#fun fact i almost lost the draft earlier

[mybrainproblems]

hello, i'm finales georg...

i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)

ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)

short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.

longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.

like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.

also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.

the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."

if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.

i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.

i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)

as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)

and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.

besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.

i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.

i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!

and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.

[cb-writes-stuff]

Because of this post, I’m gonna be dropping some info about my WIP, which is currently going by the codename…

Project Opal

…because I can’t think of a proper title. (Now that I’ve shared this, I can finally start tagging stuff with it.)

Synopsis

Nauth never understood why things happened. Why the wind comes alive at noon and dies in the evening. Why some moons in the sky are smaller than others. Why he lost his parents. Why an ordinary man’s life is thrown into chaos.

Things had been going well. He had good friends, a home, and even prospects of a better job. Everything turns upside down on the Night of Wyrd’s Watch, when an attempt on his life forces him to flee the city.

As far back as he could remember, Nauth has always had why’s. Is this the time to find a because? Or is it merely the start of a life constantly on the run from death?

Character descriptions below the cut.

Character Descriptions

Nauth - A second-generation native of Kem lon-Dalan, Nauth currently lives alone, working as a stablehand at the Fox and Rabbit alongside Ven to provide for himself. He’s rather reserved about himself and his past, but still quite outgoing. He’s playful, but also has a hard line of what he will and won’t put up with (even if that line does move around a lot).

He’s not especially tall, usually an inch or two shorter than the average man on the street. Granted, people in the Vandeth Desert are generally taller than usual. Compared to Delgane people, on the other hand, he’s around average height. His skin and eyes are darker than a native, but he hardly stands out in the wide array of nationalities in the city.

Ven - Ven fits the typical idea of a shodathi*. Sun-tanned, light on his feet, and a little cheeky. Ven’s family took in Nauth many years ago after his parents died, and he and Ven grew up as brothers, almost from birth. Even after Nauth moved back to his family home, they remained quite close. Now, they work together at the same job.

*The Vandeth word for “person”; also used to mean a native of the Vandeth Desert, typically by heritage as well as citizenship.

Lynn - For reasons unknown, Lynn moved to Kem lon-Dalan with her younger sister almost seven months ago, leaving their homeland of Delgan. They both took jobs at the Fox and Rabbit, Lynn working in the stables with Nauth and Ven. The three of them quickly became friends. With their help, Lynn learned the Vandeth language, though she still struggles to speak it. Her peachy complexion and long honeygold hair made her an exotic sight in the desert, landing her a job serving wine inside. She also sings for tips.

Lynn is typically very easy-going and fun. At times she can be possessed by self-righteousness and haughtiness, courtesy of her Delgane upbringing. She can appreciate a good joke, though. A good joke.

Fun fact: Lynn was actually male in earlier versions of the story, and will likely be male again in future drafts. For reasons.

Other Things I Wanna Say

So, Nauth’s storyline isn’t the only one. There’s also gonna be one that follows Ven and Lynn, and at least one more following another character. But if I had to pick, I would say that Nauth is the main character. But Ven and Lynn are important too.

[scoundrels-in-love]

11,12,21, 24,25,69 for hte ask game 🐝

Hi lovely @bumble-b-goode, thank you so much for asking!! THREE HUNDRED YEARS LATER BECAUSE I LOST THE DRAFT.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Honestly? I skip breakfast almost every day. Getting up is hard and my stomach doesn't seem to wake up until about half hour later, by which I'm often out the doors already and even on my days off, I often bother to eat only in afternoon. Definitely no set breakfast food, just whatever doesn't have to be prepared, if I do eat, like a leftover pastry.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

for rainy + v, the playlist I and friend share where we add music we think the other would like or are just vibing with/want to share. It's my 'someone was thinking of me' thread even when I am feeling quite lonely and isolated. Runner ups are Groovy Guitar Boys by same friend, Women rock by another friend and 2 Exchange Prompt playlists (one by me, another by a friend).

21. obsession from childhood?

Languages as a concept, animals (especially cats and bears), ancient Egypt and Venice, myths and cryptids around the world, a little bit dinosaurs, too. Although I was never the kid with 1000 hyperspecific facts on my obsessions, these things occupied important part of my brain and maybe I'm overestimating what an average adult knows on these topics because my coworkers thought African Spotted Dog plushie was a hyena and that a (black) panther is the same thing as cougar...

24. favorite crystal?

I saved this to drafts because I wanted to research to give names to some things rattling in my brain, and to double check if others count as crystals... And then I didn't. So, I will go with my basic answer of Amethyst. It's purple, it's so variable, it's stunning. I am a simple person.

Also love moss agate, onyx, hematite, sun stone, moon stone, mountain quartz and quite a few other semi-precious stones and the like.

25. first song you remember hearing?

Honestly? No idea, it all blurs toward the earlier years where I can't tell what's 'first', but I'd have to assume it was one of the German love ballads or yodeling or similar performances for this hour or half hour show that aired around news time on one of the TV channels. I remember jamming to it as a little baby - younger than 3 years old because my dad was still alive.

This is the vibe. The sets were very varied and great as was the music, actually.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Some time ago, I specifically caught a fact like that in my head and put it in a box with such a title. The box is now empty, I only have the box.

I have nothing to offer, I am sorry.

Send me a weird ask that says a lot?<3

[celestialjupe]

Girlblogging: 1/6/23

Today was good! i got a late start, but earlier than other days this week, thankfully. I've been trying to fix my schedule and i think today might have done the trick! i woke up to a package from my bestie. who sent me a wall collage kit. I love love love it, every picture is so perfect and exactly the vibe i've been going for in this new era.

I had some coffee, it's a new kind and its pecan coffee. It's absolutely heavenly. Seriously, the beans smell like a pecan syrup and it's a beautiful medium roast. I always add two tablespoons of sugar, some milk, and a bit of vanilla syrup. Yes it is disgustingly sweet, but i love it. I have two friends that take their coffee black and it's so crazy to me, like, girl WHAT?!?! idk i guess I'm a more of a sugar fan than a coffee fan. so i had my coffee, my best friend and i facetimed for a little and it was a pretty fun start to the day.

Afterwards, i took a shower, did my skincare, and got ready. I took the train to a nearby college town, which was really nice. On the ride, i drafted a letter i was planning to write, but i decided against it because i don't think any good would come from sending it, for me or the other party. I live next to a lake, so i watched the waves and wow, water is so cool i love just sitting and staring at it, especially with a nice playlist. Fluidity is an art, and i think im really beginning to master it.

When i got to my destination, I went to this recycled bookstore that i've been frequenting since summer. I love this bookstore, i always find myself spending hours in there, almost in a trance. The workers are always so cool too. Great fashion, friendly and interactive people who seem to really like their job. I got two books about animation, one about learning animation, and another about the history of animation. I also got this novel called 'vegas sunrise' It's about this matriarch of a casino family, and she chooses one of her husbands children to run the casino, and apparently everything goes up in flames, im excited to actually read it and see what it's all about. Overall i spent almost two hours in the bookstore. I almost bought a book about insects, but while i was in line i decided to put it back, because after taking a more thorough look at the contents, i realized it wasn't what i was looking for. I was super interested in a couple of astronomy books, but i ended up passing on those as well cause most of the selection was a little too advanced for my current level of knowledge.

By the time i left the bookstore, it was pretty dark out. I know my way around the town pretty well by this point, but i did in fact, get lost this time lol. I found myself on the side of town where multiple car alarms were going off and obviously the only appropriate reaction to this sort of predicament is to listen to oblivion by grimes, duh. I did just about shit a brick though, because usually a lot of people walk around this town but at this time of night i found myself to be the only one, a little scary, but i persevered and found the train station. Sadly i was too late for the first train i was planning to take, so i was looking at a fifteen minute wait in the dark at the station. Miraculously, the next train was quite early, and i was very grateful for that. the ride back was very peaceful, there was only one other person on the train with me. An older man a few rows back, who slept soundly the whole time. It's pretty cute to see that sort of thing, and it fills me with a sense of gratitude to see people in that sort of comfort. Like, good for you dude! you deserve some rest, im sure of it.

I got back to my place, got in pajamas, washed my face, read one of the last chapters of valley of the dolls, and had a sandwich. I coated one slice of bread in mayo, the other with garlic hummus, i put mozzarella, lettuce, and salami on it too. A little thin, but still filling and delicious. Then i sat down to write a bit. After this entry im going to draw, maybe read a bit more, and try to go to bed at a decent time. Thank you for reading, if you did, i appreciate it! I hope you have a good night/day/afternoon, please eat, stay hydrated, sleep well and try your best to focus on what you love.

[gentrychild]

Hey! For the 5+headcannons Please do Shoto is stuck in a timeloop of him trying and failing to save his boyfriend from death.

What does mine ears perceive? You are asking me to make a raadsc au where Shouto is aware he is trapped in a timeloop? But of course, Anon!

1 - Izuku and Shouto meet in their childhood and stay in contact through emails and chats on Internet. Shouto wasn't aware he had caught feelings and by the time Izuku jumped from the roof, it was too late to perceive his lost as anything but the loss of his one true friend. However, unbeknownst to him, his friendship with Izuku was the result of an earlier draft to justify the rival's animosity towards Katsuki but it was ultimately scratched by the author.

2 - In the second loop, Izuku and Shouto have never been friends but Shouto still has his memories and is determined to save him. Unfortunately, between the fact that Izuku doesn't know this strange boy and the fact Shouto isn't great at communicating, Izuku's death can't be prevented. When the scenario changed so one time in two, Izuku doesn't die until Kamino, Shouto immediately asked Izuku out. Izuku doesn't always accept but they stay friends and have a pretty fun story until Izuku invariably dies.

3 - During the latest timeloop, something changes. When Shouto arrives at Aldera to prevent his boyfriend (who doesn't know it yet) from jumping, he is almost bulldozered by a green tornado running for his life and cursing the world. He runs after Izuku but he is taken out by several banana peels and a very big anvil. The Plot, tired of dealing with Izuku's bullshit, focuses on Shouto and makes sure that he doesn't see him until the first day of school.

4 - When he sees Izuku, he flat out asks him if he is aware that he is trapped in a timeloop. Izuku wasn't but he told him he is aware that he is fated to die. Shouto himself doesn't remember what happens after the start of the first day of school because the Plot erased his non protected by several quirks memories. This conversation ensues.

Shouto: "Go out with me and only me, please."

Izuku: "Why?"

Shouto, who has also read the reincarnation romance webtoons: "Because I madly fell in love with you from the moment I saw you?"

Izuku: "..."

Izuku: "What is the real reason?"

Shouto: "Because I would like to prevent you from dying again, being your boyfriend seems like a good excuse to follow you around and holding your hand while doing is a bonus."

Izuku is confused as to how holding hands improves protecting someone but he is "Sure! Why not?"

5 - During this loop, Shouto let Izuku decide everything. He is here to provide support, burn to the ground anything that needs some arson, answers all the questions about his quirk, and hold Izuku's hand.

[primofate]

Jujutsu Kaisen - What he does when you’re getting hit on Headcanons/Drabble

Notes: Listen...I’ve given a fair amount of Genshin content like... A LOT. Can I please also obsess over JJK? I have JUST finished the manga. No worries I have a lot of Genshin content in my drafts to follow up XD Watch out for that Xiao angst! Warnings: Not proofread  Characters: Yuji, Megumi, Gojo, fem!reader

Yuji

This baby might not be sure what’s going on at first.

He just casually walks up to you and the the guy who’s trying to hit on you

Meet up at the station. It was an easy task, so he got there quite quickly and on time. How was he to know that you were there 15 minutes earlier in fear of being late? As soon as Yuji stepped out of the railings he saw your familiar coloured hair and jogs up to you, paying no mind to the fact that an unfamiliar guy was talking you up.

“Y/N?” he calls out as he stops next to you, then blinks at the guy. “Who’s this? You brought a friend over?” You sigh a little at your clueless boyfriend. “N-No, Yuji, why would I bring a friend over...We’re having a date, aren’t we?” You’re so dumbfounded by Yuji that you forget all about the guy who’d been asking for your number moments ago. 

Yuji halts his thinking and laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Oh yea! That’s right,” 

Meanwhile the other guy is just staring up at your boyfriend. ‘Who is this weird bastard? It’s like he’s in his own world or something. Well, anyway...’

The guy maneuvers his hand and it springs up to latch onto your wrist, but it’s almost instantly slapped away by Yuji, and suddenly there’s an intense staring contest going on between the two. You stiffen up and look back and forth between them until...Yuji starts laughing. “Ahhh? I don’t know why I did that,” 

Figures.

But in the next moment, your eyes widen at Yuji’s words. “But hey, I don’t like it when other guys touch her, so, hands off, yeah?” He still says it with a smile, but, that was probably the first time you realized that Yuji Itadori has an amazingly cool side too.

Megumi

This guy has probably practiced the ‘my girlfriend is getting hit on’ scenario quite a few times.

So obviously he’s pretty calm about the situation

.......................calmly terrifying.

“...Ah, no, I’m waiting for someone,”

“Hm? But they’re not here yet right? There’s no harm, just 10 minutes, I’ll drop you off back here,”

Megumi is standing a feet away and watching the scene unfold in front of him. He’s got his hands in his pockets and that blank look on his face. He analyzes the situation as if he was handling a cursed spirit. 

‘Y/N is clearly uncomfortable, she also clearly said no, more than once. So this guy is just being a jerk on purpose,’

What probably snaps him out of his musing and causes him to move forward is when your voice breaks and turns meek. “I-I don’t want to,” 

He’s there by your side in seconds, wedged in between you and the other person. The blank look in his eyes seem firmer and heavier, directed at the other man. “...Well, you heard her, right?” and there’s an intense aura hanging off of him. “She said, she doesn’t want to,”

The guy is rooted on the spot at the sudden heavy atmosphere, and steps back. There’s clearly some kind of murderous intent coming off of Megumi. In a second, the man turns back and walks away, rather stiffly.

You blink at the sudden change of events, but finally sigh out in relief. “Thanks, Megumi,” He turns and gives you a once over silently, as if assessing if you were hurt. Then grabs your hand and just pulls you along with him to your next destination. Like it never even happened.

Gojo

You won’t be sure if he’s trying to help you or making things worse.

Low key looks like he’s having fun messing with the person talking you up

“Ah well, it can’t be helped. My princess is pretty cute after all!” he was late and was still walking leisurely, even when he saw that there’s an ordinary guy that was talking to you, and you were clearly trying not to entertain the stranger. 

He passed by some dango shop to get you a box and then...well, he got carried away a little and lost track of time. He leisurely stands next to you as the guy continues talking, but suddenly stops when Gojo arrives. Gojo has his blindfold on, so the guy doesn’t know what to make of the situation.

You also just look up at the sudden arrival of your boyfriend. “Eh? What happened? Did I interrupt the conversation?” You hold back a sigh. You’ve seen this act before and you just stand still for the ride. “Go on, you were asking her for her number right?” The other man doesn’t know what to say about this weird situation with a blindfolded guy. 

“Y/N-chan, are you gunna give him your number or not? If not, then...” you stay silent because you know that his whole act is not finished. Gojo Satoru takes out a piece of folded paper from his pocket and hands it to the guy. “I’ll do it for you, here’s her number mister, have fun!” and then pulls you away by the waist, starting your long journey at the shopping district.

That man would later open the folded piece of paper and look at the sloppy drawing. A cute, smiling, chibi Gojo with a speech bubble that said “In your dreams :D” 

Back with the two of you, you look up to your white-haired knight and ask. “...Seriously how many of those papers do you have ready...?” He doesn’t answer you and just chuckles mischievously. 

Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

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[nothingtolosebutweight]

Don't turn your back on me - 6. The sacrifice of hiding in a lie

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| Pairing: Ivar x Heahmund | Words: ~7600 [AO3] | Masterpost | Warnings: The usual heartbreak and longing, oh and don't slip on the cheesiness at the end. | Notes: It took me forever to get back to those two, because my first draft was kind of lacking and so my motivation dropped and other stories took over. Then about a week ago I started all over again and had such a blast writing them again. Sometimes you just have to take some distance to fall in love again ;) I hope some of you still remember these two (three 😼) and what a mess I made for them. @vaire-gwir Thanks as so often for reading through the first drafts and ideas and taking the time to write sweet comments in my document. It always keeps the motivation high while writing ❤

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With a smile on his face and a, "See you later." on his lips, Heahmund ended the call, shoved his cell phone back in his pocket, and tried to get back to work. Since he had arrived at his office about four hours ago, this had been the third call from Ivar.

He was still living with him, by now for almost two weeks. The time had passed frantically, as Heahmund found. They were so used to living together that his initial concern, that living with an ex might quickly become awkward, had not come true.

Instead, the opposite case had occurred. He felt better than before. Having someone around, besides Grace, felt refreshing. Heahmund enjoyed waking up in the morning and knowing that just one door away was someone who would spend the day with him. Someone who meant a lot to him, who made Heahmund feel alive and full of beans again, and who had brought laughter back into his everyday life, thus also the danger that permanent wrinkles would form because they had so much fun together. 

Unlike the worry lines on his forehead that scratched at his vanity, he would show off his permanent laughter lines with pride, and not feel remorseful about them.

Only sleeping on the couch was a bit of a downer. This, and along with it also the avoidance of too much intimacy, they had maintained.

They lived together like friends, at least that's what Heahmund regularly told himself, ignoring the fact that his body and his desires saw it quite differently. Having Ivar around all the time was as wonderful as it was a little torture, a constant test of his self-imposed celibacy.

Every time his eyes dipped too long into Ivar's sea-blue depths, he lost himself in the waves of affection that broke loose inside him, storming and shaking the safe haven he called friendship. He wanted to be as close to Ivar as possible, every time he surrendered to the magic of those eyes, wanted to hold him, caress him, whisper all the sweet things in his ear that he only dared to say in his mind.

It was maddening how often his gaze lingered on Ivar’s mouth, while they talked, wondering if kissing him would feel as heavenly as it had been. He longed to kiss him to get an answer to that tantalizing question. Sweet and innocent at first, savoring the first tender pleasure, while bedding himself in delight on those soft pillows. He wanted to feast on the sweet nectar of Ivar's rosy lips, devour them hotly and intimately after the first quenching of his thirst, plunder him until he could only gasp his surrender, bereft of all sanity.

Whenever Ivar ate something and licked his lips, memories of earlier blissful moments came up in Heahmund, which this tongue and mouth had given him. The worst for him was when Ivar carelessly - or certainly with ulterior motives - walked around the apartment half-naked. It had thrown him off guard the very first evening when Ivar had walked into the bathroom before him, wearing only his underwear. As much as he had wanted to keep a cool head, at that moment Heahmund couldn't keep his eyes from examining the desirable body as thoroughly as he could without Ivar noticing. This had happened several more times in the following days.

Heahmund simply didn't know what to do. His libido was on fire. Lust ran through his veins at the sight of Ivar and made his blood boil with desire. It made his thoughts drift into the wicked, releasing memories that shot straight to his loins, and not only once had it happened that his walk to the bathroom had taken a little longer than it would have without this previous torment.

If it had only been up to his desire, Heahmund would have long since thrown his misgivings and doubts about their future together overboard, would have grabbed Ivar to conquer him again, to snack on him as if he were his personal banquet. 

Ivar was like his own apple from the Garden of Eden, tempting, somehow forbidden by a self-imposed ban. 

Heahmund wasn’t sure if he would open his newfound paradise by giving in to his urges, or if this would be the first step into his personal hell again, as an inner voice always whispered to him in such seductive moments, wanting to warn him of the dangers that lurked in secret.

Heahmund also didn't want to make this agonizing decision about which path was right for them, dependent solely on his testosterone. That would be foolish. There was so much more to a relationship than being physically attracted to someone. That's why he felt safer lingering at this crossroads called friendship. He couldn't do anything wrong if he didn't take a step in one direction or the other. At least that's what he told himself in times of doubt or temptation.

Aside from his troubled hormones, everything else was great. They usually spent their days together, exploring some corners of the area so that Ivar could also see something of Ireland during his stay. They went out to eat at various restaurants, watched an old movie at the local theater, often just went for a walk, and enjoyed the beautiful nature that Heahmund's homeland had to offer.

Today, however, was the first day he had to leave Ivar alone in his apartment. Over the past few days, he had been able to work through his workload at home. Mostly two to three hours in the early morning, until they had found a plan for the day, and a bit in the evening, when they had made themselves comfortable in the living room. Today, though, his presence had been required in the office; there had been no way around it.

For Heahmund it was not strange that Ivar was now alone in his home. He trusted him, and after all, they had lived together just like that before. He had no secrets, and he didn't expect Ivar to use this time to snoop through his drawers now either.

Still, something was nagging at him, making him look up from his work again to glance at his phone, thoughtfully. All three calls from Ivar had quite a plausible reason, but the banality of the questions made them suspicious. It wouldn't have been a disadvantage if Ivar had asked him these things in the evening when he was back home. So there had to be another reason why Ivar had felt the need to call him straight away.

Heahmund didn't feel bothered or even controlled by it, but he was concerned. Something felt off. Therefore, he hurried with his tasks. Finished only the most necessary, so that he could pack his bag to go home an hour earlier than previously planned. Otherwise, he simply couldn't find peace and, along with it, the mental capacity to really focus on his work.

Outside, winter had returned with full force. The cold crept into his bones as soon as he stepped out of the office building, making him pull the collar of his coat tighter around his neck. Thick flakes had been falling from the sky since the early hours of the morning, covering the small streets in the Irish province in immaculate white. It was nothing unusual for late February, but it annoyed Heahmund that it took him a little longer to get home because of it. 

He voluntarily chose another delay when he stopped at an Asian restaurant to get something for them both to eat, not feeling like cooking today. The choice was easy for him, as he still knew Ivar's culinary preferences.

Shortly before he arrived home, he sent Ivar a short voice message to let him know that he would be back soon, and with something to eat on top of that. It wasn't long before he received a reply consisting of a happy-looking emoji and the words that Ivar was looking forward to it. Heahmund thought it was sweet, and he also missed him, strange as it may sound. He couldn't wait himself to dive back into their togetherness. It felt a little like they had been apart for months again, and not just a little more than six hours.

He had barely unlocked the door to his apartment when Heahmund found himself confronted with four eyes in which the joy over his return was clearly visible. It was definitely an amusing sight and also one he would like to get used to again. It was nice to come home and not just be greeted by a cat that first drew attention to the empty food bowl, complained about a dirty litter box in second place, and only at the last indicated with a small gesture that the human's presence was indeed appreciated.

"Hey," he greeted them both with a grin on his face as he closed the door behind him, already in the process of taking off his shoes and then placing them neatly with the others. Next, he took off his jacket, after he had put the food he had brought with him on the small dresser in the hallway.

Normally, he would have turned to Grace first to greet her with a gentle nuzzle so as not to upset her. The events of the day, however, caused him to reconsider this approach and Heahmund turned his attention to Ivar first. Without saying another word, he opened his arms in a welcoming gesture, and Ivar, who had apparently just been waiting for it, sank right into the offered embrace, nestling his head in the crock of Heahmund’s neck. 

Hugging was nothing new for them and nothing unusual for Heahmund either. Friends were also allowed to hug each other. It was a purely innocent gesture, and in a way, it served as an alibi for both of them to be close to each other without committing to a kind of relationship that one of them still shied away from. In an embrace, they could satisfy their need to feel each other skin on skin, enjoying the endorphins this gesture released in them.

Especially at this moment, it was more than needed. Heahmund sensed it clearly and therefore remained in his position longer than usual, holding Ivar close to him, rubbing in slow movements over his back to soothe him a bit. It was convenient for him, too. His body, tortured by the cold, enjoyed the warmth that passed from Ivar to him.

"Is everything all right?" Heahmund asked after a while, his lips resting close to Ivar's temple, brushing his skin while talking.

"Yes," Ivar said in a soft sigh. "Just give me one more minute."

"I'll give you two if you put the food on plates afterward while I quickly go to the bathroom."

Ivar nodded in agreement, but then realized that Heahmund probably couldn't really see that. He uttered a quick "Deal," before closing his eyes again to fully enjoy the embrace, restraining himself from brushing his lips over the skin in front of them. The urge was there, but as it had been all the time he'd been here, he tried to respect Heahmund's boundaries.

He didn't count to 120, so maybe Ivar even had a few seconds left when he broke free from the hug and smiled gratefully at Heahmund. To fulfill his part of the agreement, he grabbed the plastic bag with the food inside and made his way to the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Heahmund lean down to pick Grace up to carry her in his arms on his way to the bathroom. Ivar couldn't suppress his jealousy when he witnessed Grace getting her little head kissed as well. It wasn’t fair in his opinion.

When Heahmund came back out of the bathroom, Ivar was still busy in the kitchen, just about to grab the cutlery. Heahmund's gaze wandered over to the adjoining living room, where the television was playing a movie he had already heard when he arrived. His bedspread, which lay on the couch during the day, was no longer neatly folded on the edge as he had left it this morning. Instead, it lay crumpled over the seating area, one corner folded back diagonally, indicating that Ivar had been lying on the couch snuggled up in his blanket until his return. A corner at the edge, with a smaller indentation, made him smile. Grace must have settled there because she also wanted a corner of his blanket for herself. Most likely, Ivar had not dared to withhold it from her.

In contrast to outside, where icy cold prevailed, a warming idyll filled his apartment, as Heahmund noticed when he took a moment to let everything around him sink in. This perception had nothing to do with the turned-up heating. It was something else that made him think that way. Something domestic. The thought crept in that together with Grace they could be something resembling a small family.

When he let his gaze slide back to Ivar, his belief was only further confirmed. His guest was in the process of retrieving two glasses from one of the upper kitchen cabinets. The soda he was going to drink during the meal he had already taken from the refrigerator. They were such mundane activities, but still, they triggered a feeling of comfort and coziness in Heahmund. Ivar no longer needed to ask where he kept certain items in his apartment. After more than two weeks, he knew where everything important was stored and took what he needed as if it belonged to him, too. It felt normal for them to share everything, as normal as it was for Heahmund to watch Ivar in his kitchen, handling things as if he had been living here for years already. It just felt right, not in any way out of place.

With a smile on his lips, which always formed automatically when he got lost in these thoughts, Heahmund went to the kitchen and took the two plates that were already on the kitchen sideboard to carry them to the living room. He didn't miss the opportunity to stroke briefly through Ivar's hair beforehand, which made the younger smile as well.

"Let's eat comfortably on the couch while we continue watching your movie. You'll just have to fill me in on what I've already missed."

"We can rewind. I wasn't paying that much attention anyway," Ivar replied, filling his glass with his chosen soda. He had been too busy with his cell phone, texting with Ubbe and his mother, with whom he was in daily contact. They were still worried about him, found the spontaneous trip more than questionable. In the meantime, he had told them the reason and also where he was, but this hadn't necessarily met with enthusiasm within his family and it hadn't made them worry any less. However, in the end, it was his life, therefore his decision, and it was already too late for objections anyway. Nevertheless, he had been able to reassure them a little that he was doing well, and in the few times they had facetimed with each other, it wasn't lost on them that he seemed happier again, that genuine euphoria and joy bubbled out of him when he spoke about the activities he had done that day together with Heahmund. 

"Okay, all the better. Oh, and can you please give Grace something to eat before we start?" This was their tactic to endear Ivar to her. Since the unfortunate incident in the middle of the night, Ivar had taken over the feeding and it seemed to have at least the effect that Grace didn't want to spoil it with him. They hadn't become the best of friends yet, but they lived peacefully side by side. Otherwise, Heahmund wouldn’t have left them alone together.

"Of course. I've thought about that, too. And what about you? Do you want water with your meal as usual?"

“That would be great. Thanks,” my love. The old pet name was so often on the tip of his tongue, and it was not the first time that it had almost slipped out. Heahmund's heart wanted to say it, it felt natural to him, but his mind kept resisting, not wanting to say those two simple words, after all, they were too revealing.

Less than two minutes later, they were sitting together on the couch. Each of them in a corner, with part of the blanket over their legs and a plate on their lap. Their legs were side by side, touching, and apart from the noise of the TV, they ate their first bites in silence. Grace had settled on the backrest next to Heahmund's head, closely watching every bite he brought to his mouth, hoping that something would soon fall down for her to grab.

"Don't you like it?" Heahmund asked after seeing Ivar just poke at his food a few times without bringing the fork to his mouth.

"What?" Ivar looked up in confusion, torn from his thoughts.

Heahmund gestures with a nod to Ivar's lap: "Your food. Would you like me to prepare something else for you? I thought I couldn't go wrong ordering the crispy duck for you. Wasn't that always your first choice when eating Asian food?"

"Yes, you're right about that." Ivar looked up and smiled fondly. It always made his heart beat faster whenever Heahmund remembered something so simple about him. "It tastes good, that's not it. I just kind of don't have much of an appetite today."

Heahmund nodded in understanding and kept his gaze fixed on Ivar, looking at him thoughtfully. "Do you have something on your mind you'd like to talk about?" He reached for the remote control and turned down the volume a bit as a precaution.

"No. I'm fine. I just... I don't know, but I think it's time for me to look for flights back home and I'm not sure what to make of it. That's all." Ivar returned his gaze to his plate, stabbed a strip of meat with his fork and listlessly brought the bite to his mouth.

Heahmund was surprised that Ivar was thinking about this topic again and took a moment to collect his thoughts. During his stay, they had already brought up this subject several times, always to make sure that they were both still satisfied with their current situation. The result each time was that they both enjoyed their time together and that they would like to continue it for a while longer. What also kept surfacing in these conversations was that it was important to Ivar that he wouldn't bother him. Heahmund knew this and made it clear again and again that this was not the case. 

“Do you want to go home or do you just think you have to?” Heahmund assumed that Ivar just needed another confirmation that he was welcome to stay longer, that there was no reason for him to leave yet. Therefore, he asked his question rather casually, firmly expecting that the issue would be settled in two minutes.

“Both, I think?” Ivar wasn’t so sure himself, making it sound like a question rather than an answer.

“Why do you want to go home? What is the main reason behind it?” It was hard for him to imagine that Ivar was homesick out of the blue, and secretly Heahmund himself had suppressed the thought that one day the day would come when they would part ways again. Even if not forever. Still, he felt uncomfortable with the thought.

Ivar put his fork on his plate and placed it back on the table. He didn't want to force himself to keep eating if he didn't feel like it. He pulled a little on the blanket to raise it higher without depriving Heahmund of too much of it, and also pulled his legs a little to his body to get more comfortable.

"I can't be on vacation forever. Even though my studies don't start again until fall, maybe I should do something useful with my time until then. Besides, it might not be fair to my family. They worry, although not as much as they did in the beginning, but still ... I've never been away for so long. Besides, Ubbe's birthday is coming up and I think I should spend the day together with him after all he's done for me. I also miss my piano. It's little things like that which pile up, you know."

"Okay. Yeah, I think I get that." Heahmund said, not very successful at hiding the fact that he wasn't very enthusiastic about it. He also set his plate aside now, suddenly deprived of his appetite. "But is that really all?" He had the feeling that there was something else bubbling under the surface.

Ivar only shrugged his shoulders and avoided eye contact at all costs, which only confirmed Heahmund's suspicions.

"Do I have to make us tea first for you to be honest with me?" Heahmund said, earning a strained smile from Ivar.

It had become routine for them to sit down together at the kitchen table at Heahmund's usual tea time and for one of them to begin with a topic that was on his mind. In the beginning, Ivar in particular had made the start, had brought up on his own some points for which he still wanted to apologize or talk about. Later, Heahmund had also gotten things off his chest that continued to weigh on him, such as his escape into alcoholism, for which he was still ashamed; his perceived inability to be a suitable partner for Ivar since he had not been able to support him; and also the self-reproaches regarding his departure had been the basis for these conversations.

It was partly more painful than cat bites to open these old wounds, but it had to be done. Both felt the enrichment that this sincerity brought to them. They had gotten to know each other all over again on a deeper level, had revealed themselves to the other in their most hurtful form, and had subsequently treated their wounds together.

For this reason, Ivar wanted to keep this newly established trust in each other alive. He shook his head to decline the offer of tea. It would be doable without. It wasn't that he wanted to keep anything secret from Heahmund, he just found it difficult to express his thoughts today, to put them into words that somehow made sense.

"Today has been a strange day in general. I'm quite emotional and confused," Ivar said, laughing as if it were a half-joke.

That this was not the case, Heahmund could see by looking at Ivar. He could tell from his uncertain posture that his laughter was simply a nervous gesture. "Does it have anything to do with the calls?"

"Did I annoy you with that?"

"No you didn't, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it, that the questions you had were merely a pretense?"

Ivar smiled weakly, feeling caught again. "You know me too well. It's scary, but yeah. I'm guilty of that charge." 

He reached for his soda-filled glass and took a sip, once again trying to sort through his thoughts, pondering how he should say what was on his mind, what made him emotional today. 

Heahmund waited patiently, knowing that he didn't have to ask any questions now, that Ivar would continue talking of his own accord as soon as he felt ready.

"I think I had some kind of panic attack today. Not in the way that I was hyperventilating or anything, but I was pacing through the rooms and I couldn't think straight. My thoughts were haunting me and I was just.... scared I think."

Heahmund bent forward a little and stretched out his hand so that he could reach Ivar's. He clasped it gently, wanting to give him a feeling of hold and support. "What frightened you?" he asked in a gentle tone.

"That you weren't here." Ivar returned the gesture, increasing the pressure of their touching hands for a moment. He chuckled again briefly as if he couldn't take himself seriously because he felt the way he did. "I couldn't stop thinking that maybe you didn't have to be at work. That it was just an excuse."

"Why would I have lied about that?" Heahmund asked in wonder, not comprehending how Ivar could come up with such things.

Ivar sighed deeply and then began to tell what had been going on inside him. "I thought you would use this excuse to get away from here, to start a new life somewhere else again. The first time I called you was to check if your number was still working or more, if you would answer your cell phone when you see that I'm the one calling. The second time I just wanted to make sure I couldn't hear any noise in the background like at the airport or a train station, and the third one was just another needed reassurance that you were still taking my calls." He grew quieter as he revealed more and more of the thoughts that had plagued him during the day.

“Ivar…” Heahmund said softly, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. Before he could continue, Ivar spoke up again.

"And you know... In the end, I helped myself get rid of that fear by reminding myself that there's no way you would leave Grace behind here. Because her, you love."

It felt like a dagger in Heahmund's heart. It hurt deeply to hear those words and to imagine how Ivar must have suffered during his absence. It was obvious where this fear came from, what triggered these thoughts, and a new wave of self-hatred rolled over him. He had never wanted his behavior to have such an effect on the person he wanted to see smiling broadly with happiness every second of his life. He lacked breath as well as the words that could express what he was feeling right now, or which could possibly ease Ivar's deep-rooted fear, as well as the underlying accusation that he didn't love him as much back then as he loved his cat.

"This is embarrassing, isn't it?" Ivar asked meekly as he disengaged their hands from each other to fiddle with the end of the blanket instead, needing something to occupy himself.

"It isn't. It's understandable that this fear lives in you. I wish I could take it away, I really do, but all I can do is tell you that this will never happen again. You've learned your lesson, I've learned mine, and I certainly won't be such a coward again."

Ivar looked at him in silence for a moment.

"This panic, insecurity. Whatever it was. It made me think. Somehow I also feel trapped here. Lost in a spider's web of illusions. I have what I missed so much back in my life," Ivar pointed at Heahmund as if it wasn't clear what he meant by that, "but it feels like it's within my reach, but still not tangible, somehow still out of my grasp, even though I can see it right in front of me. It feels like we're living in a lie here." Ivar looked at the TV, focusing on what was happening there for a few scenes so as not to have to see Heahmund's hurt expression, which had appeared on his face while he was speaking.

"Is that what you think? That we're living a lie?"

"Let me ask you a question,” Ivar said while turning his head back to his counterpart. “What are we Heahmund? To each other I mean?"

"We are friends," Heahmund answered without thinking about it for too long. It was what he had been saying to himself inwardly for days, not really convinced of his answer himself. It sounded so wrong even to him.

"See, there's your lie. We're not just friends," Ivar countered firmly, gesturing wildly with his hands to vent his frustration. "And you know that, too. Why are you so stubborn and adamant about continuing to lie to yourself?"

"It's complicated."

"Because you make it that way. Basically, it's very simple."

"Is it?"

"Yes, it is! At the end of the day, you just have to listen to what your heart tells you. It’s as simple as that."

Heahmund let out a pained laugh that turned into a sigh, rolling his eyes at the naïve-sounding advice. It seemed so simple what Ivar said, but in reality, it turned out not to be. "The heart isn't always a reliable source, Ivar. It has a very large blind spot and is completely impervious to reason anyway. I've answered the question, which is probably between the lines here, before and my answer would still be the same if you asked me directly again."

"That was weeks ago. Has really nothing changed for you since then?"

Actually, it was two weeks ago since they had had tea together and Ivar had thrown him off track with a simple question to which there was still no simple answer.

"Heahmund. Do you still love me?"

If he had taken a sip of tea beforehand, he most likely would have choked right on it. He had secretly already somehow expected this question, but by no means so straightforwardly. Heahmund felt under spotlight, like in an interrogation.

What was the right way to answer such a question? Heahmund already had no real answer to that one and the piercing look he was confronted with didn't make his nervousness any better. He thought hard about his reply, looking into his cup, watching the movement of the liquid as he swirled it as if he could read within what would now be the right thing to do.

"Of course, I still care about you," he finally said without looking up from his cup. It felt strange to say those words directly into Ivar's face, so he tried to avoid it. "I loved you deeply back then and such feelings do not simply fizzle out. To have you back in my life now, so surprisingly above all, has completely thrown me off course. Honestly, I don't know what to make of it. When I look at you, I still see my Ivar. The wonderful person I fell in love with. I see all the externals I was attracted to…,” As if to make sure once again, he now raised his gaze to look at his guest, “and isn't it unfair that you've become even more handsome in the meantime?” He tried to lighten the mood, which had become too serious for his liking, with a witty quip

It made Ivar smile half-heartedly. "I could say the same thing about you."

Heahmund just puffed in amusement, took another sip of his tea, and rearranged the words that followed in his head so that they wouldn't sound too hurtful.

"But apart from those things, I can still see you, staying in front of me with your face contorted in anger and your fist ready to strike. That memory is not erased either and I can still clearly remember why I needed that separation. I do believe you are truly sorry about it, but this doesn't make it go away."

"I am," Ivar affirmed once again, never tiring of reiterating this.

"I know. As I said, I believe you, but I,...I just…" Heahmund shook his head, ran the flat of his hand over his face in frustration over his lack of words, and tried again to continue his answer. "All I can say is, yes, I am still drawn to you, but do those feelings have any real substance or am I just holding on to better memories? I really don't know, Ivar. It's too early to answer your question honestly. It's too early to really know if things have really changed. If there still is a you and me. We both are different people now. The Heahmund you knew isn't the same you look at right now. Can you still honestly say that your feelings towards me are real?"

“I can. I still feel the same being near to you. Nothing has changed in that regard.” Ivar nodded in addition, as if to give his words more emphasis. For him there was no doubt that his feelings were based on a solid foundation.

"But can you say with certainty that you're not just chasing a fond memory? How can you be so sure?" Heahmund couldn't deny that he was a little envious that it seemed to be so easy for Ivar. He wished he could be as firm in his opinion.

"Because I listen to my heart. There is no simpler explanation than that."

Heahmund thought back to that conversation and tried to remember what he had said, what they had discussed further during the conversation, always respectful in their exchanges.

"I wouldn't say that nothing has changed. You know as well as I do that we've grown closer. Still, to answer your question in your favor, I just need more time. I don't want to rush into anything I'm not ready for with full conviction." 

Ivar nodded as a sign of his understanding. Even though it was hard for him and he wished otherwise, he could understand Heahmund's point of view. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to blackmail you either. I like it here. I enjoy it when we do things together. It's already so much more than I dared to wish for when I came here, and I don't want to be greedy, but somehow it's not enough for me.” This time Ivar reached for his beloved's hand, playing with his fingers. "I want you by my side, not just as a friend. You are so much more to me, Heahmund. Sleeping in separate beds is bullshit. I don't want to hold back when I want to kiss you either. I want the whole of you, and I think you feel the same way about me, too. You don't look at me the way you look at a friend. I am not blind, min kære. Neither on my eyes, nor in my heart.” 

Unlike Heahmund, who had slumped noticeably during the monologue, Ivar had no problem openly proclaiming the love that was still simmering inside him and resurfacing the old pet name he had so often used for his beloved in the past.

"I know," Heahmund whispered. "I can only thank you again for your candor. I appreciate you being so blunt and honest with me, and as I've said so many times before, I'm proud of how far you've come in terms of expressing yourself, but I for myself just can't give you any other answer right now."

It was on the tip of Ivar's tongue to point out to Heahmund that he had just said that he didn't want to be a coward anymore, yet he was just taking refuge in this role again. He changed his mind though, not wanting to push his beloved into something he couldn't or refused to decide yet.

"I can give you the time you need to find your answer, but not while I'm here. It's driving me nuts. Maybe it's better if we think about our situation while we're alone, with some distance, so we...you don't get distracted by the comfort which this lived lie provides you."

They were harsh words, but Heahmund realized that he deserved them. It was not fair to stall Ivar. "I won't stop you if you want to go home. Contrary to your feeling, you aren't a prisoner here. Do I want you to leave? No. Do I understand your reasons? Absolutely. So if you're comfortable with that decision, let's look for a flight. At my expense this time."

Heahmund had been looking forward to a pleasant evening, but the fact that he would be looking for a flight in a few minutes that would separate him from Ivar again didn't fit his wishful thinking at all. He tried not to let it show, even during the remaining days, but he was not happy at all with how the events had unfolded.

ლლლლლლლლლლლლ

It was hectic at the airport. Snatches of noise from other groups of people reached them from everywhere, drowned out only by the loud announcements of the various airlines.

They had made themselves comfortable on the floor away from the hustle and bustle and waited for the last possible moment until Ivar had to go through safety control and thus their paths would separate again for a while.

Although this time they knew that their togetherness would come to an end physically, but they would stay in touch via modern communication channels, they both found it difficult to hide their sadness about it. Neither of them felt like talking. Since the morning, there had been a strangely depressed mood between them that refused to go away.

With banal small talk they tried now and then to break the silence between them, but each attempt ended after a few exchanged words to renewed silence. The mood simply couldn't be lightened.

They just sat there, staring at random people, things, or whatever captivated their unfocused gaze, wondering what else there was to say. At some point, Heahmund put his arm around Ivar's shoulders, whereupon he lowered his head sideways against Heahmund's shoulder. Basically, they didn't need to say anything out loud. They understood each other that way.

"I have to go now," Ivar said after a while, looking at the big clock on one of the walls. It was time for him to grab his things and go through the security check.

They both got up sluggishly, gathered their things together, and came to a stop once more, standing opposite each other. Their eyes rested on one another, studying their respective features, deeply memorizing everything once again, unwilling to let even the smallest detail fade into oblivion.

"Have a safe flight and call me when you arrive back home. Promise me, okay?" Heahmund gave in to his urge to hug Ivar one more time. The thought of returning to an empty apartment, except for Grace, made him uncomfortable. With every second that passed, this thought became a bitter reality, so he felt the need to get as much physical contact as he possibly could, to replenish his reservoir from which he would be able to nurture himself in hard times of longing.

"I will," Ivar said curtly, not feeling like talking at the moment. He had a thick lump in his throat that made speaking too difficult. Every additional word carried the risk that he would burst into tears, no longer able to stem the raging torrent that was trying to force its way through the dam he had constructed inside him. When he broke away from Heahmund's embrace a little and looked him in the face again, it only made the whole thing worse. Heahmund's eyes were watery. He, too, seemed to be struggling to hold back his emotions, to keep himself under control.

Ivar felt a hand on his lower back, felt it pressing him closer to the body in front of him, which at that moment was radiating intense heat. He perceived another touch in his hair, felt fingers gently combing through it until a warm palm came to rest on his cheek. Ivar lifted his gaze, looked into Heahmund's face, sought eye contact, which was denied him as the focus of the ice-blue eyes was on his lips. It surprised him, left him baffled.

Heahmund's intention was clear. 

Ivar felt the excitement in the pit of his stomach, felt the sounds around them fade away. The air grew thicker, as if before a thunderstorm. He could literally taste the tension between them on his lips, hear the sizzle with which it tried to discharge. He had longed so much for this moment, and yet Ivar raised his hand and pressed his index finger against Heahmund's lips as his beloved tilted his head and came closer in an attempt to bridge the distance between their mouths, already in the process of closing his eyes.

"Don't do this to me. Why now?" Ivar whispered, not sure if he should be proud of himself for speaking his mind, or if he should hate himself for denying himself the bittersweet torture. And torture it certainly would be. Being kissed only to be separated again would only bring him new heartache. He slammed his fist twice gently against Heahmund's chest, frustrated at the turn of events and that his lover hadn't been able to find his courage sooner. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he stopped and instead placed his palm flat over the spot. This made him feel Heahmund's heartbeat, which was beating strongly.

Heahmund paused in his movement as soon as he felt the finger against his mouth. Ashamed, he took refuge in another embrace, pressed Ivar's head against his collarbone, and rested his chin on the soft mop of hair, avoiding eye contact at all costs. "I'm sorry," he said in a faint voice, apologizing not only for the present situation. He placed a kiss on Ivar’s hair instead, inwardly scolding himself for realizing only now, at the moment of impending loss, what a fool he had been.

"I just don't want our first kiss to be a goodbye, you know," Ivar murmured against the body he was pressed to, trying to explain his reasons. He wanted to make sure it was clear that it wasn't the kiss itself that he didn't want, although that had probably been clear ever since he stood outside Heahmund's door.

Heahmund removed his hand, which held Ivar close against him, and instead placed two fingers under his chin. Gently he lifted it, now brave enough to face the raging of the deep blue sea, risking the danger of drowning in it. "Then let me kiss you twice. The first one will be a promise, the second only a temporary farewell."

Ivar could already feel Heahmund's breath brushing against his lips as they unconsciously drew closer and closer again. His hand, in which he had been holding his luggage, lost its grip on it and let the backpack slide carelessly to the ground before clinging to the back of Heahmund's neck, pressing him closer. "Promise me this is forever," he said timidly, speaking in a soft, slightly shaky voice.

This was enough to serve as permission for Heahmund. Instead of verbalizing it, he bridged the last remaining distance and let the delicate movements of his lips speak for him. He put his promise in that kiss that from now on he would listen to his heart, that he would no longer doubt their love and would put his trust in Ivar's change. Heahmund didn't want to be a coward anymore. Instead, he wanted to throw himself headlong into this newly awakened intoxication that made him drunk with happiness.

It took only the first gossamer touch of her lips, the first taste, the first perceptible delighted sigh out of Ivar's mouth and Heahmund was lost in the maelstrom of his suppressed feelings. Suppressed for so long, they now fought their way to the surface with all their might, letting him deepen the kiss without thinking of his surroundings. The only thing that really mattered was standing in front of him, returning the kiss in a sensual way.

The kiss was powerful. Not in the sense of physical force, although Ivar certainly felt knocked over, but in the sense of emotional intensity. They clung to each other, goading each other on, again and again, striving for no end to their intimate touch.

Ivar was the one who broke the kiss, taking shaky breaths and trying to get a stronger grip on Heahmund's upper arms to stabilize himself. He felt weak in the knees, about to faint from fluster. Deep red adorned his cheeks and lips.

"I don't want to, now more than ever, but I really have to go now," Ivar said quietly after taking another look at the clock in front of him. It was cruel that time didn't just stop for a while so they could enjoy their newfound connection.

To keep his first promise, Heahmund once again bridged the distance and kissed Ivar again. This time as a farewell, but nevertheless no less affectionately. 

As they ran out of air and time loomed even more ominously on their necks, Heahmund loosened his hold around Ivar, which had strengthened again during the last few seconds. Not wanting to lose all contact at once, he reached for Ivar's hand and squeezed it gently, not wanting to let him go. Even when Ivar took two small steps back, Heahmund gently held on to their connection until only their fingertips were touching.

"Call me when you arrive, my love," Heahmund said aloud, no longer afraid to let his heart speak.

As a reward, he got a sincere smile from Ivar. "I will, min kære.” Heaving a sigh, Ivar took another step back, breaking their connection entirely. Without another word, he turned and headed for the security checkpoint. He didn't look back, not wanting to make it any harder on himself.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

There is one more chapter, and after that, the two of them can get off their emotional roller coaster ride.

@youbloodymadgenius @istorkyou @ivarlover

[mango-bango-bby]

Could you write something spicy about Dabi coming home late from “work” one night and finding his darling in their shared bedroom masturbating to the thought of him by humping a pillow? Bonus points if his darling is very shy/embarrassed about making sounds when taking part in lewd activities~✨😚💙🔥🤭

♡ Missing You ♡

(A/N: Half of this was already in my drafts and I just decided to finish it for this request 💖 I hope you like this, darling!!! I’m gonna finish up my current requests quickly so I can do the 2k special requests. Also, i’ve been wanting to put a keep reading on all my NSFW ficus, so let me know if you like it!!)

Summary: You miss Dabi while he’s gone doing ‘work’, so you decide to masturbate and pretend he is there with you. Only he comes home to catch you (Yan!Dabi x Fem!Reader)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(⚠️ Female masturbation, fingering, pillow humping ⚠️)

Dabi takes a quick glance at his phone screen. Two a.m. He’s home a bit early it seems. He normally spends the nights ‘working’ with the league, doing villain work and because of that he doesn’t get back to you until early in the morning. However he seems to be back earlier than normal today.

Dabi enters through his apartments fire escape, making sure not to be seen by neighbors. Although, on this side of town anyway, they wouldn’t care if a villain was living in their apartment building. However he did it out of habit.

He enters his apartment, locking all six locks behind him. Before Dabi can actually begin walking to your shared bedroom, a small whimper catches him off guard. Then another, then another. It’s clearly you, Dabi can tell. He smirks when he hears not only whimpers but small pleasurable moans, you seem to be occupied.

Dabi causally strolls through his apartment, gladly listening to your noises. His first thought when hearing you was that you might be having a nightmare. However as he continued listening it was clear your moans were more from pleasure than pain of any sorts. He goes against the bedroom door, only to find the door is slightly open. It’s almost as if you wanted your captor to catch you.

Peaking in the door, Dabi’s met with the beautiful sight of you, half clothed on the bed, pillow between your legs, a hand covering your mouth. You rock your hips back and forth against the pillow, your other hand rubbing your clit. “Hah... Dabi” you whine, clenching your eyes, completely lost in your fantasy.

“Feel good, baby?” Dabi asks, leaning against the door frame. You quickly scramble to cover your body, throwing the pillow across the bed. “Aww, sweets, why’d you stop? You embarrassed that I caught you?” He teases, watching your gaze quickly leave him. Cute, you’re so cute when you’re so flustered. Dabi crawls on the bored with you, pulling your arms that are covering your body off of you.

“Dabi...” you whimper, raising your back to hopefully get him to touch you. You didn’t want to voice these demands, the words and noises having to deal with sex always embarrassing you. “What? You want me to fuck you? Is that why you were humping the pillow?” Dabi mutters, not missing an opportunity to tease you. Of course his teasing isn’t malicious, just playful fun.

You gently nod your head at his question. “Hmm, naughty girl. You’re lucky you’re so cute” Dabi mutters, using his hand to grab your wrists and lift them above your head. “Thank you” you mumble, glad Dabi’s not punishing you for getting off without him but instead gladly touching you and helping you while you’re horny.

Dabi doesn’t say ‘you’re welcome’ or anything only letting out a low chuckle at your words. Goddamn, you’re just to cute. “What were you thinkin’ about, princess? Be a good girl and tell me” Dabi says, putting his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“You...” you mumble, Dabi looks at you expectingly, waiting for you to tell him more. His blue eyes boring into you. You take a gulp before continuing to speak, “Y-Your fingers...” you mumble.

 “My fingers huh, babygirl?” Dabi say, using his thumb to rub your clit and the tips of his fingers to gently graze your hole. Dabi can feel how wet you are, the fact that you’re so wet already stroking his ego. Dabi gently pushes his fingers into you, watching you squeeze your eyes shut. You had tried fingering yourself, however it couldn’t get you off, your fingers not being near as long or thick as Dabi’s. Leaving you unsatisfied.

However, now he was here and it felt so, so good. You knew Dabi would be more than happy to fulfill any sexual desires you have. And you knew you were in for a long night, Dabi wouldn’t stop until your legs are shaking and you’re unable to stand.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

[warmblanketwhump]

Idk if its too late to send this in but if it isn't, how about ⬤ and ✿?

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

⬤: being called soft things like baby, sweetheart or honey

(note: this MIGHT be cheating but my poor brain was stuck on ideas SO this is a part two to this prompt fill! would recommend reading that first for context, but pretty sure you can enjoy them independently :)

To any other person, the remote cabin would have looked like any old shack – slightly dilapidated, covered in moss, nested away among the trees. But to a lost, soaked, chilled-to-the-bone A, the cabin looks like a warm little slice of heaven, and it takes all they have not to run up the stairs. Instead, they slide an injured B off of their back and help them hobble to the small porch.

The pair limp across the threshold of the cabin and leave the pattering rain behind them, entering a small, spotlessly clean living room that smells of cedar and pine. A large, squashy-looking couch faces a dark fireplace with a tall stack of split logs nearby, and to the right of the doorway is a small kitchen. In the back, A spots a darkened bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and a linen closet. The cabin's rustic, so there's no electricity or hot water - just a single spigot and a gas stove for cooking.

They set a trembling B on the couch, pushing away the guilt of yelling at them earlier, of making them come out here in the first place.

“I’ll find us some towels and blankets. Can you start getting your wet clothes off?” Amid their violent shivers, B nods and starts shedding A’s raincoat and their own denim jacket with pruned, fumbling fingers. The sight nearly crushes A, but they know someone has to go find blankets to help them both get warm.

A pushes into the bathroom and locates several clean, threadbare towels, then heads to the linen closet. They nearly burst into happy tears when they see the large bundle of hideous plaid blankets and a couple piles of flannel and thermal clothing stacked neatly in the corner (forgotten by whoever rented it last, they guessed) and grab as much as their numb fingers can hold.

When they return to the couch, they find B in nearly the exact spot they left them - denim jacket off one arm, on the other, rain jacket fallen to the floor. They're hunched over, stiff with cold, arms crossed tightly.

“Oh sweetheart.…” A sighs, dropping the blankets on the couch and rushing to them.

“T-tried to ch-change. F-fingers won't-t work-k. I’m s-sorry-”

“B, you have nothing to be sorry about. I should’ve helped you in the first place.” A unthreads the soaked clothing from B’s shaking frame, gently patting their wet skin dry and lightly squeezing the water droplets out of their hair with a towel.

B’s eyes are bleary and unfocused, but they respond to A’s simple commands as they dress them in a pair of warm red flannel pants and a grey thermal long-sleeve. A casts a glance towards B's swollen ankle - it's not the worst injury they've ever seen, but it's definitely got to hurt. They dart back to the bathroom and locate a small first aid kit with a cloth bandage, and tenderly wrap up the sore ankle to immobilize it.

When they’re finished, they wrap B in two blankets: one around their legs and elevated ankle, and the other over their wet head and trembling shoulders. B sneezes, cinches the blanket tighter and groans.

“Look-k like a Russian p-peasant woman.” B grumbles, and A can’t help but let a chuckle escape. They really do look like a grandma, with only their face sticking out of the blanket cape.

“Alright, then, babushka. Let me get a fire started, and I’ll join you in a minute.”

Mercifully, it only takes a few minutes for A to get a roaring fire going. A drapes another blanket around B's shoulders and gives them a quick, reassuring rub.

“I’m gonna change, okay? You just worry about warming up.” B moans weakly and pulls the blanket over their nose, edging closer to the flame’s heat.

A peels off their wet clothing in the drafty bedroom, hurriedly drying their own cold skin and pulling on their own warm clothes - a cream thermal and blue flannel pants. The brief exposure makes them shiver, and they chafe their arms and legs to rub away the goosebumps and the damp chill that sinks into their marrow. For just a moment, they acknowledge how cold they are, too. God, they wish this place had hot water.

The adrenaline of the moment begins to fade, and several facts strike them at once. They were freezing. They were stuck in a remote cabin with no electricity for the weekend. This whole weekend was their idea - and all their fault. And they felt guilty as hell about it.

Squeezing their wet hair, they shove the intrusive thoughts from their mind and grab a blanket from the bed to wrap tightly around their own shoulders, along with a couple pillows from the bed for B.

On returning to the living room, they see B managed to hop on their one good leg over to the fire, leaving a trail of two of their other blankets behind. They’re huddled as close as possible to the warm glow, head resting on the hearth. A drops the pillows on the couch and kneels down, running their fingers through B’s damp hair, now exposed by the fallen blanket.

“Feeling any better, love?”

B gives a small, wan smile that fails to light up their peaked face and shakes their head, turning to cough. When they’ve finished, they shudder weakly, pulling the blanket tighter.

“Can’t shake the chill in my bones.” B coughs again. A can see them rubbing their arms under the blankets. “Heat’s bouncing right off me. And I ache all over, not just my ankle.” Another chill rattles their teeth, and they pull the blanket up to their chin. “I just can’t warm up at all.”

A pulls a shivery B into a hug, rubbing their shoulders and trying to share the little body heat they’ve created - unlike B, the fire’s warmth is beginning to thaw them out. In the dim firelight, A can see a sheen of sweat on B’s forehead, and alarm bells go off. Instinctively, A reaches out to press their cold hand to it. It’s warm now. Too warm for someone who just spent two hours trekking through the cold rain.

"Sweetheart, you're feverish. That’s why you’re achy and chilled.”

“S’pose it makes sense. I’m just freezing.” A gust of wind rattles the cabin, and a draft snakes its way into the living room, making B shudder and curl up even closer to A. “I’d kill for a hot shower right now.”

“Don’t go all ‘The Shining’ on me yet - we just got here.” A grabs a towel to try and further dry B’s damp hair. It was probably an old wives’ tale, but they didn’t have many options to keep a sick person comfortable out here, and wet hair couldn’t feel good.

B had complained about feeling a cold coming on a couple days ago, and mentioned that they might not want to go this weekend. A had made fun of them for it, joking about how someone like B never let a little cold get them down. And now, thanks to them, B was even sicker. They really were the worst friend in history.

“Do you think you could manage some tea?" A asks quietly. B closes their eyes and nods, laying their head back on the hearth.


It takes a few minutes, but A manages to light the gas stove and locate a kettle, along with a dusty box of herbal tea tucked away in a cupboard. Whoever they had rented from had stocked it high with all kinds of canned soups and dry goods, so at least they’d be prepared for the long haul.

A sudden glance out the window reveals that the rain has turned into fat, white snowflakes, whirling in the sky and dusting the porch. A rubs their hands together, holding their chilled fingers as close to the stove flame as possible. The kettle whistles and A pours two cups, reveling in the warm steam that tickles their nose.

Once the tea is brewed, they make their way back to the fireplace. B's too weak to lift their own head, so A sits behind them and props them up, holding the teacup and helping them take small sips of the warm liquid. Once the cup is empty, A helps B lay their head back on the hearth before adding a few more logs to the fire and starting on their own tea.

Despite the warm fire, A can feel the ambient temperature of the room dropping. There's no way B's going to stay warm enough in the bedroom, so they’ll just have to make do out here for now.

After pushing the couch until it's just inches in front of the fire, A sweeps B into their arms and helps them back to the couch, easing them gently onto the pillows they've laid and tucking a blanket back around them. Even this close to the fire, the brief movement had set off another round of bone-shaking chills in B, and they grip their blanket so hard A’s afraid they’ll tear it.

“A?" B's voice is weak.

“I’m right here.”

“A, can you hold me? Please?” The desperation is palpable. B’s breathing is hoarse and they're close to tears, arms wrapped tightly around themselves. “Shivering hurts, but I can’t stop. I know you probably don’t want to get sick from me-”

A’s heart breaks. “Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll keep you warm.” They slide onto the couch and wrap their own blanket around the both of them, pulling B’s fevered body to their chest. B clings to their body, and A can feel the shakes that ripple through them. A gently massages their arms and back in slow circles and B presses closer, the vulnerability almost too much to bear.

Finally, A says what’s been eating away at them for hours. “B, I’m so sorry for what I said on the trail. I shouldn’t have said it, and I didn’t mean it. I do want you here. And now we’re here, and you're sick and hurt and it’s my fault, and I’m sorry for that too.” The apology comes out in such a rush, and B is quiet for so long in their arms that they doubt B even heard it.

But then they feel B’s trembling arms squeezing their waist. “Nature’s not your fault, A. Besides, if being taken care of is a part of your apology, it's warm and I'll take it."

A grips B even tighter, fighting back tears. “Whatever happens this weekend, I’ve got you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do. You always have,” B mumbles as they slip into a restless sleep. In front of the warm fire, A reasons that the drafty bedroom was probably too cold for anyone to sleep in. No, they were perfectly content to stay right here with B - and not even the promise of a warm shower could lure them away.

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

do you have any theories about the india trip ?? personally, im not sure what to think about it, but i’d love to hear your thoughts !!

(Sorry its taken me so long to answer this - it just got lost in my drafts cause im an idiot lmao 🤦‍♀️)

Im not entirely certain on what I believe happened in India, if in fact anything did happen at all - but more on that later! I guess though that these are the main theories (though if you have any differing opinions/theories, feel free to discuss them!):

1. Paul rejected John’s advancements

2. John wanted to further their relationship, and Paul wanted to maintain the ‘friends with benefits’ situation they already had

3. Nothing significant happened between the two (yet something still changed in John)

I’ll try to discuss which theories I find the most convincing, compelling and substantiated - as well as offering my own opinions and hypothesis’s ^^ (discussion bellow the cut)

1. Paul rejected John’s advancements

The theory I would say im most drawn to - not the theory that im necessarily most convinced by though - is that John made a move on Paul, after a few years of pining for him, and was subsequently rejected. Its a theory that I tend to be compelled by, but I have to admit that its one I struggle to justify entirely. The problem with this theory, for me, is that this is a conclusion ive drawn based mostly off of what their relationship appeared to look like after India. It seems as though something must have happened between them to have ruptured their relationship as profoundly as it did - and because they were on relatively good terms before India*, combined with certain inferences we could draw from comments John made regarding his feelings towards Paul and their relationship, it feels as though it’s possible that he made an advance on Paul, which was rejected and thus caused the ultimate disintegration of the Lennon/McCartney relationship.

(*I mean, their relationship was always complicated and difficult - but it seems that it was okay-ish prior to India, and then just inexplicably plummeted after the trip)

But nobody (as far as im aware) has confirmed, or even really alluded to, this advancement or rejection ever having happened. And the lack of evidence substantiating the claim is a major draw back for me!

However, I do also feel as though nobody’s really come out about anything that happened in India - all ive heard is that they meditated, wrote songs, John and Cyn fought, and Ringo ate baked beans. But like, more must have happened on the trip, surely? Im not saying the absence of information regarding the trip is proof that there was a big “lovers quarrel” between John and Paul, and that everyone involved in that trip is now just sworn to secrecy or something - but like, id just like to see a biographer really investigate the holiday, and try to conclude what events might have occurred during the trip, because as of right now, with the information we have, it seems to have been, bizarrely, both a lacklustre and uneventful, yet still hugely impactful event. If the narrative of the “India trip” were to be shifted in the future in light of new information, the same way the narrative of “Let It Be/Get Back” is being changed, I wouldn’t be surprised!

2. John wanted more, but Paul didn’t

Another popular theory is that John and Paul were engaged in something of a physical affair, but in India John proposed (or perhaps demanded even) that they take their relationship further, and Paul just wasn’t compelled to do so.

Beliefs vary regarding this, based on how far you personally think their relationship went: some might say they only ever did a little drunken experimenting with one another, and that it was just a fun fling until John suggested they take it further. Others might argue that they were in fact in a committed relationship, and John wanted to go public with it - or at the very least, demanded exclusivity between him and Paul.

In entertaining this theory, im most compelled to believe that John and Paul were engaged in occasional “flings”, and perhaps by ‘68 were even acknowledging that there was some deeper and more sincere between them - but ultimately, I don’t think Paul would have ever been inclined to fully commit to John, because I think he always wanted children and a family. In addition to this, though its clear John and Paul were passionate about one another, it isn’t clear how compatible they were in the long term - and with Paul being the more grounded of the too, I suspect he would have recognised this incompatibility, which John (the idealist) might not have.

Though I admit that John could certainly be unrealistic and irrational, im not convinced that he suggested to Paul they go public with their relationship, because I think John still had a fairly strong sense of his place in popular culture, and would have still been able to recognise that if they were to “come out”, it would probably deeply and irreparably damage both their careers - as well as George and Ringo’s too - at least amongst the general public. They’d still have some ardent fans, but their following overall would have become far more niche, and the “beatlemania” would’ve worn off swiftly. Im not sure if either of them would’ve been willing to take that heat in ‘68, especially not Paul, who as I mentioned earlier, I think might have recognised the futility and incompatibility inherent in their relationship.

Then again though, John was always a little “cocky”* when it came to his sexuality - I think if an interviewer were to genuinely have enquired into his sexuality, straight up asking him “Are you bi? Gay?” I get the sense that he would have told us! Sure he’d probably have dressed the response up with a dozen quick quips and jokes, but ultimately, I think he would have given a sincere response. And so, perhaps he did feel he had the confidence, at least in India, to actually “come out”, but if Paul wasn’t willing to make this official with him, perhaps this confidence dissipated.

(*No pun intended you pervs🤦‍♂️)

Another thing to note about India is that they’d have been relatively secluded, as well as off the drugs/drinks for the most part - and this would have forced them to really reflect upon their relationship. Perhaps John saw that he wasn’t contented with Cynthia, and recognised his desire for more from Paul - and so in such a raw state of mind, I can see how he’d become so shattered if Paul were to have rejected him (that statement could relate both to the first and second theory, I feel). Perhaps John made an advance upon Paul whilst they were both sober for the first time, and that changed their relationship somehow? Just thinking out loud here!

But again, this theory overall has the same problem as the first in that, though it appears to make sense, it still lacks proof; it ultimately isn’t a substantiated claim.

3. Nothing happened between J&P, but something changed

This is probably the theory that everybody is least interested in hearing, but I still think its a pretty valid one, albeit the least dramatic (In my opinion though its still a really interesting perspective to explore though!).

Its possible that nothing of particular significance happened in India, but something still shifted in John, causing him to vilify and reject Paul. The issue with this though, is that it begs the question: why did John undergo such a significant change in India then?

Id argue that perhaps John was making very subtle and slight moves towards Paul, that Paul either ignored or didn't pick up on. Id assume that perhaps John had been hinting at this desire for awhile now, and maybe he got it into his head that in India, where him and Paul would have a lot of time to be alone and intimate, his feelings would finally be reciprocated. But then, Paul never picked up on these hints, and never made any advancements - and this broke something within John. It would fit neatly within the Yoko narrative, because it offers reasoning to the abrupt but intense attachment John formed towards her almost immediately after India - as well as explaining the sudden vilification of Paul. But I suppose that the first two theories also fit pretty neatly within the Yoko narrative, because they all relate to the same basic concept that John wanted more from Paul, and Paul didn’t - and so he tried to replace him with Yoko.

I suppose though, that the this theory overall could also be countered by making the argument that Paul also began to spiral after India, and so some occurrence presumably must have happened to Paul too. I wonder though if its possible that maybe Pauls spiralling was kind of a result of Johns? I get the sense though that Paul would need a change in his life to cause his mental health to seriously deteriorate, but I don’t feel like the same is necessarily true for John - I think John is sort of the type to spiral, irregardless of whether his life undergoes a significant change or not, because I think John was the force driving a lot of the drama and troubles throughout his lifetime. So if Johns mental well-being started seriously deteriorating, I can see this being a cause of panic and anxiety for Paul.

But something that further inclines me to believe that an actual event occurred between John and Paul is this extract from Geoff Emmericks memoir (x)(id recommend reading the entire extract, its interesting!):

‘I glanced in Paul’s direction. He was staring straight ahead, expressionless and weary. He didn’t have much to say about India that day, or any other. I sensed at that moment that something fundamental in them had changed.”’

It just really feels as though there was some confrontation between John and Paul that had to have happened to perpetuate the miscommunication later seen between them. Like if there hadn’t been some kind of confrontation, then I can’t really understand why Paul would be reluctant to speak about India, or harbour any regrets or dismay regarding the journey. Perhaps you could drill it down to the betrayal they appeared to have felt by Maharishi allegedly hitting on girls - but I feel like this was a “betrayal” mostly felt by John, I never really got the sense that Paul was deeply effected by it.

But yeah - those are the main theories I think.

Overall, I think that the third theory is probably the most substantiated claim, but I think it leaves a lot to desired. It just doesn’t feel like it totally fits together, as though theres more to the story - but I guess relationships and peoples psyches aren’t puzzles, and so not everything is always going to piece together perfectly; but I dunno.

Like I said though, the theory im most compelled by is the first. I acknowledge that it lacks evidence, but it just seems to make a lot of sense to me! But really, who knows what the hell happened in India?

If anyone else has an opinion on all this, or wants to expand upon or even suggest a new theory, feel free to! I always like hearing from you guys!

[eldritchqueerture]

Hello! This is a project for @summer-in-the-archives-event that I worked on with @horizonindigo! We came up with the idea together and based our individual works around the poem I wrote, included in the fic. You can find their absolutely amazing art here!!

I freaking loved working on this one and I got more and more excited as we progressed. I also surprised myself with the poem itself a bit, definitely didn’t expect it to end up quite as cool, if I may say so myself. It was incredibly fun to write.

Big shoutout to @sunflowers-and-frogs for beta reading, I love you bestie <3

I would like to thank all the mods that made this event possible! It’s my first time taking part in anything like this and it was really, really fun, so THANK YOU <3 Love you guys :3 Anyways, enough of my rambling kdfjgkjsdfg

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Relationship: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical The Lonely Content (The Magnus Archives), Kissing, Excessive Tea-Making, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Poetry, Love Confessions Warnings: self-esteem issues, typical Lonely content, discussions of free-will and determinism, graphic kiss

Summary: As Martin fights the remnants of the Lonely's influence on their ride to Daisy's safehouse in Scotland, he focuses on his feelings for Jon to keep him tethered to reality. He watches Jon be himself in the safety of the cottage, share these small intimacies of domesticity and the words come to him as a poem weaves itself into the pages of his notebook...

He feels the taste of salt in his mouth, as he looks out of the car window at the rapidly falling away landscape, covered in the darkness of the night. He feels Jon’s presence next to him, focused on driving but glancing every so often at him with concern. Martin feels like he should say something, somehow fill the silence that has befallen them, but no words ever find their way to his mouth. He stays quiet, watching the trees pass them by, trying to ignore the anxious churning in his stomach. He’s always been pretty good at filling awkward silences with chatter; at least before the Lonely. Now… he can’t help but feel bothered by Jon’s presence, even though he did all of this for him, even though this is what he’s wanted all this time; it’s like a splinter, prickling at his mind, almost causing him physical discomfort. He swallows and feels the salty taste on his tongue; he discards the thoughts and tries his best to breathe through the discomfort, instead focusing on the sensation of Jon’s warm hand on his.

Martin used to be the warm one; he’d always been generating heat and his mind goes back to the early days in the Archives when the basement was cold in the winter and both Tim and Sasha used to gravitate towards him with their respective cups of tea during breaks. Now his whole body is cold, the chill of the ocean breeze and fog having settled in his bones so deep he thinks he’ll never feel warm again. The thought isn’t sparking any emotions in him though. It’s just a thing that he’s learned to accept, just as the fact that he’ll always be alo—

“Do you want me to put on some music?” Jon asks with another one of his glances. Every time, he raises his eyebrows a bit, and tilts his head to the side; Martin expects the concern in his eyes, but he sees something else there as well. He’s been afraid to put a label to the expression for the fear he’s reading him wrong, but the bolder part of his mind tells him it’s fondness.

Jon’s hand is warm, and his thumb grazes the skin of his palm just a little, as if not sure he’s allowed to. Martin looks down at their hands and feels warmth spark in his stomach; he smiles.

“I’m sorry I’m—I’m not really good at the whole, uh… small talk thing,” Jon adds with a flush, turning his head back to the road. “I should probably be talking about something, though, to, uh… to keep you here. I suppose.” He visibly cringes at his words.

“It’s—It’s fine, Jon,” Martin chuckles, and Jon relaxes, fixing him with a quick smile of his own. “I’m just… you know.” He looks down at their hands again and has a brief feeling they belong to someone else. Not him. Never him. “I’m not quite… out of that. Yet.”

Another look of concern. Martin feels heat prickling at his cheeks and he’s a little bit glad, because at least it’s a feeling. He interlaces their fingers and looks out the front window.

They spend the ride in relative silence. Jon tries a couple more times to start small talk and fails; they stop at a gas station at one point and Martin takes out his notebook when Jon disappears inside the station to pay for gas. He flicks through it and his eyes stop at an unfinished draft; he started writing it shortly before Peter took him down to the Panopticon, but he’d only managed to get a few first lines down. Despite still feeling the cold in his bones and his mind being clouded by the remains of the fog, words come to him, and he starts scribbling. He continues to do so even when Jon comes back with tea and an assortment of snacks, blushing just a little bit when Jon shoots a curious look at the notebook. He doesn’t ask and Martin is thankful for it. He’s not the sort to show his drafts to anyone, especially to the subject he’s writing about.

It’s 1am when they arrive at the cottage; they’re both exhausted and they quickly take their bags inside and lock the door. The cottage is small and practical, just Daisy’s style; it’s also quite dusty from months of abandonment. Martin yawns as he opens one of the bags to get the essentials. They should leave unpacking and cleaning for the next day.

He hears Jon’s footsteps on the wooden floor coming back from the initial run of the house and he turns to tell him that, but the somewhat sheepish look on his face stops him in his tracks. Has he ever seen Jon look sheepish before?

“So, uh, obviously this was Daisy’s safehouse when she was, well… Avoiding people,” he says, not meeting Martin’s eyes.

“I hope ‘avoiding people’ doesn’t mean killing them in this context,” Martin snorts, not sure if he’s entirely joking. The humour is lost on Jon, however, as he looks at him confused for a moment before he processes Martin’s words.

“Oh, no, no, I-I don’t believe she, uh… She just slept here.” Jon shifts awkwardly. “And that means there’s uh, there’s only one bed.”

Martin’s eyes widen and his lips form a little “Oh”.

“Of course, if you’re not comfortable with sharing, I can just take the couch, you need some proper rest and I’m used to running on low sleep” —Jon averts his gaze as he speaks. He grabs his bag and walks over to the couch, and Martin wants to stop him talking and just say that they should share the bed, but his voice seems to have left him at this crucial moment. He just stares as Jon places the bag on the couch and looks back at him, aware of the silence. “Martin?”

Martin swallows, a familiar cold freezing his toes. He feels the damp sand underneath his bare feet and a chill runs down his spine. He blinks and tightens his grip on the bag he’s been holding. This is real, he is real, Jon is real.

“You need good rest too,” he finally manages to say, and he’s surprised by how clear and normal his voice sounds; it makes Jon relax a bit. “We should share the bed, if-if you are comfortable with that.”

A small smile appears on Jon’s lips and a warm feeling fills Martin’s stomach again; he knows the smile is for him.

“Okay,” he says softly and picks the bag up.

They manage to keep the awkwardness of it to the minimum; they’re both very tired and at one point it just doesn’t matter anymore. Jon hands Martin a separate blanket and he pushes the disappointment down into a void inside him where he keeps feelings to come back to when he’s alone. It would be foolish of him to hope for cuddling since they haven’t talked about anything yet.

He expects to fall asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow, but he finds himself awake in the darkness after goodnights are said (Jon’s voice sounds so soft and tender Martin has forgotten all about his earlier disappointment). He’s laying on his back, eyes closed, and he feels Jon’s presence on his right. His breathing is steady, not yet slow enough to indicate sleep, but calm and relaxed. Martin peeks out through half-lidded eyes – he hasn’t gotten used to the darkness as much yet, but he can see Jon laying on his side, facing him, his eyes closed and his hair loosely framing his face. One of his hands rests close to his head on the pillow. Martin blinks, fully opening his eyes now and smiling softly. As his vision clears, Martin notices Jon frowning ever so slightly, and he wonders if the faint lines between his eyebrows smoothen when he’s asleep.

“Is watching people sleep a usual activity for you?” Jon whispers with amusement as he opens his eyes and Martin gasps with surprise and looks away, feeling heat prickle at his cheeks.

“Wha—uh, no! No, of course no—Sorry, I—” He rambles, and he thinks he might just die from embarrassment when he hears Jon laugh quietly.

“It’s fine, Martin.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “Really. I-- Sorry, I thought a joke would, um… lighten the mood somewhat.”

Martin risks a look at him and wonders if the red on his cheeks is visible through the darkness. Jon looks at him with that expression again, something Martin would very much want to classify as fondness if it didn’t feel so impossible. But now that he thinks about it… Would it really be thatfar-fetched? Jon had gone into the Lonely just to get him out. Would he have done that for anyone else? Martin rolls his eyes at himself in his mind, of course he would. He did go into the Buried, and it was for Daisy, a person who has threatened him multiple times, kidnapped and almost killed him. If Jon was ready to lay down his life for her, out of all of them, it shouldn’t be surprising he would do the same for his assistant; it says nothing about his feelings on the matter.

Martin’s memories of the Lonely are hazy. He remembers the cold, the dampness, and the loneliness. He remembers his thoughts, the lonely ones, and how they felt both alien and familiar at the same time. He remembers the comfort, the feeling of fitting in, but also the pain and the fear, just before they were numbed by the cold and the fog that made him forget. And then suddenly, Jon was in front of him, looking at him with desperation on his face, tears in his eyes glowing with a green light. Was it Jon calling for him, or just the Beholding?

“What are you thinking about?” comes Jon’s voice and Martin realizes he’s been staring into the air for a while. He blinks and looks back at Jon.

“Uh…” He searches for words before he gives up on trying to come up with an excuse. His voice is quiet when he speaks. “Why did you do it?”

Jon blinks at him a couple times and rises to lean on his elbow, to better look at Martin.

“What do you mean?”

“The Lonely,” Martin says, not meeting his eyes. Jon is wearing a blue t-shirt with a logo of a band Martin doesn’t recognize; the shirt is loose and it uncovers one of Jon's shoulders which would probably be distracting if Martin’s mind wasn't chilled by the remnants of the fog. “Why did you come for me?”

Even without looking at him, Martin sees Jon’s forehead ripple. A while passes as Jon searches his face and the thought that he shouldn’t have asked starts creeping up to Martin’s head. Shouldn’t have brought any attention to the subject, he should just be glad, he should—

“I care about you, Martin,” Jon says in a very gentle and quiet voice, like he’s afraid anything louder would take away the meaning of his words. Martin looks up at Jon and the hint of that intense blush from before makes it back to his face. “You’re… You matter to me. You will always matter to me.”

Martin can’t stop a small smile appearing on his face and Jon mirrors it.

“Thank you,” Martin whispers, feeling a warmth settle in his chest, finally driving the cold away.

“Anytime.” Jon lays his head back down and settles back with the right hand near his face. “Sleep well, Martin.”

Martin closes his eyes contentedly and he curls up on his right side, facing Jon, as if trying to keep this warm feeling from escaping his chest too soon.

“You too, Jon.”

---

Martin wakes up alone in an unfamiliar bed, the smell of foreign covers filling his nostrils and for a second he panics. He opens his eyes and the memories come back to him; their late arrival at the safehouse and laying down to sleep next to Jon.

He sits up, looking at the space Jon had occupied. It’s vacant now, just the curled up covers he left behind, but it manages to bring a blush to Martin’s cheeks, nonetheless. It feels so… intimate to know that they slept next to each other. It makes him feel warm and cosy.

Martin gets up and goes to the bathroom before he finds Jon in the kitchen. He’s humming quietly as he finishes cleaning the table and he looks up when Martin enters.

“Good morning, Martin.” He smiles and Martin’s afraid he’s going to melt. He takes a quick look around and notices that their sparse kitchen supplies are mostly unpacked, and the kettle is already on the stove.

“How long have you been awake?” He asks; some of the shock must have made it to his voice because Jon looks amused.

“Two hours or so. I’ve always been a morning person.” He shrugs and finishes cleaning the table. “Tea?”

A smile lights up Martin’s face and he gets swept up by the familiarity of the activity, while Jon busies himself with fixing up some breakfast. As both of them work in the kitchen, Martin notices the casual brushes of their skin and touches of the shoulders. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it consciously or if it just happens naturally, but he knows that Jon’s open demeanour is drawing him closer than before. He wonders if he’s been like this ever since he woke up from the coma, and there was just no one to appreciate it.

The morning is relaxed, the casual conversation flowing a lot smoother than the day before, and after breakfast they set out to clean the whole cottage and go down to the village to buy some actual supplies. The village is small, but the local shop provides all the essentials they need; for a moment Martin forgets about everything outside of that village and shopping for groceries with Jon, as if this is their life now, in the Scottish Highlands, living together in a cottage. They talk about cooking dinner, and the cows they passed on the way, and Martin thinks he could get used to that.

The bubble bursts when they finish up and Jon decides to call Basira. She picks up after a while and updates them on the absence of both Jonah Magnus and Daisy. Basira says she’ll send some statements up to them when the Institute stops being an active crime scene, and a shadow passes over Jon’s face. Wrapped up in a conversation about their taste in dinner dishes, it was almost too easy for Martin to forget food isn’t the only sustenance Jon needs. He finds it easier to forget things ever since the Lonely. They walk back to their cottage in silence, Martin grabbing Jon’s hand as soon as he lets go of the phone.

When they get back, Jon declares he’s going to take care of unpacking and cooking, and even though Martin knows Jon to be stupidly stubborn, he’s surprised by the strictness with which Jon insists he sit back and relax. Martin doesn’t really complain; he’s spent his entire life caring for others and, to be honest, it does feel rather good to be on the receiving end for once. He watches Jon from the couch for a while, before he takes out his notebook and looks over the poem he wrote in the car.

Wisps of mist conceal my eyes

A lone indulgence to lose one's face

And soothing a part inside that cries

With chilling sadness and numbing grace

The steadfast rhythm of waves ashore

As ocean breeze leaves a taste of salt

The words forgotten, erase what I swore

Until I hear your voice once more

I wondered many times what it might be

That we finally took to calling "us"

What would be left if we broke free

Of dread and horror's eternal grasp

The Eye looms aloft, ever-present dread

Watching all, eternal lids apart

You made your choice unaware you were led

By strings of web, against your heart

Jon starts humming under his nose in the kitchen as he cuts something on the board; the water in the kettle boils slowly and fills the air with a quiet whistle. Martin smiles while shooting a subtle glance at Jon; he seems to notice his gaze and falls quiet, but a smile lights up his face when he sees the fondness on Martin’s face. For all this talk about Jon “losing himself” in the role of the Archivist, this seems as human as you can get. Martin never favoured the approach the other archival staff took to the knowledge of the significance of Jon’s position, and he often wondered how they could look at him and see a monster. Of course he made bad decisions, but so did everyone. They’ve seen or read about so many avatars giving into the powers that fed them and yes, maybe Martin is biased, but Jon was nothing like them. They’ve all been caught in this huge web of statements that turned real; the more they struggled to break free the more tangled up they became, and it wasn’t Jon’s fault that he ended up in the centre of it. He knows Jon tried to make right choices every step of the way. Can you really blame a human being for failing to completely resist something that’s beyond mortality and human reality? One way or another they ended up here, together, and yes, maybe the Eye and the Lonely are still looming as very tangible threats, and Jonah Magnus is nowhere near being stopped, but at least they’re together now. Martin remembers thinking the Unknowing was the endgame, the last chapter of this horror for them, and he remembers the hopelessness of their story getting a bad ending that essentially pushed him into the Lonely; now he feels a different kind of an end approaching – he dares to be hopeful. Maybe everything works out in the end? Maybe, if they were safe and happy, it wouldn’t actually be the end of the world.

Martin looks down at his notebook and starts writing, sticking the tip of his tongue out in concentration.

What is a monster? Where is the line

That would separate us from the world

All I know is our paths align

And we together can battle the cold

You cut through the curtains of mist and See

The green glow fades when our eyes meet

My lips form a soft and quiet plea

To be loved has never felt so sweet

To be loved is a new feeling for me

I only know how to love from one side

But with you I hope we can once be free

Maybe ignore the whims of the tide

Although I know we're not nearly through

I taste and savour your voice, your breath

If only for a moment, we can start anew

And I will follow you even to death

As he stares at the last word of the finished poem, his hand with the pen hovering over it, he registers that his eyes have watered a bit. He blinks the tears away quickly as Jon sits down on the couch next to him, looking at him with a gentle worry. Martin looks up at the two mugs of tea he’d placed on the table.

“Did you make tea?” He asks with mock bewilderment, and Jon scoffs at him.

“I know how to make tea, Martin.” He nudges him with amusement, that gentle worry not quite gone from his eyes. “What are you writing about?”

Martin falls quiet, pressing the notebook to his chest in a knee-jerk reaction.

“Thought you didn’t like poetry,” he huffs out a laugh that’s only a little bit self-conscious. Jon shrugs, reaching out for his mug and taking a sip.

“I don’t understand it. And yes, I have been known to dislike it at times, but… Maybe I could be swayed to give it another shot.” Jon rolls his eyes fondly and looks at Martin out of the corner of his eye, a look that says ‘for you’. Martin grins, heat pricking at his cheeks once again.

“You see, i-it’s all about emotion.” He places the notebook gently on his lap face down and reaches for his own mug. “You w-want to put all of your emotions into words in a-an artistic way, that has a rhythm and, uh, and feels alive. And you want your, uh, your readers to feel that, that emotion through your words.”

Jon listens attentively and his eyes aren’t leaving Martin’s face; at one point Martin gets distracted by it and forgets where his explanation was going. Jon’s gaze has always been intense, in different ways throughout the time they’ve known each other. At first it was judgemental, the gaze of his boss, full of unmet expectations; then it was piercing, watchful and suspicious; as time passed, it seemed to gain more and more weight of the Beholding, something Tim always complained about. After Martin had joined Peter Lukas, the rare glances he got from Jon were full of yearning that Martin didn’t understand at the time; didn’t want to understand. Now, it’s that gentle fondness, interweaved with something intangibly sad and Martin feels an urge to hug him, to bring him close to his chest and never let go; to bury his face in Jon’s hair and protect him.

They move to place their mugs at the table at the same time and snort, amusement quickly turning into a fit of laughter. Jon throws his head back a little with it and Martin wonders if he has ever seen him laugh so openly before. He didn’t think it was possible for him to fall in love with the man even more, but once again, his heart proves him wrong. He stares at him with a lovestruck expression and thinks they should really talk about it. Martin doesn’t know where to start though and Jon seems to be thinking in a similar direction because his expression shifts into gentle seriousness.

“Martin, I…” He starts and bites his lip. “I need to apologize.”

Martin straightens a little; it’s not exactly what he expects.

“I—The way I used to treat you…” Pain and guilt flash through Jon’s face as he looks away for a moment to gather his thoughts. “It was not okay. None of it was okay. And I’m—I’m really sorry for that. It doesn’t—I know it doesn’t change anything that happened, but I” —he sighs. “I really am sorry. I hope I can, somehow, uh… somehow make it up to you.”

Martin reaches for Jon’s hand, and he looks down in surprise; Martin sees his eyes start glistening.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened to you.” He continues in a whisper and his eyes are locked on their touching hands. “I’m so sorry about the Lonely. I’m sorry that you’re trapped in all of this with me, and I would understand if you decided to leave—”

“Jon.” Martin squeezes his hand and Jon’s eyes shoot up to look at him.

“I’m sorry, that’s not an apology,” he sighs again. “I just… I’m sorry, Martin. About everything.” His other hand grips Martin’s. “I’m glad you are still here. I’m—I’m so glad, you d-don’t even know,” he laughs.

“I think I do.” Martin smiles gently. “Thank you for saying that. I’ve—I've forgiven you for a lot of it a long time ago. A-And the rest just isn’t your fault.”

Jon frowns.

“The Lonely was always there,” Martin shrugs. “Peter Lukas was just… a catalyst, I think. But now I have you.” His finger grazes the outside of Jon’s palm and his heart flutters in his chest when he sees that small smile appear on Jon’s face. “And you can’t be blamed for Elia—Jonah’s games. We’re all just… a bunch of people who didn’t know what was going on until it was too late.”

Jon’s eyes fall as he nods slightly.

“He’s still up to something,” he says quietly.

“Figures,” Martin laughs bitterly. “But we’re here now. And frankly, I don’t really want to think about him when we’re finally…” The word ‘together’ gets stuck in his throat, as if it would breach this fine line of ambiguity they’ve drawn between themselves. Jon seems to fill it in and his eyes land back on Martin.

He’s never wanted to kiss him more than he does right now. Jon's eyes are wide and glistening with something that looks suspiciously like hope, and his fingers gently graze the outside of Martin's palm. Warmth spreads in his chest and his eyes flutter a little, not breaking the eye contact. He wants to pull Jon close to his chest, to run his fingers through his hair and feel his breath on his own skin. To really feel like he's there, next to him, with him.

Before he can follow through with any of that, something sizzles in the kitchen, loud in the silence, startling them both.

“Food!” Jon chuckles slightly before he jumps to his feet and rushes to the kitchen, while Martin snorts and follows him. Jon stirs the pan with curry and sighs with relief when he sees it's not burned. He turns down the heat anyway and checks on the rice.

“Jon, this smells amazing,” Martin says, peeking into the pan with cheese and spinach. “I didn't know you could cook.”

“Well, contrary to the popular belief I was a functional human being. For a while,” Jon snorts and leans against the counter to look back at Martin. “It's Palak Paneer, my grandma taught me when I was a child.”

“It looks fantastic,” Martin grins, and Jon rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.

Even though the moment's lost, the remains of the feeling can be felt between them as they prepare the plates and take the food to the table. They easily fall back into usual chatter and, as soon as they’re finished, Martin jumps to wash the dishes. Jon relents after extensive affirmations from Martin that he's alright and he can definitely take care of a couple dishes in the sink, and he drops onto the couch with a content sigh instead.

Martin finishes up with the dishes and dries his hands on a towel.

“Do you want some tea?” He asks and hangs the towel back on the rack. When there's no response, he turns to the couch. “Jon?”

Something sinks in his stomach when he sees that the object that consumes Jon’s attention is the poem he’s finished; he scratches his neck, as his cheeks take on a pink tinge. “Oh…”

He walks up to the couch, unsure, trying to gauge Jon's reaction. His face seems tense, he squeezes the notebook in his hand so hard his knuckles go white, and his eyes are focused at one point on the page.

“Um... Jon?” Martin asks weakly, his heart drumming in his chest so loud he's sure both of them can hear it.

Jon jumps to his feet, startled, and looks up at him with eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights. Martin instinctively raises his hands in a placating gesture, as Jon registers his presence, looks down on the notebook in his hands, and quickly puts it on the table as if it stung him.

“Martin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look, it was just there and—”

“Hey, Jon, it’s alright!” It’s maybe a little not alright, since the poem is nothing short of a love confession and a wish Martin had no right to assume would ever be true, so Jon reading it is less than ideal. Martin rushes to gently place a hand on Jon’s shoulder but when he recoils from the touch, Martin withdraws his hand, cursing everything about himself.

“No, I, uh…” Jon runs his hand through his hair, eyes darting between Martin, his hand, and the notebook frantically. “I shouldn’t have— uh, it’s—it’s your private business, what you write about, so—”

Martin is sure he’s tomato red on the face by this point and hopes against hope that the afternoon light filtering through the curtains obscures it just a little. Jon, on the other hand, doesn’t have the embarrassed blush that usually darkens his cheeks; instead he breathes fast, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Martin sees him hunch just a little, making himself smaller.

“Um, yeah, I, uh—” He starts fidgeting with his fingers. Did the idea of—of love frighten Jon so much? He was stupid to leave it out in the open and now Jon knows, and it’s not how he feels, so he hates him… “I’m sorry.”

Jon’s eyes snap to him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“For what?”

Martin huffs out something like a pained laugh.

“Th-That’s not exactly how- how I wanted to tell you.” He wrings out his hands and shoots Jon a pleading look. What’s done is done and the only thing he can hope for is for Jon to let him down easy and never speak of this again.

“Tell me?” Jon looks down at the notebook again and there’s the worry again, stark on his face. He breathes out, slowly, and looks at the floor. “I don’t—I don’t even want to think this is a possibility…”

Martin doesn’t need to imagine what it would be like to be stabbed, if he wanted to - he’s pretty sure the acute pain of his heart shattering in his chest is close enough. His mind tries to catch up to the emotions, slow them down just a bit, because something seems off, and isn’t this a weird way to reject someone you must have known had a crush on you? But his throat tightens with the swell of pain and shame and Martin blinks away the tears welling up in his eyes.

Jon sighs and plops down on the couch, hiding his face in his hands and pushing his glasses up to his forehead.

“We d-don’t have to talk about it, if—if you don’t want to,” Martin says quietly. He sits down next to Jon, careful not to touch him in any way, and puts his hands between his knees.

Jon lets out a bitter laugh.

“Isn’t that what they—the Web would want? Just… mindlessly follow, go with the flow until something… irreversibly bad happens?”

Martin turns to Jon with a frown.

“Wh—What?”

Jon looks at him with something glistening in his eyes and Martin can see the lines of pain and misery written on his face like they belong there.

“The web,” he says faintly. “Strings of fate. I—” He lets out a breath. “Was I just being manipulated this whole time? Was I ever really—Did I ever have a choice?”

“Jon... what are you talking about?”

“You—You said I was...” He reaches for the notebook and points at a verse with his finger. “’Made your choice unaware you were led by strings of web against your heart.’ How—W-Why did you say this?”

Martin stares into Jon's green eyes with concern, yet parts of his heart start to weave themselves back together. However confused and worried Jon seems to be, none of it is directed at Martin; he looks at him with desperation, almost pleading, and he realizes they’ve been having two different conversations at the same time.

“Oh-Oh, God, Jon, I-I didn't mean—I just, it's a-a metaphor, just that, you know,” he takes a breath. “It does remind me of a web, the-the way we got caught up in Elias' plans.” He looks down, his cheeks burning as he remembers why Jon would get caught at this specific phrase. “I'm sorry for, uh, using that, it was just the first thing that came to my mind and—”

Jon exhales next to him and Martin risks a look up. The uneasiness isn't gone from his face but he relaxes just a little bit, enough to stabilize his breathing.

“I'm sorry for this… this whole thing, Martin.” He gestures at nothing in particular and it's his turn to look at the floor, as if it's all of a sudden the most interesting thing he's ever seen. He starts fidgeting with the notebook. “I'm just—What if it’s true?” His voice goes higher at the question and he closes his eyes. Martin squeezes his arm. “What if I am just... Just a puppet? An inhuman, helpless puppet in the hands of—Of some spider pulling the strings?”

A tear rolls down Jon's cheek and Martin grabs one of his hands. It’s small and still shakes a little; he tries to put all the protectiveness he feels into this small gesture. Jon doesn’t recoil this time, instead taking a moment to watch Martin’s hand clasp around his.

“Jon,” Martin starts softly. “You're still you. You're not some—Some spider puppet that can't make choices.”

“But what if—”

“You've made a choice to go into the Lonely for me.” Martin bumps their knees together lightly and Jon looks up at him. “I don't suspect any webs would need me alive to push you into it. It was You.”

Jon looks him in the eyes and Martin barely stops himself from reaching up to his face to wipe away his tears.

“Or it just makes us think that we have a choice but are ultimately helpless against fate and everything we do is determined by intricately crafted circumstances,” Jon whispers. “Maybe free will is a lie.”

Martin blinks.

“Jon...”

“Maybe I was never able to stop it. Any of it.” Jon’s voice grows more horrified and even though his eyes are directed at Martin's face, he seems to be looking somewhere past him. “Maybe nothing we try to do really matters.”

“Jon.” Martin’s voice gains a bit of force, even though he feels all but sure. “What do you see?”

Jon frowns. “What?”

“Look at me and tell me what you see?” The force is gone; the sentence sounds more like a feeble suggestion than a request, but Jon's eyes refocus on Martin's in a frown of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“We're here now,” Martin says quietly. “And yeah, maybe our decisions are all predetermined or whatever. I still think it matters that we try. I think our experience matters. And you're not a-a monster without free will, Jon. You care about people, and you’ve sacrificed a lot for other people. You've made your own choices and, no matter if they were good or bad, they were still yours. And I think that matters.”

Jon blinks at him for a moment, then his shoulders slump with a sigh and he interlaces their fingers. Martin doesn’t miss it and he feels warmth in his chest.

“I've always been afraid of—of my will not being my own anymore,” he confesses quietly. “Of, uh... of not knowing the difference.”

“I get it,” Martin nods. “If it’s any consolation, I see a lot of Jon in you still.” Jon looks up at him with surprise and Martin gives him a half smile. “I see a very changed Jon but it's still Jon.” He strokes Jon's palm as his heart picks up the pace. “The same Jon I've first fallen in love with.”

Jon exhales softly, his face caught in a soft surprise, and Martin smiles around the dull ache in his chest.

“You don't have to say anything. I'm sure you've known for a while, but I just... I wanted to say it.”

With every second that passes in silence, however, Martin's cheeks grow hotter, and he concludes that this might have been a mistake.

“I-I'm sorry. M-Maybe I shouldn't have said that, I… I don't want things to get weird or anything, so, uh, we can, we can just forget—”

“Martin.” Jon says his name in a soft and kind of inquisitive way that makes his heart bounce around and transforms the ache in his chest into swirling butterflies again. Martin looks up and Jon’s head is tilted to the side, his face still wet with tears, but he notices something hopeful glitter in his eyes. “I love you too.”

Martin frowns, suddenly wondering if he isn't dreaming. Is Jon really saying what he thinks he is? Did he hear correctly? Maybe he misheard—

“I have for a while,” Jon's voice is still quiet and soft. “I didn't want to say anything because I thought it was too early after the Lonely and you might not feel this way anymore, but...”

Martin swallows, acutely aware of how loud his heartbeat is. He squeezes Jon’s hand and smiles slightly.

“I... I didn't know,” he whispers, not trusting his voice to cooperate.

“As soon as I woke up from the coma, I wanted to tell you,” Jon says. “I thought I was too late; that it took me too long to stop denying the feelings I had because I didn’t know how to deal with them, and I'd missed my chance.” He laughs bitterly.

“So that’s what it was about,” Martin whispers, as Jon's actions towards him throughout his time as Peter Lukas’ assistant start falling into place. Jon looks at him with a frown, so he adds, “The ‘let's gouge out our eyes and escape'.”

Jon scrunches up his nose and clears his throat.

“Yes, well. Yeah.”

Martin chuckles quietly.

“I don't think I would have lasted in the Lonely if I understood then. But then again. It didn't really matter in the end. It didn't help.”

“But it was your choice,” Jon echoes Martin's words from before and their eyes meet again.

“Yeah. It was my choice.”

They stare into each other's eyes for a moment, losing track of time, before Jon smiles slightly and looks back at the notebook.

“I really am sorry for not asking your permission, though,” he says. “I got so caught up in the metaphor I didn’t even finish it.”

Martin blinks, the warmth from his chest spreading to his cheeks again.

“D-Do you want to?”

Jon smiles softly, this new smile that Martin has only seen in the past couple of days, always directed at him.

“If you’d let me.”

Martin needs to look away, unable to handle the affection in Jon’s eyes. He mumbles an ‘okay’ with a smile that’s not entirely under his control and gets up.

“But I am making that tea whether you want it or not, waiting for someone to finish reading something is a torture.”

He hears Jon laugh as he heads back to the kitchen.

When he comes back with two steaming mugs, Jon is waiting for him with a smile and his nervousness dissipates with his next words.

“I like it,” Jon says. “Apart from the, uh, web metaphor, obviously. It's hopeful.”

“Y-You do?”

Martin swallows; the pleasant tingling in his stomach is back. He places their mugs on the table and reaches out to join their hands again. Jon intertwines their fingers immediately and caresses the outside of Martin’s palm with his thumb.

Jon looks down at the verses again and smiles softly, almost sheepishly, a familiar blush darkening his cheeks.

“I—I don't know if there would be anything for us outside of. You know. The fears and all that,” he grimaces. “At least, for me. But, uh…” He looks at Martin again with a hopeful expression that makes Martin melt a little, and he gently caresses Martin's cheek with his free hand. “I really like the thought of it.”

Martin's brain might be short-circuiting at this moment and all of his thoughts take form of fuzzy static.

“Me too,” he says, suddenly breathless. Jon's hand rests cupping his cheek and, are they a bit closer than they were a second ago? Jon's gaze slides down Martin's face to his lips and he feels he might faint right there and then. He doesn't, instead gathering up his courage to take a breath.

“Can I kiss you?” Jon asks first and Martin feels his lips form a grin.

“Please,” he breathes out; the next second their lips meet, soft but urgent, desperate and sick of waiting. Martin's hand dives into Jon's soft hair, fingers scraping the delicate skin of his head and earning him a low sound from Jon's throat. They pull each other closer and find a rhythm to lose themselves in for just a moment; the sensation of Jon's tongue swirling in his mouth, of his slender fingers on his cheek and his neck, the pressure of his body against his chest; all of it making Martin dizzy with happiness.

Martin pulls away when his lungs painfully remind him breathing is still a necessity and he opens his eyes to look at Jon – His soft lips, his nose, his pockmark scars, and his eyes, green yet with no trace of Beholding in them. He takes him in whole, with all of his flaws and all of his virtues, and he feels seen in return, seen by the man he loves and who loves him. The weight of it all hits Martin like a crashing wave and he pulls Jon in for a tight embrace.

“I love you,” he whispers against his shoulder, and he feels Jon's arms tightening around his torso.

“I love you too, Martin.”

[enigmawrappedinhypocrisy]

*Request* Okay. Thanks! Could the reader be in to wrestling and her and barley are best friends? And something happened and they find out they’re falling for each other? And Ian is always teasing the reader? And a kiss at the end? Sorry if it’s a bit confusing.. again thanks!

 Okay I’m not sure how to do this… and I’m not into wrestling… And i’m really bad at this getting things done thing… sooo… I’m sorry, I know this has been in my asks for 100 years. But excuses… And i’m tired of this being in my drafts sooo… However, Hopefully it's decent enough. 

Fandom: Onward

Pairings: Barley x Reader (mention of grandchildren once but nothing that indicates gender... I think...) 

Warnings: Bad writing, Quick Mention of drunk idiots harassing reader, I don’t know a thing about Wrestling, Fluff, very bouncy thoughts... a tiny little bit of almost angst. 

❀✦ Master List✦❀

You met Barley at a wrestling match when a few drunk idiots decided to hassle you. As they tend to do… 

You ran into the first, seemingly safe person you saw. You looked at him with puppy eyes and were grateful he understood your silent plea. 

Barley smiled warmly and put his arm around you. He pretended to be your boyfriend until the guys lost interest in you and left. He made some jokes to lighten the mood and struck up a casual conversation with you, as if you really did know each other. You found yourself amazed and feeling better, it seemed this elf boy radiated security and gentleness.  

Then, with a simple thank you, you’d parted ways; only to run into each other again at the local diner after the match. It was there you had sat and talked well into the early hours of the morning. 

You learned he was interested in many things you were, and you just felt… content around him. By the time you had to part, numbers were exchanged, and he’d texted you before noon that day. 

You began hanging out shortly after that. You were nearly always at each other’s house, and quickly became close with his family. His mother adored you and his brother felt comfortable enough to joke around with you. 

All in all you and Barley were quite close.

But not as close as your family's seemed to think you were… or maybe hope would be more appropriate…  

*

The weekend had finally arrived and you made your way to Barley’s house, as planned, after work.

There was a big wrestling event in the evening and you and Barley had plans to hang out and watch it together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to spend a lot of time at the Lightfoot house so no one batted an eye when you showed up a little early. 

Ms. Lightfoot welcomed you and let you know that Barley had called saying he'd be a little late, and she was going out with friends. As she was leaving she turned to wink at you telling you, with a knowing look, to have fun. 

You thanked her as you felt your cheeks flush with warmth and made your way to the familiar living room. You didn't mind waiting for Barley, in fact, you'd be willing to wait all night if it meant spending time with him. Not that you would tell him that...

Lost in your thoughts about how dumb and sappy that sounded even in your mind, and the implications therein, you hadn't noticed Barley's brother come in.

You had spent a fair amount of time with both brothers since you’d first met Barley. So by this time Ian was pretty comfortable around you, sometimes even coming to you for help or advice. Especially when it entailed something he might have been too embarrassed about to ask his mother or brother about.  

 Ian had decided to take a break from homework, and get a snack when he found you lost in thought on his couch. When he came back from the kitchen only to find you with the same dazed expression several minutes later he decided to tease you a little. 

"Barley late for date night?" Ian asks, his tone even, leaning against the wall an apple in hand. 

"Yea- wait no! Why would you say that?" You blink taken off guard by the sudden question. 

Ian raises an eyebrow in a ‘really?’ expression. 

“Shut up” you try and fail to keep the blush from your voice. "We're just… eh… hanging out!" You defend a little too enthusiastically. 

“Interesting that’s the part you chose to respond to…” Ian chuckles, before heading back upstairs. If you weren't ready to admit your feelings, who was he to do it for you… besides, this was  far more amusing.

*

It wasn't much longer until Barley arrived home, a little disheveled. The match wasn't due to start for another hour, maybe more depending on how things went, and yet it looked like the elf boy had rushed home. 

Why? 

The only thought that continued to creep into your mind was you… he rushed home to see you. The idea of It warmed your heart, and filled you with a longing. A longing for a potential life where Barley was coming home after work each day to see you. 

He'd find you cooking… reading… working on some project… and kiss you. 

You'd ask him about his day… and he yours. 

You'd share a pleasant dinner and end the night cuddled on the couch… 

You’d be happy… 

Ian's words run on loop in your mind and you don’t notice the way Barley’s face lights up upon seeing you. 

Did Barley think you were dating? That this was a date? 

Did he want it to be? 

Did you? 

You hadn't noticed you were staring until Barley brought attention to it. 

"What?" You jump. 

"I asked why you were looking at me like that?" he gives you his charming little half smile as he repeats, what you assume was, his earlier question. 

"Oh, um… nothing… no reason" you blush and desperately avoid looking at him. 

Barley watches you for a moment, clearly not believing your answer, but gives in with a shrug. 

"I'm just gonna go put my stuff down and get something to drink… you want something?" He asks. 

"Okay, um… no thanks" you try to sound casual all the while you're incredibly aware of your quickening heartbeat. 

Barley nods before leaving you, calling to you from the kitchen. He asks about your day. You give a non answer in response and ask him about his. 

He goes on to tell you about some funny thing his boss said in response to an irate customer, and soon returns to the living room. He hands you your drink before flopping down next to you. 

You scold him as you nearly spill. Not really realizing he brought you something even though you told him you didn’t need him to… not only that, but it was definitely your favorite… why would he… how… 

"Sorry my love" he smirks, clearly not sorry. 

You roll your eyes giving him a little shove in response to the nickname. He often called you sweet things. Things you previously attributed to his personality or teasing but now they had you wondering.

When he called you those things, sweetheart, darling, dear… was he actually hinting at what he really felt? 

You look at him out of the corner of your eye and quickly squeak noticing he was watching you with an indescribable emotion.

"W-what?" You try to act casual. 

"What's wrong with you?" He asks, blunt and to the point. 

"What do you mean?" You try and play it off, as if your mind wasn’t playing that little game with the levers and ball… and see you can’t even remember what it’s called… and it’s your analogy… 

PINBALL! Your brain was playing pinball… the dinging buzzing things the ball hits against being the sudden and many thoughts… which makes you the ball? Or was the ball the thoughts… bouncing around… there goes the analogy again…  

"You're being all quiet and…” he indicates you vaguely,  “did my mom say something to you? She's been teasing me about grandchildren lately, she didn't say something like that too you did she?" 

Your eyes widen and you suspect Barley didn't mean to let that slip out by the blush now coloring his ears. 

"No… but um… what-what do you tell her when she asks about that kind of stuff?" Yeah super subtle… 

Barley scratches the back of his neck, “I tell her we haven't discussed that…" 

Wait…

"Why would we… Um Barley?" You push away your insecurities, fear that you’d read the situation wrong, and decide to just jump in with both feet. 

Or tip over the machine? Does it work now? The analogy? 

He 'hmms'. 

"Do you think we're dating?" You try to phrase it gently but cringe when you hear yourself. You don’t want to come across rude, like you’re making fun of him… but also don’t wanna let on how much you’re starting to suspect you want him to say yes… 

Barley looks away from you, practically purple at this point. 

"Uh… no of course not…" It sounded small, nervous but... hopeful? 

"Do… do you want to?" you manage to force out, slightly proud of your mostly even tone.

Do you?

You’re still not sure at this point yourself, you’d only just realized the way you feel about the elf boy that was your best friend. Did you want to risk that? What happens if this was just a little puppy attraction, lust thing… and whatever relationship you begin quickly sizzles out? 

Barley is looking at his hands as he nervously fiddles with the zipper of his vest. He bites his lip and tries to avoid your gaze. 

Oh… 

You soften, “It’s okay if you do… I mean… wanna… um…” Now you can’t find the words, which becomes more difficult when Barley looks up at you, hope shining in his eyes. 

“What are you saying?” he prompts, heart pounding in his chest. He hopes you can’t hear it. 

You shift, turning towards him slightly. “Well… if you wanted to maybe go on a date or something…” 

“Yes?” 

“I’d probably be okay with that… I mean… if you want to” you add the last part, now desperately hoping this wasn’t some awful joke. 

Barley smiles, reaching forward to brush a piece of hair from your face. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” He asks softly, apparently having gained some confidence back. 

You nod, leaning into his touch before you realize you’re doing it. 

“Tomorrow night?” he suggests. 

Again, you nod, not trusting your voice. 

Barley smiles, his attention turning back to the tv. The match was starting soon, the announcers already talking about what they expect to happen. He leans back, his arm resting behind you on the top of the couch. Not an uncommon thing for the elf boy. What was uncommon, however, was you relaxing against his side and how right it felt.

Without a word, perhaps because he wasn’t sure he could trust his voice either, Barley brings his arm down around you, holding you against him. 

If you had the courage yourself to look up at him, you would have seen the flushing upon his cheeks. But either way this was comfortable and you weren’t in a hurry to end it any time soon. 

*

A few hours later Barley's mom returns home. Maaaybe a little drunk which results in her cooing loudly when she finds you and Barley asleep and cuddling on the couch. 

This, and her half stumbling up the stairs, manages to rouse you and Barley from your comfortable nap.

Barley yawns, and slowly gets to his feet. 

"Come on, I'll drive you home" he offers another yawn soon follows.

"Don't worry, I can drive myself" you stretch, not really pleased with the idea of making the trip home yourself.

"You're too tired- not safe" Barley half murmurs. 

"You're too tired" you retort. 

"You should stay here… on the couch… or I can take the couch" he stumbles over his words. 

You nod in agreement flopping back on the couch. When Barley doesn't leave you raise a brow in question. 

"I was just thinking…" he shuffles from one foot to the other.

You watch him with patient eyes, now a little more alert. You'd let him say what he needed, when he needed not wanting to rush him. 

"I mean… if I don't drive you home I can't kiss you goodbye…" 

His ears were a dark maroon by now and you can't keep the smile from your eyes. His sweetness, his bashfulness, just how God damn cute he was. And most of all… how much you wanted to kiss his pink tinted face. 

So you did. 

You stood, quicker than he could react, grabbed his face on either side, and brought his lips to yours. After a moment of shock Barley’s arms come around you, keeping you too him. 

You can't say for sure if the head rush you felt was from the kiss or standing too suddenly, but you chose to think it was the kiss as you give him several more little pecks before eventually breaking apart with a yawn. 

"Better?" You ask, your head falling forward to lean against his shoulder. 

Barley nods before pulling back, calling a good night to you, and hurrying to his room. 

You chuckle softly before flopping once again on the couch… there'd be time tomorrow to deal with all this… but for now… sleep was calling and the old couch was far too inviting… 

*And that’s all folks*

[thewhitejournal]

“Just One More Night” Part Two

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader Series

hi everyone! i really hope you enjoy part two, it’s kind of lengthy i’ll admit. i’m having so much fun with this series so far and i wanna thank y’all for being along on the ride. y’all are the best 🤍

without further ado, onto the story!

content warnings: cursing, heated making out, mentions of pain

-

Four months later...

The first of many alarms on your phone woke you from your sleep with a small jolt. Today was the day; the day you’d worked towards for four years. Graduation day. Your brain was already buzzing despite only being awake for several seconds. Your fingers clicked the power button on your phone like muscle memory, silencing the alarm.

Just as almost every morning, there was one person on your mind: Aaron Hotchner. It had been four months since you had sex with him for the first time, and you’d been meeting up almost every week unless schedules conflicted. You wouldn’t meet if he was in a different state for the weekend, solving a crime. Turns out, he was a government employee; he was Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You didn’t know much else about him, and he didn’t know a whole lot about you either. It was a relationship - could you even call it that? - strictly for sex. No strings or feelings attached.

Except there was one problem; your dumbass had caught feelings. That was the deal from day one. You both decided it would be strictly fucking, nothing else. But hell if you didn’t defy the rules. How could you obey them, anyway, with him? Sure, you didn’t know a lot about him, but you didn’t need to. You fell in love with the way he treated you and the soft, ginger touches and kisses he gave you. Unless, of course, he’d had a bad week. It was a different story, then.

You still slept in his jacket, almost every night. It was your comfort item. It had lost his smell by now, but you loved it for more than just the fact that it used to smell like him. It reminded you of the best man you’d ever met; he treated you like nobody else ever did, in so many ways.

But a real relationship was strictly forbidden; even though his friends from that night (who you now knew as his coworkers) knew about you, they were under the impression that it was a one-night-stand. Your friends thought the same thing. Of course, they were suspicious, but per Aaron’s rules, you never admitted it.

He’d gotten a lot more personal since the first night, crossing his own boundaries about personal lives and knowledge of each other. Not that you minded that in the least.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand. It was a text message. You picked it up and clicked the power button.

A.H. : Happy graduation day. Congratulations.

A small smile fell on your lips. You left it, for the time being, checking your other notifications. Your friends mentioned getting breakfast before rehearsal for the following evening, so you agreed. Rachel was already awake and in the shower, which surprised you. Usually, it was her that slept in. Seconds later, you heard her get out and she walked into the room you shared of your tiny new apartment.

“It’s alive! Did you see Lexi’s text about breakfast?” She was butt-ass naked, drying her hair with a towel, strutting over to her bed and pulling her clothes on. Of course, this was the norm between the two of you; you were convinced she’d somehow seen more of you than Aaron had. You didn’t bat an eyelash at your best friend’s nudity anymore.

“Yeah, I’m gonna shower real quick.” You rolled out of bed and hopped in the shower, letting the water wash the sleep from your eyes. You took in your bare skin, admiring the hickeys on your breasts; the coloring on the bruises were from all stages of healing, along with a bite mark here and there. Like you’d said, a rough week meant rougher...well, you get the idea.

You traced your fingers over the bruises and the faint teeth impressions that marked your body, memories flooding your mind. A smirk graced your lips as you remembered every night associated with each mark. A thought crossed your mind, one that you were grateful for: Aaron was always careful to leave a mark where it could be hidden with clothes. You’d need that today. You went through your shower routine as quickly as possible, finishing when Rachel was drying her hair in the bathroom with you.

You pulled the curtain open, trying to grab your towel before Rachel saw the newest marks on your body, but it was too late. She caught your eye in the mirror, her jaw dropping. She flicked the hairdryer off and turned on her heel to face you.

“Are those new?” Disbelief sounded in her tone. You just rolled your eyes and smiled, shrugging at her. She gasped.

“When did you have time to…?”

“We have a schedule.”

The two of you shared a laugh and she congratulated you for finally getting laid like she said you needed to when you were too stressed about school. It turns out, she wasn’t entirely wrong. Not only did you enjoy the sex, but the man you were having it with helped you to feel relaxed, not to mention he treated you like royalty.

Within half an hour, you and Rachel were out the door and headed to a café to meet the other girls for breakfast. Your sundress blustered around in the wind, the temperature surprisingly comfortable for being under the sun at almost it’s highest point.

You held the door open for Rach, following in behind her. The girls were sitting at a table in the corner of the room and you filled the last two seats. The waitress came up and took your and Rachel’s orders, then left to put them in. Your eyes scanned the café, as they usually do in any slightly unfamiliar place.

Your eyes landed on a table with two seats across the room, one occupied by a man that you thought looked familiar. Your eyebrows knit together as you tried to figure it out to yourself, sipping your coffee and keeping up with the banter at the table in the meantime.

Then, it hit you: it was the older man from the bar, the first night you met Aaron. And he wasn’t alone. Across from him sat the skinny one, a portable chess table in between the two of them. The older man chuckled as the kid beat him for likely the millionth time this morning. Suddenly, he got a phone call. You watched him mouth Aaron’s name, and then something that looked like ‘what’s wrong?’. He told him he’d be there soon, and the two men stood quickly from their seats, rushing towards the door. But before they left, the kid caught your eye. You averted your gaze as quickly as you could, as to not be noticed.

“Where’s the fire, boys?”, Rachel muttered in your ear next to you, laughing. You chuckled in return to avoid suspicion. Little did she know, there was likely a heinous crime that the BAU had just found out about and they’d been called in. That means you were probably not on for this weekend, and it bummed you out. It was the second weekend in a row you couldn’t see Aaron, and you were starting to miss him. The sex was amazing, of course, but you missed his company too. His smell, his face, his lips...

You’d replied to Aaron’s text from earlier on your way here, but a new one just came in. You checked your phone inconspicuously; it helped that you didn’t put his full name as his contact, just in case someone looked over your shoulder, which was likely with Rachel at your side.

A.H.: This weekend’s not looking good again. I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

You sighed, knowing this text was soon to come at some point today. You started drafting a response under the table.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s your job, Aaron. Be careful, I love-‘

Oh, fuck. You’d been denying it for so long now and you almost blew your cover. The recurring fear that he had to already have known because he was a profiler crept back into your mind. But you just couldn’t help it, you’d never had a connection like this with anyone. Your heart ached at the thought of not seeing him again.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s your job, Aaron. Be careful, text me when you can.’

Better. You watched the blue bar across the top of your screen zoom from left to right as the message sent. You clicked your phone off, returning your attention to the table. Your friend Lexi seemed to notice your change in emotion and gave you a small, empathetic look from across the table. She was the only one you were honest with about how you really felt about Aaron. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it to anyone else, you were just closest with her and she was your most empathetic friend.

Your phone buzzed in your lap again.

A.H.: You know I will, (Y/N).

You imagined him saying it to you in a reassuring tone and it warmed your heart. Fuck, you missed him. And you loved him. It wasn’t something you could deny anymore. Suddenly you wanted to run around the city and scream at the top of your lungs about how much you loved Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.

Several hours later, you were getting ready to go out the door, putting the final touches on your outfit. Rachel came up beside you in the mirror, tilting your cap and running her fingers through the tassels until they hung straight. She smiled at you, and you smiled back. “We did it, (Y/N/N).”, she said, wrapping an arm around you. You hugged her back, trying not to cry.

You were sitting in the stadium, about to walk across the stage. You really wished Aaron could be here, as silly as it was. You knew he’d never do that, likely easily recognized in public and you two couldn’t be seen together. After the ceremony, you met up with your friends outside and started celebrating as much as you could in the parking lot. You were taking selfies and now, trying to figure out how to take a group picture with no one to take it. You tried propping the phone up on the hood of your car but the angle wasn’t right.

“Want me to take the picture for you, ladies?” A voice rang out from behind you. Your body was frozen in its place. Right away, you knew who it belonged to. You’d heard it almost every weekend, whispering in your ear, moaning your name, telling you to beg…

Hesitantly, you turned around. Your friends were already facing him, Rachel with a look on her face that could only be described as shocked. There Aaron stood, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket, a sly smile painted on his lips.

“Aaron, what’re you doing here?”, you asked him quietly, in complete disbelief. Your friends watched the exchange like it was a hit blockbuster movie.

“I couldn’t miss my girl’s graduation. I told the team we’d wait until tonight to leave.” A warm feeling washed over your body at his words. You tried suppressing a smile, but it weaseled its way out. You smiled so big you thought your cheeks would rip. He returned one, striding over to you. Your heart pounded against your ribs, waiting to see what he’d do next.

He stepped into your personal space, taking your face in both of his huge and calloused hands, planting a kiss on your lips. Your friends gasped and cheered and all things alike, but you weren’t paying attention to them. Your hands rested lightly on Aaron’s dress shirt and you kissed him back with all the love and passion that had been bubbling up inside you over the past two weeks. He pulled away too soon, a hand dropping from your cheek. His thumb stroked your skin, his soft brown eyes gazing down on you. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and you just rested your head against his. So many things were being said between the two of you, and yet not a single word left your lips.

“Okay lovebirds, we don’t have all day.”, Rachel remarked playfully. You weren’t looking at her, but you could imagine the smirk on her face right now. You rolled your eyes internally, a smile showing itself on your lips. You pulled back from him, interlacing your fingers with his as you stood by his side. She suddenly held up her phone, telling the two of you to pose.

You were afraid Aaron wouldn’t have wanted to take a picture with you, but he pulled you into him without hesitation, wrapping an arm around you. Your arms wrapped around him and you flashed a toothy smile at the camera. Rachel smiled from behind the phone, genuinely happy to see you feeling the same way.

Aaron took every picture you wanted without complaining once, and your friends went their separate ways, leaving you and Aaron alone. You two were sitting in his SUV outside of his place, making out in his backseat. You were straddling him, fingers running through his black hair.

His lips trailed kisses down your neck, the strap of your dress being pulled ever so gently from your shoulder. You smiled as his lips travelled lower, leaving marks in between your breasts. A small moan slipped from your lips, the grip from his hand tightening on your hip. Suddenly, his phone started ringing, and he groaned, resting his head on your chest. You chuckled.

“You gonna get that, Aaron?”, you asked him slyly. He picked it up, looking at the screen. His lips tightened into a straight line, mouthing an apology before answering.

“Hotch.”, he said matter-of-factly into the speaker. Someone was speaking on the other end, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying or who it was.

“Yeah, I lost track of time, I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and you frowned at him. He sighed, pulling you flush to his chest. “I wish I didn’t have to leave. I’m sorry, (Y/N).” His face donned a sad look.

“Aaron, like I said, you can’t help it. Go kick some ass and then bring yours back to me so I can tell you how hot it is.” A smirk painted itself on your lips and he chuckled deeply.

“You’re so funny, I love you.” It all came out of his mouth in a rush, like you’d said it to each other a million times, but it was quite the opposite. Your eyes grew wide, as did his, realizing what he’d said.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, I-'', he stuttered. He stopped talking when you cradled his face, your thumb running along his cheekbone.

“Don’t…”, you whispered, kissing his lips softly. You could feel him relax against you, a sigh escaping him as he kissed you back. You pulled back from him, looking into his eyes and searching his face. “I love you too, Aaron. I have ever since I saw you that first night.”, you confessed. He smiled softly.

“So have I.”

The drive back to your apartment complex was silent, but the air between the two of you was buzzing with a loving and happy energy, and you couldn’t be more grateful for him. He parked in front of the building, looking over at you, his gaze softening in the dim light from the stereo. You laughed nervously, asking him what he was looking at.

“I just love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”, he said with a huge smile on his face. You mirrored his expression, resting your hand on his cheek.

“And I love you, Aaron Hotchner.” You two shared a kiss before you went inside; he sat in his car and made sure you got into the door before peeling off into the night.

You leaned on the door to find the key on your key ring, only to find the door ajar. Your forehead creased as you wracked your brain, trying to remember if you locked the door before you left or if Rachel was supposed to be back already. A bad feeling started festering inside of you.

The thought crossed your mind to call Aaron; you felt it was the most rational thing to do at the moment. Your heartbeat loudly in your chest and your palms started sweating. Something was wrong. You pulled your phone from your purse and almost hit the dial button, but suddenly you hit the floor, a pain surging from the back of your head and into the rest of your body. Your vision was blurry, and you couldn’t hold your eyes open. Your body felt weak, and you felt like you were lifted in the air and tossed over someone’s shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the pain being too much to take. That was when you slipped into unconsciousness.

taglist:

@andromedasstarship

@mac99martin

@laycblack

@art-and-thoughts

@bellamy1998

[sunshineandbnha]

Sleep - Iida x reader (drabble)

Aka, Choleric meets Sanguine Word count: 995  Minor warnings: slight invasion of privacy and pushiness? But nothing a best friend wouldn’t do. (honestly not that bad, just fluffiness and comfort)

A/n: Based on me staying up too late. And then I imagined having an s/o that would make sure I go to sleep by giving me cuddles, and thus I have this.I feel like “You Will Be Okay” from Helluva Boss is a song that goes good with this.  FYI: Choleric and sanguine are temperaments. Cholerics (which I’m pretty sure Iida is) are hardworking, self-disciplined, rational, and a tad bossy. Sanguines (mine and probably the reader’s) are optimistic, talkative, fun-loving, forgetful, and prone to waste time. But regardless of what your temperament is, you can still enjoy this.

-

“Dear, what time did you go to sleep yesterday?” Iida, your pro hero husband asked.

“Mmmm,” you hummed as you turned around in your spinning chair to face him. You did your best not to pull a guilty face. “One o’clock? I lost track of time. I meant to go to sleep earlier, but you know how I get into the zone when writing.”

“Then let me check your search history.” Iida walked up to your open laptop.

You immediately stood to block him. “What?! No! You really don’t need to do that.” You grabbed his arms and forced a smile.

“I insist. Now, if you could please let go of me.” He gently gazed at you.

His eyes must have had some sort of obeying spell, you swore. You clung around his arm for a tad longer, before slipping your arms off in defeat. You sat back in the chair and backed up to give him more room.

He pulled up the internet browser over your novel draft and examined the screen. “Where’s the history?”

“I’m not sure,” You said, hoping he’d give up.

“Found it.” The history opened up and your heart jumped. He gave it a stare. “If you went to sleep at one, what is that?” He pointed at a search that had the time stamp “2:40 AM”.

“Umm, I guess I lost more track of time than I thought?”

“There are also several searches for anime and manga reading sites.” He glanced at the history again.

A bad habit you had was that you usually tend to get distracted when no one else is around to see. But you didn’t want to admit that and shrugged.

“Honey, in order to function properly, you need a proper amount of sleep,” concern rang through his voice.

“You said 'proper' twice," you giggled.

He stared at you with an eye brow raised. The curve at the end of his mouth told you that he did find that funny, but wouldn't let you distract him from the topic.

"I’m fine.” You insisted with a laugh.

“You’ve been sleeping until twelve in the afternoon.”

“I can sleep when…” you realized that the sentence ended with ‘when I’m dead’, and decided not to finish that sentence.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to keep doing this. You are getting a proper night’s sleep.”

“But my writing—“

“Is something you can do tomorrow or during the day.” He wrapped his arms around you and began to pull you out of the chair.

“No! You can’t make me!” You struggled. You reached out for your laptop but his arms around your waist were too strong.

He picked you up and gently carried you to your shared bedroom. The bed was neatly made. Clearly a sign he had straightened out your sloppy job of making it earlier. At this point you stopped fighting back and he sat on the bed with you on his lap.

You let your lip hang out in a pout with your arms crossed, hoping the exaggeration would change his mind. “Can I at least brush my teeth and change into my pajamas?”

“Of course.” He pressed a kiss to the top of our head and released you of his hold.

After briefly struggling to get up, you snatched some PJ’s out of your drawer and walked to the bathroom. You weren't mad at him, you could never actually get truly mad at Iida, and you never hoped to see a day when you would. Though you were disappointed. You were looking forward to writing, er, or simply opening the document while getting distracted. As you were left alone to perform your nightly tasks, you calmed down and any small amount of annoyance you felt faded away.

While walking out in your comfortable sleeping attire, you looked out the door. Maybe, you could quickly walk out and get some-

“No.”

You felt yourself being picked up. This time you simply decided to give in and let him place you on the bed. He briefly headed back to the door to silently shut it and then joined you.

“I know it seems to you that I’m being a tad too strict, but I assure you, it’s all for your own good.”

“Can you stop being strict for my own good?” you pouted.

He let out a small laugh. After turning the lights off, he scooted over to hug you close. He looked so happy and content when you stared up at him. Maybe it was contagious because you felt yourself smiling. He pulled the covers over the both of you and you adjusted yourself to make it easier for him. The slightly cool sheets felt nice gently pushing down on you. Iida held you from behind with you as the little spoon. You could feel him breathing into the back of your head. An action that never failed to amaze you at how calming the sensation felt.

“I don’t even feel tired. I feel like I could stay up for hours,” you said, as one final protest.

“That’s because of your sleep schedule, or lack of.”

You hummed, knowing that you couldn't exactly dispute that.

It was clear that there wasn’t going to be a chance for you to wriggle out and get to your laptop. … Which was mostly okay, since it was comfy. In fact, you had almost forgotten how much you enjoyed this. Strangely akin to a child who tries to avoid their bath until they are actually in it.

The darkness and comfortable warmth calmed you. The only light from a starry night light you had kept since you were a child. It cast a dim, blue glow over the room. You adjusted your hand to rest on Iida's that held you. Your thumb caressed the skin. A wave of sleep began to wash over you.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

[duchesschameleon]

what if - chapter 9

summary: a long lost letter leads to an adventure in Italy for three people who find love and healing along the way. a letters to juliet au

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader words: 3.9k a/n: the last chapter. thank you so much for your patience everyone, this has been a labor of love and just so much fun to write! thank you for sticking with me as I wrote and finished my first multi-chapter fic and thank you for reading it. the comments and excitement helped so much and all the cheerleading. a special thank you thank you thank you as always to @qvid-pro-qvo​ for being my beta and holding my hand so often throughout this series. I love you so much you wonderful human. so here it is! 

what if masterlist

You land back in New York two days after leaving the Bartolini house. Pushing all thoughts of Aaron aside, you focus on finishing the story. When you aren’t writing or editing it, you talk to your old boss, Paul, about coming back to work. When you tell him you’re working on a story, a rough draft really, he asks to see a snippet of it. And when he reads the first few paragraphs, he’s hooked and offers you a job.

Settling back into the routine of work helps you forget about Aaron, put the whole thing behind you. You focus on writing new stories and finishing up the edits on Dave and Carolyn’s story. When you hit a point that feels good, you send it on to Paul before you second guess yourself.

If you hear Aaron’s voice calling you scared when you hesitate on hitting send, well no one has to know.

It takes a few weeks after that for Paul to call you into his office and discuss the piece. At this point, you’ve been back in New York for almost six weeks and while Aaron still worms his way into your thoughts, your heart no longer squeezes every time he does.

You sit in one of the chairs opposite Paul’s desk. He’s silent as he reads, focused on the paper in his hand. Your hands are fidgeting, picking at invisible pieces of lint. When he finishes he leans back in his chair and twists to look at you.

“So that’s it?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“Do you not like the ending?” you ask slowly. Immediately, he’s shaking his head and placing the papers on his desk.

“No, the ending’s fine. I just want to know what happened to the people. Are they still together, and what about the friend, Aaron?” Paul asks. There’s a flash of heat in your chest at the mention of Aaron, but you ignore it.

“I don’t know,” you answer slowly, “I didn’t really keep in touch.” You shrug and look down at your lap. You don’t elaborate that it was your choice to not keep in touch, a choice made to protect your heart and feelings. Right now, you aren’t certain how smart a choice that was though.

Paul hums and looks back at the papers, a silence falling between you two.

“Do you have any advice?” you ask tentatively.

“I think you should buy stock in Al Italia,” Paul snorts, “because all the ladies are gonna be flocking to Verona after they read this.”

You blink your eyes, his words swirling through your head. “You’re going to publish it?”

“Yeah I’m gonna publish it, it’s a good story,” Paul says matter of factly. “Do you got anything else for me?”

“No, not at the moment,” you laugh out, “but I’m working on a few things. I’ll send them to you when they’re done.”

Paul nods, dismissing you back to your desk and working on the next piece. Your mind is reeling, overwhelmed by the fact that you’re going to be published. There’s an excitement bubbling in your chest and you’re bursting to tell someone the good news. You pick up the desk phone, fingers dialing the familiar number on autopilot. The phone is ringing when your brain catches up to your actions and you slam the phone back into the receiver, tears immediately welling in your eyes.

You’d dialed your partner’s work number. The partner who’s buried six feet under and isn’t here to share in these successes with you. Who will never know that you are going to be published, that you’re fulfilling your dream.

The realization that you don’t have someone to share this news with overwhelms you. You push your chair back and rush out of the office, needing fresh air and a walk to clear your head.

As you walk, couples pass you by. Young, old, all holding hands and bending their heads towards one another as they talk over the general noise of the city. Everywhere you look, you see couples smiling at each other, sharing news. 

You’d had that once. 

Looking around at the couples - the ones who have clearly grown old together, the ones who are just starting out on their journey, the ones who found each other later in life - you wonder if you’ll ever have it again. If you’ll ever have someone you want to share your news with, revel in successes together, hold you when things don’t go according to plan. A voice in the back of your head whispers Aaron. 

You almost had it with Aaron. 

He was so excited when you shared your writing with him, he wanted you to publish it. He’d been incredibly supportive and kind the entire time you spent with him. You remember the lightness you felt in his presence, how comfortable the two of you were. 

And yet you’d run scared from it. You were too afraid that it was too soon, too soon to jump into something like this, to feel this way about someone. So you ran back to New York without a word. 

In hindsight, it’s not the smartest decision you’ve ever made. Running away from your emotions, not saying a word to Aaron, leaving Italy alone, it’s left you with a hole in your heart. If possible, an even bigger one than what was there before. Your happy ending had been in reach and yet you’d left it behind. 

As you walk back into work, you’re left with one stark realization - the only other person you can think to call with your good news is Aaron.

You love Aaron Hotchner. In fact, you’re in love with Aaron Hotchner and you want to call him and tell him that you finished the story, that you weren’t too chicken to show it to someone, and it’s going to be published.

But you can’t do it. You can’t bring yourself to call him, to admit that you were wrong to leave. So you just sigh and tuck into your work for the rest of the day.

A week after Paul agrees to publish your piece, the receptionist calls your name as you walk into the office, beckoning you over to her desk.

“I’ve got these messages for you,” she says handing you a piece of paper, “oh and this came too.” She hands you a white envelope and you turn it over, looking for the return address.

Siena, Italy. Dave and Carolyn.

You thank the receptionist and hurry to your desk, putting the envelope away for now. You focus on writing, looking over some edits for your finished piece, and push all thoughts of Dave and Carolyn aside. You don’t touch the envelope, don’t look at it, until it’s time for your lunch. You walk to the small park across from your office building and sit at a table, placing the letter and your lunch down.

You stare at them for a minute, trying to decide which to open first. Eventually, your curiosity wins out and you open the letter. There’s a piece of cardstock inside, written on with beautiful calligraphy, inviting you to Dave and Carolyn’s wedding. The letter must have taken some time to get to you, the wedding is this upcoming weekend. You push logistics to the back of your mind and look at what else is in the envelope.

It’s a folded piece of paper, old and stained. You recognize it from when you pulled it out of the wall in Verona. Dave’s letter to Juliet. You read it again, hearing Dave’s voice in your head. The longing, the uncertainty of if he was making the right choice comes through just like it had the first time you read it. You sigh and look up when you finish it, your eyes landing on an elderly couple walking hand in hand through the park.

It hits you all of a sudden, why Dave sent you his letter. You’re repeating history, leaving Italy without saying anything to Aaron and cutting off all contact. Dave has known the entire time that there was something more to your hard-won friendship with Aaron.

He knew you kissed Aaron that night. He told you as much when he saw you the next morning.

And now he wants to make sure it doesn’t take you 50 years to tell Aaron you love him, to get your own happily ever after. And for once, you’re going to listen.

You book your ticket when you get back to the office, tell Paul you’re going to be out of the country for the weekend, and then you walk out. 

You haven’t been to the cemetery since the funeral, but you feel drawn to it. You don’t have anyone to actually talk to about your plans, but something about this feels right. So you walk the path to their grave and sit on the ground, silence and grief hanging over you for a moment before the story spills out. All of it. 

When you finish, you feel lighter almost. It was good to talk about your plan out loud, even if the conversation was one-sided. That lightness gets you through your haphazard packing and airport security and then, you’re back in Italy, driving from Rome to Siena.

It’s different this time, in the driver’s seat, but you find the house pretty easily. Your suitcase is in the trunk and you have no idea where you’re staying tonight, but that’s a secondary worry to finding Aaron. You plan out what you want to tell him - that you were scared, uncertain, and you regret walking away. You want this with him, you love him.

Carolyn’s house comes into view and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You park the car out of the way and see the crowd of people near the small building that’s being used as the church for the wedding. Your eyes dart around the unfamiliar faces, looking for a certain pair of brown eyes.

Aaron sees you first and calls your name, surprise coloring his voice. “I, I didn’t know you were going to make it.”

“Yeah, I got the invitation earlier this week and just knew I had to come,” you say, smiling at him. His suit is a stark difference from the polos and t-shirts you were used to seeing him in, but he fills it out well.

“Where are your bags? Do you know where you’re staying?” he asks, catching your attention again.

You shake your head, “No not yet.”

Aaron’s brow furrows as he thinks for a minute. “Well, you’ll stay here then. Carolyn wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And how is the great Carolyn?” you ask.

“Even better than advertised,” Aaron answers, shooting you a small smile. He opens his mouth to speak again but is interrupted by a blonde woman coming up behind him,

“Aaron, you have to get inside, it’s almost time,” she says, placing a hand on his arm.

He starts, checking his watch. “Oh, shoot yes. Okay,” he says, fumbling to check something in his pockets.

“Everything okay?” you ask and Aaron’s head shoots up, looking at you and then back at the blonde woman.

“Oh, yes,” he says and then straightens, placing an arm around the woman. He introduces her to you as Jess and then he’s saying your name but you can hardly hear him through the rushing sound in your ears.

Jess. His ex Jess. The one who broke up with him a year prior. You ran away, and Aaron ran back to Jess. You force a smile on your face, shaking her hand, trying to match her enthusiasm.

“Oh, Aaron’s told me so much about you!” she exclaims, smile blindingly bright. You nod and take a step back, looking around and trying to find some excuse. Jess turns back to Aaron and whispers something to him and then they’re both heading into the church. You take a steadying breath, willing the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes to not fall.

When you feel more steady, in control of your emotions, you walk into the church. You find the secretaries of Juliet quickly and greet them, happily accepting hugs and kisses on the cheek. When you look to the altar, you see Dave standing in front of the priest with Aaron behind him as his best man. Dave catches your eye and smiles at you, winking. You return his smile, though you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. Aaron’s looking at someone in the front row and you can see Jess’ hair, so you look away. No need to look in on their happy moment. You sigh and push your emotions down. It’s Dave and Carolyn’s day, you’re here for them.

Everyone shifts, looking at the back of the church and you see Carolyn walking up the steps, holding her son’s hand. Your smile grows wider as she walks down the aisle and finds you, reaching out to pat your hand.

It’s a simple ceremony, short and sweet. And then you’re in Carolyn’s backyard at a table with the secretaries. Everyone’s exchanging stories and drinking wine and soaking in the afternoon sun, the company, and the happiness of the day.

There’s a small band playing some music while you all eat and you look up to the head table to see Dave, Carolyn, Carolyn’s son, his wife, Aaron, Jess, and a young boy. Based on how he’s seated between Aaron and Jess and leans on Aaron, you assume that’s Jack. You smile, seeing how easily the three of them get along, like a proper little family. Jack is so comfortable with both of them and Aaron has his arm across both their chairs, his smile wider than you’ve ever seen it.

Your gaze gets pulled away from Aaron and Jess as Carolyn stands up and stops the music. Everyone’s conversations quiet as they shift in their seats, looking up at the head table.

“Mi famiglia, grazie a tutti per essere qui oggi,” she says, “thank you all for being here today, for all your love and support for my husband and I.” She smiles and raises a glass, an action mirrored by others, before sitting.

Dave stands up and clears his throat, taking a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Nearly fifty years ago, I left Carolyn and ended up in Verona, uncertain if I’d made the right choice. I wrote a letter to Juliet before I went back to the States.” He takes a deep breath, playing with the edges of the paper. “And two months ago, I got a response. If it’s alright,” he says, finding you in the crowd, “I would like to read that response now.” You nod at him and he gives you a smile, unfolding the letter. “Dear Dave, ‘what’ and ‘if’ are two words as non-threatening as words can be. But put them together side-by-side and they have the power to haunt you for the rest of your life: What if? What if? What if? I don’t know how your story ended but if what you felt then was true love, then it’s never too late.”

Your mind wanders as Dave reads the rest of the letter. Just as you believed two months ago, “what if” is the scariest phrase in the world. And with Aaron sitting in your line of sight looking happy with Jess, it haunts you. It overwhelms you.

As Dave sits back down and kisses Carolyn, you stand and slip away from the reception. It’s too much to see Aaron with Jess, to see him happy with someone else.

You're gathering your belongings from where they’d been placed in an upstairs room when you hear your name. Aaron’s calling it out, and you walk to the balcony to find him. He’s on the ground, head whipping around. You walk towards the end of the balcony and lean on the railing, calling out to him.

“A balcony. Of course,” he laughs, looking up at you. “What are you doing up there?”

“I’m. Um. I’m gonna go.” Aaron frowns up at you and you take a steadying breath. “I thought I could do this, could be here, but it’s really painful.” You catch a glimpse of his frown deepening before you look up at the sky, trying to hold back tears and keep yourself together. “I realized when Dave sent me the invitation that, well, that I’d been lying to myself. I didn’t think it would happen so fast but,” you pause and take a breath, trying to make sense of the words jumbling around in your head, “Aaron, I love you.” Aaron’s face relaxes at your words, his eyebrows lifting and raising, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  You return the smile before sharply inhaling and continuing to speak, “And I guess I thought that there was a chance you feel the same but it’s obvious you don’t so, I’m just going to go. I have to leave.”

“Wait, what do you -”

“You should go back to Jess, be with her, Aaron,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “You two look happy together.”

Aaron’s eyebrows fly towards his hairline, eyes open wide. “Jess?” he asks. “Why would I want to go back to Jess? She’s Jack’s aunt, Haley’s sister!”

“You dated your dead wife’s sister?” you exclaim, a little shocked and horrified.

“What? Oh! God, no,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “No, there are two Jess’, there’s Haley’s sister Jess who’s helped me out with Jack ever since Haley died and there’s the Jess I dated last year who I’d completely forgotten about,” he explains, walking closer to the balcony. You duck your head, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “More importantly, there’s only one of you.” He smiles at you, a true genuine one and it pulls another smile out of you. Aaron takes a step back and looks around fervently. After a minute you hear a small grumble as he takes off his suit jacket and starts climbing the vines snaking up the house.

“Aaron, what are you doing?”

“I told you before, I don’t mind a little dirty work to get what I want,” he says as he climbs the last bit of the vines, head now almost level with you. You let out a small laugh, remembering your conversation about Romeo and Juliet at that bar in Siena. “Now. I also told you that I believe in making your intentions clear and not leaving any room for error, right?” You nod, biting your lower lip. “I haven’t exactly done that so far, so to clear the air, the Jess who is here in Italy is Haley’s sister. I have not been nor have I ever wanted to be involved with her. She helps me look after Jack and is family. She’s basically my sister at this point. Okay?” You nod again, holding back a smile as Aaron focuses on holding himself up, arms clearly working hard. “Now, you live in New York City, a fine city -”

“Hey!”

“Just let me speak,” Aaron bites out, breath becoming more labored. “And I live in DC, with Jack. A three and a half hour train ride is a lot to ask whenever I want to see you, and I can’t uproot Jack at his age. So tell me what I can do to help you move to DC.”

“Aaron,” you whisper, “what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he says, arms starting to shake with exertion, “that I want this to work between us. Because the truth is, I am absolutely, truly, madly, in love with you.”

The tears spilling from your eyes are happy ones, a smile splitting your face as you look at Aaron. “You are?”

“I love you. And I’m gonna -”

Aaron’s cut off by a vine snapping, and his arms giving out. He shouts, falling to the ground and landing on his back. You hear his groan and spin around, running downstairs and outside, flinging yourself onto the grass beside him.

“Aaron! Aaron, are you okay?” you ask frantically, looking over him for any obvious injuries.

“I - I’m okay,” he coughs out. “Just winded.” He blinks a few times and you sit on your knees by him, hands hovering over him. “Did, did anyone see that?” You look around and see that Dave and Carolyn are walking towards the house but you bite your lip and look back towards Aaron, shaking your head to save his pride. “Good, good.” He closes his eyes again and lets out a groan.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Can you move?” you ask again.

Aaron opens his eyes and surges up, his hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you. “Does that answer your question?” he asks, leaning back slightly. You nod and move in to kiss him again. This kiss is urgent, Aaron immediately drawing his tongue across your lips, deepening the kiss. You open your mouth and kiss him hungrily, desperate to feel him close to you.

“Dad, Dad!” you hear and Aaron pulls back from you.

“Jack?” he asks. “Jack!” he says as the young boy in question crashes to the ground by Aaron.

“Why are you on the ground?” he asks, hands planted on Aaron’s chest.

“Well buddy,” Aaron says, sitting up a bit and moving Jack to sit by his side, “I fell. But I’m okay.” Jack nods and rests his head on his dad’s shoulder. You smile and shift to give them a little space. Aaron’s hand falls to yours, stopping you. He tugs on it a little and you settle next to Aaron, legs stretched out beside his. “Jack, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Jack looks up at you and then back towards his dad. Aaron introduces you, and you smile at Jack. He waves, a little shy. “This is my friend I was telling you about, the one who writes and who helped Uncle Dave and I find Carolyn,” Aaron explains.

Jack’s face lights up with a smile, excitement overtaking his whole face. “Did you finish the story? Can I read it? Dad said you’re a really good writer,” Jack reports rapidly.

You laugh and nod your head. “I did finish the story Jack, and you will be able to read it because it’s going to be published.” Aaron’s head whips up to yours and you nod, reassuring him it’s the truth. “But I might be able to get you an early copy if you want.”

“Oh, I think we’d all love early copies,” you hear Dave say. You look up to see him and Carolyn arm in arm. They both smile at you and your cheeks heat up again.

“I’ll make sure to get those for you.”

“Good, good. Now, how about we rejoin the party? I think we can pull an extra chair up to the head table,” Dave says. You nod and stand, reaching back to help Aaron up. “And we can probably get ice for your back, Aaron.”

Aaron huffs out a laugh and pats Dave on the shoulder. “So there were witnesses. Maybe I have to hand it to Romeo. Just talking saves you the embarrassment of falling from the balcony.”

You all laugh as you walk back towards the party, Aaron with one arm wrapped around you and the other on Jack’s shoulder. You lean against him, feeling a lightness in your chest and hope for the future once more.

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner @kelstark @hurricanejjareau​ @oreogutz​ @whentheautumnleavesfall​ (message me to be on future fic taglists, I will probably be writing more romcom aus and I have fic for a few other fandoms!)

[eunoiamaybe]

my “sort-of-complete” online classes and exams tips

This is a longer-than-usual post with tips for the 3 stages of online classes: focusing during an online class session, reviewing/studying for online classes, and preparing for online exams/ quizzes. So I decided to insert the “Read More” link to (a) not take up too much space on your dash, and (b) feel more confident in adding more tips as time goes on.

These are tips that I’ve compiled from my experience of taking online classes during my last 1.5 years at university. But having all of your courses moved online is so much more complicated. Since I’m currently doing an internship, I have tried my best to produce this post based on the comments of my friends IRL and on Tumblr (hence the “my”). However, I hope it can still be useful for you and many who were all abruptly put in this same situation.

So feel free to share your own tips and experience! I will probably go back to this once in a while to make some changes to it and add your tips. Good luck to everyone who is currently/ about to take online classes. You are almost there! 🍀 I believe in every single one of you!

~  Click away for them tips   ~

💻 DURING ONLINE CLASS SESSIONS:

- try to treat online classes the same as an in-person class, especially time-wise (set a specific time for each class and plan your own class schedule. even better, study for your classes at the same time they used to be held. this will create a sense of routine and trigger the brain's normal reactions to your usual class - which is to study)

- don’t be afraid to fix your plan/ schedule (aka don’t force yourself into one if it doesn’t work for you) (trials and errors, my friend. this applies to plans too. there’s no shame in not being able to keep up with the schedule you’ve made. if you’ve tried or if it hurts you mentally or physically, then that schedule is just not the one for you. everybody has their unique strengths and weaknesses. one’s perfect system might not suit another. finding a system that works for you takes time, patience, and courage. but it will be absolutely worth it)

- find a good spot with enough light and stable wifi (if you have multiple options, select the one that would make you most comfortable, most focused, and confident enough to take online tests/quizzes/exams at - create your “exam space” in advance to reduce the anxiety of tests and unfamiliarity)

- study at a desk, if possible (studying at a desk, with good posture, mimics the feeling of being in a classroom or the library. thus, it will create a sense of routine and help you focus better)  

- accommodate yourself (I’m all about making the best out of a bad situation, and this is one way to do it.  accommodate yourself, not just with comfort, but also with actual necessities that you cannot usually get in your usual classroom/library due to whatever reason. stress balls, stim toys, positivity cards, calming music/candles. comforting plushies. chewing gum. as long as it helps you focus better, it's on the table)

- get dressed (this will bring out that sense of structure and routine that you need. put on your normal outfits, uniforms and even perfume. trick your mind into being focused)

- minimize distractions (declutter your study space. put your phone out of reach. turn off notifications. close all other tabs on your browser. select non-distracting music/ sounds. don’t spam or pay attention to spams in your classes’ chatboxes. only bring along items that are absolutely vital to your focus)

- take notes, even if you can record your lessons and/or access the lessons later (it can either be digital notes or handwritten notes on paper - your call. this will force you to focus and prevent you from zoning out/ being distracted)

- be actively engaged in the lecture (if there are technical problems or if you have questions, chatbox away. this is also good practice for people with social anxiety too: the fact that you are in your home and behind the screen can make it easier for you to ask for help)

- if possible, put your teachers/profs on the big screen to create the illusion of being in a lecture (if your study spot has a TV/projector that can connect to your laptop and quality speakers, do it. it's more fun than you'd think. also super stimulating and kicks the boredom out of you too)

- if not, use headphones/ earphones (speakers can create a feeling of distance between the lecture and yourself. combined with unstable internet and/or monotonous voices of some instructors, this may result in your brain classifying your lecture as background noises and zone out. so use headphones or earphones with the appropriate volume for that optimal focus mode)

- give yourself breaks between classes (don't cram all your classes in one morning. but don't procrastinate either. time your breaks. look at something else besides a computer or phone screen while you’re on break too. maybe brew some tea/coffee for your next class or rearrange your notes from the previous one)

💻 REVIEWING FOR ONLINE CLASSES:

- make a schedule/ system - and be ready to change them (this is an elaboration of an earlier tip. your system doesn’t have to work perfectly right away. most of the time, you will have to make some kind of adjustments to it anyway. so take it easy. pay attention to how well you react/ adapt to the new schedule so that you can make necessary changes. and give yourself - especially your mind - some time to adapt to the schedule. don’t rush yourself or put too much pressure on being productive. remember to take care of your well-being too)

- it’s okay to give yourself some off-days (that’s the beauty of not having any physical or even abstract structure that forces you into an inescapable routine. Yes, I know this lack of structure sucks for a lot of us, especially for those who rely on external forces to keep themselves focused. But look on the bright side: now you don’t have to worry about missing classes or losing participation marks when you are unwell physically and mentally anymore)

- textbooks are your friends now (especially when your classes’ live-streams are just chaotic and hard to follow. or when the pre-recorded lectures aren’t loading properly and keeps lagging. practice speed reading. look for keywords and crucial information. take notes rather than highlighting everything. compare them to your lecture notes, your syllabus, or your friends’)

- take advantage of the online format’s availability + other resources (availability is here, baby! revisit lecture videos and podcasts as many times as you need to. check your email classes’ forums regularly for questions or announcements. re-listen to your lecture when you're cleaning or exercising. watch videos of Khan Academy or CrashCourse. look for online tutors. study at your own pace and in your own style. basically anything you wish you could do when your class was in-person)

- there’s no need to submit assignments early if it’s anxiety-inducing. but make a schedule/ tracking system/ set alarms to avoid forgetting to turn them in (take your time to double-check or edit your work - as long as the submission box is still open, of course. set aside about an hour or two before the deadline for submission to avoid any technical difficulties. and remember to start working on them early so that you don’t have to shorten that window of time and have more time for double-checking)

- don't be afraid to email the profs/teachers (if possible, compile your questions into a list. be as specific as you can about your concerns. put a subject for your email to reduces the chance of your email getting lost in your instructors' inbox.)

- reward yourself (don't stress yourself out by rewarding big accomplishments. reward small victories. reward baby steps. reward effort. you'll get things done eventually)

- take time to know your learning style (when are you most focused? do you like taking digital notes or do you prefer pen and paper? are you a visual or an auditory learner? do you like moving around while studying? what drinks or scents or sounds keep you going? you don't have to stick to your usual study methods or an online/paperless one now that you are studying in your own room)

- listen to your mind and body (it’s okay to feel a bit lost) (from my own experience, times that are without structure like nowadays is when most of us fall into this spiraling downfall of unhealthy sleep schedules, lethargy, and loss of purpose. so please take care of your mental and physical well-being during this very, very weird time. keep yourself active. re-ignite old interests/ hobbies. connect with people you love. give yourself some love)

- and more tips on productivity at home in my last post right here

💻 PREPARING FOR ONLINE EXAMS / QUIZZES:

- make a list of all the online exams and final assignment due dates (this will help you keep track of and stay on top of them due dates. from that list, trace backward to make a review or study plan to prepare for the tests and work on the assignments. if there are any time conflicts, especially for those who are now living in a different timezone from their schools or colleges, email the instructors to seek solutions or alternative options)

- again, find a good spot with good wifi, good lighting, and a desk (if possible, try to recreate your ideal exam environment as closely as you can while studying and reviewing for the exams. this can reduce the anxiety of tests and/or unfamiliarity)

- be prepared for technical difficulties (especially mentally, so that you don’t plan out a course of action to take if they ever arise. draft an email template. research in advance the contacts of people whom you can report to - IT personnel, your instructors, student office, etc.)

- bring everything you need to the exams - but no distractions (like mentioned earlier, if you need any special accommodations that are considered "unacceptable" in an in-person exam/quiz, now it's the time to bring them along - you’re in charge of your test space now, so make it as comfortable and accomodating as you want)

- plan your desk set-up prior to your exams (so many extra items. still so little desk space. therefore, plan ahead so your desk does not turn into a mess when you take your exams. plan where you want to put your notes, textbooks, calculators or scrap paper. think about how much use you’re gonna get out of each item and place them within or slightly-out-of reach accordingly. charge your laptop. sharpen your pencils. have your backup stationery handy. lay out everything you need onto your desk the night before your tests. this can create a feeling of preparedness and thus, reduce anxiety as well)

- make cheatsheets (the goals when making them are simple: (1) get you to rewrite your notes for that good memorization; (2) condense your information and find a connection between them for a thorough understanding of the materials; (3) reduce the time you use to flip through your notebooks or textbooks or google for information during the actual tests)

- time yourself with mock exams (if you are given mock exams to practice with, do them, with a timer. this will help you familiarize yourself with the stress of being timed, thus reducing your anxiety during the actual tests)

- get enough sleep and eat properly (even if the exams or quizzes are online, they are still, at their core, tests. and tests are always stressful and energy-consuming. so take care of both your physical and mental health, especially during the week leading up to your exams)