#i don't remember how i felt when i wrote those answers

[ficklepenguin]

i just stumbled into an old ask meme from 10 years ago that i answered, one of the questions was about 3 big dreams and i answered: to travel, to live away from my mother, and to have a cuddly cat.

and guess what??? i just got back from japan, i live with my best friend, and i have TWO cuddly cats!!

dreams do come true... life does get better.... i'm so glad i kept going

[thinkinonsense]

I KNEW YOU IN ANOTHER LIFEᰔ

dp&w!logan howlett x past wife!reader

cw: mostly angst, some fluff, sorta mean logan, cussing.

wc: 800+

a/n: this is inspired by a one-shot I read a while back but I cannot remember who wrote it. If anyone knows, please please please let me know in the comments so I can give them credit <3 update!!! this is it!!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The last person you thought you would find here in the void is Logan. There has never been a Wolverine in here. You almost didn't believe it when you found out; needing to see him for yourself. And here he was. Right in front of you, the Logan you grieved all those years ago. The one who stole your heart.

Your Logan.

"And who the fuck are you?" He barked, pushing you away from him.

Those words broke your heart the second they left his lips.

Wade smacks Logan, informing him of your past together. Logan looked like he didn't believe Wade at first. You were way too beautiful for any version of him, Logan thought. What would someone like you want with a man like him?

Tears well up in your eyes as you leave, not wanting it to sting anymore. Laura follows you, glaring at the man who looked like her father. Logan didn't seem to care about the new information, instead reaching for another one of Gambit's bottles.

"I'm sorry, mom," Laura whispers, wrapping her arms around you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm not sure what I expected to happen." You sniffle. "He just looks so much like him."

"I know."

Suddenly, Laura stood up and stomped out the door to confront the man who upset her mother. She found Logan sitting outside alone by the fire.

"Look kid, I'm not the man you and your mother think I am." Logan sighs, not even bothering to turn around to check if it's Laura.

"You made her cry," Laura hissed, ignoring his previous comment. Logan looked up at the young girl almost apologetically before shaking his head. "Her Logan would have never made her cry."

Logan felt a sharpness in his stomach at the news. Deep down, he wondered if you two were together at some point. He doubted it though because you looked out of his league. If a past version of him managed to marry you then maybe he did some good during his time.

"If you two haven't noticed, I'm the worst Logan apparently."

"You don't have to be."

ᰔ

It's late when you finally stumble out of bed, not able to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning, trying to get Logan out of your mind. This felt like a cruel joke on your poor heart. You know it's unfair to have him pretend to be your Logan but you desperately wanted it to be him.

All of your memories together haunt your mind like a graveyard. Sweet Sundays spent wrapped in sheets. How he kissed your face every morning, had you wear his dog tags, and ride on the back of his motorcycle. You would give anything to get just one of those moments back.

"What are you doin' awake?"

The voice behind you caused you to jump slightly. A hand coming to rest on your back. You turn around, face-to-face with Logan.

"Can't sleep." You shrugged, opening the freezer to pull out a container of strawberry ice cream.

"That shit won't help you sleep." He grunts, sitting at the table. You ignore his grumpiness and continue scooping the ice cream into a bowl.

"Can we talk?" Logan didn't look you in the eyes as he spoke. Too ashamed of his actions earlier.

"I suppose so." You shrugged, pulling the spoon from between your lips.

"Were we really married?"

You answer by pulling the chain around your neck for him to see. A small diamond ring dangled next to the dog tags he gave you. The moment he saw it, he felt like the biggest asshole who ever lived.

"How many years?" The words stung in his throat.

"Five."

"What was our life like?"

"Perfect." You smile softly down at your bowl. "At least it was to me."

"You did a good job with raising her." He muttered, referring to Laura.

"You would have to."

He's silent for a second, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being a husband and a father. He wished he knew what it was like to be cared for as much as you cared for your Logan.

"You know, you have the same look in your eyes," Your voice was so quiet, stepping closer to him until you were in front of him.

Logan could see the desperation on your face as you stared at his lips. It would be wrong for him to toy with your widowed heart, but he wanted to be the man you needed. The man you deserved.

"I'm not him, sweetheart," He said, attempting to stop you before you hurt yourself. "And I don't want you to get hurt-"

"Please," You beg, eyes filling up with tears. "I don't care who you are. I just don't want it to hurt anymore."

You were slowly killing him. How could he say no to you? Even if he was the worst Logan, he has a heart. Which is why he lets you close the gap between the two of you. His hands are tangled in your hair while one of yours rests on his jaw before climbing into his lap.

For the first time in years, your heart began beating again. You and Logan could play pretend for now. Neither of you cared what would happen tomorrow, right now was all that mattered.

[vbecker10]

Believe

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N) - established relationship

Summary: Your relationship with Loki hangs by a thread after he said things to you he regrets during an argument. He is desperate to apologize and find out if you still believe in your relationship.

Warnings: angst, possible end of a relationship, feeling unloved, things said in anger, regret, arguing

A/N: I know I'm supposed to be writing something but this song got stuck in my head and the story practically wrote itself... I'm sorry in advance for the angst but it will be okay, I promise 🥺

You lay on the couch and press your face to the pillow, letting your tears flow freely as you cling to the soft fabric tightly. Your chest tightens and your heart physically aches as if it is shattering into a million pieces. Loki's last words to you replay over and over in your mind.

Your apartment is silent except for the sound of your sobs until there is a short series of knocks on your door. Sitting up slowly, you wipe your eyes and look towards the door, shaking your head lightly. You sit motionless, unable to force yourself to get, unable to answer the door, unable to let Loki in. The tears continue to flow down your cheeks and he knocks again moments later.

It takes all the energy you can gather to push yourself up from the couch and walk to the door. You reach for the knob, the metal feels cool in your hand but you can't turn it. Letting go, you take a small step back and cross your arms against your chest.

Loki knocks a third time and you sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand then you cross your arms again. "You have said all you needed to say," you tell him through the closed door.

"Y/N, please," he responds softly, his hand resting on the wooden door. "Let me in."

"No," you say, shaking your head as if he can see you.

He is silent for a moment but you know he hasn't left. "I am still trying to figure out how to tell you I was wrong," he breaks the long silence, his heart pounding in his chest as he fears you will never open your door to him again. "Y/N, darling, I will do anything to prove to you how sorry I am. Please believe me, I did not mean what I said."

You don't answer, your mind and your heart instantly at odds as to how you should react. A part of you desperately wants to accept Loki's apology, to believe him when he says he never wanted to hurt you. That part wants nothing more than for everything to go back to the way it was only an hour ago, when you never doubted how much Loki loves you. The other part of you doesn't know if you can truly believe him. You had both said things in anger tonight but his words cut you so deeply, you couldn't help but fear they were true.

He gives you a few moments to respond but when you don't, he continues to talk to you through the closed door. "I said things that I didn't mean but you should've known me by now," he says and you turn, leaning your back against the door as you listen to him. "If you believed when I said 'I'd be better off without you' then you never really knew me at all. If you believed when I said that I wouldn't be thinking about you... you thought you knew the truth but you're wrong."

You close your eyes, sinking to the floor as you remember the moment those words left Loki's lips. Covering your face with your hands, you feel the tears you had been fighting to hold back since he arrived break free.

"Y/N," he says softly when he hears your sobs through the door. "I love you, you know I love you. I am so sorry."

I love you too, your heart screams but you don't let the words out. You squeeze your eyes closed tight, picturing the look on Loki's face when he realized what he had said to you. He instantly moved towards you but you backed away from him, keeping him at arms length. His eyes filled with regret, the anger you felt during the argument vanished and was swiftly replaced by a much more painful feeling in your chest.

"You're all that I need," he says, still hoping you are listening to him. "Please, just tell me that you still believe in us," he pleads.

You open your eyes and wipe your tears away, trying to taking a deep breath as your thoughts begin to race. You feel a wave of nausea as you can't help but wonder if this is the end of your relationship. Can you trust him? Do you believe him? You don't question if you love him, knowing the answer will always be yes.

"I know I can't undo the things that led us to this place," he adds, his tears trail down his cheek as he looks at the still closed door. "But I know there's something more to us than our mistakes. I know I'm so blind when we don't agree..." his voice trails off and he shakes his head, regretting every syllable of the words he said to you. "I swear to you, on everything in the nine realms, I will never again make you feel unloved or hurt so long as I live. Please, Y/N, let me in."

You stand slowly, wiping your face as you turn to face the door, your decision made.

"You're all that I want," he says, you can hear the pain in his voice, "You're all that I need. Just tell me that you still believe in us."

Loki stands motionless before you when you finally open your door, his eyes are red and only hold your gaze for a moment before he looks down. You step out of your apartment and touch his cheek lightly, lifting his head to see the tears he has shed.

"Y/N..." he says quietly, his eyes desperately searching yours to know what you are thinking. "Please believe me, I never meant to hurt you."

You wipe his fallen tears with your thumb then remove your hand from his soft skin. His breath catches at the loss of contact but you take his hand and his heart skips a beat. He slowly reaches for you with his other hand, wiping away your tears as you had done for him.

"I still believe in us, Loki," you tell him and the corner of his mouth curls up into a small, hopeful smile.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mischief2sarawr @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @loreniscrying @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-asgard @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv @glitterylokislut @biodegradable-glitter-fest @wolfsmom1 @simone818283 @hopefuldreamers-world @blackhawkfanatic @lokikell8 @dracoswhorexx @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @anukulee

[telvess]

RoR: How they seek attention (Hades, Jack, Leonidas)🔞

I don't know how title it. I don't know why I wrote this in such form.

Hades

He’d give you smut to read. No kidding. He just leaves it at the dressing table for you. He then continues his daily routine, effectively pretending nothing happened.

At the end of the day, when you take a bait and read in his presence, Hades watches you from his safe spot (where he drinks wine or plays chess with his parrot). He is looking for any sign that you'd reached the right moment in the plot.

Once you give yourself away, he drops what he is currently doing and quietly joins you on the couch. He puts his arm around you and slowly massages your waist. At this point you already know what’s going on and he knows you know.

— What are you reading, my queen? — he asked with a smile, indifferently. — The interesting part — you replied. You didn’t want to give him a smile yet so you continued to stare at the book, even if content stopped interesting you. — Hmm… would you dare read this out loud? — his lips next to your ear made you shiver. What a sly husband you had. — As his hand slowly moved towards the inside of her thighs, his lips closed hers in a steamy kiss that took her breath away. His tongue made its way inside and explore a new place in wild, intense dance-e… — you stopped. Hades began leaving small kisses on your temple. His finger was caressing your jaw when other hand started to undoing your dress. You felt little buzz on your back from this barely perceptible touch. As the straps of your dress slipped down, a cool breeze on exposed skin made you blush. You hoped you could hide behind curtain of hair but Hades - as if he reading your thoughts - immediately tucked your hair behind your ear. — What’s next? — he asked calmly. He leaned down to give your naked neck kisses. You took a deep breath and looked at the book with trembling hand. You couldn’t remember where you finished reading, nor did you care what was happening there anymore, so you started reading a random paragraph. — Warmth risen under her belly, between legs, where his hand was heading… — Hades gave you a hickey which made you moan — She felt something was growing there and demanded to be satisfied… — you stopped and looked at him — Are you proud of yourself? — you asked but he didn’t give you any answer; his lips didn’t leave your neck. — You should be… — you whispered. You melted under the touch of his lips. The book fell off the couch, but neither of you cared about that poor written work anymore. — You know that you could just ask — you said, forcing him to look at you. Hades smiled. — Yes, but what a waste that would be. You should read to me more, my queen.

Jack

Jack probably doesn’t have high sex drive or he is very good at ignoring it. Of course everyone has their limits and Jack isn’t exception from this rule. If you don’t initiate any intimacy events for a longer time, at some point Jack’s will would crumble.

He has no idea how to suggest those kind of activities, he considers it inappropriate for a gentleman. Which probably leads to sudden loss of control.

You were sitting next to Jack in the arbour, enjoying good tea and cookies together. All your attention was focused on the book Jack had chosen for you. You weren’t very familiar with Shakespeare’s work but didn’t mind changing that. It required a lot of dedication from you because you had a trouble understanding some parts. Therefore, the process took much longer. You heard the sound of a spoon falling, but you didn’t take your mind off the book. Jack pushed away his chair, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head disappear under the table. You read long monologue, repeated it for better understanding but something was wrong. You frowned as you realized that Jack had frozen in a bent position. You took a better look at his face and followed his gaze, which led to your legs. Oh…, you thought. Usually you preferred to wear pants but today you chose a dress. It ended right below the knee and now that you were sitting cross-legged, Jack probably had a very good view of your legs covered with fishnet stockings. — Jack… — you said softly. Jack flinched; he came back to reality… wherever he was, and sat up straight. In your opinion, too rigidly. Your gaze fell to the floor again. — Spoon… — you mumbled and leaned down to pick it up. Apparently Jack hadn't quite recovered from his reverie because he did exactly the same thing and you two bumped heads. — Ouch! — My apologies, dearest — Jack said immediately. — No, it’s my fault… Your eyes met and suddenly Jack’s lips were on yours. You moaned with surprise, but deepened the kiss. You slowly straightened up without interrupting. Jack hands came around you, his fingers tightened on a dress as his tongue slipped between yours lips. Some sensation was born between your legs. You didn’t know when or how, but suddenly you felt his hand on your tight, his touch was leaving burning trace on your naked skin. All you could’ve thought about was his button shirt and how you wanted to rip it off. Before that could happen, you two separated, gasping for air. You looked away, feeling all the intense heat on your face. — This was not gentlemanly behaviour — you heard. You licked your lips. — Will I become less of a lady in your eyes if I say I liked it? Jack’s eyes brightened. — Not at all — was his answer. — Then let’s continue — you said with a smile.

Leonidas

Straight to the point. Why waste precious time for talking?

Sometimes though for some reason he likes to let things piss you off. He likes when you’re angry, it turns him on.

Leonidas was supposed to supervise your javelin throw training but instead he was reading another dull book. You threw javelin after javelin and none of them stuck in the ground. Frustration was slowly building in your chest as you hadn’t made progress in the last half hour. — Ugh! — Keep throwing, hon — you rolled your eyes. — Are you sure I am doing it right? — you asked through gritted teeth. — Yup — was his reply however from the tone of his voice you could tell that he was more concerned about his stupid book than your training. You took breathe in and out. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? Fine, two can play this game! You grabbed another javelin and tried again. Then repeat, then again, again and again. Calm and methodical. Until, out of the corner of your eye, you saw how impatiently Leonidas began to turn the pages. Until you felt his irritated gaze on your back and you almost gave yourself away. How easy it was to turn tables around. — Hon, wanna have some fun? — he asked finally, after abour fifteen minutes of silence and many javelins later. — You mean like boxing? — you asked innocently. Leonidas glanced at you over his book, which could basically shut anyone up. — I could do that with my men. I meant fun. You froze with javelin above your head. — Well technically you can do that with your men too — you sent the javelin flying, but the result was the same: it rolled along the ground. Pathetic. You flinched at the sudden creaking sound. — Look what a smartass we have here — Leonidas quickly moved towards you. You watched silently as he picked up two javelins from the ground, took the proper stance, and threw one of them. A javelin stuck in the ground like a strange flag many meters away. — I told you, put some strength into it! — Leonidas shouted at you as he placed a new javelin in your hand. He helped you take a correct stance, you felt his irritation but decided not to tease him yet — Eh, these weak arms of yours… Something has snapped inside you. You broke free from his grip. — We will see how you gonna cry under these weak arms of mine later, you jackass! — you yelled. The anger you felt earlier escalated to much greater size now. Leonidas smirked at your much smaller figure. His shirt tightened dangerously on his wide, muscled chest as if it were about to tear. — Oh, is the princess mad? — he mocked. — Piss off! You turned your back on him, otherwise you could have killed him on the spot. However, before you could leave, you felt a grip on your hand and a moment later you were pulled towards Leonidas. He picked you up and kissed without hesitation. You gasped with resentment at that audacity and began punching his chest. You felt him trying not to smile. The tight grip of Leonidas's arms around you didn't weaken for some time. — Now that’s the kind of fun I was looking for — he said once you had stopped. The kiss took your breath away but pride still demanded justice. You just looked at his smug face and tried to overcome your body's stupid excitement. — Let's take this elsewhere — he said. — Don’t you dare… NO! — you screamed as he threw you over his shoulder. — Screw you!

[jolalibrary]

x. oh, just to be with you

javier peña x f!reader | chapter ten of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: we're back to texts and phone calls. sorrowful!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. pls don't be mad at me ✨ wordcount: 3k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

He's aware of everything. 

How the porch creaks when he steps on it, the way the back door doesn’t quite meet the frame unless it’s locked. How the wind is knocking something else, far across the tall grass and fence posts.

Right now, his focus is on how his curtains don’t quite close. That they're letting the thinnest crack of moonlight cascade through his room. How the smallest luminescent slither keeps dancing in the breeze, yet it still lands perfectly on the propped-up photo strip on his dresser, highlighting the two of you, as though he hadn't committed them to memory. 

He can’t remember the last time someone had managed to slide around his walls—bypass his common sense and begin weaving themselves into him. Javi also can't remember the last time he wanted something more than a win.

Then came you.

Not that he complains that you're the exception. He'll never complain when it comes to you. 

Having people close has never been his issue. It’s letting himself fall that he’s forever found hard. He can be a lover who makes a night all about the other; he can be a protector, shielding and doing what is needed. 

It’s the parts after when he feels he clams up. A portion of him constantly weighing up risks, calculating the damage he could cause—either by a choice he could make or others—long before the city that housed Escobar. 

Javi knew his reluctance had stemmed from before he left Laredo, but it was now carved somewhere deeper in him. Something you managed to find with relative ease and cut out of him as if it was nothing. 

All smiles. All radiance and fucking beauty, with a laugh that could make his lips curl even if his bones are aching and his muscles are tired. 

If he closes his eyes, he can almost convince himself that he’s back there, in the hotel room. Because even if you’d never been here, your room is full of him. 

His bag of spilt-out clothes from your time together, slowly letting the scent of your perfume seep out across the room. Your jacket, hung on the closet handle, and the photos and sign you made on his dresser, all perfectly in sight. 

you have nice handwriting  I did try my best, sometimes I get lazy and letters blur together more.  I like how you wrote baby Does this mean I’ve got the whole set now? Cause you like how I say it, how I write it, how I mouth it. 

Even when he had known you’d needed to get some sleep, Javi had desperately wanted to beg you to stay up. Sending back a text here or there, already missing you so much more than he was sure he could handle. 

He felt lovesick. Like the singer in all those songs that make people either stare at a loved one or bite back tears because they lost theirs. Suddenly relating to a sea of them he’s heard on the radio in the kitchen or hummed in the back of his pop’s throat. 

Javi had been happy to see his pops, somewhat surprised he even came out of the house to greet him. But, as soon as his eyes landed on him, he became suddenly more aware of his old man’s age. Noticing the lines on his face, the ones that tell a thousand stories—not all of them he’s sure he’s heard. Curling into the hug he’d barely reciprocated before, unsure how to form the words to thank him for convincing him to go. 

Naturally, he asks about you. 

It’s more of an interrogation if he’s honest. He shows the photos, the ones now on his dresser, watching his pop smile as he continues to answer the array of questions, until he yawns for the tenth time in the space of five minutes.  

“You should get some sleep, Pop.” 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Javi. Tell me more about your lady.”

Your lady. 

Those two words stand out as if they’ve been illuminated in bulbs, twinkling and shimmering. 

now youre back in reality you sure about us  Never been more sure about anything, baby.  just wanted to check  You’re beginning to sound like me, worrying.  left a mark on me  Think that’s fair, you’ve left a lot on me too. Especially my chest.  

“Tomorrow. Promise. The drive took it out of me.” 

But Javi isn’t tired. 

Somehow, he had suspected he wouldn’t be the moment he watched you leave.

For longer than he cares to number, he's struggled with it. Had developed an unhealthy live-able balance of it when he was working, something he managed to keep as a prize in his return. 

Now, it’s different.

There’s an edge to it. As though he's now having to pay back the stolen sleep he enjoyed when he had been lay with you. When he slept with ease and not struggle. Leaving him feeling now like he’s in a lull, a dream. All aware, not in a daze anymore, noticing things he had never given much attention to before his trip out of town. 

You had been so warm, so soft. His fingers gliding up and down your side, soothing you as much as it was him. But, you slept with ease. Falling almost instantly once you'd stopped talking, a little jolt and a soft sigh punctuating it.

Fuck, he misses you.

Thumb and index pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut. Unsure how he's supposed to manage, and cope, until the next chance he gets to see you.

Till he gets to hold you in his arms, stare at your smile as it grows across your face or feels the light tap of your hand when he’s teasing you...

Something ugly curls inside of him. At first, soaked in sadness, before it shakes itself and burns bright with annoyance. Irritation. Anger at how unfair it all is. 

How is it, after all, he’s given up—he’s fallen for the one person not even in his state? A person he had to say goodbye to hours ago, for reasons out of his or their control. 

He almost snorts, unsure if it’s due to the tiredness or the reality that after all he’s faced, life would continue to be cruel and deal him such a hand. Tempted to get up, kick off the sheets and pull out the crossword from before he left town.

Javi doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes, shaking his head—to no one but himself. Because he can't do them without you now. A promise, one given with ease.

He hears the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the trees. Something needling at him that if he wasn't so broken, this would be the perfect amount of quiet to fall asleep to.

Now, it's not the loud of a Colombian city he misses now. It's how your leg slides over his, how your breaths feel on his chest—how you twitch, ever so slightly, as you first fall asleep. 

But, it’s the quiet as to why he hears his phone vibrate, practically darting out of bed, knowing it can only be you. 

why aren’t you asleep?

Because I can't sleep without you. Apparently.

I miss you too. 

I really hate this. I even miss you digging your knee into my hip. 

told you that you’d miss it once it was gone

I feel like telling you that you’re right will mean your head will inflate.

youre right

One day, right?

if I could make that tomorrow I would

You really missing me that much? 

not enough words in the world to describe how much, baby 

Gonna make me cry. 

dont cry I can’t wipe them from here 

So not wise for me to tell you I cried the entire flight home. 

did the person you sit next to seem to mind 

They didn’t say anything until we landed. Then promptly told me that I deserved better. 

so they thought you were broken up with 

I think I may have led her to believe that from the amount I was crying. 

fuck you like me a lot 

I like you a regular, normal amount. 

I don’t think I like you a normal regular amount 

That’s the tiredness talking. 

you know it isnt 

I feel the same. I really miss you. 

I miss you too but you should try to sleep you have work tomorrow 

Okay, but so do you! 

ill be fixing a shed or a pen baby you have to deal with people 

go to sleep and then tomorrow we can call as planned 

You’d told him that you suspected the first day would be the hardest.

Not the goodbye (and that had been fucking painful) but the following day when they were apart. 

Javi hates that you’re right. 

It twists inside of him how much he loathes it—grateful that he gets to push some of his anger into repairing the side of the shed. Hammer meeting nail, again and again. Each time with more fury than is needed, only worrying after whether he’s done more damage to the shed post than pre. 

"Mijo."

He doesn't find a judgemental look, but one filled with sympathy.

His pop not quizzing him, just handing him a beer. A cold one, droplets descending down the can, sliding across his palm and down his wrist—attempting to soothe the boiling blood in his veins. 

“It’ll get easier.” His pop tugs his hat down, shielding his eyes, before staring off into the distance. “When me and your mama first began, we couldn’t see each other all the time either.” 

Letting out a sigh, Javi grinds his teeth. A sea of biting comments lathered on his tongue, all set to pounce, to poison. 

Instead, he kicks the ground, swallowing most of them back. “She wasn’t hundreds of miles away, though.” 

“No,” his Pop says, clapping his hand on his back—both for comfort and likely stability. “But we didn’t have landlines, or tha' other thing you do on y’phone. The tapping."

The tapping.

He doesn't snort, even if it sits at the back of his throat. Burying it in the liquid that slides down his throat with ease.

"Come on, ‘need to head into town, and my truck is acting up.” 

Javi doesn’t question it, why he’s the one sliding into the passenger seat of his own truck. 

If he’d thought about it, he’d have asked why the truck was acting up or why Pop was driving instead of him. But he doesn’t—didn’t. Just let it happen, staring off as the shades of grass pass him by, fingers playing with the cap on the can, twisting and twisting it. 

To fill the silence, he rolls the edges of the can around in his hands. Crunching the sides every now and again, making him wince from the noise. 

Then, he finds himself staring at the fingerprints left in the dust from you touching his dash—eyes catching sight of a hair grip on the floor near his boot. 

He’s rolling it in his fingers when they’re back on the road, silence smothering them until he watches his pop turn on the radio. As soon as it springs to life, it becomes desperate to try and cut through it. The broadcaster mumbles about heavy rain and increased traffic, but he’s lost in a sorrow of sadness all cast by the spell of a good week to care. The fog around him making it hard to see the wood through the trees, never mind the hope through the misery. 

“Dios mio. More trucks passing through now since the bridge opened. Y’noticed, mijo? So many.”

“Hmm.” 

Eyes fixed on the grip, the one more worn on one side than the other—imagining your face, the night when he’d watched you take them out, face fresh, one of his tees on your frame. 

Then, because the world isn’t cruel enough, the song changes. The radio playing a game with him now, as well as everything else, as he lifts his head, trying to focus on the road. Hearing the soft thud of his pop’s fingers on the steering wheel, his jaw tightened as the lyrics washed over him. Faintly hearing you humming along with the chorus.

Because he heard the song in the diner with you. 

Heard it on the radio one afternoon, then again in the bowling alley—how it wrapped its tune around the two of you. 

“Heard our song today,” he says, fingers massaging his temple.

He's thankful his pop said he had plans, the quietness settling over the rest of the ranch.

Before he met you, he dreaded the nights he was left alone. His thoughts gearing up, ready to pounce. The minor differences he could have made if he took a step back and stared at the facts, how he should have noticed how deep the corruption was—how much Colombia was taking from him, bit by bit. 

Now, he tries not to grin when his pop says he’s going out.

When he’s left alone, allowed full reign to talk as loud as he wants to you—rather than being huddled near the phone, whispering like a teenager. 

“Our song?” 

“Yeah.” 

Javi can practically hear you smirk. “And how does that go, charmer?” 

He’s not a singer. Not by a long shot, but he does his best. Humming the tune at first, softly singing the words from the chorus until he trails off.

You snort, before you try to muffle it in a cough. 

“You tricked me.” 

“Maybe. But, just because I wanted to hear you sing.” 

Smirking, he pulls the phone from his ear—shaking his head—before replacing it back to hear you add:

“You have a beautiful voice.” 

“Fuck you, baby.”  

Your laugh rips from you, hurtling down the phone right to his soul—making fireworks explode in his chest and warmth kiss his nerves. 

Because now he can imagine what you look like. Likely head thrown back, eyes closed—nose scrunched a little as your hands grip onto something for leverage. 

And it was beautiful. You’re beautiful—your laugh and your smile. Something he feels he should have said long before now. He’s about to rectify that, when he hears it merge into a sniffle—veering into tears and half-suppressed swallows before a noticeable little sob breaks through—as his throat dries instantly, closing. 

Turning, he places his palm on the fall as he tries to keep his chest from tightening. The knot in his chest, the one he suspects is tied to you in some way, constricts, pulling taught around his lungs.  

“I—I miss….”

You sniffle again, louder. “I've been looking forward to this all day,” you whisper, voice catching, words struggling to fall as sweetly as they usually do. “But, is it bad for me to say that phone calls aren’t the same now I’ve had the chance to be with you in person?”

Leaning his forehead against the kitchen wall, Javi wipes his chin. “Took the words outta my mouth, baby.”

He hears you chuckle, almost both heavily and heavenly, before you ask about his day. 

He rambles because it’s easy too. You listen, lapping up every single thing. Hearing about his trip to town, his pop making jokes—trying, desperately, to crack through the mist that had descended. 

“How was yours?” 

Then you sigh, all tight. You tell him about Aish and her interview, before your voice softens as you begin whispering about the prep you’re doing for your interview. He’s about to comfort you, when you continue about the asshole you work alongside has been taken out for lunch by your boss and that you snagged your favourite pair of tights on a desk.

“But, enough about that—guess what I’m wearing?”

Smiling, he bites down on his knuckle, Javi lifting his head, groaning as he tries to think. “All of your clothes at once? Anything else might short-circuit my brain.” 

“Won’t tell you then.” 

“No. Please. Tell me, baby.” 

He hears you move, and is almost sure he can hear you swallow. “You realise that you’re missing something, Javier?” 

Fuck, the way you say his name. How it drips from your tongue. Laced in lust and swirling down the phone line to his brain. 

He quickly tries to think of his washing, the piles he made—the attempted sorting. And it hits him. His eyes widened, head half-lifting, feeling his eye twitch. 

“Fuck—“

“Yes. I’m sat in that. And underwear, of course.” 

“Hermosa…”

His throat is dry, painfully so. Mind arranging an image of you from the days he spent with you. And fuck. 

“Wasn’t sure this shade of pink was my colour, but I was wrong.” 

Jutting his jaw, he closes his eyes—picturing the sight of you. The underwear he’d had the chance to peel off of you, the way it set against your skin—now, accompanied by his shirt on your arms. The buttons are likely undone, showing off more skin than he can currently process thinking about. 

“It’s nice on my skin,” you whisper, all honeyed. “Be better on my floor.” 

Clenching his fist, he bites his lip. “Baby…” 

“Maybe I’ll show you one day.” 

Snorting, he traces his teeth with his tongue. “You better. Now, tell me about the underwear.” 

“Only if you can answer six across. Clue: now.” 

Mouth parting, his jaw rolls to the side, eyes picking a spot on the wall. Thinking. And thinking. 

“Want an extra clue?” 

“An extra? You're spoiling me.” 

He hears you giggle, low and in your throat. “It’s an Italian word. And, ‘I want to see you… blank—“ 

His eyes flick up, a smile spreading. “Pronto.” 

“Correct,” you reply. “Seven words, silenced. You did this to me when you had your mouth on my—“

“Shushed,” he says quickly, fist clenching, trying to stare at the mark on the wall again, and not let the image of you populate in his head. 

“You okay, baby?” 

Gritting his teeth, he sighs. “You’re devious, you know that?” 

“I think it’s your shirt. It’s making me… flirty.” 

Grinning, he turns on the spot, back against the wall—head tilting up, eyes closing. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too….” your tone softer, frayed at the edges. “I’m kinda glad I stole your shirt.” 

“Me too. Means I get to see you to steal it back from you.” 

“Off me.” 

It comes out quickly—purposefully chosen, spilt. 

Frowning, he opens his eyes. “What?” 

“Off me. You’ll have to steal it from my body.” 

Grasping the phone, breathing through his nose, letting out a murmured, “Fuck, baby,” under his breath.  

AN: for all those wondering if they'll be together in person again, they will. i am a happily-ever-after kind of writer unless otherwise stated. but it was so important to me that they had a magical week, and then returned to their lives.

[sgiandubh]

What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

[mj-iza-writer]

I wrote a story like this on Pinterest in the comments a while ago. I forget the prompt I used and who had posted it. I did an abridged version on their because you can only write so many characters in the comment section. Please enjoy. -MJ

Whumpee had almost fully recovered from their time with Whumper.

Caretaker spared no expense on Whumpee's care. Of course, money wasn't an issue for Caretaker either. The aristocrat had enough to spare.

Though Caretaker had promised several times, Whumpee was certain they were just a project for Caretaker. Something like a charity case for Caretaker to take care of until they were bored or to melt the hearts of the public so Caretaker was seen as a good person.

Whumpee understands this. They were just another penniless social outcast. They didn't belong amongst Caretaker's friends.

They heard the whispers of those social elites.

The party had only just begun, Whumpee stayed close by Caretaker. That was the plan at least.

"This party is for you, Whumpee", Caretaker smiled, "in celebration of your progress in recovery. You don't need to stay by me all night."

"Could I please stay with you?", Whumpee frowned, "you know I'm clumsy. I don't want to embarrass you in front of your friends."

"Anyone who finds you embarrassing are not friends of mine, but yes, you may stay with me if you wish."

Whumpee awkwardly followed Caretaker as they mingled amongst the company.

"Are you feeling parched at all?", Caretaker turned to Whumpee, "I'll go get you some punch. Wait here please."

Caretaker stepped away.

Whumpee watched timidly from the side. Of course they watched Caretaker get side tracked with another guest.

"May I have this dance", an all to familiar voice came up beside Whumpee.

Whumpee gulped as they turned.

They hoped a guard or Caretaker saw what was happening.

"Don't make a scene", the person grinned, "I only want you aware that I am still close. You can't get away from me that easily. You are not as safe as you thought."

"Why.... Whumper?", Whumpee's lip quivered.

"No water works", Whumper gently reached for Whumpee's hand and led them to the dance floor.

They awkwardly danced for a few moments before Whumper leaned in.

"Remember this. All of this is just a phase in your life. I will have you again, and you will not be so easily removed from my hands", Whumper whispered.

A guard sounded an alert signal.

Whumper quickly kissed Whumpee's cheek before running off and mixing into the alarmed guest.

"Find them... find them now", Caretaker quickly ran to Whumpee's side as they yelled at the guards, "I want to know how they got in, and how they were allowed so close to Whumpee for so long."

Whumpee's knees buckled. They fell to the floor. Fear and shock etched across their face.

"Whumpee... Whumpee?", Caretaker quickly knelt and embraced them in a hug, then quickly checked them over, "d-did they hurt you?"

A guard came up, "Caretaker I apologize. The subject left the building, guards have confirmed they have escaped. We already have police looking for them. They have license plate and vehicle descriptions."

"How the heck did they get in?", Caretaker didn't turn their attention from Whumpee, "someone's going to be fired if they don't give me a straight answer."

"We are looking right now Caretaker. We will let you know when we find it", the guard frowned.

"The party is over, I need to attend to Whumpee", Caretaker frowned as they felt Whumpee shake, "I know they escaped. Still check everyone as they leave."

Caretaker made a few announcements to their guest to explain the situation.

A guard assisted Whumpee to a separate room and remained with them until Caretaker came in.

Whumpee was quickly changed into warm comfy pajamas.

They cuddled into a blanket and listened to Caretaker and the guards communicate.

They played back the video and found how Whumper had gotten in.

A door was left unattended, and a few guards and staff had gotten sidetracked with a mess Whumper had caused. That's how they got so close.

Whumpee was still fairly shaken up at this. They stared off at nothing. A blank expression on their face.

"Whumpee, how are you doing?", Caretaker gently stroked their arm.

Whumpee blinked out of their dissociation and turned to Caretaker.

"I'm sorry... what was that?", Whumpee looked down.

"I just wanted to know if you were okay", Caretaker sighed, "I am so sorry."

"I-I'm okay", Whumpee weakly smiled.

"Right", Caretaker stated not believing that at all.

"Did they say anything to you?", the lead guard spoke up.

Whumpee nodded and told them what Whumper had said.

"We need to tighten security. At least until Whumper is stopped. We won't rest until Whumper is behind bars", Caretaker watched Whumpee stare off into space again, "Whumpee needs to be protected."

The guards agreed and went off to secure the location, and start working on the security.

Caretaker returned carrying two cups of hot chocolate.

Whumpee turned to them and took the cup.

"Thankyou", Whumpee whispered.

"You're welcome. Be careful it's hot", Caretaker sat down, "now that it's just us, I want you to really tell me how you are feeling."

Whumpee looked down and allowed some tears to come out. They had held them in too long

"Scared", Whumpee whispered, "terrified."

Caretaker nodded, "I am truly sorry. This should have never happened. If I hadn't of left you by yourself or had a guard stay with you. Had a butler get you a drink. There are so many things that could have been done differently to protect you. You shouldn't have been left alone, even if it was just with my friends. You never know what someone's true intentions are", Caretaker sighed.

Whumpee frowned, "you didn't know... no one knew. It even took me by surprise since they haven't shown themselves at all since you took me in. To know they've been watching this whole time", Whumpee shook their head at the thought of how close Whumper had been.

Caretaker nodded, "I know. We are working on finding them. For right now, a guard will be with you at all times. If it's okay with you, I want you to be closely monitored until this mess is sorted."

Whumpee nodded.

"Whumpee I promise. We will get this taken care of. You will be kept safe here", Caretaker almost pleaded that promise.

"I believe you Caretaker", Whumpee nodded, "thankyou."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @clevah-girlboss

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie

[maximumkillshot]

Home

Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

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

LIKE MY WRITING? WANT MORE? Tell me so! Want in on the tags?? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

[lovelyhan]

Kai hi! Don't know how and why but, I've been experiencing severe Seventeen brainrot in general so, I'm here to supply hard thoughts. (Also, I reread the JeongCheol x Reader trilogy you wrote and it remains a favourite of mine.)

I don't know who to start with so, I'll go with my man lol. The thought of being forced to cum on Cheol's ridiculously thick fingers makes me need to sit down. You know he'd be running his mouth too and, telling you how good you're doing for him.

the svt brainrot is well-deserved <3 and JAAHFJHD i'm so touched you reread inflection point thank you so much TT BUT HELLO? being forced to cum on cheol's fingers.... [kai.exe has stopped working]?!??!?

it kind of reminds me of the oneshot i wrote after he posted those pics on ig :| his fingers,,, what i'd do to get to cum around them /gen,, you can treat this drabble as a short continuation to that fic :3c

⟣ forced orgasm with cheol ⟢ wc: 0.8k words minors do not interact!

Choi Seungcheol is a man of his word.

When he tells you he'll pick you up at seven o'clock on a Friday evening despite his harrowing schedule, he'll pull up at the curb in front of your apartment with five minutes to spare. When he promises to call you every night he's away on tour, he'll phone you despite the time differences, and the fact that he sounds way too tired to be asking you about your day.

So when your boyfriend promises to stuff you full the next time you see each other, you know better than to call his bluff.

About twenty minutes since he hung up, you hear the telltale knocking on your door. You don't bother putting your underwear back on -- fully confident of the identity of your late-night visitor.

It's safe to say that when Seungcheol sees you behind the crack in the door wearing nothing but a flimsy tank top with your pert nipples straining against the fabric, you were completely at his mercy.

You don't even make it back to your room. Seungcheol simply brushes past you and makes himself comfortable on your couch -- dark eyes hooded with equal parts arousal and disappointment as he manspreads all over the cushions. Fuck.

"If I wasn't the one who was outside, what would've you done then?" he asks gruffly. "I didn't know you were such a fucking slut, princess. Answering the door wearing nothing but that top of yours. Might as well have done it naked."

You humor him with a laugh before striding over to take a seat on one of his thighs, making a mess of his sweatpants as you rub your needy pussy all over the fabric.

"That's just how badly I need you, Cheol," you whimper, sliding your hips against his thigh for the friction you've been craving since you saw those pictures he posted. When you feel those big, warm hands of his sliding up your thighs, you can't help the moan that spills from your lips.

"Turn around and sit on my lap," he commands, and you're much too willing to comply.

The moment your back is pressed against his broad chest, Seungcheol pries your legs apart -- gathering your slick between his fingers before prodding your lips with them. When your boyfriend whispers a quiet, "That's my girl," you practically preen at his praise.

And that's how you find yourself writhing on your boyfriend's lap as he fucks you open on his thick, large fingers -- whining and crying as your walls clamp down on each digit. Seungcheol deigned to start with three, as you've already loosened yourself up during that sultry phone call you shared before he came over, and he delights in how depraved you are from his mere fingers alone.

"Such a good fucking girl for me, aren't you?" he rasps, sinking those digits into your cunt before curling them just so. "You miss me that much, baby? Want to keep me all to yourself?"

"F-Fuck, Cheol!"

You can't even bring yourself to respond. He's so thick, and so, so deep, and he hasn't even brought out his dick yet. But when your brain manages to make you remember how you felt seeing all those fans thirsting for your boyfriend, you end up hissing through your teeth as you grind down on his hand.

"Mine, mine, mine. You're mine," you mewl, barely hearing the sound of Seungcheol's amused laughter before he smashes your lips together.

"All yours, princess," he whispers, and you cry out when those few, subtle words end up becoming the catalyst for your inevitable release.

But even as your walls spasm around his fingers, Seungcheol is relentless. He continues fucking into your cunt with unending fervor -- as if he means to engrave the idea of how much he's missed you as well into your body. You're practically twitching on his lap as he mumbles an incoherent string of words against the skin of your neck, but you're not exactly in the right headspace to tell him off.

"My beautiful baby, always so pretty when you cum for me," is what you first hear when the white noise finally recedes from your ears. You realize that you're still moving your hips despite the overstimulation, so fucking desperate to have any part of him inside you again. "You want more? I've fucked you stupid with my fingers alone, and you still want more?"

You do. You do want more.

"I remember a certain someone saying he'll blow my back out the moment he's back here with me," you sigh, tilting your head so you can kiss the corner of his mouth. "Is he going to make good on his promise?"

The ravenous glint in his eyes is enough of an answer. After all...

Choi Seungcheol is a man of his word.

[ashwhowrites]

I saw someone request rockstar Eddie with a groupie I was thinking maybe a groupie is all over him and backstage after a concert Eddie hates it and just wants his wife then reader his wife walks in assuming he was cheating and I trust you with the end🤍

Love it!! Here we go! I did your idea! But for some reason made it way more painful than needed so oops

⚠️angst as usual but fluff ending

Also I deleted this like three times and wrote it multiple ways. And I still hate how I wrote this so whoever requested it- if you hate it too, let me know so I can fix it babes

When her husband is a rockstar that girls have wet dreams about, she knows she'll spend a lifetime being jealous. When his fingers can work fast on the guitar while he multitasks with singing, she knows where other girls minds run off to. She was the same. She started as a girl who had a crush on the lead guitar player and singer. She watched him on stage and had dreams about his fingers, mouth, voice, and body constantly. And it was like he knew it. He'd smirk in her direction during his solos. Always standing near her side of the stage when he'd kneel down to sign girls'boobs. Eyes always flicked to hers, never even looking at who he was signing. The sexual tension got too hot and too high. Before she knew it she was in the bathroom being fucked against the mirror.

That's how they started. A bathroom fuck, so romantic right?

She never would have guessed the same man would be proposing to her years later on stage, in front of a sold out crowd in New York.

She was by his side when he was a small bar band and now he took her all over the world as he grew. Eddie was in love with her before he even learned her name. Getting to fuck her was just the bonus.

They were in love and maybe got married too young, but they didn't care. He wasn't letting her go anywhere.

Eddie doesn't even remember what they were fighting about before he left. He remembers screaming and her screaming back.

He remembers yelling, "DON'T EVEN FUCKING COME TONIGHT!" as he slammed the door.

Which he regretted the second he played the first song. Looking to his left where she stood backstage, and just like he asked, she didn't show up.

His first performance in months without her there and he felt like an asshole. He couldn't even remember who started it or why it started. And if he couldn't answer those questions, then he knew it wasn't important enough to keep being upset about it.

He collected together all of his stuff in the dressing room, throwing it harshly in his bag.

"hey Eddie, I know you are in a rush to get home but we have a fan out here who is dying to say hi" Gareth said. He knew Eddie and his wife were fighting before he came here, Eddie showed up tense and pissed off. The couple has been on short circuits. Screaming at each other at the drop of a hat.

Eddie thinks it's the stress of trying to have a baby that was taking a toll on their relationship. She was getting upset at her body for not accepting a baby and she took it out on him. She knew it wasn't fair but she couldn't stop. And Eddie, instead of understanding how hard it must be on her, he got pissed that he became her target. They both didn't talk about their feelings and that's where they kept going wrong.

"I'm really sorry dude. But I am not in the mood. Y/N's upset and I need to apologize. Just ask her to come next week" Eddie sighed. Gareth gave him a guilty look as the door opened and the girl squealed excitedly. Jumping in her dress as she screamed about the band in front of her.

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Plastering on his best smile. He could suffer for a few minutes.

~~

She was drunk in seconds. Already throwing herself on Eddie's lap.

"no no" he mumbled, unhooking her arms but she laced their fingers together.

"I'm married" he mumbled again, trying to shift his body from under her. He was not in the mood for this type of game.

But she stayed put. Not even moving a muscle. Eddie looked around the room and noticed he was alone

"if you are married ,where are they?" She asked

"she's at home. I told her not to come" he sighed. And now he wanted her to be here more than ever. He didn't want a random girl on his lap. He wanted his wife to be here.

"how come?"

"because I was stupid and she's pissed.But seriously I need you to get off of me. This isn't happening and will never happen" he tried to push her again

"I know what you can do to make her feel better" she sounded genuine but Eddie still didn't want the feeling of other girls body on him

"okay how about you tell me while you get off of me?" He asked, giving up on moving her for a slight second to hear what she had to say. Letting her absorb his words.

But she didn't say anything. She smashed her lips onto his. His brain was slowly realizing what was going on. The hands that she had laced were stuck. He was trying to pull his body away but he couldn't move anywhere

"Eddie?"

~~

She sat at home all night. Crying on the couch after he slammed the door. She hated what she was doing to them. She was ruining their marriage day after day. But she didn't feel good enough. She couldn't give him a baby, and that's all he talked about.

Finally ready to just apologize and talk things out, she headed to his gig. She knows he doesn't want her there but as a wife, she had the right.

She smiled to Gareth as she walked to the dressing room. Lance, their manager, noticed her right away and let her through the hallway. She smiled gratefully and walked into the room.

Her husband was there, but so was a girl in a tiny dress sitting on his lap, kissing him.

"Eddie?" She gasped out in disbelief. She knew she wasn't being a good wife lately, but he'd really throw it all away?

Her eyes burned as the girl pulled away and looked behind her. Eddie's eyes finding hers once the girl moved.

"hold not. This is so not" he stuttered out fast. Throwing the girl off of his lap as she landed on the couch next to him.

Y/N felt her eyes roll, turning back around and leaving the damn bar

"BABY WAIT. I CAN EXPLAIN THAT!"

But she just kept walking. Never in their relationship did she think he'd ever cheat on her. But apparently she didn't know him well.

She made it out of the bar. Gasping for fresh air.

Eddie was right behind her, arm snatching her hand and yanking her into him.

"listen you need to listen" he pleaded. He knew if he didn't explain soon enough, more damage would take place

"no Eddie I don't!" She spat back, throwing his hands off of her

"is that why you didn't want me to come tonight? So you can go screw a groupie? How many girls were there?"

Eddie shook his head at each question

"no that is not why I asked you not to come. I should have never asked that! I want you here. And fuck no, there has been no one but you. You are my wife, I wouldn't screw that up! I don't want anyone else. She came on to me. I've spent the past hour trying to get her off of my lap. I would never do that to you. I love you"

He watched as silent tears were running down her face.

"why?" She asked, throwing her hands in the air with frustration

"why what?" He spoke softly, seeing she was seconds away from crying harder. One hand held her jaw and the other one rubbed her back softly

"why do you love me? I mean God Eddie, you married me expecting a family and I can't even give that to you! If I were you I think I'd cheat on me too" she sobbed

Eddie felt his heart shattering

"baby no. Just no" he shook his head, holding her face tighter in his hands moving his forehead against her

"when I married you, I married you because I am in love with you and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I wanted us to share a name, a house and our hearts. Listen to me, I don't need a baby to make me want to stay with you. Nothing would MAKE me, I want to stay with you and that's not ever going to change. I should have been more understanding of the stress you are putting your body in. And I would never cheat on you. There is no one in this whole world that would ever compare to you. You are it for me, okay?"

He smiled and pecked her wet lips. Pulling back slowly as she nodded and sniffled.

"I love you too" she spoke just as soft. Kissing him again.

She pulled away with a small gag, "we need to wash your mouth. Taste like pure alcohol"

Eddie laughed, "yeah that girl was pretty wasted"

He smiled as he threw his arm on her shoulder, walking to the car.

He didn't need a baby to be a family.

Just having her, was the only family he needed.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid

[agaypanic]

They're open yay omg!! Ok I had a cute idea for Rodrick Heffley if you're up for it! :)

Rodrick x Male!Reader where reader sings him 'boyfriend' by Big Time Rush the same way that Rodrick sang 'baby' by Justin Bieber for that one girls birthday (I literally don't remember her name lol but also it doesn't have to be his birthday) but like, it doesn't end as badly as it did for him lmao

Idk if they should be an established relationship between him and reader or if this is like readers confession so ill let you choose what you feel like writing for!

Boyfriend (Rodrick Heffley X Male!Guitarist!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: While waiting for your friends to show up to band practice, you decide to show Rodrick a new song you’ve been working on.

A/N: this is my first time writing for rodrick so pls lmk how i did! au where reader wrote ‘boyfriend’ instead of btr (with a few tweaks). rodrick and reader are in the talking stage (i dont wanna say situationship but ig that works lol) but their friends dont know about it. the only instrument i know about is the violin so sorry if i get anything wrong. also i think doing singing in stories/fics is kinda weird/awkward but whatever lol

***

You always cherished the few minutes you had alone with Rodrick during band practice. Sure, you liked your other friends. But there was something about being able to watch Rodrick not put on the whole ‘bad boy rocker’ persona that he was used to wearing. Around you, he felt like he could wind down and not think as much.

Although, he didn’t think too much in the first place.

“I think we have a real shot at winning this talent show,” Rodrick said, drumming a beat on your thigh as he watched you tune your guitar. “We just need to practice more.”

“Well, I think we sound fine right now.”

“We don’t need to sound fine; we need to sound great!”

“Chill out, Roddy.” You said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a month away; we have plenty of time.”

“Don’t call me that.” Despite his words, the corner of Rodrick’s lip twitched up at the nickname. You were the only one who called him that. At first, he didn’t like it; it wasn’t a hardcore rocker name. But soon, he found himself getting giddy at the softness of it. “I guess you’re right, though.” 

Rodrick strummed his fingers across the strings of your guitar, laughing when you slapped his hand away.

“Work on anything new lately?” He asked, looking up at you from his hunched-over position. Along with being the guitarist, you were one of the main songwriters in Löded Diper, having many one-on-one writing sessions with Rodrick. That’s how the two of you grew closer, going from childhood friends playing on slides to somewhere between friends and something more, playing songs. Secret handshakes turned to lingering touches, and loud laughs turned to whispered jokes.

You were a bit hesitant to answer. You had been working on some new songs, but they didn’t exactly fit the Löded Diper brand. They were love songs, most, if not all, written with Rodrick in mind. 

“Kind of.” You finally say, picking at a frayed edge of your jeans. Rodrick perked up, always loving your new material.

“Yeah? Show me!”

“It’s not exactly like the stuff we play.” You argue, a bit anxious at the thought of Rodrick hearing what you had been toying with recently. “Besides, it’s not finished.”

Rodrick just shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Show me anyway.”

You hated how you could never say no to those eyes. You sighed and finally agreed, fiddling with your guitar while trying to remember the chords.

“No laughing.” You say.

“When do I ever laugh at you, Y/n?”

“All the time.” With that, you started playing. You gave Rodrick a nervous glance before clearing your throat and singing.

“Have you ever had the feeling you’re drawn to someone?

And there isn’t anything they could of said or done?

And everyday I see you on your own

And I can’t believe that you’re alone

But I overheard your friends and this is what they said”

Looking over at Rodrick, you saw him intently listening. Any other time, you’d be prideful of the fact that all his attention was on you. But right now, it made you wanna run. But you stayed planted in your seat and continued with the song.

“That you’re looking for a boyfriend

I see that, gimme time, you know I’m gonna be there

Don’t be scared to come put your trust in me

Can’t you see all I really want to be

Is your boyfriend

Can’t fight that

Knock me down you know I’m coming right back

I don’t care at all what you done before

All I really want is to be your

Boyfriend”

You let the last chord ring out before you set your guitar down and cleared your throat.

“So, yeah…” Rodrick kept staring at you. “That’s… the song.”

Rodrick scooted closer to you, and you lifted your head to face him eye-to-eye.

“Did you write that about me?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You bit your lip, watching how his hair fell from the movement.

“Depends.” You say, taking a deep breath. “Did you like it?”

Suddenly, Rodrick laughed. It made you stiffen, but you soon relaxed when he put a hand on the back of your neck.

“You’re so corny, dude.” He said before closing the gap between you. 

After the shock washed away, you gripped at his hair and ratty t-shirt, wanting to keep him close. You had come close to kissing Rodrick a few times, mainly while drunk at parties that you shouldn’t have been at or during writing sessions that eventually got interrupted by Rodrick’s younger brother Greg. But those close moments didn’t prepare you for how good the real thing felt.

When you parted, you rested your forehead on Rodrick’s as the two of you caught your breath. You opened your eyes and moved back a bit so you could see him clearly.

“So…” You start, not knowing what to do from here. “Are you looking for a boyfriend?”

“Sure.” Rodrick snorted before kissing you again.

[loveandmurders]

Not sure if this is where requests go, don't do it often, but would love a part 2 for Ya ain't love me, Bo needs some lovin 💗

No rush or anything,just thought I'd ask

Hello love, thank you so much for having requested another part for this <3 In the end I wrote quite a bit and there will be 4 parts in total.

Hope you'll enjoy &lt;3

You can find part 1 here.

YA AIN'T LOVE ME YET - PART II (female reader x Bo Sinclair)

Warnings: no proof reading, obsessive!Bo, mentions of murders and violence, non consensual relationship (no sexual abuse), angst.

It was the first time in weeks you had been able to sleep without being tied up and you enjoyed freely moving around in the bed, even if Bo’s arm stayed wrapped around you the whole time. The man had fallen asleep with a little smile on his face. He was happy you were finally playing into his game and you were finally giving him a chance. He knew that if he was good enough you would forget about your dead ex boyfriend and about running away from him. He was certain everything was going to be alright from now on. It had to be or he would fully lose it.

At the same time, he knew he would need to agree on some rules with you so he could trust you. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe you weren’t going to try and escape at the first occasion. And it would kill him. He wasn’t certain he deserved love and happiness, because of the monster he truly was, but he still needed it more than anything. 

He snuggled against you, his face into the crook of your neck. Your scent was appeasing him so much. He woke up before you and watched you in his arms. You almost looked at peace too, and it was only making him hope even more. He thought how beautiful you were, such an angel in his embrace, and he started to play with your hair. He could have stayed like that forever. Actually, if you had wanted, he would have happily agreed to stay in bed all day with you. He couldn’t stop himself from quietly kissing your face. He was trying his best to be soft and tender. He wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t just a broken and angry man. He would do anything you would want from him, as long as you didn’t try to run away from him. You didn’t know you were his, and you didn’t realise it yet, but he was yours as well. It was scaring him a little, but there was nothing he could do to fight off the infatuation he felt for you.

You started to stir up, and for a moment, it felt like you were back in your previous life with your previous boyfriend. But you didn’t recognise his scent nor his touch. You fully remembered what was happening when you heard Bo’s voice whispering a gentle “goo’mornin’” against your cheek.

You hated his touch so much, but you knew you needed to be smart, so you didn’t push him away. And when he tilted your head for a kiss, you didn’t jerk away. You even answered the kiss back, which made him smile against your lips. He seemed rested and relaxed, like you had never seen him before. And you hated it too. You didn’t want to give him what he wanted, but it was your only chance to escape. You needed him to fully let his guards down. He stroked your cheek and you kissed his palm, like you used to do with the man you loved. It was easy to reproduce those gestures you knew by heart; it was simply making you want to throw up. Bo’s smile widened and his eyes lit up.

“Cuddly in the mornin’, ain’t we?” he commented and his words stabbed you in the chest because your now dead boyfriend used to call you a “cuddly kitten” when you were loving on him in the morning. You simply shrugged. “We need to agree on some rules” Bo continued as he settled on his back and brought you against his chest.

“What rules?” you asked with a raised eyebrow as you moved your hand on his torso

“Simple ones. One: for the moment, ya ain’t leavin’ the house, except if ya’re with me. Two: ya ain’t tryin’ to get people to “save” ya and ya ain’t tryin’ to run away. Three: ya start talkin’ to me.” he said.

“I start talking to you? What about?” you hummed, confused by the last rule.

“‘Bout what ya wanna from me to be a good boyfriend to ya” he explained without looking at you. It seemed it was embarrassing him to be so straightforward about his own desires and needs, but he wanted things to work out. He was certain you were the love of his life, so he couldn’t screw this up. You wanted to tell him that a “good boyfriend” wouldn’t kill people, but you knew he wouldn’t like those words so you stayed silent instead, which made him sighed. You looked up at him and he cupped your face in one hand. “It starts now” he hummed with a little frown. It was obvious Bo didn’t like being disobeyed, even by you, so you nodded.

“What am I allowed to do in the house?” you asked

“Anythin’ ya wanna. Just don’t go into the basement. It’s Vinny’s place, ya know it. Otherwise, ya can even redecorate the whole place if it can cheer ya up” he said as he leaned to brush your noses together “I’d like to see your smile again” he confessed and you had to admit it surprised you

“How so?” you heard yourself say

“When ya arrived, ya were a ray of sunshine, always laughin’ and smilin’. Just miss it” he murmured

“You killed my people” you coldly replied, before you could stop yourself, and you tried to get up but Bo was stronger than you. He forced you against his chest as he hummed in thought.

“Shouldn’t ya be happy I saved ya then?” he replied, he sounded a little bit annoyed now, but it was because he had hoped for another answer from you, he had hoped you would have seen how much he wanted you to be happy by his side.

“You could have let all of us go” you said back

“Nah, couldn’t do that; I need ya here” he kissed the top of your head

“That’s why you killed him” you murmured, your throat tight like always when you were thinking about your boyfriend. You wanted to cry, but you couldn’t do that in the arms of the man who murdered him.

“He wasn’t good enough for ya anyway. I mean he didn’t notice when I kidnapped ya, and he wasn’t strong enough to protect ya.” Bo defended his action, tightening his hold on you. He wasn’t too happy to talk about your ex boyfriend. He wanted to pretend he had never existed.

“Oh and you are strong enough to protect me?” you asked, trying not to sound too bitter or harsh but Bo heard it

“I’m a killer, baby. The safest place’s by my side.” he groaned and you let escape such a broken and sad laughter that it felt like a dagger piercing through his heart. It wasn’t the laughter he had needed to hear more than anything. His rising anger instantly died down in his chest to be replaced by pure sadness. He forced a kiss on your mouth to make you stop. You didn’t have the strength to answer it but you didn’t try to break it either.

“I’m scared of you. You killed the people I loved, with the help of your family. You are forcing me to stay in your house. You even kept me tied up in your bed for weeks. And I should believe that I’m safe with you?” you asked

“Ya are. Ya just ain’t seein’ it yet” Bo simply replied. “I promise ya, baby. Ya’re safe here, and I’ll make ya happy. One day, ya’ll even forget that any of those people ever existed, especially that man you used to kiss. Now all your kisses are mine, and only mine.” he possessively whispered to you.

But not my smile. You thought.

Bo finally got up and went to work. After last night and the way he had been able to cuddle with you in the morning, he had believed that things would go more smoothly with you but it wasn’t fully the case yet. At least you were letting him kiss, hell you were even answering his kisses. And you weren’t going to run away anymore for the moment. He was certain things were finally getting better, even if he still needed to be patient with you.

You freely wandered into the house, and Vincent checked on you a few times. Bo told him about the new rules, so the masked twin didn’t try to stop you from walking around. You fully discovered the place and you wondered how the boys could live in a house that seemed so out of time. Everything was so old, and some rooms were really dirty. At first, you told yourself it wasn’t your job to take care of a house that wasn’t even yours. But in the end, you just couldn’t stand not doing anything about it. You were bored out of your mind and you thought that cleaning up might help you feel better, and make this house more bearable for you. You started with the kitchen because there was no way you would keep eating food coming from somewhere that wasn’t completely cleaned. Vincent was a little bit surprised to see you doing the dishes and then sanitising every surface of the room, but he didn’t complain.

At the end of the day, you had done the kitchen and the living room. It felt like the house was all new and a lot more liveful. When Bo entered the house, with Lester, they both stopped in their tracks in surprise. They looked around, shocked. You heard the front door so you quickly joined them in the entrance.

“New rules guys, you remove your fucking shoes from my cleaned up floor” you pointed at their boots and they both looked at you in pure bewilderment. Bo felt warmth spreading inside his chest at the idea of you taking possession of his house so he quickly obeyed and he elbowed his kid brother for him to do the same.

You went back into the kitchen, satisfied with them.

You were so tired that day that you fell asleep in Bo’s arms without a fight and Bo rested with a smile on his lips. He would have enjoyed some cuddles, but he liked how he didn’t need to force you to rest against him.

You spent the whole week cleaning up the house. You decluttered it and you often asked for help from Vincent when you needed to move a piece of furniture around or when you wanted him to agree for you to throw away something that had been rotting for decades in a drawer. The boys truly enjoyed it, and it allowed you to stop thinking about the mess you were in. You also started to enjoy the place a lot more now and you knew it like the back of your hand, which could help when it would be time to escape. Plus, you were too tired at night to even have to cuddle with Bo, so it was really a win-win situation, even if a part of yourself was truly hating you were playing the angel of the house for them. At least, you weren’t making food; Bo was always the one making it and it was better than you wanted to admit it.

The three brothers praised you for your hard word, and you were a little bit surprised by how genuine they sounded. It was true that every time you asked Vincent’s help, he had always let go of whatever he was doing downstairs, to come to you (you were knocking at his basement door when you needed something, so you didn’t have to go down). Bo couldn’t stop himself from kissing your cheeks and shoulders. He loved how domestic it felt to be in a house you were making yours. Lester enjoyed how calm the twins seemed now you were around. Bo hadn’t yelled in so long; his whole attention was on you and his mind was solely focused on making you happy, so his anger was quietening down. He didn’t want you to see him like a violent man anymore either, so he was careful.

With the house all cleaned up, Bo took a day off work so he could spend it with you. He wanted to “reward” you. Truth to be told, you would have much preferred for him to go to work. The man was the clingiest, and he kept you in his arms all day, kissing and cuddling with you. You let him do without a fight, trying your best to not enjoy the constant attention.

You didn’t want to admit it, but if Bo hadn’t killed your people and if you hadn’t met him the way you did… You might have seen him as boyfriend material. You had often pouted at your ex because he wasn’t indulging you in a day full of cuddles, even when you were asking for it. And you were often arguing because you wanted more of his attention. Deep down, you had wanted someone to be a little bit obsessed with you and to see you like a divinity. You had never found this in anyone, and you had tried to convince yourself it was because only toxic love could give you this. At the same time, you hated that you were finding qualities in Bo’s behaviour towards you, and flaws in your ex boyfriend’s.

However one thing didn’t change: your ex was capable of making you laugh and smile. Bo couldn’t. And it was killing him, like a poison burning inside of his veins.

Each night, he was asking himself what he could have done better that day, so you would have smiled at him, even for a few seconds. He never found the answer, and it seemed like he couldn’t make you obey the third rule. He promised himself he would need to find a way. He was certain that the moment you would relax and laugh around him, you would realise you were meant to be.

--

PART III

--

Taglist: @lacychick ; @adalwolfgang ; @hollabackgrl ; @number1120 ; @the-number7 ; @hisokas-cardz ; @iwantsleepplz

[clare-with-no-i]

theogony part 1 behind the scenes

**SPOILERS ahead for theogony and mild spoilers for Outlander!**

this is just going to be a long infodump of all of the things I pondered while writing theog (specifically part 1, part 2 will come later) but never talked about! I'll try to go chapter by chapter, and maybe I'll end up adding more later on, but for now I just think it'd be fun to chitchat and reminisce on some of my favorite tidbits. this story is really my baby idk :")

Prologue - Alalá

one thing that I wanted to establish in the prologue, other than the obvious James-Sirius dynamic, is the presence of otherworldly or spiritual premonitions in this universe. it was always important to me that the first person who actually made any sort of prophetic declaration was James.

so much of the story relies on Lily's status as an oracle, but this little tidbit here helped build the world for me so much; we can't be sure if James's various dreams and premonitions are wishful thinking, or really the Gods speaking to him, or something else entirely. of course, this story deals with time travel, so there's an inherent supernatural element. but Lily and James's conflicting – and sometimes competing – conceptions of God felt like such a necessary tension for me to explore. it was such an incredible shorthand for the tension between modern and ancient sensibilities. and we never get a definitive answer to those looming questions, which I knew I wanted to do from the outset. did the Gods bring Lily back to the past? did James? did she do it herself? does God/the Gods even exist?

also: there are probably moments where I failed to do this, but I tried to capitalize Gods in all of the James chapters but not in Lily's, unless she was referring to the Abrahamic Capital G God. that is, until the last chapter, which I'll elaborate upon later :)

also: i wrote the prologue first, then the epilogue, and then i posted the prologue pretty immediately after. I had the entire story roughly outlined but I absolutely jumped the gun when it came to posting the prologue LMAO I didn't even really announce the story, I just joked about writing it and then posted the prologue, which you can see from the beginning note. i remember Suze was about to go to sleep and she started messaging me like wtf Clare what do you MEAN?

and the rest was history (pun completely intended)!

Chapter One: Ouroboros

the narrative brushes past the other statues in this section pretty quickly, but I always imagined that the first bust is Philoctetes, James's father. I think the consensus on this one tends to oscillate between Philoctetes and Aristides, which is another great interpretation.

The reason I wrote it this way and imagined it to be Philoctetes is because I thought it would have been nice to let Lily 'meet' James's father (in a sense), even before she 'meets' him. when I read this chapter back after I first finished the story, I had a very soft moment where I close-read my own fic (lol) and thought that maybe it was Philoctetes who sent Lily back to the past. maybe he sensed something about her and knew she'd be right for James and for antiquity.

sooo many people forgot about this! which i was hoping for!!!!! I was hoping everyone would forget about James's statue holding something until the Big Reveal. fun fact is I wrote the reveal right after this. I liked the idea that, no, he was never going to actually be holding anything. he'd be reaching for Lily. the choice to accept his hand was always going to be hers.

a fun fact about this chapter is that I had to pull from a bit more Outlander lore than I originally thought. and no I don't mean the 'Jesus H Roosevelt Christ' part lol. It was always hilarious to me how Outlander set up Claire to be the objectively perfect person to go back in time. she was a combat nurse who happened to develop an interest in medicinal botany and Scottish-English history. she also happened to spend her formative years with her adventurous archaeologist uncle after her only living relatives died. like girl. lol.

so I had to really toss up which traits I thought it would be appropriate for Lily to have as she traveled back in time. the biggest one, obviously, is her field of study, which was necessary given the language barrier and the completely foreign nature of social norms in Classical Athens. I toyed around with the idea of making her mum a nurse so as to give her some base medical knowledge, but that felt a) unnecessary given the circumstances of the story, and b) far-fetched that she would have gleaned enough transferable skills to apply in 479 BCE.

it was also fun to give her more reason to go back to the future; she has a sister who, while they aren't in contact, is a significant emotional attachment; she has academic goals; she has a best friend (however toxic we know him to be). it added a layer of conflict that I enjoyed playing up, even if I definitely could have explored her modern life more fully.

Chapter Two: Kinesis

soooo much exposition and worldbuilding in this chapter. oml. it was so much fun to play around with the reasons why James would be in Tatoi in the first place; I can't remember quite how I landed on the Persian auxiliary soldier thing, it might have been from my initial (admittedly extensive) research on the months leading up to Plataea; it may have just been the fact that I KID YOU NOT this story used to take up all of my fucking brainspace. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'd be doing work for my research fellowship and just daydream about theogony. the initial idea came to me AS A JOKE!!!!! when i was idly pondering before going to sleep (as one does), and then it just wouldn't leave me alone. i kept imagining what it might look like. I thought about how the time travel might work. I thought about James's Greek equivalent. I ranted to my sister and her dog (he did not care) about what the statue might look like and mean (sorry bestie love u).

one narrative decision that has given me a bit of strife was the Dimitrios-James name change. I've had a number of people ask me if I'd ever try to pubilsh theog – and this is one of the (many) reasons why that would be pretty categorically impossible. using James's English name in his internal narration, instead of the name I give him as a Greek man, is something that only translates to fic. it makes pretty much no sense at all if you consider these original characters lol.

honestly putting the word 'practicum' in here caused me SO much pain. in James's chapters I tried really hard to use words which had Greek roots and not Latin roots, even if they're in modern English today. in most of his chapters, I'd try and find synonyms for big/complex words so I could use ones that came from Greek. it just helped me stick to his narrative voice a bit more.

I forgot how much STUFF went on in this chapter. oh my god SO much happens?? we get the lack of the Parthenon as the time marker (felt very clever doing that), Lily processing the fact that she's time traveled (lazy writing on my part to not have this happen in a Lily POV chapter but I'll take that on the chin), the Plataea reveal. OML. tired just thinking about it. lily sweetie i am so sorry

guys, the amount of time I spent wondering if I should Greek-ify Sirius's name is insane. For so long I thought about making him Seirios, which is the original Greek version of Sirius. But I felt like I had already messed with their names too much, and so I left it. but honestly I'm still torn. looking back, maybe it would have been the right move to make him Seirios and have Lily give him the name Sirius, but I guess we'll never know!

one of my favorite Sirius moments, and something that, essentially, sets up the rest of the story. but I wanted there to be a little ambiguity throughout the story about how much of this Sirius actually believes.

we know that James has just confessed to Sirius and Pétros that he was hoping they'd desert the Athenian army. we know that he thinks he's going to die, and he's adopted this sort of fatalist view of his future. and then here you have Sirius, who could never abide such a thing, pretty much leaning into the idea that Lily can tell the future – which would allow him to challenge James's prediction. I always wanted to leave it up to interpretation, and I know it comes up in later chapters (at the komos especially), Sirius's skepticism about Lily's origins. but it's such a fun question to ask: does he really believe that she's the Oracle that James prayed for, or does he just need that to be true so he can try and influence the future himself?

Chapter Three: Peribolos

omg. lol. the chapter three opening academic argument scene. this is a favorite of mine, and something I had so much fun writing. it's actually based on an argument/"spirited discussion" I had with my dad a few years ago about moral absolutism versus moral relativism which forced me to interrogate and expand my knowledge on the subject. I thought it was such a fun way to get into Lily's politics and her character without doing crazy exposition in the ancient world.

it also touches upon one of the touchstone themes of the story: that to study something is, in a way, to detach yourself from it. academia is routintely completely disconnected from its subject matter, and it creates this weird disdain for lived experience versus book knowledge. Lily has spent upwards of ten years studying (in some capacity) the ancient world, but she is so utterly out of her depth when she experiences it herself. as such, she espouses these very revolutionary politics when examining historical conflicts, but she has a blindness to what the real-world realities may have been for the people living in those conditions at the time.

alsooooo, The Return of Martin Guerre is one of my favorite books I read in college, and the easter egg here is that it's about a person of dubious origin entering a community and the politics of how the community might accept or reject them. ha ha!

^^based on something I said in an argument with a Poli Sci major in college and I have to say one of my better moments. was an absolute haymaker. this was very 'author gives main character a zinger' of me and I will not be ashamed of it

this! ladies and gentlemen! this was basically a declaration of love!!!! to be loved is to be remembered!!!

in a very romantic way, the study of history can be such an act of love to those who lived before us. i just adore the idea that, even before Lily developed real romantic feelings for James, she had this itching sort of feeling; AKA, when someone has made such an impression on you, and you know (or in her case, you think) that you'll be leaving them at some point, and you just want to be interesting enough, be impressive enough, that they remember you, that they think of you randomly as time goes on. that is such a giddy hallmark feeling of having a crush, in my book. I liken it to making eye contact with someone or having a brief conversation on a night out, maybe at 3am on your way back from a bar when things are sleepy and dizzy, and you just have this sense that you're being seen in that moment as anyone you want to be. i love this moment so much I feel like I could give it its own meta LMAO

Chapter Four: Hamartia

this chapter really put the pedal to to the metal lol. at the time of writing the story, I generally didn't (and still don't) love fake dating that much as a trope; I don't typically love plotlines predicated on (even harmless) deceptions, it's just a sensitivity of mine that I don't expect anyone to relate to or share. but when I was considering how to structure theog, it just made so much sense for James and Lily's arcs to have them get 'married.' there was no way that Lily was going to be able to navigate Classical Athens as an unsupervised woman alone, and even with the Oracle title offering her some protection, there was nothing really tying her to James. much like Outlander, it really did feel like the last possible resort, which softened me to the idea of using the trope.

fun fact, i got a snarky comment a few months ago complaining that i was trying to pass the story off as historically accurate (lol to the fifteen disclaimers I embedded throughout which addressed that) and one thing they took issue with was that lily wouldn't have been able to own property and the only thing that would have kept her from being a slave would have been marriage.

which! yknow! none of which contradict the story! but anyway I digress.

I was initially nervous about how early on the fake marriage happens; we don't really know the characters that well yet, we're not sure who James is as a potential partner to Lily, or how Lily's feelings for him are starting to bump up against her very rightful and justified desire to get the hell out of dodge. but – we only really see James in canon as a husband and as the father to the main character, so it felt pretty true to the source material to throw him into being a husband pretty early.

I loved writing this scene with Aristides. I've always been partial to his appearances throughout the story, and this one is just so special to me. I think of him as a driving force in humanizing the ancient world in theog, sometimes even more so than the main cast of characters. to elaborate a bit on that: with the Marauders and Lily and the other transplanted HP characters, I think there's this inherent sense that they are already fleshed out people (to some degree) even before they hit the page of the story, because they appear in canon and across Marauder fic verses. no matter how much I make James into Dimitrios and Peter into Pétros and Fleamont into Philoctetes, people know them and love them outside of theogony verse. but not Aristides. he doesn't have a one-to-one HP character. there is some version of him that really existed in 479 BCE (my complex and largely negative feelings on RPF are setting off alarms at this but we proceed) and that's it.

it would have been easy to just give him this very gruff and surly character, to make him a military general who didn't care about anything other than the war. I think that's how we conceptualize historical people sometimes, often without meaning to. but he was a person, and he had likes and dislikes, he probably had a family and maybe he'd fallen in love, and it was such an honor to give him such dimension. not to say that I'm putting that personality upon the actual historical person; but just to really take my time with a character outside of the Marauder canon. in this scene he has this human moment where he reminds James that, yes, love is a worthy pursuit, even to those in positions of incredible power. even when the discussion isn't about romantic love but about James's love for his closest friends. it's this permission that James didn't even know he was seeking but ultimately that changes the course of his and Lily's lives. Aristides is who James might become, in many ways. in the actual Plataea chapter this becomes more and more prevalent. (more on this later!)

overall, I am forever hoping that people come out of reading this story with an appreciation for the humanity of those that came before us. I did a poor job with other characters in this story, and I own that, but I'm proud of how I wrote Aristides.

oh my godddddd I fucking love this part. i am so fucking proud of it. LMAO. achieving wordplay in an ancient language that i have never studied should be on my fucking CV I swear. like this was just perfect I'm sorry I am BUZZING that I pulled this off.

also, a cute way to introduce a phrase to the narrative which will become very important: se filo!

I remember that I wrote this passage, which many people commented on and which I loved writing, in a coffee shop on a sunny day when my cousin was visiting me to introduce me to his girlfriend. there wasn't any wifi in the coffee shop so I was blessedly devoid of distractions and could only focus on the doc, and i was LOCKED IN let me tell you.

when my cousin and his girlfriend arrived I told them I was sending an important email and edited the last sentence of that paragraph about four different times while they sat in silence and waited for me to finish LMAOOO

Chapter Five: Ascesis

a profoundly insane moment in my personal history was reading excerpts from Eudemian Ethics, Nichomachean Ethics, and Memorabilia just to passively mention them in a flashback in a fic. relied heavily on Foucault for this, I will be so honest. why did i do that tho. like girl take a breath...

but in all seriousness this was just a joy to write. i miss being a history student and having these discussions – law school is great, but history classes will forever hold my heart ngl! also, this passage is in some ways an homage to my grandfather, who is one of my favorite people ever. he taught himself Classical Greek and Latin when he was in his 20s, before he went to medical school (and get his pilot's license for fun, he's seriously the most interesting guy alive). he gifted me his leatherbound Great Books printings of Aristotle's works and of the Iliad and the Odyssey shortly after I started theogony, and I cherish them so much. he spurred my interest in ancient greece when i was young. so this is for him :)

one of the hardest things for me to articulate (and maybe something I could have done better) was the war and the balance between James's inherent goodness and his growing feelings for Lily. i wanted her to have plausible reason to think that he doesn't at all feel romantically towards her, even as she's growing to admire him more and more. I hoped, as I wrote the story, that these little interactions where the reader clues into his feelings (this protective 'peninsula' moment being one of them) still walked that line. as in, i wanted lily to reasonably believe that he's just that good of a guy that he would take issue with anyone being taken advantage of, not just her. she's so destabilized in this moment as well, I think that worked to my advantage. or I hoped it did LOL.

from what I remember of writing this chapter, it just came really quickly and naturally. much more than the later ones. this early period of writing was just an outpouring of the ABSOLUTE BRAINROT I was going through after conjuring up the idea for the story. it just flew. the ending scene where they have their little almost-moment was probably about an hour's worth of writing. it's like I couldn't type fast enough to keep up with my thoughts. not sure i've experienced that since!

also, the now, here, alive line reappears in the last chapter, which is one of my favorite callbacks:

:) :) :)

Chapter Six: Kleos

one thing I used to worry about CONSTANTLY is that I was losing the classic (and necessary!) Marauder goofiness to the more somber setting. so it was a jaunt and a boon to write scenes like the opening one here, where it honestly could be copy-pasted into the Gryffindor Common Room and it'd look a lot like my canon stories.

he's just a dude being hungover and embarrassed about the previous night with his bros!

the first time we get a hint of Pétros disappearing to dubious locations!

this chapter was one of the most research-heavy. it was a new setting, filled with new characters, and predicated entirely upon planning the Greek front at Plataea. so if I couldn't nail that down (at least to some degree), I was going to have trouble. of course I took liberties, but I spent a lot longer combing through sources for this chapter than some other ones, I'll tell you that for free. it took ages to find any treatises on ancient athenian sword combat, sigh.

yeah I mean i remember thinking that the subtitle for this chapter could have been 'I am going to create an environment that is so toxically masculine' because that's pretty much the whole vibe. James is not immune to that, either, and that was intentional. he feeds off of the violence and the anger of the men surrounding him, and he exhibits some behaviors in this chapter (rushing off to kill Anaxagoras after he grabs Lily's arm, for instance) which are not ideal! but I do think that there's meaningful conversation to be had about Lily's cultural assimilation into an ancient, misogynistic society, and how there was absolutely no way I was going to get out of this story without giving James some sort of period-typical attitude. now again, I took the liberties I deem necessary, because I have no desire to make my main romantic lead into an asshole. that's not my James Potter. not that that's news [gets taken out by a sniper]

i got CLOWNEDDD for referring to this dude as Dion son of Dion but idk what to tell you!! that's how the old documents referred to him!!! i didn't make that shit up I swear to god!!!!

also - that's the actual text of the Oath of Plataea, except (as Lily points out) it should read Athena Areia. is it likey that she'd remember this off the dome? no. is it possible that she just recognized the missing descriptor from context clues? yes. did i care enough to explain this either way? no, no i did not.

the Big Ticket Item of this chapter, though, is the oh.

and it wasn't just an oh, it was an oh followed by this innocuous conclusion that isn't even about Lily. i made myself laugh so hard with that. he's just like 'oh god my friend is going to wave this over my head FOREVER' and you know what? he's right!

as for the previous paragraph in that passage, I pulled a bit of a bait and switch, but not as badly as you might think! it was a risk to even bring up the idea that James could leave Athens, because I know it spurred some people into thinking that he'd go to the future with Lily (sorry babies that was not on the table). but what I intended for this passage (however successful it may or may not have been) was to just…allow him a moment of real, visceral empathy for the sensation of displacement that Lily's experiencing, and as well, introduce the idea that he might leave the life he's cultivated in Athens. his entire upbringing has been himself, the consummate Athenian man, surrounding himself with people from outside of Athens and drawing from their experiences, but never venturing outside of his little realm. in so many ways, the story questions what Lily's relationship with 'home' is (especially later on), but it always felt necessary to me to reckon with how 'home' may change for James as well.

finally:

yeah honestly i just remember the exact moment i thought of this passage. i had been reading the secret history (shoutout Donna Tartt i idolize and fear you) and i was lying down in my local park in the summer. I just thought about the Greek myths I knew, and the kind of cosmic horror that it is to really admit you're falling in love with someone, that they have this power over you that you didn't anticipate. and that closing line of the scene really struck me out of nowhere – I wrote it down in my notebook and just stared at it for a good few minutes. it's still one of my favs of the story :)

ok! if you made it this far, you are just amazing. this has to be a few thousand words at least. TYSM!!!!

see you all later for the part 2 BTS ❤️

[eternalsams]

Hello I really like your work!

Could I maybe make a request about the reader having anxiety and Fanboy dropping everything to go comfort the reader (who they’ve both secretly had a thing for each other) lots of fluff! Lol

OMG yes this is so cute!! Sorry it took so long, you probably don't even remember sending me this ask, but I have not forgotten!

Call me ⇴ M.Garcia

pairing: Mickey Garcia x gn!reader

summary: when things get rough, you know exactly who you have to call.

content/warnings: anxiety, panic attack, fluff, final exams (that should be a proper warning)

word count: 1.3k

a/n: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration.

masterlist

You smiled at the picture on your phone, Mickey's smile illuminating the screen. He'd sent you a text just before leaving the locker room and joining his friends up in the sky. His goofy face always managed to stretch a smile onto your lips. You sent him an emoji blowing a kiss even though you knew he would only see it in a few hours when he'll be back on the ground. You put down your phone on your desk face down and looked back at your laptop, your smile fading quickly. You needed to study.

You managed to learn a good part of your subject before you heard your phone vibrate. You looked at the window and saw that the sun was now high in the sky. You sighed and answered your best friend. "Hey, Mickey!" You smiled, happy to get this break in your study session. "Hey! Did you see the picture I sent you?" He immediately asked. You chuckled and rubbed your forehead. "Yes, Mickey, I saw it. I even texted you back, didn't you see?" You could hear men voices behind him and figured out he was still in the locker room. The sound of his voice became a bit more distant, surely from the fact he put down his phone to change clothes. "Nah, sorry. I didn't check my messages, I immediately called you when we were dismissed." Wolf whistles were heard on the other end but Mickey was quick to make them stop with an insult.

You could hear him shuffle and then his voice got really close to the phone, as if he removed the speaker. "How's studying?" He asked, his tone way calmer now. You sighed and leaned back in your chair. "Boring." He chuckled and you heard him close his locker. "Yeah, I figured. Do you want me to come over and clear your mind?" You looked back at your laptop and scooted closer to it. "Nah, I'm good. I'm gonna study some more, I'll let you know if I need anything." He didn't say anything but you didn't need him to, you already knew how he felt about how hard you were on yourself about those exams. "I'm fine, Mickey. I hope you had fun today." You told him before he could even scold you. You heard him slightly sigh and could almost hear the smile stretching his lips as he answered you. "Take care, I love you." You smiled and made a kissing sound right to the phone. "Love you too, Fanboy." He groaned at the callsign. "Don't call me that!" You laughed some more before hanging up and turning off the sound on your phone. You put it back down and focused on your laptop.

Reading again and again the same words until they were engraved in your brain. You only took a quick pause to make yourself a tea to drink as you read the same words all over again. You didn't even notice the sun starting to go down until your stomach asked for food. You leaned back in your chair to stretch your muscles and glanced at the window, your eyes widening as you notice how late it must already be. You checked your phone and was horrified to see it was already 5 in the afternoon. You had barely done anything of your day and the final exams were coming soon. "No, no, no..." You closed your lesson and opened another one, if you couldn't learn everything by heart, you at least wanted to know the basics of each of them.

Your heart started beating faster as you read the lesson you wrote months ago in class. Why didn't you study sooner? Breathing through your nose turned out to be quite difficult as your lungs asked for more and more oxygen. Your hands started trembling as you tried to go through your lesson. You shook them firmly to get rid of the tremble but nothing seemed to help you at the moment. Tears blurred your sight and burned your eyes but you couldn't allow yourself to take the time to properly cry when those exams would determine if you can get a job or not. So you simply let the tears roll down your cheeks as you tried to read your lesson, holding your shaking hands and breathing heavily through your mouth. The first sob broke through your focus and you felt your chest clenching, squeezing your heart in your ribcage and feeling like you might die from suffocation. You brought a hand to your chest and whined in pain. You didn't know what was happening but you knew what to do.

You tentatively grabbed your phone and Mickey's warm smile greeted you on your lock screen. You searched for his contact and immediately put on the speaker, not trusting your hand to hold the phone during the call. It rang one. Two. Three times. "Hello?" His voice warmed your heart. You could hear voices behind him and music, sign that he was at the Hard Deck with his friends "Mickey?" Your shaking voice must have alarmed him cause you heard him excuse himself to his friends and the music faded behind him. "What's wrong?" He sounded so serious. "I..I don't know what's happening... I can't... I can't breathe." You quietly sobbed. "I'm on my way, don't move and try to slow your breathing." You tried to protest but he had already hung up on you. Your phone turned off automatically and you were once again alone with the bloody laptop.

Not even twenty minutes later, you heard your front door open after Mickey used the spare key you gave him a few months ago. He ran to you and wrapped you in his arms as you cried some more, feeling safer than ever against him. He rocked you against his chest, stroking comfortably your hair and murmuring sweet nothings to calm you down. You both let yourselves fall on the floor but he never let you go, holding you close to him. "It's okay, you're okay. Breathe with me, Angel." He took a big breath through his nose and waited for you to do the same. He then Breathed out through his mouth, watching attentively as you did the same, your exhale way shakier than his. "You're okay, you're with me." He kept rocking you until you completely calmed down. More tears rolled down your cheeks to soak Mickey's shirt but he really couldn't care less.

It felt like forever until you were both laying on the floor of your apartment, your gaze glued to the ceiling as his eyes couldn't leave your face. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked, almost in a whisper not to startle you. You swallowed and turned to him completely, resting your weight on your hip. "The exams. I'm so scared I'm gonna fail." Mickey immediately sighed at your answer and new teras threatened to spill but he quickly turned his body to you and gently grabbed your face to wipe your tears. "You're too hard on yourself, Angel." You pursed your lips and looked away as he scooted closer to you, opening his arms for you to snuggle in close. You quietly cried against his chest as he stroked your back soothingly. "Angel?" He called, stopping his movements on your back. "Hmm?" You answer, staying snuggled in his shirt. "Look at me, please." You leaned back and looked up at him, meeting his brown eyes. He softly smiled and closed the distance between you two, pressing a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips. Your eyes widened and you felt your face heat up as he looked back into yours eyes. "You're gonna nail it, I'm sure. You're the smartest person I know, no exam should scare you." He then kissed your forehead and tenderly tucked his chin on top of your head.

[sooverwhitesandpinks]

Bejeweled

Ceo!Harry Styles x Gf!Reader

Inspired by Bejeweled by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: angst?, fluff at the end, alcohol consumption, i think that's all. i did proofread, just not carefully.

Word Count: 2.1K

guess who finally wrote something! sorry for the months long writer's block, hope you enjoy.

Your phone lit up where you left it on the coffee table in front of you. Keeping your thumb between the open pages of your book, you reached for the device, hoping it was a text from your boyfriend.

You couldn't help but feel disappointed when you realized it was a message from your good friend, Hannah. You weren't disappointed because of Hannah, you were upset that today was becoming another one of those days without a word from Harry.

You knew being the CEO of a major company was a lot of time and dedication, but it had been months of only seeing Harry briefly in the morning and for an hour or so before bed.

As much as you loved him, you weren't getting any of that love or attention back.

'Anya, Erin, and I are going out tonight, you should join us. We haven't seen you in forever!!!'

Hannah's message stared back at you.

She was right. You hadn't been out in forever, and it's not like Harry would miss you tonight. You two were practically coexisting at this point. You stayed cooped up in this massive penthouse, Harry spent his days in his office or at business meetings and dinners. His weekends were taken up by work or trips related to the company.

Still, did you want to go out? You wouldn't mind getting ready for something other than the grocery store.

You decided you would give Harry a chance before answering Hannah. You pressed a few buttons on your phone before bringing it to your ear.

"Hello?" Harry answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey! How's your day going?" You replied, happy to hear his voice.

"It's fine so far-" You heard him shuffle around before giving someone an instruction. "Look honey, is this important? Because I've got a lot going on and my next meeting starts in a few minutes."

"Oh," you paused for a moment. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight? We haven't really seen each other the past couple months."

"I've got a business dinner tonight, but feel free to order in whatever you want. You know I don't mind. Was that all?" He asked.

You took a second before answering. It was one thing to practically ignore you, but it was another to make you feel unimportant. You remember when Harry made you feel like a priority, and now your relationship had been reduced to a 'good morning' and a 'goodnight'.

"Yeah, that's all," you shook your head, a sad smile tugging at your lips.

"Alright, I'll see you this evening," Harry said.

"I wouldn't count on it. I'm going out, don't wait up," you told him before hanging up.

'I miss you guys and I definitely need a night out! Where and when should I meet you?' You texted Hannah back.

5 hours later, you stood in front of the full length mirror in your closet, running your hands down the vintage Versace mini dress you picked out for some event of Harry's but never ended up wearing.

You felt good, great even. You took a long, relaxing shower. You had a glass of wine while you did your makeup and put every hair in place. It had been so long since you put time into yourself like this, you'd forgotten what it felt like to sparkle.

You grabbed a small handbag and walked out of the large closet. As you made your way out of your bedroom and down the hall, you heard the familiar sound of Harry's keys hitting the small table by the door.

With a smirk, you stepped around the corner and into view. You pretended to hardly notice Harry's presence as you grabbed your phone off of the couch and texted Hannah that you would be leaving in a few minutes.

You heard Harry's footsteps halt as he saw you. You waited a moment before looking up at him. You glanced down at the time on your phone.

"It's only 8:15, I thought you'd be at dinner," you said nonchalantly, slipping your phone into your purse.

"I moved it up a few hours so I could get home earlier," he answered, shrugging off his suit jacket.

"Ahh," you nodded, starting to walk past him and toward the door. He gently grabbed your arm and you let him, looking up at him expectantly.

"You're still going out?" He asked, brows furrowed. For just a second, you felt bad about leaving. Then you remembered how easily he dismissed you earlier on the phone, and how easily he's dismissed you for awhile now.

"Yeah, I told Hannah and the girls that I'd meet them in a few," you replied, watching his eyes scan over your body and back up to your face, pausing on your lips.

"But I moved my meeting so I could see you," he responded, his fingers slipping from your arm to your hand. His touch felt good, you'd missed him, but he can wait another night. You finally felt like you weren't the one left hanging.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to stay home the one time I made plans because you suddenly found a way to fit me into your tight schedule?" You tilted your head, matching his pout.

"Besides, you're seeing me now. I clean up nice, huh? I bought this dress for one of your events but it'll do for tonight."

"Honey-"

"Is this important? My ride is downstairs," you said, keeping your eyes on his. You watched it click as he realized he asked you the same thing hours ago. You raised a brow, pursing your lips.

"I guess not," he took a step back. "You look beautiful, love. Have fun tonight."

"I will," you smiled, finally walking to the door and stepping out of the house.

✨ 🪩 ✨

"I"m just a little tipsy," you slurred, holding up your thumb and pointer finger.

"Me too!" Hannah squealed, throwing her arms into the air.

Anya and Erin were still out on the dance floor, but you and Hannah were tucked into a large circle booth in the VIP section of the club.

You sat with the members of some band you'd never heard of. They were apparently a big deal. Hannah was obsessed with them and had scored herself a seat on the lead guitarist's lap.

You sat between one of their friends and the drummer, who was high out of his mind, chatting away with some other people that'd made their way up to VIP.

"You wanna dance?" Hannah asked, grinning wildly from across the table.

"Definitely," you nodded. You turned to the drummer beside you who was blocking your way out.

"Moonstone!" He smiled when you turned to him. He'd been calling you that all night, something about your aura. He referred to Hannah as Amethyst and Erin as Sapphire, you didn't catch Anya's.

"Can I squeeze past you?" You asked, pointed toward the outside of the booth.

"Of course," he nodded, nudging his friends out of the booth with him so you could get to where Hannah stood.

As soon as you were free from the table, one of your hands was grabbed by her as she dragged you down to the dance floor. Your other hand was looking at your phone for the first time all night, checking to see if Harry had said anything.

You saw two messages from him.

'I took tomorrow off. I figure we could spend the day together.'

'I miss you and I'm sorry for not making you feel as important as you are. I'll hopefully spend the rest of my life making it up to you.'

Despite the frustration you felt for months because of him, you felt a lot of relief in that moment. He did still want you. He still wanted forever with you. It wasn't something you realized you'd doubted until now.

'I hope you know I expect an apology in person too.'

You texted back. Simple enough to communicate that it will take more than a text message.

'And I'm excited to spend tomorrow with you. But I'm drunk so can we start around noon?'

You added, finally looking up from your phone as Hannah pulled you deeper into the sea of dancing people. You realized she'd located Erin and Anya.

"You still wanna dance?' Hannah shouted, starting to feel the music. You hadn't noticed it before, but it was deafeningly loud.

"Maybe just for a little while. I'm getting tired," you replied, suddenly not wanting to be anywhere but home.

"Are you okay getting home by yourself?" She asked.

"I'll just get an Uber," you shrugged. "I'll pretend to be on the phone with Harry if the driver seems shady."

"Fair enough," she laughed, turning more towards Anya and Erin.

"Bye ladies, it was fun seeing you. We gotta get lunch sometime soon," you leaned in between Erin and Anya to speak, hoping they'd hear you well enough.

The two drunk and sweaty women gave you a half hug, agreeing to lunch and wishing you a goodnight before they went back to senselessly jumping to the music.

You ordered the car as you walked to the door, only stepping outside when the app said it arrived.

The ride was short and your driver was nice enough.

As you entered your building and pressed your button on the elevator, you wondered if Harry was awake. You hadn't heard from him in almost an hour when he'd texted you to say noon was fine and to be safe.

You walked through the house, stepping out of your shoes at the door and carrying them with you to the bedroom. Harry sat up in bed, his computer in his lap as he typed away at something you were sure was work related.

"Hey Honey," he said softly as you entered, closing his laptop and setting it on his side table.

"Hey," you smiled, walking straight into the closet to change.

As you stepped out in your pajamas, Harry pulled open the covers, waiting for you to crawl in beside him.

You slipped under the duvet and dropped your head onto his lap, eyes closed. You heard him rustle around in the drawer of his nightstand before he pulled something out and closed the drawer.

You opened your eyes in time to see him pull a makeup wipe from its package.

"How was your night?" He asked, lowering the wipe to your face as he started to gently remove what was left of your makeup. It was something he used to do for you after his work events and charity galas. Or when the two of you would stumble in drunk after a night out.

"It was a lot of fun," you answered honestly. Those four or five hours were fun. You saw your friends and felt good about yourself.

"I'm glad," he replied, still brushing the wipe across your skin.

"How was yours?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"It was alright. I did a lot of thinking," he waited a bit before adding. "I missed you."

"But you didn't have to, Harry," you sighed. "I've been here the whole time, and it took me doing something for myself, for once, to get your attention."

"I'm so sorry, Honey. I've been terrible. I've just been so caught up in work and trying to land this account," he started explaining.

"I know, trust me, I do. That's why I haven't nagged you about it, but I deserve to feel like a priority, Harry. I know your work is important, but I should be too. We've been coexisting for almost two months now. We're supposed to be a team," you finally told him what's been on your mind.

"We will be, we are," he finished wiping your skin, now taking your face between his hands as he looked down at you. "You're it for me and I'm sorry for making you doubt that."

"You should be. I'm a goddamn prize, you know?" You told him with your tired tipsy rasp. You lifted yourself from his lap, sitting up to face him.

"Of course I do, Honey. You're a diamond, a pearl, a jewel," he grinned, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

"I love you," you said softly, looking into the eyes that finally felt familiar again.

"I love you too," he leaned forward, closing the short distance between you.

Masterlist

Harry Styles Masterlist

[gammija]

Wrote this all last night in a rush after thinking about aroace podlock too hard - not sure how good it is but people on the discord liked it! so y'all will get it too

[Rushing sounds. At first it sounds like white noise, but there's a rhythm to it, swelling and ebbing; waves crashing onto sand. Wind whistles past the mic occasionally, while soft footsteps can be heard underneath. A quiet beach...

...Well, quiet, except for John giving one of his characteristic introductions to a mailbag episode, before starting proper.]  

JOHN: ...Okay, first question is for Sherlock, from Gammijonk - thought the 'Jonk' joke was starting to die down a bit, but apparently not! This one can be quite a, uh, heavy one, mate, so totally up to you if you want to answer or not. 

They ask: "No need to answer if you feel uncomfortable," like I said, and then the question is, "As what sexuality do you identify, and how did you come to realize?" Again, I'll just edit this out and we can start with another one if you don't want to share that kind of info with the listeners.  

SHERLOCK: No need, it's... alright. I'm in a sharing mood, I find. Not sure whether it's the calming effect of the noise from the waves or something else. 

...I, uh, consider myself to be asexual.  

JOHN: ...Uh- what- but- I mean, not that I'm disagreeing with you on your own identity and such, but I thought you told me you were gay? 

SHERLOCK: I definitely did not.  

JOHN: No, I distinctly remember, after the Gloria Scott case - I asked you if you had been in a relationship with Trevor. And you said yes!  

SHERLOCK: Correct.  

JOHN: Okay, well, so, then...?  

SHERLOCK: I- well. Let's see... I could, try to describe it another way?

JOHN: Right, right. I've actually heard of that before, now you mention it... So that's you, then?  

Within aspec identities, there is often a distinction made between sexual attraction, and romantic attraction. Sexual attraction is when you look at a person and feel like you want to have sex with them. Romantic attraction is when you look at a person and want to have a romantic relationship with them.

For most people, these two kinds of attraction seem to be intrinsically linked, but just as someone could conceivably have a romantic relationship without sex, or two people can have sex without being in a romantic relationship, so too is it possible to feel one kind of attraction, but not the other.  

SHERLOCK: Ah, no. The distinction feels meaningless when applied to myself. 

But, I mentioned it, because I feel it illustrates something of the complicated semantics when it comes to identity, sexuality and romance.  

To get back to the original question for a moment as to how I realized; When I was very young, I wasn't thinking about attraction at all. Then, as a young teenager, my sexuality felt noteworthy only in that it seemed to make me worthy of praise, a rarity: other boys were constantly doing stupid things, willing to do anything to impress a girl-  

JOHN: -While you were only doing stupid things for the love of the game?  

SHERLOCK: Hah. Quite. Well, mostly in order to follow my hyperfixations wherever they lead me, but I won't deny that as a teenager I might not have always been capable of making the brightest decisions. 

In any case, as I got older, I began to realise that my lack of attraction was not, in fact, a sign that I was simply better than the other boys, but something that required a different explanation. So, I did what I do best, and I began to... experiment.  

During that time, I eventually entered into a relationship with Trevor Scott. And those relationships would lead me to eventually learn the terms asexuality and aromanticism, in fact. Looking back, I still didn't feel romantic attraction for Trevor or others then, either. But a romance certainly was the way I and him viewed it at the time. And I certainly did love him.  

JOHN: Right, that makes sense.  

SHERLOCK: So, you see, that's where your confusion stemmed from.

Anyways, now that I had a name for my experiences, after that there followed a brief and unfortunate period in which I felt like I had to figure out whether my asexuality originated in one of my neurodivergences, or if those were two unrelated ways in which I deviated from the societal norm.

Thankfully I quickly came to the conclusion that that would be a fruitless endeavour, like trying to prove a negative. There is only one version of me, and he is asexual, and he is autistic. Whether or not those two facts are related, is frankly irrelevant.  

...That answers the question, I believe?  

JOHN: It definitely does. Wow, mate. That was a lot of talking, for one of these! Man. Feels difficult to follow up with some question about what's our favourite, finger, or something... That was just an example, they, they didn't actually ask that.  

...Do you... want a hug?  

SHERLOCK: Uhm, sure? Yes. I could go for one. Any particular reason why?  

JOHN: Not really - just felt like giving you one.  

[Fabric rustles. It's quiet for a long moment, only wind and waves.]  

SHERLOCK: ... If we count the thumb as a finger, obviously that's my favourite.  

JOHN: Obviously?  

[END]