no.” Inuyasha chuckled, catching her small attempt at laughing off her problems. “I can’t do that while you’re crying on me, Kagome.”

“I’m not crying.” She sniffled again.

“Oh? You’re not?”

“Nope. These are just allergies.”

“And, what are you suddenly allergic to?”

“Feelings.” Kagome giggled, though she began crying harder, only because her boyfriend was being sweet and obviously getting through to her. She both hated and loved it at the same time.

Inuyasha kissed her shoulder, holding her a little tighter as his hand slipped higher up her bare back. The curve from her little slouch against him had her spine popping out slightly, and ever so softly, Inuyasha traced his fingers over the bones.

“What were you so afraid of me saying?” He all but whispered.

Mustering up some courage, Kagome leaned back, using one hand to meagerly clear her messy face of tears. She took a few unsteady breaths before speaking, her eyes falling to the hem of the collar of his black top, and she allowed her fingers to distractingly drag along it.

“I didn’t want you to tell me you loved me if you weren’t ready or felt pressured, because I don’t want you to take it back later on.”

The hanyou’s brows furrowed inquisitively and he was unable to bite back the reaction of his head cocking to the side in bemusement.

“What?” He almost hissed. “Why would I do that?”

Kagome didn’t answer, continuing to play with the shirt he wore.

“Kagome, why are you afraid of that happening? Don’t tell me -“ Inuyasha had to tense his breath in his lungs to refrain from letting his upset get the better of him. “Did your ex…?”

She responded with the littlest nod, worrying her bottom lip incessantly. “Multiple times.”

“Multiple times?” He echoed on an exhale, his expression widening. His hands were holding her hips, squeezing as comfortingly as possible, but Inuyasha was struck cold. Not only had someone shattered her, but someone managed to look at this woman on top of him and take back their love on more than one occasion? This girl? How? He’d only had her for half a year and he was scared shitless of losing her, so it didn’t make any fucking sense that someone would just toss her aside like that as if she meant nothing.

Slowly, Kagome curled forward, tucking herself against his shoulder. It was like a safety net. Inuyasha was so warm, he held her perfectly every time she felt emotional and vulnerable. As much as she didn’t want to talk about this, she knew this topic would come up eventually. It was a staple of her by now, something she was clearly conditioned to expect after years of receiving it, and even before she fell in love with the man stroking her back beneath her shirt, she knew this issue would arise. It wasn’t going to be easy or quick to work through, that was a given, and she knew he was ultimately going to need to know some of the toxic occurrences of her previous relationship; things that were done to her and things she’d done, as well. She’d considered it was going to be something he’d want clarity on as soon as she admitted her feelings. It was fair. Being on the other end of things, he deserved to know what she’d been through and why she inadvertently responded the way she had.

It was just hard. It was hard to think about and hard to talk about.

But, if she could power through her fear of admitting her feelings, then she could give him everything else, too. It was another step in the right direction, no matter how unsteady the pathway seemed.

“I told him I loved him first, and he responded by telling me I shouldn’t. He was my first love, so I didn’t really know how to react or what to say to that. It’s not like I could just take it back or agree or something.”

“Right.” Inuyasha almost hummed, listening intently to her explanation as he kissed her shoulder here and there.

“Almost a year later, he told me he was falling in love with me. A few months after that, he took it back and said he wasn’t so sure anymore since we’d been arguing.”

The half demon couldn’t control his reaction to hold Kagome a little tighter. It was like an attempt to protect her from things he knew he couldn’t begin to protect her from. If he could control it, no one would ever speak to her like that. No one would ever hurt her this way. No one would ever be able to apply that pressure to her shoulders, because how could she not feel obligated to be perfect and compliant in order to feel valued and cherished?

“Then, I don’t know how long later, he told me he loved me again. It stayed consistent for a while. He’d tell me periodically, particularly when I did nice things for him or if I said it first. Then, again, he ended up taking it back. I had felt it that time and asked him if he still loved me. He said, ‘I don’t know.’ Followed by,” Kagome’s fingers clutched Inuyasha’s shirt, exhaling tremblingly, though she had been doing so well at keeping it together. “‘Maybe soon I’ll love you again, though.’ So, I idiotically stayed. I held onto that hope. I waited and waited until we got into this stupid fight and he broke up with me the next day. He made sure to emphasize that he didn’t love me. But, said he might in the future, we’d just need to stay friends. ‘You never know what the future stores.’”

God, Inuyasha wanted to kill him.

“There was one night after we finally found separate places, we were packing, getting ready to move out of our shared apartment, and we were talking about old things. He told me he never loved me. And, I just never understood why things went on for so long just because he wasn’t sure. Why would you say it if you didn’t? Why couldn’t he have let me go sooner? What good was I if he didn’t even want me there? I wasn’t strong enough to leave, but he was because he literally hung that over my head for most of the time we were together, threatening me with leaving if I didn’t do something right. I have so many things to work through because of him, so many trauma responses to correct, trust issues that I’m projecting unto you, and he walked away like nothing ever happened.” Kagome cried, once again shaking against Inuyasha.

All he could do was kiss her, hush her soothingly, hold her tight, rub the hot flesh of her back. Let her cry. He understood now. He got it. It was why she struggled to take compliments the first time around. It was why she second-guessed sweet gestures. It was why she assumed everything was sarcastic and insincere. It was why she thought her love for him was problematic. She didn’t want him to say anything because she was scared of the words, “I love you.” They meant nothing to some people, they were used as tools, and so easily, they could be erased. Sad thing was, Inuyasha was sure that even if he said the words right here and now, she wouldn’t even believe him.

“Of course, he’s obviously not the sole reason for why I am the way that I am. Can’t give him credit for everything.” Kagome gave a wet giggle, again laughing through her problems. Her coping mechanisms were all over the place, but it was still cute.

Inuyasha sighed defeatedly, laughing lightly as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“So,” He breathed. “You didn’t want me to say anything because you figured nothing was better than something I could hurt you with.”

Her silence was as good as confirmation.

Inuyasha pulled her in firmer, an arm supporting her low back as he picked her up, rotated their bodies, crawled a little further on the bed, and laid her beneath him on the mattress. He had a knee between her legs, but rested on her side, an elbow propping him up while he used his free hand to gently swipe her tears away.

“It was more because I didn’t want you to feel pressured.” Kagome finally spoke after moments of peaceful silence, taking the opportunity he provided to calm down before continuing. “But, then I started to panic. I felt like this is supposed to be a good thing, right? Not everyone is going to respond the way he does, right? I just wanted to tell you so bad. It’s supposed to be a good thing, but I got trapped in my head thinking history would only repeat itself.”

“Baby, are you sure you were ready to tell me?” Inuyasha inquired, dragging his finger along her temple to clean the tears that followed gravity.

She nodded, her bottom lip quivering. “It’s bad enough that I’m afraid of love. I didn’t want to allow myself to sink and be afraid to love, too. That’s not me. I feel like I’d only be letting him stick around in my mind if I did that, but I just want to love you. I do.” Kagome cried, eyes falling away from him. “I wanted you to know, and I’ve been holding onto it long enough.”

Inuyasha leaned his head down, kissing her shoulder. It wasn’t enough for him. He needed to feel her skin beneath his lips so he pulled the baggy collar away so he could leave a tender and invisible mark on her clavicle.

“How long?” The hanyou breathed.

“A month or so.” She matched his soft tone, trying to steady her lungs and bring herself back to a calm. “The night you went on your business trip.”

“Europe?”

“Mhm.”

“Not too bad. It was the groggy voice, huh?”

Though her eyes were still wet and the hair at the sides of her temples were soaked, her cheeks flushed, Kagome glanced back over to him with a hint of surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Because, I knew I’d get a response from you. Always do.” He smirked, planting sweet kisses against her cheek, and moving up to kiss tears away.

“You know I like that?”

“It’s my job to read you like a book, baby. I take my work very seriously. You’re subtle, but I see things I do that you like. You’ve got little mannerisms that give you away.”

“Like what?”

He hummed a decline. “I’m not giving that secret to you. Let me have this. You know what I will tell you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you promise to hear me out? No interrupting, okay? Just listen to me.”

There was an increase in the tension that climbed through her muscles, and her pout turned weary. Inuyasha took a moment to continue kissing her temple, her cheekbone, his palm finding its way beneath her shirt to softly stroke her tummy. When she relaxed a little, he leaned back to look at her.

“Remember that day Rin took a nap with you? I stayed up that night. Couldn’t sleep. I had you here next to me, and I just couldn’t stop listening to the sound of your breathing. I was scared shitless, but the crazy fucking part was, even though you weren’t awake, having you right here helped keep me calm. It was counterintuitive. I was both scared of you and at peace with you. I wanted you to wake up and do that thing where you tickle the small of my back with your fingers because, god, nothing feels better than that. It was like you held all of me in the palm of your hands, and you could easily drop it in the trash at any given moment. But, it’s you. I knew you wouldn’t. That was my night, though. That was the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

Kagome hardened slightly, and he could literally hear how hard her heart was thumping within her chest. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t make much of any expression really, aside from her brows giving a minor, inward twitch.

“That was quite a few months ago. Nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gotten deeper. I’m so worried one day you’ll walk out those doors and never come back. I don’t want to lose you just as badly as you don’t want to lose me.” He was the one to hide his face this time, tucking it within her neck as he threaded his arms around her back, holding her close. He hadn’t expected her to clutch him in return, but she did. Immediately. Kagome supported him through his own moment of vulnerability, but more importantly, he felt it was a way to communicate her reception. “I don’t care how many times I have to say it until you begin to believe me. I don’t care what I have to do to make you feel secure in our relationship. I’ll do it all. You know I don’t say shit unless I mean it.”

“I believe you.” Kagome whispered, a small hiccup at the tale end that jostled her chest. “That’s the scary part.”

He nodded again, pulling away to gently press his forehead to hers for a moment.

“I get it.” Inuyasha breathed before leaning back to look her in the eyes. “But, one of these days you’ll understand that no matter what happens, I won’t take a damn thing back. You’ll see that I don’t want it back. I feel like my heart’s safer with you, anyway.”

“Stop it.” She pouted, but he knew that was her way of conceding. Even as she cried a little harder and tucked herself into his chest so he couldn’t see it. “You’re being too sweet. Be mean to me again.”

Inuyasha chuckled, raising his hand, “As you wish.” He said, smacking it down against her butt.

The little yelp she released was so sad but adorable as she flinched away from the sting, but it inadvertently brought her to cuddle closer to him. The hanyou laughed, brushing his fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp.

“Can you do something for me?” He asked.

“Hm?” She grumbled into his chest.

“Tell me again. This time look right at me. Don’t look away, don’t fidget, just trust me. That was my first time hearing it. I gotta hear it straight.”

She hadn’t realized Inuyasha hadn’t heard the words before. She didn’t know that. This was big for him too, if not bigger. Was she his first love? Was she the first person he’d ever said that to? Kagome felt a warmth course through her, and even though she was slightly nervous, she didn’t feel unsteady. Not while he held her. Not while his amber eyes were above her, watching her with an emotion she’d never before seen. She came out of hiding with a level of ease she hadn’t felt a moment ago, secure, one of his hands lightly trailing her side beneath her borrowed shirt.

Her fingers had a mind of their own, reaching for his cheek as she softly caressed it, her thumb tenderly rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you, Inuyasha.”

It was like a sigh of relief left his lungs, and the corners of his mouth inched upward. His eyes were hooded with affection, and he leaned down to kiss her, lingering on her soft lips.

“Your turn.” Kagome whispered as he pulled away, her brown eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips.

It felt incredible that she wanted to hear it now. And, though he knew everything was going to take time until she felt comfortable with the idea that he wouldn’t take a damn thing back, he knew it would take time to work through her trust issues little-by-little, he didn’t mind. Because, she was his and he was hers, and he was all too happy to hold her hand and walk by her side while they figured everything out. He couldn’t fix this for her. He hated that he couldn’t take her pain away. That’s not how it worked, though. He knew this. She knew this. Inuyasha was her partner through everything, and he’d be the best fucking partner he could be.

He grinned with their foreheads pressed together, his hand on her waist gripping tighter as he couldn’t help but chuckle from sheer bliss. “God, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Kagome smiled, pushing Inuyasha over to roll on top, once more straddling his hips as she gazed down at him. She wanted to burn this image of him in her mind. She never wanted to forget that soft look in his eyes, or the way he reached up and tenderly wiped away any remaining tears that stained her face. He meant it. She believed him. And, she hoped with everything inside of her that he never took it away from her.

She curled down, cuddling into her chest and Inuyasha immediately turned his head to kiss her forehead. He held her close, gently stroking her hair back and basking in her incredibly comforting heat. He loved her. He loved her so goddamn much. His Kagome.

“What do you need right now, baby?”

“Nothing.” She hummed.

“What do you want, then.”

He knew she struggled with that one, but whenever he asked, she did her best to communicate properly. “Touch my butt again.”

Inuyasha laughed huskily, his hands gliding down her back to take a firm and wonderful hold on her ass.

“And, pizza.”

“Oh, see, I’m a step ahead of you on that one. Ordered a couple before you got out of the shower.”

Kagome gave a short half whine - half squeal of happiness as she cuddled in closer and kissed his neck. “Thank you.”

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 5/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~1900 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

Nakyum is sitting behind Seungho on top of his horse. They ride silently. Not a single word has been exchanged between them since they set on their journey.

With a light hand on Seungho’s shoulder, he holds onto him to keep himself steady. He does not dare to sit closer to his husband, to lean against him, even if he craves for the comfort of closeness more than ever. It is not his to have now.

There are tears streaming down Nakyum’s cheeks. They do not ease the further they get in their journey. They continue to fall because they can do so now as his face is hidden from all. He cries in complete silence if only to hide his sorrow too.

His accident had put the hunt to a halt. After they had determined that Nakyum survived it largely unharmed, despite the dangerous situation, their attention turned on his mare.

She was not as fortunate.

More tears well into his eyes at the memory of his horse, and he can’t quite keep quiet. A sob escapes his lips before he can swallow it down.

When it became clear that she had severely damaged one of her legs, that she could no longer walk, that she could no longer even get up from the muddy bank, the decision was made. It rushed in with blinding clarity. There was only one humane option. They could only end her suffering, as there was no way for her to walk, there was no way for her to heal from an injury as serious as hers.

The mood at the hunt was dampened by what took place, as this was not a death any of them were keen to witness.

The elder master Yoon had ridden to see what happened. He looked at his son silently, as the horse was freed from its misery. It was Seungho, who then decided to bring Nakyum back, so that the rest of them could finish the hunt. Nakyum was clearly too shaken to continue, even if they could get him another horse. Seungho’s father had just nodded at his son, and so, they left the forest, the two of them on the road back.

Nakyum’s tears only cease when they must, when they near the Yoon residence.

As they arrive at the stables, Seungho swings his leg over and hops off the horse. He turns back to Nakyum and helps him off the horse too, his hands wide and firm on his waist.

His hands stay on Nakyum, even after his feet find the solid ground. One hand lingers at his side, another comes to hold his shoulder.

For a moment, they stay so close to each other there, when neither of them steps back. They remain silent. Nakyum has his eyes lowered, his head bowed down, although Seungho must be watching him now. He must see the red eyes and the tear-stained cheeks.

Nakyum cannot meet his gaze.

The pain of what happened is still too fresh and vivid, too heavy on his mind.

Seungho then turns away, and he hands over the reins to a servant who had come to greet them. He grabs Nakyum’s hand blindly, and Nakyum winces as a sharp ache lances his wrist, but he bites down the pained yelp.

Stalking towards the house, Seungho begins to drag him behind. It isn’t until they are in the middle of the courtyard that Nakyum tugs against the hold.

Seungho stops and spins around to look at him.

There is still that fire in his eyes, even if it has morphed into something that Nakyum can’t quite understand.

“Stupid,” Seungho spits out as if he can no longer keep the words in, “So horribly irresponsible.”

Nakyum has to lower his head again only to avert his eyes. He feels like crying, but he will not allow himself to break down in front of his husband. He refuses to do so.

“A horse died because of your actions,” Seungho says, “You should have not participated in the hunt if you can’t even ride!”

Nakyum flinches at the words.

He is not as skilled of a rider as the others are, he knows.

He had not grown up like Seungho – or any of the other noblemen had – with the freedom to go gallivanting in the forest on horseback whenever he wanted. He had learned to ride, only because they were one of the few commoners in their village to even afford a horse. He had learned!

He was not as good as a nobleman would be, he knows, but he could ride.

Still, the words bring tears to his eyes. They do because they rush at him with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

He thinks of his mare, of the way that she had looked lying on the bank. Her mouth was foaming, her eyes rolled up, her voice so pained when she tried to rise from where she had fallen. He thinks of how she had acted before and during the hunt, how she had seemed agitated, how she had not seemed herself.

Nakyum shouldn’t have gone. He shouldn’t have pushed her as he did.

“I hope you are proud of yourself.”

The words hurt, even if Seungho’s tone has lost its heat.

Nakyum can’t stay, he can’t listen anymore.

He turns on his heels and scurries off the courtyard.

He goes directly to his private sleeping quarters. The door has barely had time to close behind him before he tumbles down on the floor and cries. He lifts a hand to his chest, clutching at the jacket, because it hurts. It hurts too much.

  ***

  Nakyum cries hard, slumped down on the floor of his sleeping quarters. The stormy waves of his sobs rack his body. The violence of his sorrow is quick to pass though, burned out by the intensity of it.

The last of the tears are falling down his cheeks when he hears the careful knock.

He hesitates for a moment, until he gets on his feet. He wipes with the edge of his sleeve. It is in vain, he knows, given that anyone could tell he had cried just looking at him.

When he opens the door, he finds Seungho’s personal servant at the doorstep. His eyes are cast down, the look on his face solemn.

“I heard what happened,” he says quietly, “I have come to see how you are doing.”

When the older man lifts his eyes, Nakyum has to look away. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he can speak at all, so he doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t even invite him in. He just leaves the door open, as he walks over to sit down on the mat in the middle of the room.

He lowers his eyes, he hangs his head in shame. It’s enough that the nobles knew, but now the servants did too.

Mr Kim hesitates, but he then approaches Nakyum and asks, “Are you okay?”

The question is only met by silence.

The older man looks at him for a moment, until he places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it lightly. When he is given no further reaction, he sighs.

With tender touches, he examines Nakyum again to confirm that he is not physically hurt. His careful attention has tears welling in Nakyum’s eyes.

When the older man reaches down the right forearm to examine it too, Nakyum flinches and tries to pull away. He had felt the pain blooming in the wrist before, in the forest, and again at the stables when Seungho had gripped it. It felt nothing compared to the heartbreak inside his chest though.

“I will call for a doctor to come and see your wrist, Sir.”

“No,” Nakyum says determinately, looking down at the hand lying limp in his lap.

He doesn’t want it to be looked at, to be treated either. This can serve as a punishment for what he has done, what he has caused with his carelessness.

Mr Kim sighs again, sitting back on his legs, where he has kneeled in front of Nakyum.

“Sir, it really would be best if this is seen by a doctor. It could be injured wor-“

“No!” Nakyum says again louder this time.

His eyes snap up to meet the servants. He means his words to be heard, to be listened and respected.

The older man looks at him for a moment, before he nods. He gets up silently and leaves the room. The door left ajar in his wake.

Nakyum is alone again.

He looks to his side.

The silence of the room is oppressing, heavy. It only adds to the heaviness in his heart. He can’t help but feel guilty, to feel hurt, to feel so much more than that.

Staring towards the closed windows, he can’t help but think of what happened.

He thinks of how it was not right, how none of it was right. He thinks of how she had not acted like herself even when they were just leaving the residence.

She was a mature mare, well trained, that did not get easily agitated or spooked, except today she had.

It is not his fault. It should not have been his fault.

And then, Nakyum’s eyes fall on the pillow on the floor by the windows.

He remembers the snake that they had discovered in his room, the snake that was not supposed to be there. Just as the horse that was not supposed to get agitated and try to throw him off, without much of reason – with no reason at all.

The air is stolen from his lungs by the sudden realization.

None of it was an accident, none of it was a coincidence.

Someone wants him hurt, someone wants him dead.

It is then that he hears the quiet exchange outside his door. He doesn’t see, he doesn’t hear much at all. He can only make out the words spoken by the familiar voice of Mr Kim.

“… best if I do, Master,” he says, “He’ll be okay, I assure you.”

When the man returns to the room, he has a small basket with him. He closes the door behind him before he rejoins Nakyum, placing the basket on the floor beside him.

He is gentle as he removes Nakyum’s outer clothes. He then takes the injured wrist in his hands. Nakyum doesn’t stop him this time. He only watches him silently, as he sets on his work. 

He binds the wrist carefully, using a few smooth pieces of wood for support, adding padding and binding it tightly with long strips of cotton.

“It was probably scary what happened to you,” the older man finally says, his voice soft and kind, “It’s okay to feel fear. It must’ve been scary for others, too, seeing you get in such a terrible accident.”

Nakyum looks at the servant silently. He knows he shouldn’t tell anyone, he knows he shouldn’t trust anyone, but after a moment of silence between them, he speaks the words.

“Not an accident,” he says, so quietly that it can barely be heard.

Mr Kim’s hands still. He lifts his eyes to meet Nakyum’s, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Nakyum knows he shouldn’t tell anyone, but he can’t help but confide in this older man who reminds him of his own father.

“It was not an accident.”

[julesthequirky]

Owned By Sin

Summary: You’re surrounded by Lucifer’s demons unable to get away. You’re captured and brought before the one person you don't want to see. But he’s in your angels vessel and he’s tempting, too tempting to say no to...

Square Filled: Lucifer!Cas written for @spnkinkbingo

WC: 3657

Warning: Casifer (I mean we all know he’s Daddy) dub con, smut, BDSM, flogging, fucktoy, blowjob (these may run into my bingo card, but the squares aren't filled). 

A/N: This is just part one of a two part series.

OVER 18′s ONLY!

There were too many of them and you now regretted not wanting backup in the form of Sam and Dean. You had been persistent and eventually, reluctantly they had relented. Dean wanted you to check in each day. And Sam, had just been glad you hadn’t been in the Bunker when he had told dean Cas wasn’t Cas. Castiel was Lucifer.

Sam and dean had enough on their plate. They had God and Amara to deal with.

Sam had thought it was odd when ‘Castiel’ had asked twenty questions about you, but hadn’t been suspicious until Casifer had revealed his true intentions.

You were neck deep in ganking demons, fighting hard, but they had you beaten. Twisting your body, your turned and stabbed a demon. Hands pushed you hard and you fell landing on your hands and knees. Your demon dagger slipped from your grasp and it was kicked away before you could grab it.

Fingers fisted in your hair, making you yelp as pricks of pain lit along your scalp, yanking your head up to look at them.

“You’re lucky he doesn’t want you harmed. Very lucky.” The demon holding you snarled.

You went to speak but the surroundings changed and you were on the ground, on concrete. You knew exactly where you were. You didn’t need to look. Hands lifted you by your underarms, forcing you to stand. They pulled your head, forcing you to look upon the being on the throne.

He was smirking, hand resting on his cheek, a finger tapping his, no Castiels’ bottom lip. It was odd to see Castiel’s vessel behave like this. He was normally so rigid but here he was relaxed. He pushed himself off the throne and stood with an air of arrogance and pride, putting his hands in the trench coat pockets.

“You did good.”

The demons either side of you nodded.

“You can let her go and you can leave.”

“But-”

“Leave.” He shooed them out with a wave of his hand and you were aware of how alone you were with him.

“I hope they didn’t hurt you too badly.”

You didn’t speak, didn’t want to. He didn’t even sound like Cas. You didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

“Are you pining for your blue eyed angel?”

You didn’t know what to say and you stood a little taller, a defensive look on your face. You were ready to fight.

“Oh, Cassie, you picked a pretty one.”

It was more of a quiet statement to himself.

“I know all about your little thing for him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feigned innocence.

“Oh, really?” He walked over to you with a smug grin on his face. “Don’t you remember when Sam and Dean had left the bunker, leaving you all alone, back when you thought I was Castiel, at least you thought you were alone. Your thoughts were so loud, Y/N, so wanton and I couldn’t help myself. They were so deliciously dirty for the blue eyed angel.”

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say.

“I was there, Y/N, when you touched yourself. I was there when you fucked yourself hard with that vibrator. I was there when you screamed out Castiel’s name.”

Your cheeks blazoned with heat. You had been alone. You were sure of it. You weren’t even sure what had set you off.

“I saw all your thoughts, all your dirty little fantasies. Everything Y/N.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer to you.

“Stay away from me.” You warned.

“Don’t you wanna hear about dear old, Cas? His thoughts about you are strong and loud. It would do more harm to me to stay away. You’re intriguing. He thinks about you all the time. What do you say, Y/N, your favourite little angel. Does it surprise you that he wants you? In all ways.”

You couldn’t talk. Castiel wanted you. It had to be too good to be true.

“I had to restrain him from taking over and making us known when you were having your little private time.”

“You’re lying.”

This was the devil you were talking to. The ultimate tempter, the ultimate deceiver.

His brow raised and he took his hands out from his pockets, folding them across his chest.

“I’m lying, am I?”

You nodded.

He was in front of you, hands around your arms, and you were unable to breathe. Shock radiated through you as you looked up into those blue eyes which didn’t belong to him.

You couldn’t let yourself slip, like you had dozens of times before. This was not Castiel.

His fingers tucked bangs of hair behind your ears in a tender fashion.

“I say one thing that no one agrees with and I’m the one branded a liar,” He sighed and tutted. “You humans lie all the time. Especially to get what you want. You’re no exception.”

He cradled your head in a large hand, the thumb on his other hand began to trace over your lower lip.

“You, little one, have such tempting delicious thoughts. Did you know angels can tell when humans lie?” He asked casually.

You couldn’t answer him. You sucked in a ragged breath

“No? You didn’t. Cassie here can recall every lie you’ve told him. Some of them are quite shocking.”

You tried to remember the lies you told. Most of them were harmless little white lies. Castiel’s face peered closer, his nose almost touching yours.

“There’s one in there, a lie you’ve been telling yourself. Oh, it’s big, there’s no point in trying to deny it, not to me and not to Cassie.”

His hand trailed down your neck, his thumb running sensually up and down your throat. He bit his lip, looking innocent, making you slip, a tiny whine escaping from you.

“Attagirl.” He growled, smirking.

He snapped his fingers and you were no longer in the throne room, you were in some kind of play room, head to toe in black. Chains hung from the ceiling, black furniture placed strategically in the room. The blood drained from you as you recognised more than a few of the equipment in the room. You turned to Lucifer, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Don’t you recognise any of this?”

You shook your head, refraining from looking at him or anything in the room, keeping your eyes to the ground. He tipped your chin with a flick of his wrist, the pad of his thumb resting on your bottom lip.

“I think you and I both know that’s a lie.” he spoke quietly.

He spun you around and stretched out his hand, finger pointing.

“You can't be telling me you don’t recognise the whipping bench? The bondage stool?” You shook your head. “What about the lattice swing? The stocks?”

Again you shook your head. Casifer turned you to him.

“Oh, honey, you can't lie to me. I know this is all you fantasize about. And so does Castiel. Castiel might not have read your mind, but I didn’t extend that courtesy, and I may have passed those thoughts on to Cassie. He’s… shall we say, intrigued.”

That had to be a lie. You had had just about enough of Lucifer’s guile and pulled yourself free.

“Enough! I don’t know what you were thinking bringing me here and showing me these dirty, perverse and shameful-”

“They needn’t be shameful, I could, oh, I don’t know, show you exactly what you’ve been missing.” he shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You looked at him. He couldn’t seriously be suggesting?

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Oh, come on. Think about it. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime. You get to try out something you’ve always wanted and you have a willing partner, I might add. Plus, Cassie here is itching to get his hands on your bare skin and he will, providing you play ball. So, what do ya say?”

Yes, what were you going to say? The thought of Castiel’s hands on your body, had surpassed to your fantasies, which continued to torture you on days and nights Castiel was absent.

You looked up. Lucifer was leaning against a padded black massage table screwed to the floor, metal restraints hanging from the corners. He wasn’t Castiel, no matter how well he wore Cas, Lucifer wasn’t your angel.

“Two for one, babygirl.”

That wasn’t helping.

He shifted, took your arm, pulled you to him, impatient, and felt a hand in the centre of your chest.

“Let me put it this way, do it, or I’ll take that pretty little soul of yours away.”

You couldn’t breathe. The tips of his fingers rested against your beating heart.

“M-my soul.”

He nodded. Nothing was worth losing your soul over. But that would mean submitting to Lucifer and his demands.

 He plunged his hand into you. You had never experienced pain like this before. It was excruciating and you felt like being torn from the inside out. It was all you felt, residing in every fibre of your being, as he carved into you. His hand tightened, fist curling inside you.

It felt like it lasted forever and when he retracted his hand, you gasped for air, like it was the first time you breathed. Your chest heaved and sobs left your mouth, tears stinging and you tried to blink away the resonating pain. He had a bright white light clutching in his hand.

He cupped your cheek.

“Sorry, honey, but you want me to be happy, don’t you dollface?”

You looked into his innocent blue eyes.

“Of course, just, that’s mine.” You pointed at the star.

He smiled. “I’m looking after it for you, keeping it safe. It seems to stop you from having fun.” he said and pocketed your soul.

“That’s not true.”

“Shh,” He put a finger to your lips. “The devils in the details. Let’s just say it prohibited you. Oooh, Cassie is mad at me for having to audacity to steal your soul. I mean, I’ll give it back. He just has to behave. And if he doesn’t I may have to force him to stay in line, and we wouldn’t want that, would we sweetpea?”

You shook your head automatically. Did it matter if he got hurt?

Casifer put a hand on your shoulder and you didn’t see his hand come out of his pocket, but you felt it when it shot back into your chest.

“Y/N, listen to me, its Castiel. Don’t let him do this. Run. Run away.”

His hand exited from your chest and you gasped for breath.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Cas?” you sobbed.

“Go,” he pushed you away. “I’ll come for you later.”

You stepped back looking at him. He struggled to hold Lucifer off. You turned your back on him and ran for the door. Unfortunately, Castiel couldn’t hold him off for long and his vessel appeared in front of you, barring the way, wearing a sinister smile. He grabbed your throat, pulled you close, pressing his face to yours.

“I’ll kill him for that little stunt and maybe I’ll parade around in his meat suit just to torture you with.” He snarled.

His hand tightened around your neck and you grabbed at his arm, desperate for him to free you, desperate for breath.

“Trust me, I’ll make it hurt to. I can inflict you both with such delicious pain. I’ll make it last and by the end you’ll both be begging me to end your miserable little lives. That’s a promise.”

He let go and you dropped to the floor, clutching your throat, gasping in breaths. You looked at him, standing tall over you, leering at you. Castiel wouldn’t pay. Castiel wouldn’t be at the mercy of Lucifer, not if you could stop it.

“I- I’ll do it.”

“Good girl.”

You regained your breath. He tilted his head and smirked.

“My hand print looks good around your neck. Really cements the dom/sub relationship don’t you think?” He winked. “Wear it as a collar.”

You went to stand but he stopped you.

“Your place is on your knees, just as you are.”

It shouldn’t have turned you on, but it did. The first white hot shot of electricity bolted from the centre of your chest straight down to your core. A finger tipped your chin up, forcing you to look at hum,

“Do I detect arousal?”

You shook your head. He needn’t know.

“Mmm, you’ve got that delectable whiff of defiance. You know what the subs who defy their dom’s are called?”

You shook your head.

“I know you know. Brat.”

You pulled a face. Damn him. Damn him for knowing.

“I love how your defiance and arousal mix together. It’s getting me high. I could bury my nose in it all night long.”

He dropped to his knees and cupped he back of your head.

“Cassie wants me to do it properly.” his voice slipped to a quiet tone and his his hand on your head started to stroke your hair.

“A kiss. Cas is begging for a kiss,” His lips brushed against your skin, grazed over your lips and came to a stop at your ear. “One kiss.”

You had imagined what it would be like kissing Castiel, always wondered what the feel of his lips on yours would be like and if the taste of him would intoxicate you.

“Just one kiss…”

“Yes.” He sighed. His lips claimed yours and your heart skipped a beat. His lips moved over yours with finesse and ease, his tongue occasionally swiping over your lower lip, then finally your tongue as he led the chase.

Below you feel the growing moisture in your panties. Your hands gripped his trench coat as he continued to kiss you.

A hand slipped between your legs and you gasped in a breath. The heat of his hand seeped into your wet sex as he palmed you and you allowed him more access.

His lips pulled away from yours, licking, nibbling marking their way down to your neck. He kissed, then sucked. You weakened and moaned.

Your ass tingled. Your sex throbbed. And your nipples pebbled. His hand slipped into your leggings and you whined. It was close but it wasn’t close enough.

“Patience.”

Patience wasn’t one of your strongest virtues.

“Want me to to feel that bare skin of yours, feel you grind against the heel of my hand, baby?”

Fuck yes. God yes. You wanted it.

“Please.”

You were desperate. Needed his hand to feel the growing heat between your legs.

He grabbed the waist band of your leggings and pulled down. Cold air hit your flesh and it excited you. He palmed your ass then slapped the round globes. Two fingers trailed along your wet slit. You groaned. They were a salve to the rising tension.

Your knees began to hurt on the cold hard concrete, but you didn’t care, because his fingers slipped inside you, making you moan.

“I want that tight pussy around my cock.”

It wasn’t Cas, but you didn’t care. He was wearing Castiel and that was good enough. He buried his fingers knuckle deep inside you and you held on, feeling your thighs quiver. Lucifer worked you until you felt your heartbeat meld with the throb below as the ecstasy rose, until you felt your walls flutter around his fingers.

“Not yet. Hold it.”

You couldn’t.

The ecstasy heightened and your walls convulsed, hard, once, twice and you erupted, crying out for Cas, your body jerking as you came down.

Two fingers slipped put of you as you shuddered in the aftermath. A hand grasped your chin, jerking your face up.

“When I tell you to hold it, you hold it.”

“I couldn’t-” you panted.

“Well I sincerely hope you are prepared for the consequences, little girl.” he growled, sounding like Cas.

In your fantasies, Castiel talked to you like you were nothing. He took control and dominated you, just like Lucifer was doing.

Casifer stood up and you knew better than to do the same. He was aroused. You couldn’t help but look. It strained against his suit trousers, impressive in size. He opened his mouth, sucked your juices from his fingers and groaned. The sight was purely erotic.

“Fuck.”

From where you were, you saw his cock twitch.

He looked down at you, smiling a little. His hands went to his fly. He unbuttoned and pulled his trousers down, pulling his boxers along with it.

You averted your eyes. But couldn’t get the quick glimpse of his hard and straining cock out of your mind.

“I think I just thought of the perfect punishment for you.”

“I can't do that.”

His hand on your hair, tugged you to look up, pulling you closer to the bobbing member.

“You’ll do as I say. I am the one in charge here. Not you.”

Your eyes flicked to his cock, then up to meet him.

“Cas-”

“Is not in control. I am. Besides I’d bet he’d love to have your mouth all over his cock.”

You looked at it. Still fighting your decision.

“Oh, princess. Either start sucking it, like the slut you are or I’ll start fucking that pretty little face like the fucktoy you are.”

He wasn’t giving you a choice.

You leaned closer and took his red tip into your mouth, letting your tongue easily slip over the smooth head and seam that leaked pre-cum.

You were going to show Cas he could be given pleasure.

“I know you can take all of it… I want to hear you gag on it.”

Did Castiel want that?

You slowly took him in your mouth, feeling the tip near your throat. You had a little way to go when he hit the back of your throat.

His hands tangled in your hair, your eyes flicked up for just a second. He was watching you intently.

“Open that throat, babygirl.” He rasped.

You pushed and his tip pushed into your throat, cutting off air. You took him all then pulled back and breathed.

You did it again, testing the waters. You were do it slowly, but it seemed he had other plans. He bent his knees, planting his feet, angled your head and drove your mouth up his shaft, opening your throat up much faster than you did.

“If you wanna be the fucktoy that you are, fine by me.”

He fucked your mouth, brutally. Tears streamed from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. He moved at a punishing rate and you had to hold on to keep from falling.

He twitched in your mouth and he groaned out. Warm spurts of cum entered your mouth and throat, filling you up.

“Don’t forget to swallow now.”

You swallowed the salty liquid and he pulled himself free. You gasped for air. He smirked.

“You better lick the overflow baby .”

He winked, finger touching the flesh under his lips. Your tongue darted out catching the bead of cum that had leaked out.

“Good girl.” He purred.

EVERYTHING!!

@curly-haired-disaster @dean-winchesters-bacon @missjenniferb @one-to-beam-up @mypassionsarenysins @ezilyamuzed @supernatural-teamfreewillpage 

[robertjacobsugdens]

*SCREAMS* 12 ROBRON.

12. author and editor agent au

All of Robert’s opinions on literature and writing are his own and I don’t condone them. Also, I know nothing about publishing, I’m so sorry.

There’s a leather-boundcollection of his father’s novels in one of the drawers of Robert’s desk atwork. Expensive, unopened, collecting dust. He’s not even quite sure in whichdrawer it is anymore.

It’s a gift from Diane, givento him years ago when he finally got promoted to agent. He had known fromseeing the finely decorated box and the unshed tears in Diane’s eyes what itwas. He’d told her he’d open it later, in private, but he’d chucked the wholebox into the first open drawer as soon as he’d gotten into work.

Jack Sugden is an icon. Hisnovels have been translated in every language Robert can think of, speaking auniversal truth many authors try to find in their work, but rarely manage. That’swhat his obituary said.

The fact that he foundcritical and commercial acclaim only a few short years before his untimelydeath, after a lifetime spent on a Yorkshire farm, only adds to the legend.

Robert is his son, andsometimes it feels like that’s all he’ll ever be. He was supposed to follow inJack’s footsteps, continue writing the great British novels of the twenty-firstcentury. He managed to get one book out, trading on his father’s name.

Robert had been young at thetime, too young probably, barely twenty, writing on the heels of his father’sdeath. He had written a pretty little thing, not a word that was true orworthwhile in it. His last name had been the biggest thing on the cover, biggerthan his name and the title. The critics had torn him to shreds, gleefully.

He hasn’t really writtenanything since.

He tells himself it’s becausehe’s too busy with work. Too busy managing people who actually have somethingto say and the talent to do it, if he’s had too much to drink.

So, work is fraught, butRobert can deal with fraught. Some would say he thrives on it.

He likes to think this is whyhe’s been assigned to work with Aaron Dingle.

-

Aaron Dingle has quickly risento fame on the back of a brilliant debut novel and in the process has burnedthrough four agents. Robert’s pretty sure he’s seen Graham Foster, who got intopublishing after seeing active duty in the military, shed a tear of joy whenChrissie announced she was reassigning him to another author. But then again,his new assignment is Joe Tate, so his relief is probably going to beshot-lived.

Robert likes the challenge.

He’s read Aaron’s novel andhas been blown away by it. There’s something ugly and jagged in it, reminiscentof Chuck Palahniuk and Bret Easton Ellis, but he manages to overcome theirfaults by anchoring everything in an underlying layer of tenderness. There’s ahuman core to it, a human heart, pulsating under all the blood and guts. It’snot always evident, sometimes hidden under Aaron’s utilitarian and unembellishedlanguage, but it’s what’s drawn Robert in and gripped him tight until the verylast page. It’s simply brilliant.

Robert doesn’t trust it,doesn’t trust him. It doesn’t helpthat everything about Aaron seems designed, from his lack of media presence(social or otherwise), to his secretiveness about his upcoming projects.  There’s something scratching at the corner ofhis mind, something unpleasant, leaving claw marks all over his mental pictureof Aaron Dingle. He wants to know what that is.

-

Robert doesn’t know what hewas expecting, but this isn’t it.

Aaron’s young, younger thanthe few pictures of him on the internet led him to believe. He’s alsoattractive, with intense blue eyes, dark hair, and a broad chest his rattyblack hoodie is doing nothing to hide.

“What?” Aaron asks, his facesour.

“I’m Robert Sugden.” Robertintroduces himself. Aaron blinks at him. “Your new agent.” Robert clarifies.

“Sorry mate, I haven’t got anythingfor you.” Aaron says, not sounding particularly sorry.

Aaron has a deal with theagency where he doesn’t have to show them anything until the deadline. Adeadline that has been generously set for next spring. Maybe too generously, ifyou ask Robert. He doesn’t like going into situations blind, especially not atwork. This is why he’s here.

Robert quirks an eyebrow.“Nice try, mate.” He says,shouldering his way past Aaron into the apartment.

Robert’s been around writersfor the best part of his adult life. He’s seen eccentric and he’s seen ascetic.Aaron’s flat however, is something new. It’s… normal. Average. Messier thanmost, maybe, but fundamentally what one would expect from a man in his mid-twenties.There’s almost no art on the walls and the few books on the shelves are allcheap paperbacks of action novels, the rest of the space is occupied by dozensof indie albums. Robert knows none of the artists featured.

“You done?” Aaron asks,leaning on the now closed door, arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face.

“Do you have a ghostwriter?”Robert asks, in lieu of an answer. “Someone who actually writes the books youput your name on.” Robert continues.

“Is this a wind-up?” Aaronasks, his voice dangerously low.

“So, you’ll have no problem showingme some new material.” Robert concludes with a smirk, moving for the door.

“Sit down.” Aaron barks athim, stopping Robert in his tracks. He sits on the couch.

Aaron leaves and comes back aminute later with his laptop and a journal. The laptop is a cheap one, thejournal however, looks expensive. It’s black, leather, and it looks on theverge of exploding, pages and loose sheets of paper held together by an elasticband and a prayer.

Aaron sits next to Robert onthe couch, so close that Robert can smell his laundry detergent.

Aaron starts writing, laptopbalancing on his knees and journal opened on the other side of the couch whereRobert can’t see it. His fingers fly over the keyboard, stopping only longenough to glance at the journal and then go back.

Robert’s spent his fair shareof time waiting while authors finish writing something at the last minute,usually playing Candy Crush on his phone, but this is different. There’ssomething happening here and it’s mesmerizing. Aaron writes with an intensityhe hasn’t seen in a long time, like if Robert touches him Aaron’s skin willelectrocute him.

Eventually Aaron stops, asksfor Robert’s email address, and wordlessly sends the whole thing over.

Robert opens his email andstarts reading.

“This isn’t from the newbook.” Robert says.

“It’s a scene that didn’t makeit past outlining.” Aaron replies, laptop now on the floor, arms crossed acrosshis chest.

Robert can see why it didn’t.It’s a good scene, written in Aaron’s signature sparse style, but it would havebroken the flow, interrupted the action awkwardly.

Robert smiles.

This is going to be aproductive partnership.

-

“I want Graham back.” Aaronsays, the following week when he finds Robert back at his door.

“Too late for that. He almostquit the business because of you.” Robert jokes, pushing past Aaron to getinside.

“You’re my punishment, then.”Aaron replies, but he’s not throwing Robert out, so that’s a start.

“Tell me about the new book.”Robert says, falling onto the couch.

“No.” Aaron replies, crossinghis arms.

Robert shrugs. “Tell me aboutyourself, then. You’re a very difficult man to stalk on the internet.”

Aaron blinks at him, makingnot move to answer, but he looks almost pleased. Then again it’s difficult tosay what with the stubborn lack of expression or reply.

“Your first book then. I’mdying here.” Robert tries.

Aaron sighs, clearly defeated.“What do you want to know?”

-

“No.” Aaron says when he opensthe door and finds Robert on the other side, but this time he at least letsRobert in of his own volition. Robert takes it as a win.

-

It’s been a difficult day atthe office. Chrissie has been breathing on his neck about some manuscript hehasn’t read yet, despite the fact that the author is a friend of a friend of animportant person. On top of that a new author they just signed recognized hislast name and asked questions about his dad.

Normally it wouldn’t faze him,but it’s near the anniversary of Jack’s death, which means he’s been thinkingabout their relationship more than usual. They’re not happy thoughts.

He should go home, shower, goto bed early and hope he wakes up tomorrow feeling better, but he doesn’t. Hegoes to Aaron’s.

“You look terrible.” Aarongreets him.

The fact that even Aaron’ssurly company is better than nothing, says everything about Robert’s state ofmind. Not that he’s going to tell him that.

“Thank you for your kindwords.” Robert replies, sinking into Aaron’s couch. “I shouldn’t have comehere, I still have a ton of work to do.” He continues, without actually makingany move to get up.

Aaron shrugs. “Suits me. I’vegot writing to do.”

They spend most of the eveningin silence, Aaron tapping away on his laptop and Robert reading through a newnovel set during the American Civil War. He doesn’t mind the occasionalhistorical novel, and all things considered, this is a rather well-written one,but the central conflict of the book is the relationship between a father andhis son, and today it’s just cutting too close to home.

He’s just about to give up andgo home when Aaron closes his laptop shut.

“Come on, let’s go.” Aaronsays, getting up.

“Where?” Robert asks.

“Pub. I can’t see you mopingin my flat like this.” Aaron replies. Robert gets up.

“I’m touched.” Robert says,sarcasm dripping from his words. “If you’re not careful we might even becomefriends.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

-

They’re talking about Aaron’sfirst book. They do that a lot. Every visit, actually, which means once a week.

Part of it is curiosity,Robert genuinely loves the book, and it’s not every day you get to pick theauthor’s brain about it, not like this. Aaron is unguarded and unpretentiouswhen he talks about his work and Robert appreciates it.

Another part however is purelyprofessional. Robert hopes Aaron will let something slip about his newendeavor. Or that he’ll get to know Aaron’s process so well he’ll be able toguess. He knows which one he’d prefer.

“Now I know why they don’t letyou do much press.” Robert replies to one of Aaron’s particularly gruffremarks.

“You cook?” Aaron asks, out ofthe blue, instead of replying to Robert’s comment.

“Why?” Robert asks, warily.This is an abrupt change of conversation, even for Aaron.

“Because I’m starving andyou’re asking too many questions tonight.” Aaron replies, getting up from thecouch.

Robert laughs but followsAaron in the kitchen.

Aaron’s fridge and pantry arevirtually empty, but there’s enough there to make some pasta and that should beenough to appease him.

“You need to do the shopping.”Robert says, putting a pot of water on the stove.

“Don’t cook much.” Aaronreplies with a shrug.

“You’re gonna get scurvy.”Robert insists, putting all his ingredients on the counter, olive oil, garlic,chili peppers, an egg, and a box of spaghetti.

“Thanks, Mum.” Aaron replies,hoisting himself up and sitting on the counter, close enough that Robertbrushes against his leg every time he goes to take something. As soon as thewater starts boiling Robert throws some salt in it and then the spaghetti.

“What are we having?” Aaronasks, looking at the assembled ingredients with skepticism.

“Pasta aglio e olio.” Robert replies, over-pronouncing the words. He putssome of the oil with the garlic and the chili peppers on a skillet on mediumheat.

“Fancy.” Aaron says. Robertcan’t quite tell if he means it or not.

“I spent some time working asa waiter in an Italian restaurant.” Robert sneaks a glance at Aaron. He looksperplexed, like he’s trying to figure the math out in his head. “It was while Iwas at uni.” Robert continues.

“Did you pay your waythrough?” Aaron asks. It seems innocent enough, but the underlying question isthere.

Robert has no illusion thatAaron doesn’t know exactly who he is, but this is the closest they’ve ever beento openly discussing Jack Sugden. There’s a queasy feeling in his stomach. Robertstrains the pasta once it’s cooked through and puts it in the pan with theseasoning.

“How old are you, anyway?”Aaron asks, completely changing course.

“I’m older than I look.”Robert says, his shoulders sagging in relief, a tension he didn’t realize hewas holding, suddenly dissipating.

“So, like, forty-five?Forty-six?” Aaron asks, laughing already at his own joke.

“Oi!” Robert protests, buthe’s laughing too. “If you’re done making fun of me, tea’s ready.”

-

There’s something about AaronRobert still can’t quite put his finger on. Like he’s hiding a secret thatRobert should be able to crack. A secret he’s hiding in his writing, and ifonly Robert put more effort in it, he could find that out.

Robert doesn’t really knowwhat would happen if he did find out, but he thinks he’d like to know.

-

Aaron’s deadline isapproaching, which means their evenings together get quieter. Aaron writing andRobert reading. It’s nice, being able to share silence with someone, neitherone of them feeling the need to fill the space up with chatter to feelcomfortable.

-

It’s not that Robert didn’tsee it coming, all authors get stressed as their deadline approaches, it’s thathe didn’t see it coming quite like this.

Aaron’s been stressed for awhile now, spending more time pacing the room than writing. He won’t tellRobert what’s bothering him though, which means Robert’s feeling helpless. Hedoesn’t like that.

“Aaron, come on, what’swrong?” Robert asks for what feels like the thirtieth time.

“It’s not working.” Aaronreplies, cryptically. “I need you to go.” He says eventually, turning towardsRobert.

Robert rolls his eyes. “Notlike this.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get yourbook.” Aaron replies, sharper than usual.

“You know that’s not it.”Robert says. “We’re friends.” He continues, testing out the word ‘friends’ likeit’s new in his mouth. They both know that’s not quite it, that there’ssomething more brewing between them, but they’re taking their time, waiting forsome sort of arbitrary deadline to pass. Still, Aaron doesn’t seem in the moodfor their flirting tonight and Robert won’t push it. Not yet.

Aaron scoffs.

“Let me help you.” Robertsays.

“I read your book.” Aaronsays, the conversation changing course so fast it’s making Robert’s head spin.

“What?”  Robert asks, stomach sinking to his knees.

“Your book. I read it.” Aaronreplies, like it clarifies everything.

“Thanks for the sales boost.”Robert says as he gets up from the couch and goes for the door.

“Robert, wait.” Aaron says,gripping Robert’s wrist.

“When?” Robert asks.

“A month ago.” Aaron replies,letting Robert’s wrist go. Even in all of this Robert misses the contact.

“And you didn’t think to bringit up? Was it that bad?” Robert asks, voice too cutting to be a joke.

“Rob.” Aaron says, softly.Then his face sets into something unreadable as he continues. “It was fake. Allof it. There wasn’t a sentence that was yours in it.”

“Thanks for the review.”

Robert makes sure to slam thedoor shut on his way out.

-

Robert hadn’t realized howengrained into his routine Aaron had gotten until it’s a week later and he’s atthe office, stubbornly late, half working on a new manuscript from one of hisauthors. It’s a romance novel, not exactly his expertise, but her sales have beenreally good so he’s not going to complain.

“No Dingle house call tonight?”Leyla asks, only her eyes visible on top of the wall dividing their desks.

“Not tonight.” Robert says.Leyla shrugs and sits back down, going back to her work.

This is stupid. They’ve had afight. If Robert gave up on everyone he’s ever fought with he’d live incomplete isolation in a secluded cabin in the Icelandic woods.

Robert quickly puts his jacketon and drives to Aaron’s place. He’s halfway through mentally rehearsing hisspeech about how he can’t let Aaron’s temper tantrums ruin his career when hegets to Aaron’s door. It’s a good speech, too. Just funny and apologetic enoughthat he knows Aaron will see right through it.

They’ve been circling eachother for the better part of four months now, it was only normal that thetension would snap, one way or the other. Robert would have preferred sex, buthey, there’s always time.  

Except, when he knocks on thedoor no one answers.

Robert tries Aaron’s phone,but after a couple of rings Aaron sends him to voicemail.

-

Robert gets to work early, thelack of sleep propelling him out of bed at an indecent hour. The night beforehe’d tried calling Aaron again a couple of times and even waiting for him infront of his building, but either Aaron was avoiding him, or he was busy.Robert isn’t sure which option he likes less.

He’s just reached his deskwhen he stops dead in his tracks. There’s package on it. It’s an envelope,something big and bulky inside.

“They left that for you lastnight.” Leyla says, already at the office, looking no worse for wear, despite clockingoff later than Robert the night before. “After you left.”

“Who left it?” Robert asks.

“Not sure, he was one of yourauthors though. Scruffy, black hoodie.” She continues, taking a sip of her tea.

Robert rips the envelope open beforeLeyla’s last word has even left her mouth. Nestled inside is Aaron’s black journal.Still held together by an elastic band and a prayer. Now that he’s looking atit up close he can see that the black leather is scratched in places, some ofit just wear and tear, other scratches look like As, probably done with a pocketknife. Robert holds is in his hands, it’s heavier than he expected.

There’s a post-it note stuckto the other side. In Aaron’s messy scrawl is written read it – Aaron.

There’s something intimateabout reading someone’s work, there’s always pieces of them stuck in it, glassfragments of their lives stuck in the pages. There’s parts of Aaron’s book Robertknows are autobiographical, without Aaron having to say it. They vibrate at adifferent frequency than the rest and Robert can tell.

But this is different. Aaron’sbooks have been edited and polished, deemed by Aaron safe enough to be read byothers. This isn’t polished, was never meant to be read by anyone else. Robertcan appreciate the effort Aaron must have gone through to part with it.

Robert hold the journal and heknows he has to make a choice. He could chuck the journal, unread, inside thesame drawer that houses his father’s novels – the bottom left one, wrap it backup and leave it in Aaron’s mailbox after work. He could get reassigned, hedoubts Chrissie would hold this particular failure against him.

Or he could read it. He couldfind out what Aaron wants him to know. He could give it back to Aaron inperson. They could talk. There’s something terrifying about it, about beinggiven such power, about being trusted so blindly. He could fuck it all up soeasily.

In the end, Robert’s self-awareenough to know his choice was made months ago when he knocked on Aaron’s door.

He starts reading the journal.

It’s messy, but by now Robert’sgotten good at deciphering Aaron’s writing and his lack of a filing system. Thereseems to be a mix of things, half written scenes, bits of dialogue, some ofAaron’s own journal entries, even a few shopping lists.

Robert devours all of it, thisinsight into Aaron’s life and Aaron’s writing. He reads the scenes that wouldgo on to become one of the best debut novels of the century and he understandswhy Aaron is so secretive about his first drafts.

There’s none of Aaron’s roughand hard-won gentleness there, none of the tenderness that devastated Robert onhis first read. It’s all ugliness and pain, wrapped around the protagonist,around the author, like it can protect him from the wounds life has inflicted.

Aaron writes like the windbecause writing comes easy to him, Robert’s learned this much. He writes and hewrites, because writing eases the pain, and there’s a lot of pain. The gentleness,that’s hard-won, that takes effort, that takes multiple drafts, multiplerewrites.

The journal is an apology forthings that aren’t Aaron’s fault and a defiant defense of things that are.

If Robert weren’t already morethan half in love with Aaron this would be it.

He stops reading right before hecan get to the entries about Aaron’s new novel. He wraps the journal back up,reverently.

-

Robert gets to Aaron’s flat inrecord time. He pounds on the door so loudly he’s pretty sure someone is goingto call the police on him. It doesn’t matter, it never mattered, but itespecially stops mattering the moment Aaron opens the door, bleary eyed and inhis pajamas.

“It’s 10 am.” Robert says, inlieu of a greeting, shouldering his way past Aaron and into the living room.

“Yes, I own a watch.” Aaronreplies, but it lacks the usual bite. He’s eyeing the package in Robert’s handslike it’s about to explode. In a sense, he’s right.

“I read it.” Robert says,thrusting it into Aaron’s hands. Aaron’s fingers close around it, his whiteknuckles betraying his worry.

Before Aaron can say anything,Robert grabs his hoodie and crashes his body into Aaron’s, one of Robert’shands coming up to cradle Aaron’s head, the other on Aaron’s back.

Aaron tenses, just for asecond, his hands still holding the journal in front of himself, between hisbody and Robert’s. Then he relaxes, his hands coming to rest on Robert’s back.

They stay like that for whatfeels like forever and no time at all, Robert’s eyes closed and Aaron pressedsolid and warm against him, smelling of sleep and the laundry detergent Robert smelledon his first visit.

Robert opens his eyes andtakes Aaron’s face between his hands. They’re still impossible close, Aaron’shands now on Robert’s hips. Robert takes a moment to take it in, to look intoAaron’s eyes, to feel the touch of Aaron’s skin, to taste the anticipation onhis own lips before he tastes Aaron’s.

Aaron makes a noise offrustration in the back of his throat, and deciding he’s had enough, kissesRobert like it’s the only thing he wants in the world. If he feels even afraction of what Robert’s feeling, it is.

They end up on Aaron’s couch,their couch, not even making it to the bedroom.

-

The dedication for Aaron’ssecond book reads:

ToRobert. He knows why.

[sacredcrotch]

An Example in the Decline of Human Knowledge: Sexuality & Puberty

I often find myself in online question forums passing my wisdom on to hormonal and confused teenagers just beginning to enter the stages of awkward urges that they don’t know how to release. It takes me back to my younger years when I would undress Barbie and Ken into their birthday suits and suggestively place one on top of the other. It’s as if I instinctively knew what men and women do together when they were in love (or not so much) but I didn't know exactly why they did it. Why did they press their naked bodies together and what caused the initial urge to do so? Later on, but still much earlier than most, I started to understand that urge and I remember spending hours in the shower and fantasizing being naked with a man in a very fantasy-themed dream world of erotica. Not that I knew what erotica was at 8 years old. I just knew that I wanted to be naked since that was the closest I could get to an end of the nagging want that I felt. I didn't know why but I wanted to be touched romantically. I wanted to be kissed passionately, and I wanted to see a naked body that wasn't my own. I am using my 8-year-old-self as an example because I want to put into perspective that children are going to be curious earlier than some might think they will be regardless of what they have heard or seen.

Youth today have an advantage over me, however, where they can anonymously ask their questions to perfect strangers and get their answers. I only had the misdirection of peers since I was way too embarrassed to ask my parents questions about my body and these adult feelings I was starting to experience. Not that they would answer them, most likely. They would have probably been just as embarrassed as I was which was even more apparent when I started receiving about-my-body-books to answer my questions. This is probably what started my constant need for buying informative literature even to this day. I consider myself lucky to have had those books since I was hearing all kinds of myths and false facts throughout my pubescent years. “You can’t get pregnant if you have sex while you’re menstruating.” “You lose your virginity if you use a tampon.” Or the all time favorite, “Sex is for married couples.”

Though I don’t disagree that children shouldn't be having sex at such a young and tender age due to a lack of emotional maturity and the astonishingly ignorant knowledge about the subject, I think it’s an awful lie to tell children that only married couples have sex. That is just opening the door to all kinds of problems. A good example being the confused, sobbing teenage girl who had sex with a teenage boy because he said he loved her, only to find out later on that he wanted nothing to do with her after the act. I pin that one on the parents to be quite honest. Not to mention all of the judgment from other people because their parents said the same exact thing; “Only married couples have sex.” Automatically, if one of their peers is having sex out of wedlock despite their parent’s teachings, that person will now be a disgrace, and the teenage years are hard enough, ladies and gentlemen. We don’t need to add anymore castigation to the equation.

Just the other day, while perusing through questions about why pre-teens and teenagers were feeling these weird feelings and what to do with them, I happened upon a few important questions that I found interesting and absurd. The first one went a little something like this:

“I had sex with my boyfriend without protection for the first time because I was on my period. But I’m a little afraid because it was only the first day of my period. Is it possible that I can still get pregnant since it was the first day?”

To which I replied:

“Dear First Day, I don’t know why the idea that a woman can’t get pregnant if they are menstruating is constantly circulating like it is. I remember hearing this myth as well when I was in middle school. While technically a female cannot conceive during menstruation since your body is going through an egg cycle, it is still definitely possible that you can get pregnant due to the fact that the human sperm can live inside of the human body on an average of 7 days (which is, coincidentally enough, an average length of a human female’s menstrual cycle.) Contrary to what you have heard, the only sure-fire way of not conceiving is simply not having sex. You can still get pregnant if you have sex while on your period, if you’re taking birth control of any form, and if the male “pulls out” before he climaxes. Please inform your friends.”

To me, this knowledge seems a lot more important to tell children in order to keep babies from having babies rather than filling their heads with useless ideals such as, “Only married couples have sex.” I understand why parents do this, however. They don’t want their child to have sex at a young age, let alone imagine that they’re child is having sex by instilling a value that they hope will stick. More often than not it doesn't work. Kids will be kids and test their boundaries. A child is an independent being and will encourage themselves to drift further and further away from their parents by natural instinct. My question is, why wouldn't the parent(s) want to fully equip their children with all of the knowledge they can pack into their brains in order to prepare them for the inevitable separation of caregiver and adolescent? It’s unfathomable to me that people expect children to just do what they’re told without giving any reason as to why they should or shouldn't do something.

“The second group of parents may wish to model their children not after themselves but after their ideals, yet they differ chiefly from the first class by their over-indulgence, by their anxiety to pamper the child by yielding to all his caprices and artificially protecting him from the natural results of those caprices, so that instead of learning freedom he has merely acquired self-will.” —- Havelock Ellis on Life and Sex, Garden City Publishing Company, Inc, 1937 (pg 14)

I can understand that a parent’s protection plays a big part in keeping their children ignorant to the sinful act of intercourse and the shame the child must feel when being naked in front of someone else. They simply don’t want their child to make mistakes, perhaps even mistakes the parents, themselves, had made in the past. This teaching method, however, is folly and only contributes to the growing epidemic of young pregnancies and spread of STD’s, as well as the misconception of love and sex being one in the same. When a parent does not fully educate a child with facts and insists on pumping them full of ideals they are not preparing their child with the tools that they need in order to make wise decisions. I believe the same can be accounted for by a parent waiting for their child to ask the questions. Not all children have confidence in bringing up such an intimate subject with their parents and some don’t even think to ask anything at all. Therefore, it is the responsibility of the parent to initiate the discussion with their child and give them truth instead of hoping that they just won’t have sex. No matter how the parent may discourage something, children always seem to find their way, which is nothing new, nor is it absurd.

“Try to leave the child in peace; live your own life beautifully, nobly, temperately, and in so living you will sufficiently teach your children how to live… The reaction of children against their parents is the necessary result of the parents’ action. So that we have to pay some attention to the character of parental action.” —- Ellen Kay, Havelock Ellis on Life and Sex, Garden City Publishing Company, Inc, 1937 (pg 14-15)

The second question I came across in the forums was more amusing than it was absurd. It reminded me of a friend I had in middle school and high school who would be disgusted with the thought of touching certain places on her body. “How can people masturbate?” She would ask. “It’s disgusting that they touch their 'coochies'.” You have to consider that her family was deeply religious, though some forms of sinning were worse than others that they happened to enjoy on a daily basis. I remember battling with her on the emotional and physical benefits of masturbating and why it wasn't disgusting but natural and healthy. She wouldn't see it my way, as usual. She really should have listened to me more since my advice on bodily well-being could have spared her the several yeast infections she ended up having to live through.

“Is masturbation bad? I’m pretty young but I’m getting urges to touch myself but I don’t want to do something that I shouldn't be doing. If it isn't bad, how do I do it?”

I didn't hesitate in replying:

“Dear Young and Restless, Masturbation couldn't be more right, not to mention, normal. I remember that stage in my life all too well. How lucky you are to have the luxury of asking an intimate question to anyone willing to answer and receiving a variety of feedback. It may be an embarrassing topic since it is new to you and definitely private, but don’t let anyone tell you that masturbation is gross, sinful, or wrong. It is full of healthy benefits, both physical and mental, and at your age, you will definitely need to release those hormones that are raging inside of you. Now as for the “how”, I would be remiss to advise someone underage in how to sexually relieve themselves, for legal reasons. All I will suggest to you is to explore your body and figure out what feels good to you. This is what I did when I first started feeling that urge and I came up with my own techniques.”

In this post, I also included a link to Women's Health Network that gives an informative article about masturbation for women so as to avoid any responsibility of a child performing sexual acts on themselves from any specific advice from me.

Although the internet is rarely censored due to anyone being able to post anything they please for all to see, censorship plays a huge role in the U.S.A. so as to hide certain “impurities” from adolescent eyes. Good intentions seem to be the theme of this act, though I’m sure we can all agree that some horrible things have been done with the best of intentions throughout history. Good intentions are performed for the betterment of a society. They are created to provide an equal opinion among masses as well as safety and security. But what are we really trying to create here by censoring a naked human body? Why do we feel that allowing a child to view the natural human form will cause a negative impact on our youth? Furthermore, what opinion of nudity are we having them memorize from adolescence into adulthood? It’s pretty clear to me that the message towards nudity is something to be ashamed of. It is often referenced in a comical way that causes immature giggles and snickers from young people, aiding in the ignorance of the human form that they are quickly getting acquainted to, but not knowing what to do with it. My curiosity of the censorship is heightened as it seems only logical to show the image of something that they are seeing in the mirror anyway. Being able to show the human form could easily abolish insecurity and confusion as well as aid in the idealistic need for perfection. It is a strange world we live in, indeed, when a natural human body, free from cosmetic “tune-ups” is considered ugly, while the covers of magazines are show casing busty, thin models, creating an unrealistic image of how women should look and what is considered attractive to society. A poor self image plagues the U.S. while reality is trumped by superficiality causing more questions from newly hormonal teens as well as timidity.

To conclude this article, my sole point is simple; what is it exactly that we are shielding our children's eyes from? Are we so ashamed of sex that we can not bring ourselves to accurately describe what it is to them in order to educate them properly? Are we so ashamed of the natural human form that we have to create these unattainable conformations to keep our children apprehensive when growing up? It seems to me the less we teach our children the more complicated the issue becomes. That issue, to me, only goes by one name: Ignorance.

Do you think an in depth sexual education should be mandatory in schools?

[orenbeval-blog]

Rosie Watson’s Diary - 03/02/2030 (part 2)

Well… half an hour ago, as it was getting close to eleven a.m. and as I was STARVING (it REALLY was breakfast time), I went slowly and carefully down in order to start boiling the water and make some typical “breakfast noises” that would get them out of their room. And also, I needed to go to the loo. And if that would not work, I would just have knocked. It’s a rule we have : no-one enters anyone’s room without knocking. But as I passed their closed door, I couldn’t avoid hearing Sherlock’s trembling voice. What… AGAIN?

“I am so sorry John.”

Daddy’s answer came very calm and tender. I could picture them lying entangled on their pillows, Sherlock’s head on Daddy’s shoulder, the one with the scar, and Daddy’s chin nestled in Sherlock’s messy fluffy curls. I had seen that sooooo often (eyes roll). Daddy would put both of his arms around Sherlock and Sherlock would just adjust inside the wrap as a big lazy cat.

“Sherlock, this leads to nothing. I don’t even know what you might be sorry about. Please, talk to me. Don’t shut me out. Talk to me. I mean, really, talk to me.”

Hell Sherlock’s voice was so low… I could barely hear it.

“I am so lost, John. So lost… I don’t know how to… what to…”

“Just stop trying to flee. There is nothing to flee from. Put it into words and say those words to me.”

Wait… that was Daddy talking? Gosh…

“I can’t handle hope, John.”

Was this a sob ? Hell, what was the matter with Sherlock ? Since when… and then I remembered Molly’s story. I still hadn’t really thought about it. Still haven’t. I need Yifan and Kiara to do so. One brain is not enough. Anyway, while I was standing there, Daddy went on, in his calm and tender voice.

“This is no hope. This is insurance, can’t you see it? If the Court agrees, you are stuck with us… for ever. For ever, my love. Stuck with your Doctor for ever, you posh boy. My posh madman boy.”

O_o !!!

“What if I start not being posh enough anymore? What if I suddenly was not able to make you laugh anymore? What if suddenly it turned out that I was not able to make you feel proud of me anymore? What if suddenly you realized I was actually not worth it? If suddenly you somehow came to sense and… I am falling, John, falling deeper and deeper, faster and faster, I can’t handle it, this will kill me, the landing, the…”

“Sherlock, listen to me. I mean… listen. I already told you but you were not listening. So, now, listen.”

 Ah! That was Daddy talking again. Rosie, listen. I know I already told you to tidy your room but you were not listening. So NOW… oh well, back to the actual conversation:

“Sherlock, listen to me. I mean… listen. I already told you but you were not listening. So, now, listen. You are not falling anymore. You are safe, on the ground, here, at home. With us. With me. I am not the closeted broken man with suicidal thoughts and eating disorder you met 20 years ago or the grieving resentful broken man with the killer wife and alcohol addiction who could neither face his feelings nor his fears… I am over it. I know where I stand, who I am, what I want. And I want you. Have always wanted you. You can lean on me, I can bear your weight. Please, give in. Stop tiptoeing around and settle down. I won’t leave you. How could I, Sherlock?”

Wait, was… he speaking about my Mum? Killer wife? O_o !

“How could you what?”

“How could I leave you? Why on earth would I actually be wanting to leave you?”

“I just gave you…”

“Really Sherlock? I think you don’t get it. Do you need me to add a touch of the dramatic? Do you want me to use cheesy metaphors? Well… let’s do that if it helps you picturing what I am trying to tell here. So… Why would I rip my heart out of my chest? Why would I take the sun out of my sky? Why would I go back to aching shoulders, painful limps, annoying twitching, colourless darkness, endless sadness, sleepless nights stuffed with nightmares… why, Sherlock, why on earth would I do that? You think I want to go back to drinking and having to listen to Mrs H. shouting at me while picturing you diving into your worst drug habits and ending in losing it all, including Rosie, and freaking out over you… because you are the only one I have to freak out over, therefore ending up in beating the shit out of you while you are at your lowest and not even able to realize that I am the one doing wrong? No, Sherlock, I’ve been there, I never ever want to go back. Only thinking about this breaks my heart, makes me hate myself and makes me shiver. Those were the darkest days of my life. I would turn insane if I had to live through that again. I NEVER, do you hear me, NEVER EVER want to hurt you again in any way. I NEVER EVER again want to hear you tell me that I am entilted to hurt you. NEVER. This makes me sick. Once was already too much. Even regarding the heavy context. This is unforgivable but I have to live with it. It’s not easy but I manage to.” 

Had I ever heard my Dad talk that much that fast? And was this shit about Daddy getting violent at Sherlock? Who was he talking about? Which world was that? Anyway, he seemed to have breathed in and out deeply a few times and went on, more slowly: “Because I want to live. To live with you, as you seem to still want me in your life, despite everything that happened. It is how it is. Our story is deeply flawed, we have to work on it day in, day out and it will never be simple. But with Rosie it’s different. With Rosie, it’s pure, it’s only about future. And this is what it is all about : future. You are LOVED Sherlock, truly and genuinely loved, face it.”

I am the future? Of what past? Of what present?

“This is a currency I don’t know how to spend.”

“There is nothing to be spent here, love. It’s all about taking. For once, just once, take it and… enjoy it. This is all what it is about : enjoying the love you get, Sherlock. It’s not a debt, it’s a gift. Accept it. You deserved it. You are entitled to. It is okay, and it is fine. One should be allowed to say such things.”

“I am afraid, John. Feelings… I…”

“Give in, Sherlock. Give in. You already told it : it’s too strong to be fought. Surrender, give in and enjoy it. You deserve it, you handsome human being. You are so used to pain, learn to get used to happiness. Try it. I… quite enjoy it.”

“I can’t put that responsibility on your shoulder, I…”

“Sherlock, the very first day we met, I killed a man to save your life. I made a decision that day. I chose you. You have always been my first choice. I owe you so much, I still do. I am the one indebted till the end of times, not you. I can’t figure out why you always come to think that you owe me anything when it’s has been, from the very start, quite the opposite.”

“Oh John…”

“Well, Sherlock, as I said, this leads to nothing. Put it into words and talk to me. As I am doing right now. You know this is difficult for me. If I can do it, so you can.”

“Because… you gave it all a sense. You made it being worth it. You saw me. You enjoyed me. Genuinely. You made me exist as a person and not only as an annoying bunch of useful competences. That’s why. I owe you my humanity.”

“No. Your humanity is yours. I only happened to notice it, and… to love it. And as I am the worst comedian on earth, I could hide neither my admiration nor my love for you. I know you noticed it from the very start, you sneaky… whatever. But you respected my discomfort and you… you put my well-being before yours, as usual… I… owe you so much, I am sorry beyond words about everything that happened because of my foolish blindness… “

He had to breath deep.

“Truth is, I love you so much Sherlock Holmes, sometimes it aches.”

There was a long silence. I felt weird. This had maybe been a bit too private to listen at. Therefore, I started to move away from the door when suddenly, Sherlock’s lowest voice rose:

“Say it again, John.”

“I think we have reached the very edge of my ability to put words on my feelings. Don’t push it.”

“I don’t care. Say it again.”

“I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. You are the very man of my life. I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Were they... giggling? Irk… that was WAY too cheesy. This I really couldn’t bear. 

I wonder how the proposal did happen if this fuss is all about my adoption?

And this... killer wife part? And this “beating the shit out of you” part?