#this has been on my mind for a few days i think its just an interesting thought because i think people like to care when people who make th

[woso-dreamzzz]

Appendix

Kim Little x Teen!Reader

Summary: You need your appendix out

"So," You say with clenched teeth, awkward and a little bit wary as you lay on the physio table," Am I in trouble?"

"I don't know," Your sister says with that air of disapproval that she always has," Are you?"

"Kim," You groan," Why do you do this?"

"I don't know. Why do I do this?"

You roll your eyes, pressing your head back against the table. "You're just like mum."

"Well when there's an age gap as big as ours, that's bound to happen," Kim says dismissively," But I think the real problem here is why you don't tell me you were hurt."

"I'm not hurt. I'm in pain. There's a difference."

"Your snark isn't needed right now," Kim warns you," You're not hurt. You're in pain, fine. Why didn't you tell me?"

You wince. "It didn't seem that bad this morning? Honestly, I thought it was cramp."

"You thought your appendix nearly blowing up was cramp?"

"I have a high pain tolerance? I didn't even cry when I broke my arm a few years ago!"

You can see your sister angrily swipe her hand over her face as she takes a moment to recompose herself.

"The ambulance is on its way but the staff are pretty confident that you'll have to have your appendix out."

"Is that surgery?"

Kim rolls her eyes. "Yes, it's surgery. How else are they going to get it out?"

"I don't know! Can't they like...I don't know!"

"The pain's making you delusional," Your sister says fondly, that odd smile on her face she gets when you really show off the age gap between you both.

"I'm not delusional!"

Kim's hand gently pushes your hair off your sweaty forehead. "I should have known you weren't feeling too good when you asked me why we didn't have giant rats running around and blocking the Tube tunnels."

"It's a genuine question!"

But it's also a genuine question that never gets answered as you're loaded up into an ambulance and given enough pain medication that you kind of think it's a waste because of your naturally high pain tolerance.

You don't really remember much after that, just feeling a little woozy and your sister holding your hand until you wake up again.

Kim's a lot older than you - around eighteen years older than you - so she's never really been around much in your childhood. By the time you were born, she was already going off for her first stint at Arsenal and you were back home in Scotland, still unable to lift your own head up.

It's kind of amazing actually that you've both ended up playing on the same team despite the age gap.

You were at the start of your career. Kim was nearing the end of hers.

But she's definitely still holding your hand as you wake up.

"Kim," You groan," Kimmy..."

"Yeah?"

"They took my organ! I'm organless!"

She smiles at you, a little amused as she forces down a small laugh. "You're not organless. They just took out a little piece that was making you sick."

You frown at that. "But can I have it back?"

"You want your appendix back?"

"We can send it to Mum!" You say," She's been missing us at home. She can have my appendix to remember me by!" Your sudden delight is stamped out though as you stare at your sister. "Kim, do you still have yours? We need to take it out to give to Mum!"

That's the thing that actually makes her laugh, shaking her head fondly at you as you waffle on about anything and everything that comes to your mind.

At least until all the exhaustion takes over again and you're fast asleep in bed again.

Kim sits next to you - a watchful eye and presence by your bedside - with a hand in your own.

"Knock, knock?" Comes the voice from the door," The kid not awake yet?"

"She was. Briefly. Awake and high."

"Oh, man." Katie pushes past Steph lingering in the doorway. "We missed it? Was it at least recorded? This could have been blackmail for days!"

"Did I record my little sister high off pain medication for your viewing pleasure? No, Katie, I didn't. She doesn't need to be teased about it."

Katie shrugs as the rest of the team floods into the tiny room you're sleeping in. "Just askin'. It's not a big deal. I'll find something else."

"We bought flowers," Lia intervenes easily, placing the vase on the bedside table," And some food for you. Just sandwiches and stuff. Nothing fancy."

"Thanks. It's nice of you to come and visit. I'm sorry she's not awake yet."

Lia shrugs, perching on the arm of Kim's seat. "it's alright. She's just had surgery. She needs the sleep. We can wait."

"Wait so you can tease me?" Your groggy voice says," Jokes on you. I'm totally in control of myself."

You blink a few times to clear the sleep from your eyes, keeping a grip on Kim's hand as you smile. She squeezes lightly, a reminder of her steady presence next to you.

She won't be going anywhere anytime soon.

"Now, did you guys bring me food or just flowers? Hospital food sucks."

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

I was going to put this in the tags but it's long enough and a direct response that I think I should just add it here.

Yes, to all of this, unironically and unhesitatingly.

For what it's worth for everything I'm about to say, I am a licensed social worker and am currently employed as a mental health clinician. But I have not done any research on this personally and don't have sources at the moment to back this theory up (im going to look into that today actually. I'm curious to see what I find.) This is just all speculation from a professional, so take that for what it's worth. I'll try to add some sources later when I'm not on mobile.

See I agree with what was stated up above about anxiety and depression. I also think its possible it could apply to diagnoses considered less "general," like adhd.

Example. I was recently diagnosed with adhd. The only reason I bothered to pursue the diagnosis was because it was impacting my ability to function throughout my day, and I wanted to try medication. (Personally, I think those are the only times you really should pursue a professional diagnosis, but that's a separate conversation...)

The most notable complaints I had about what I was experiencing were:

- struggling to focus on one task instead of bouncing around between everything on my to do list

- getting overwhelmed and paralyzed from the amount of thoughts and tasks that were in front of me

- struggling to stay on a task that requires my full focus (like reading) because I simply can't give that task my full attention

- conversely, going too long engaging in one task (usually a preferred relaxation task) and neglecting other parts of my life. This typically happens for me on weekends, when I'm trying to play video games instead of think about work.

There are other symptoms that I qualify with, like interrupting people (or struggling not to), being physically jittery and fidgety, being easily angered when certain things happen, etc.

For me, a lot of this ties back to - and was made most clear by - the amount of tasks I have to regularly engage in in my life, and my difficulty keeping up with it all and functioning effectively through it.

Now on one hand, the DSM V is written with a focus on symptoms that interfere with life functioning. And things that stop necessary tasks from being completed tend to fuck our lives up more than something that makes us a little too talkative or fidgety.

But also. And I will say this again and again and again.

A diagnosis is a tool and label. Not a law of the universe. Not a cause. It is a human attempt at categorization of known symptoms, with the intention of relating to effective treatments.

(And that^^^ is something you'll learn from any decent psych 101 class. Mine wasn't decent and I had to go a few classes beyond before we actually started framing it that way.)

With that in mind. Here's a question.

Is my adhd just innate within me, and something that would have been there, regardless of what my life looked like? Is it a specific way my brain deviates from the "norm," and something that, with the right technology and testing, could have been detected and diagnosed without my even noticing any symptoms? Something that exists in a vaccuum without touching my other diagnoses of anxiety and depression?

Or. Is it maybe just a quick and easy way of saying "this person cannot keep up with the stimuli in their life without becoming overwhelmed. And it is effecting their functioning to a notable degree"

That second option is a gross oversimplification, but I hope you take a second to sit with how much the first option sounds like eugenics. If the problem is innate within you, then if we just improve our technology enough to detect it in everyone who has it and separate them from the "norm," then we can weed out the problem, right? Okay, Elon.

How much of my adhd could be a culmination of the fact that I'm overwhelmed with stimuli 24/7 and have lost my ability to focus effectively because of it? How much of my clients' adhd could be a result of the same, possibly combined with the fact that many of them have experienced or are currently experiencing trauma? Which is known to impact ability to focus on tasks, as well as create a hyperactive body system?

This isn't to say adhd is a bogus diagnosis. The same way that the anxiety and depression we experience within our current world state is also not a bogus diagnosis. We're still experiencing it. We still fit the diagnostic criteria. And treatment still helps.

My point of all this is, yes to what's above. And also, maybe it would be good to reframe the ways we view diagnosis in general, to take it a step further, and to recognize the very clear and present causes of what a lot of people are experiencing nowadays. In my opinion, it goes beyond anxiety and depression.

(Also. For the people saying you'll go nuts if you aren't busy. Take a look at why that is. Is that a sustainable way of living? Are you comfortable just existing as yourself? Are you trying to distract yourself from something, or avoiding something uncomfortable? Have you possibly adapted well to the pressure of being constantly busy? Think about it from a different angle)

[flkwh0re]

Silent Observer

Warnings: Fingering, Oral, Mommy kink (A), Dark-ish themes, Using sex as a form of manipulation (reader isn’t aware tho)

Word Count: 1,073

Author’s Note: The whole thing of when this took place didn’t really benefit the story but i just had an itching to make some 1940s detective story. 😪 (my masterlist url isn’t working so if you enjoy this pls don’t hesitate to check out my masterlist linked in the pinned post on my profile ☹️)

Agatha was just about fed up with the amount of work thrown on your lap!! It was the summer of 1946 for gods sake, the war had been over for nearly a year and the country was phenomenal! You should be out enjoying the crisp summer evening, but there you were hidden away in that small office for hours.

A small knock came at your door, "Sweetheart, can I come in?" Agatha said softly, "Yea, come in." She opened the door and gracefully walked towards you, as you stretched and adjusted yourself in your seat. "Hey hon, I brought you a cup of water. Why don't you have a break? You've been working all damn day!" Her tone made you chuckle.

"I would if I could dear, but this is quite the case. The amount of women who just showed up dead, just months after the war ended, who has clearly died months before." You paused, sighing. Who could do such a thing? Many of these women were unknown, but a few were mothers. "What makes it worse is the way they died, it seems supernatural?"

Agatha sighed, "Oh honey you need a break!" Her usual laugher erupt from her chest, why was she laughing? You looked at her, a confused expression held to your face. "Oh darling, don't make that face it's not pretty. I just think you're crazy for considering the supernatural."

You leaned your head back, neck resting on the top of the chair as you stared up at the ceiling. "You're right, but I still have lots of work to do." Agatha's veiny hands stroked at your hair. "Oh sweetheart, take a break please. You're tense, and your eyes are drooping. Let me take care of you?"

You raised a brow at the tone she gave in the finish of her sentence, "What do you mean by that gorgeous?" Her signature, sinister smile crept its way onto her lips. "I believe you know."

Her hand traveled from your head to your lap, her hand resting on your thigh. You tilted your head, turning to her. Her lips met yours, a moan of relief leaving your throat. Her lips passionately entangled with yours, the hand that rested on your thigh moved to rest on your cheek.

Your tongues fought against one another, but inevitably fell to your demise as Agatha won the fight for dominance. Her fingers went for the clasp of your pants, undoing them and shoving her hand in your pants without even hesitating. Her fingers traced the wet patch that had already began to form. "Fuck Aggie." You whined.

"Is that my name?" She asked, your head shook in a 'no'. "Mommy." You corrected, earning a nod from Agatha. "That's a good girl." Her finger slipped into your underwear, softly rubbing at your clit. As you went to gasp, your lips were reclaimed by Agatha.

She spread your wetness around, then abruptly slipped a finger in you. "Oh, fuck- fuck Mommy that feels so good." You mumbled as her fingers pumped in and out of you. "You look so pretty taking mommy's fingers baby, such a pretty girl." A whine of annoyance came from you.

"Don't be a brat sweetheart, just remember whose fingers are inside you right now sweetheart." She said, words that will now never leave your mind, you'll be lucky to even get anymore work done today. Agatha doesn't mind at all though.

"Mommy m'close!" You managed out, but she stopped. Whines of protest came from you. "Hush, I don't wanna end my fun yet."

She moved you to your desk, all the paper you'd neatly organized were now strewn across the floor in messy piles but you honestly couldn't fucking care. All you were worried about was the woman in front of you, whose fingers were currently unbuttoning your shirt.

"Fuck darling you're so gorgeous." Her eyes scanned over your breast, down to the waist band of your underwear. Her lips landed on your nipple, assaulting the bud. Her teeth tugged it, your hand instantly went to the back of her head to give her some sign to calm down, but failed.

She trailed kisses up your neck, marking you up. You knew you'd get shit for that Monday, but you didn't care. "I need to mark up your pretty skin, let everyone know that you're mine." She rasped in your ear. "All mommy's." You replied which caused a satisfied smile to creep on her lips.

She kissed down your stomach, and around your hips. "Let me get these off you." She pulled down your pants, discarding them and your panties somewhere for you to find later. "So pretty and so wet." She beamed in awe, as she stared at your slick covered pussy.

Agatha wasted no time getting her mouth on you, her tongue traced the perfect pattern over your clit. Your hips jerking around, even though she held them tightly. You gripped her hair, and pulled her as close as possible to you. Your eyes couldn't stay off her as her tongue hit every inch of you.

Fingers were added into the mix of her tongue, the sensation almost too much to bear. "Fuck! Mommy I'm gonna cum, please.." You begged, Agatha looked up at you. You dazed and fucked out eyes stared back down at hers, she loved you like this.

Finally she gave you the go to, "Cum for mommy baby, make a mess on my tongue." And you saw stars. "Thank you mommy, thank you so much. I love you." You babbled on, but she hushed you and placed a soft kiss on your temple.

"Don't thank me sweetheart, you deserved that. Now why don't we forget about work for the night and let me take care of you? Go find something on the telly and we'll relax on the couch. I'll fix your favorite food too." You agreed, and she helped you to your room to get cleaned up and changed.

Unbeknownst to you, the one who you loved oh so dearly, was the one you'd been hunting down this whole time. You even though she loved you, she wouldn't have hesitated for a moment to put you under her spell and protect you from the truth. She was the one who had murdered all those women, or in reality, witches. While she had you cuming on her tongue, all sorts of evidence pointing to her, gone.

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡A Drunk Valentine 💝

You've ordered: a dark chocolate liquor donut! enjoy!

"But, hey, what can you do? I'm a touchy feely fool~"

Rafayel x reader | word count: 1,059 words

Summary: you accidentally leave out liquor chocolates...what's the worst that could happen? 💝

Warnings: mentions of liquor chocolates, rafayel gets a little tipsy (i imagine him as a lightweight-), mild spice (MDNI). not really a warming, but lowkey clingy rafayel 🤍

Note: my first love and deepspace fic! i haven't played the game (yet), so if anything in this fic seems inaccurate, feel free to (respectfully) let me know. happy valentine's day! 💕

Your Valentine's Day with your boyfriend was rather eventful and warmed your heart to its core. First thing in the morning, you woke up to a pleasant and delicious breakfast in bed. After feeding each other and sneaking kisses, the two of you relaxed in bed for the majority of the day, just enjoying each other's presence.

Later on, Rafayel took you out for a lavish dinner, set right by the ocean. And at the end of it all, you two exchanged gifts. He gave you the gift he'd been working on for weeks on end: a gorgeous painting of you as a merperson. You gave him clay figures you sculpted to look just like the two of you. The night ended off with you and Rafayel playing around in the ocean, splashing each other and having an all around good time.

You two finally made your way back home, stepping into your cozy shared apartment. You had dried off with the towels Rafayel had in the car, but your skin still begged for a shower.

"I'll be right back, I'm gonna go get in the shower." you told your boyfriend, getting a thumbs up in response.

As you disappeared down the hallway, Rafayel floated around the apartment, looking for something to hold his attention until you got back. His eyes soon settled upon two boxes of chocolate, one blue and one red. There weren't any names or labels on them, both boxes filled with the same chocolates.

Surely, you wouldn't mind if Rafayel snuck a few, right? After all, you two were probably going to eat them together after your showers.

---

You exited your shared bedroom, all cozy in your pajamas. Now all you needed was for Rafayel to shower and you two could spend the rest of Valentine's Day cuddling and watching a movie.

"Rafayel, the shower's free!" you announced, walking down the hallway. Usually, you'd already hear him making his way down the hall, but this time, you didn't get a response at all.

"Rafayel?" you called out, hearing a faint mumbling from the living room.

There you saw him, slumped onto the couch, his cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded. He was giggling and mumbling something incoherent, his fingers stained with a bit of...brown? Your eyes traveled down to where the blue box of chocolates sat, wide open with half the box gone.

"Rafayel, how many of these did you eat?" you asked, rushing over and taking the box.

"Why are you so...worried about it? Aren't those...for me?" he asked, his speech a bit slured.

"No! They're liquor filled chocolates, for my boss!" Rafayel raised an eyebrow, scooting over to where you kneeled near the couch.

"You...bought chocolate...for your boss?" he questioned, a frown on his lips.

"Of course I did. My boss gave everyone chocolate yesterday and I just wanted to return the favor." you said, sighing as you looked at the half empty box of chocolates. "I'll have to buy another one."

"Why are you...buying chocolates for...another man?" Rafayel asked, reaching over to tilt your chin up.

You almost burst out laughing at his question, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers. "Rafayel, my boss is a woman."

The purple haired male blinked at you, him frown now turning into a pout. "But maybe she-"

"She's married. And has kids." you said, already knowing what your boyfriend was thinking. He was so clingy when he was drunk, especially right now.

"Come on, let's go get you in the shower, and then we'll get you sobered up, okay?" you hummed, cupping his cheeks in your hands. You couldn't deny how cute he looked, all drunk and blushing and pouty.

As hard as it was to lug a six foot drunk man to the bathroom, you somehow managed to get him there. You let go of him to turn on the shower, turning around to take your leave.

"Let me know if you need anything." you said, sneaking a glance at him unbuttoning his shirt.

Before you knew what was happening, Rafayel pulled you into the shower with him, clothes and all. He pressed you back against the frosty glass, his knee moving to slip between your legs.

"What the hell?" you gasped, your own cheeks starting to heat up. He didn't say anything, just stared at you with those big and beautiful eyes of his.

"Rafayel, this is not the time for this. You need to shower and-!" He quickly silenced you with a kiss, his lips slowly moving against yours. Honestly, you didn't really mind, your senses going numb as you melted into it.

You could taste the sweet chocolate and bitter liquor on his tongue as he deepened the kiss, his grip on your hips tightening. Who would've thought that your Valentine's day would end with a steamy make out session, fully clothed, and in the shower? Obviously not you.

Rafayel let out a soft noise as he moved from your lips to kiss down your neck, a hand coming up to pull down the collar of your shirt. Your head was spinning, the warm steam enveloping you, your now wet clothes sticking to your skin, the smell of Rafayel's cologne in the air. All of it sent your heart into a mad frenzy. And you just wanted more.

You tangled your hand into his hair, sighing softly as his lips pressed to your collarbone. You were starting to feel warm and tingly all over, hearing his deep breathing in your ear.

"Rafayel." you breathed out, your eyes fluttering shut. He continued to kiss over your skin, his movements becoming a bit slower. Then, you felt him still against you.

"Hello? Rafayel?" you murmured, nudging his head with your shoulder. Oh, look at that. He got you all worked up only to fall asleep right in the middle of it! And this was why he didn't drink often.

You somehow managed to get yourself and Rafayel out of the shower and into warm and dry clothes. He sluggishly flopped into bed with you, curling up to your chest like a cat would and falling asleep almost immediately.

His soft snores made you smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

What an eventful evening.

Note to self: write names on chocolate boxes next year. 💝

© m00nkissedlover, 2025

[percywinchester27]

The new Mrs. Winchester (21)

Word count: 3.3K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence and murder; reader discretion is strongly advised.

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: Look who is posting regularly now ;)

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23

The new Mrs. Winchester masterlist

“Miss, you can’t keep waiting by the door for him all day!”

“Watch me,” you muttered and Abby let out a sigh. She must be convinced of your obsessive insanity by now.

“I called Jack and he called Castiel. Mr Winchester will not be back before evening. You will fall sick in this cold.”

“It’s already five… won’t be long before evening. You go on.”

Abby gave you a look that most definitely doubted your sanity but left you at the foot of the staircase where you sat with your book, feet tapping so rapidly, that the anklet Sam had gifted you started to sting.

For the umpteenth time, you wondered what the last, engraved square charm stood for.

Abby had seen you through a week's worth of anxiety but did not know the reason behind it. You knew. Sam was to return today and he had every intention of completely avoiding you and there was no way you were giving him that chance.

Since finding it, you had read Sam’s letter so many times, that the crumpled paper had lost most of its composition and now lay flat, the words already etched in your mind. At first, the pain and sadness in his words riddled you like bullets, but the more time you spent with his words, the angrier you felt about the whole situation.

How dare he apologise for saving you? Stupid, stupid man! How dare he make you fall in love with him even more? 

Admitting to the things he’d admitted to couldn’t have been easy… his childhood, how he truly thought himself to be responsible for his mother’s death and then Jo’s. How his father had treated him, and watching his brother, the only family he had known waste away right in front of his eyes just like his father.

You shuddered to yourself, thinking of your Han that way. Dean had an easy-going way about him. If bringing you into the picture had eased his anguish, how could it have been a bad thing? Sam, with his principles, couldn’t forgive himself for the act, but you, who was the one affected by it, wanted to find him and kiss his hands for signing that cheque now. He hadn’t just saved his brother, he had also saved you.

Then there were things he’d admitted to about you. 

…but what if I confessed that I liked the fall of your hair…

… I could nearly imagine the feel of your skin, your lips…

A soft shiver ran through your body at the recollection.

If Sam had stripped himself naked before you, he’d have still been less vulnerable. By admitting to the shame he felt over the simple act of choosing you, he’d bared more than you in that godforsaken picture. You understood him now… understood him to the depth of his soul. 

But you wished he understood that with all his principles, he was only a man. And he couldn’t keep punishing himself for having the reactions and instincts of one.

…How am I any better than all those men? How could I ever face you after that?

Reading those words? All you wanted to do was climb into his skin, dissolve into his being and hold him so tight, he’d never feel that shame again.

Footsteps echoed outside the door and you got to your feet, the book falling to the ground with a thump. Had you been less lost in thought, you would have realised those footsteps didn’t have the crispness of Sam’s.

“Hey, Honeybun!” Nick smirked. “Waiting for me?”

The air in your throat coagulated then disappeared to nothing seeing his face.

“You are as jawdroppingly gorgeous as ever.”

“And you are just as bastardly,” you heard yourself say. Any other day words might have evaded you, but living through Sam’s anguish over something he had no control over, made you livid at this asshole’s audacity, who hadn’t lost even a second of his sleep over destroying your life.

“Oh, she shows teeth now,” he said silkily.

“Get out of my house,” you hissed. “Get lost before I call the security.”

“And tell them what?” He challenged. “Why you’re kicking Sam’s cousin out? Mary was my mother’s sister, you know. I’m part of the Trust. Or do you not want the people in your house to know about us.”

“There’s no us.”

Nick took a few calculated steps close to you. “Come on now, Y/N. I know you love your secrets, you’ve always thrived in them. Secret siblings in a boarding school. Never thought I would become your dirty little secret, too.” He grinned and you shuddered. “What a privilege.”

He circled you slowly and you pressed into the balustrade, grabbing the handrail. 

“Poor little Sammy, does he know how you secretly met his brother at the pier in the middle of the night? That’s right, I saw little Y/N sneaking out in the dark. Do you still have Dean’s leather jacket in your drawer?”

The blood in your vein suddenly ran cold. “S- Sam knows… Dean and I are friends… He knows.”

“Tch Tch Tch,” laughed Nick, the sound grating your brain. “Sam knows his brother thinks of you as his friend. But you tell me, which respectable wife would tiptoe out of the house in the middle of the night to meet a complete stranger? Now good Ol’ Deano knew who you were, but you didn’t know who he was, did he now? So didn’t you lie to your husband about your secret rendezvous with a man?” He sighed dramatically. “What they say is true after all. Once a slut… always a slut.”

“Don’t you…”

“Dare?” He mocked, hands in air. “Does Sammy even know everything you did with me? Did to me? That you’ve gone down on your knees for me and–

The clatter of a briefcase had you jumping out of your skin.

Sam stood over the threshold, face white as a board. 

“Sammy!” Nick greeted with glee. “My man! You look ready to drop. Bad trip?”

He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam shirked it away in disdain.

“I was just telling Y/N how wonderful it is to catch up with her after all these years. Did you know we used to date in college? Well, she was in college anyway. I never had time for that shit.”

Nick turned to face you with a grin. “I was telling her how… great she still looks. Doesn’t she?”

At long last Sam’s gaze slid from Nick to you, absolute disbelief etched in his expression. 

You stared back helplessly.

When Nick turned back around, Sam had gathered his expression and settled into a perfectly blank face.

“Nick,” said Sam, voice composed. “I had a long flight back and I’m in no mood to see your face when I could have a much better view. I’d much rather be in bed, having dinner with my wife than stand around listening to you reminiscing about things that don’t matter anymore.”

“You knew?” Nick challenged, doubtful.

Sam picked up his briefcase and briskly crossed the distance, surpassing Nick. “I sure remember gagging when Y/N mentioned it in passing. I find it hard to believe she had such terrible taste.” He picked up your fallen book and handed it to you, beginning to take the steps. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do.”

At the top step, he turned and said, “Y/N, come on up. Find Abby and get her to send the dinner up for us. I’m starving.” With that, he disappeared into the corridor.

Shock held you in place for a few moments, but eventually, you turned your back on that grinning bastard and followed Sam up the steps. The door to his room was already closed and when you tried to push it open, the door held. 

“Damn it,” you cursed, crossing to the next door and getting into your own room. Things were already as fucked as they could get and this was not how you had wanted Sam to find out about Nick.

Horrifyingly, Sam and Dean now had one-half of the story. Dean knew your boyfriend had sold you to the boss and now Sam knew Nick had been the boyfriend. Only you knew the whole truth and had known it for a while. The mole on the estate that the brothers were searching for had to be none other than Nick. After all how many such assholes could be around? And it made perfect sense now. Nick was part of the Estate Trust, someone who could have easily offered Rosalie a new job, and lured all these women associated with the estate into the flesh trade. Even Jo, who might have just stopped the car to acknowledge Dean’s cousin had paid for that mistake with her life.

The true horror of the situation was how you could tell neither brother the truth because if Dean found out that Nick was the reason his fiance was dead, he would kill Nick and the boss would know. And if Sam found out what your Ex-boyfriend had done… you still remembered the murderous rage in his eyes when he’d found out about Michael inserting hot pins in your heels. If he confronted Nick, the boss would still know. Then what would happen to Jamie and Danny? You’d never see them again.

The sheer helplessness of holding the Ace that Sam and Dean so desperately sought in your hand, and yet unable to hand it to them.

Now, Sam knew and you felt ashamed of what he must be thinking.

Rushing inside the bedroom vestibule, you pushed at the connecting door, but for the first time, found it locked… from the other side.

“Sam!” you banged on the wood. “Open the door.”

Nothing.

“Open the damn door! Let me explain.”

Oh, how the tables had turned. What a wretched feeling to be on the other side, locked out. The medicine did not taste sweet.

“Open the door,” you tried again. “P-L-E-A-S-E”

Except the last word came out as knocks and pats on the wood.

You were about to give up when the door opened and you were only a couple feet away from Sam. Being away from him for an extended amount of time always made you forget just how tall he was and right now the buttons of his shirt appeared more appealing than meeting his eyes. 

“What?” Sam asked, point blank, his voice without inflection.

All you wanted to do was close the little distance and hug him, but the two steps in between felt like miles.

“Won’t you invite me in?”

A second passed, and then Sam moved aside. “It’s your house as much as mine. You’re welcome to any part of it.”

Tears pricked your eyes. Sam’s words and tone were polite, but each detached syllable stung like a pin in your heel.

“So this is how it’s going to be?” You remained resolutely at the threshold. 

“How?” 

Something about Sam’s quiet rage rankled you from the inside. Despite his absence, you felt like you had uncovered more of Sam from Dean’s words and then his letter. Sam had always seemed like an ocean on the verge of breaking into a cyclone, that something always simmered under it, barely restrained, but dangerous all the same. Seeing him now, face cast out of stone, you finally understood how he could have fooled all the staff into thinking of him as a cold man. The truth was that whatever darkness he restrained within him, whether it was anger, fear or hatred, all of that was at its thinnest now. If you pushed, that unhinged darkness, for better or for worse, would come unleashed.

You decided to push it.

Crossing into the room you walked past Sam and took a seat at the edge of the bed. He stared at you. Sam had gone from bad to worse… his skin was shallow and his eyes sunken, looking nearly black in their intensity.

“What do you want, Y/N?”He asked once more, not moving an inch.

“I want to talk.”

“Yeah?” He walked to the bed, towering over you. “Now you want to talk?”

You ignored the question and countered with your own.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

“How much, Sam?”

“Nick’s your college boyfriend.” He took a deep breath and let it out. Calming the sea, keeping the cyclone at bay. “It’s alright. You don’t owe me answers.”

But you weren’t having any of it. “Yeah, he’s the one I told you about on our walk into the forest. My boyfriend from back home. We used to go on long rides on his Harley, cruising through the streets of California on hot nights. He was shacking up in a friend’s place in LA and he’d take me there on Friday evenings all the way to Sunday morning. Just the two of us–”

“That’s.. That’s enough. I don’t want to hear it.” His fists were clenched, tendons standing out white against his skin.

“Why?” You shouted, getting to your feet. “You’re my friend and you told me I can share anything with you. So why not?”

He twisted his body and grasped your shoulder with both his hands, fingers digging into your skin. “You know why!” His sunken eyes were watery, the white tinged with red. “You know why, Y/N. Don’t do this to me, don’t break me like this.”

You finally closed the distance, snaking your arms around his thin waist. “He is nothing but a person from my past. Nothing. Do you understand?”

“Why didn’t you tell me then? You locked yourself for days when you saw him at the inauguration. It’s been a month since and you never said a word.”

Stepping back, you looked up at Sam and admitted part of the truth. “I was ashamed. Seeing him reminded me of my past in the most jarring way, and you’ve been so kind to me, I suppose I needed time to wrap my head around it all.”

Sam peered into your face, scrutinising.

“Believe me, please.”

He deflated just a little, then nodded.

“But him? Really?” His incredulity nearly broke you, but you held your own. “Of all people, Nick?”

Oh, if only Sam knew.

“I was naive and daddy issues are a thing.” You shrugged. “C’mon, let's go to our room. All your clothes are there and you need a shower.”

Taking his hand in yours, you led Sam back over the threshold into your bedroom and closed the connecting door behind you. 

He took the room in for a minute then dragged his feet to the walk-in-wardrobe. “I’m not hungry,” he said passing you. “Just call for some coffee.”

You still had Abby bring in some fruits along with the coffee. She sat by you, nibbling on a piece of apple as Sam finished in the shower, then waited long enough to wish Sam a good night when he returned. Sam had stepped out in a thin wet tshirt, hair dripping water into the neckline, and a towel wrapped around his waist. The way Abby averted her gaze, face flaming, gave you an idea.

She left quickly after and you watched Sam put on his drawstring pants and then remove the towel from around his waist. He got on his side of the bed, pulled the covers over his legs and reached for the cup of coffee.

“How do you expect to sleep if you drink coffee right before?” You asked, but then couldn’t help adding. “Not that the thing in the cup is remotely close to coffee. Stop doing business in Bali if this is what they give you in return.”

Sam rolled his eyes while taking a sip. “Enough with the coffee already.”

“It’s such a shame that you came out of the bathroom wearing the t-shirt today. Remember that time you came out with just the towel wrapped around your waist? Short towel, too.”

He drained his cup, put it back on the side table and faced you, brow furrowed. “When?”

“Last time you were here. Great abs. Guess all that working out helps, huh?” You put your fingers on his arm. “And that time we were all wet in the shed? I slipped and fell on you, I could feel the bulk of your muscles. Made my throat go dry.”

Sam gulped. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Very slowly, holding his gaze, you moved to straddle his hips and Sam flattened himself against the headboard, a deer caught in headlight. 

“The first time I saw you, Sam Winchester, even through the veil, I knew you were an attractive man and I can’t count the number of times I have found myself staring at your body— the shoulders, the chest, arms, all of it. If you want me to go into details about what seeing you shirtless does to me, you are welcome to be my guest, but the point is, I don’t feel ashamed about it. I don’t feel ashamed about a natural reaction.”

“You read the letter…”

Raising your hand, you gently skimmed the side of his face with the back of it and he closed his eyes at the touch. 

“I did, and now you know how I feel. What are you going to do now?”

“It’s different,” he said finally. “You didn’t pay money–”

“You said yourself that you paid the price for my freedom, for a chance to know the truth about Jo and not for my body.”

“You don’t understand–”

“Don’t complicate emotions to the point of no return, Sam. I’ve wanted to kiss you, and I took both of those chances.” You leaned it, face inches away from his now, lips only a whisper away from his. “But you didn’t answer my question. What are you going to do now?”

He opened his eyes, and they smouldered. Sam’s fingers found your hair and fisted in them. He crushed his lips to yours, devouring your mouth. His other hand slid from the base of your throat, down your body, decidedly feeling the shape of you. You followed his lead, rejoicing in it… in the following. His self-control had cracked at last and he was finally staking the claim, he should have staked a long time ago… making the first move, claiming what was his… you.

Maybe it was seeing you with Nick, knowing about your past, or hearing your admission, that had caused the careful wall of self-control that Sam always held around you to crumble. Some of that self-control must have survived because he broke off, breathing hard. 

“I’m not going to apologise,” he said.

“You better not.”

Sam smiled, skin stretching over his cheekbones, but it still lit his eyes. “Yes, Ma’am.”

When he slid into the bed, he grabbed your hand and pulled you against his side instead of restricting himself to his end of the bed. “Sleep, Y/N. We have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Humour me,” he said. “I have the day planned.”

“Okay,” you agreed readily, then wound your hand around his waist, snuggling as close as you could. Between the two of you much had been said, and even more implied, yet a lot was yet to to be put into words. But Sam was here now and you had all of tomorrow. Right now you simply wanted to savour the feeling of holding the man you loved in your arms and being held by him.

*****************************

A/N 2: I LOVED writing this chapter! The nuances of Sam’s admission and the delicate nature of his emotions were just so damn satisfying to put into words! What did you think?

Oh, I can’t wait to share what’s coming with you!

Please do let me know what you think of this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!

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[maplegyu]

THE WAY I CLICKED THIS SO FAST BECAUSE OF THE TITLE!!!!!??!?!

I RECOGNIZE THAT QUOTE ANYWHERE 😭 (its even the header of one of my sideblogs!!)

BUT I DIDNT WANT TO ASSUME SO WHEN I GOT TO THIS PART!!!!!! I ACTU SQUEALED

I KNEW WHAT WAS COMING. I KNEW WONU WOULD CONFESS IN THE BEST MOST CREATIVE MOST ROMANTIC WAY POSSIBLE BUT I WAS STILL WAS NOT PREPARED WHEN I FINALLY READ THE FIC THROUGH!!!!!!! One of the best shortforms i've ever had the pleasure of consuming!!!!!

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting.

Of course the visions in my head for this was *the* Darcy hand clench scene

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

PLEASE THE WAY THE WRITING TRANSLATED INTO A VISUAL MONTAGE IN MY HEAD???!?! HOW COULD I NOT SWOON!!!! HOW COULD I NOT ROOT FOR THEM!!!??! MY GODDDDD the seed of wonu being an austen-coded man has forever altered my brain chemistry. I truly love any and everything remotely austen-adjacent!!!!

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

Just stellar writing and imagery all around. One of the first things i thought was that this is such a fantastic example of figurative language! 💖

This whole scene... god ITS LITERALLY MY VERSION OF READER'S: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

THE CONFESSION WAS SO GOOD AND CONFIDENT. THE FOREHEAD RESTING IS SO REGENCY-CODED I KNOW ITS MODERN DAY BUT THE CALLBACKS TO THINGS PLAYING OUT A LITTLE OLD FASHIONED PERIOD JUST FEELS SO ROMANTIC TO ME!!!!!!!!!!

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,”

I LOVED THIS LINE SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

idk what it is... it made it feel like the stakes were extra high but wonu was just that sure/confident!

“You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

I loveddd this too!!! It was so cute and suchhh a mood! Hahaha

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

PERFECT FREAKIN ENDING. everything was just lovely from start to finish! this is perhaps my fave wonu fic ive read to date!!! 💖💖💖

Thank you for writing and sharing this 🥰

if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask. 

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread. 

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen. you hold your breath.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash. 

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.” 

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.” 

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red. 

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless. 

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke. 

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom. 

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you. 

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightly finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen. 

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind. 

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you. 

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment. 

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

[she-whatshername]

You’ve been so good to us the past few days so no pressure, but what would our favorite tyrrish men do for Valentine’s Day? 💘💌

Hello!

We may be a day late but never a valentine love short. I hope this still fills your cup!

Onyx Storm Spoilers below, you've been advised

Garrick

This man

This tall person

This dimpled cutie

Does he ask to be your valentine? No. He just assumes he is. Because who wouldn't want to be his Valentine?

If anything he'd make you ask him. "Wait. Love, aren't you forgetting to ask me something?"

What is he getting you? Even though he'd be, Garrick about the whole thing, I think he'd have something romantic and sentimental for you. I could see him tempering his signet into a small glass orb to wear around your neck, just a swirling piece of air constantly revolving in the glass representing his breath that he always says you take away every time you see him (someone please write a full fic on this please)

He also is the right type of cheeky to just be laying on your bed naked for when you come into your dorm like, "Surprise, love. Come take a bite." Dimples and all

Date Plans? Also, I know its classified and guarded but if you are a marked one and you know about second signets, he is absolutely distance wielding you across the contentment so he can boast that you two have hooked up in every province

Xaden

Onyx Storm has really soured my 'love to hate' vibe I had of Xaden because ho-my, name a better man at words of affirmation

I'll wait

Does he ask to be your valentine? Yes and no. He would assume that he is yours because why wouldn't you be....no really, why wouldn't you be?? But then his jealousy/insecurities is getting the best of him and he's finding you in your room like, "you're my Valentine right? And, I'm yours too right?"

And you're like "Xaden we've been married for years..." lolol

What is he getting you? Lavish gifts of affection. If he has the power and means, lots of flowers that he picked out in your favorite type and color

Instead of a card, its a letter. A full page note on his love for you

And, I do know this man loves a little sensual type of gift as well. Expect something to wear to dinner and something to wear for him to take off.

And make no plans for the day after because you will need a days rest afterwards.

Date Plans? Yes. And he's had them for awhile. However it's something simple. Its dinner together and cake on the roof of Riorson House watching the sunset. Honestly it's so amazing you both decided you'll do this every year for valentines day. Like when you two get older he builds a balcony on the roof so you both can sit safe and comfortably.

This sweet man!

Bodhi

Well hello there Mr Durran

Does he ask to be your valentine? Yes. Every year he does. And it's always something sweet like a note slipped under your door or something actually akin to a proposal.

And yes, he is asking if he can your valentine as well.

He does not assume, he has to ask. And he takes it very seriously to be your valentine. He's like, "I wont let you down." Like he's on a mission to make your happy on that day.

This man is loyal, we know this

What is he getting you? I've shared before but I think Bodhi was the mind behind the saddle for Violet. He's just naturally very crafty and can build things. So, I'd like to think that every year, instead of flowers he crafts up a gorgeous metal rose (or flower of your choice) and paints it. The color represents something that happened to you during your year together. It was brown when you bonded your dragon in your first year. Black when you finished your second year as a rider and got a leadership position. Green with golden edges when Xaden took the dutchy back in Tyrrendor. Purple the year you married.

Xaden and Garrick tease him when he's starting to craft a new rose, "What color this year, cousin?" "Will it be blue for that time she blue balled you when you two had to run off to the borders during that attack?"

But they both admire him for being so dedicated to you. Xaden makes sure any duties he has the week he's making you the rose are given to someone else

Date Plans? Yes. But its something sweet like a stroll through the gardens where he gives you the metal flower or riding together along the cliffs.

But....evening plans. Xaden doesn't know, he doesn't want to know but let's just say if he ever found out about what happens when you two do have some time together.

Because I just know Bodhi would love his partner in such a beautiful, infinite way

Xaden did say it would be a shame to end his only living relative, and that Bodhi is exceptional. I think that this would be the one category where Xaden is a few steps behind Bodhi lolol

[tillysketch]

You are my sunshine... (500)

Idea originally by @clericblood, her passage about being Astarion’s sun has burrowed into my brain, taken root, and sprouted leaves. I adore the HC about Astarion opening up a tailor shop in Baldur's Gate and I want to write more about it in the future. SO, here is those two ideas sort of mashed...

Two years later, after the fall of the absolute, the netherbrain, and the rebuilding of the Gate, you and Astarion have settled into a quiet comfortable routine. You’ve become a nocturnal pair, sleeping with the curtains drawn in the bright mornings, and dancing together under the starlit skies. Life is so easy now, compared to fighting every damn day and constantly traveling, moving, and dodging danger. You've built a home with the man you loved, and that alone was more than enough for you. There are moments however, where you miss daylight, and your heart hurts to think about how devastating it must have been to Astarion to lose the sun, not only once, but twice...

Every once in a while though, you become his sun. You come home from spending a day outside in the suffocatingly hot air. Your skin, now a shade or two lighter, burns much easier unfortunately. But, it makes Astarion’s cold hands all the more soothing. He rubs oil of aloe on your arms and shoulders when you come back home to him. Secretly, he adores it when you return all sun kissed and sweaty. He presses his cheek to your neck, wraps his body around yours- soaking in the heat that billows off of you. Inhaling the scent of your sweat mixed with that of your sun lotion, its his favorite perfume of yours. Exhausted, you just want to sleep, your day ending as his is beginning. It always takes a day or two to get back on the same sleep/wake cycle after your outings into the diurnal world. 

Astarion doesn’t mind. There isn't much anymore that he takes mind to, in fact. He’s more than content to let you sleep and warm your shared bed while he busies himself with his tailoring projects, or reading the daily gazette. With his newly booming business, there are always alterations to be made, small embroidery designs to work on, and repairs to torn trousers and the like. Work, work, work, work, work.... He pretends to hate it, but this new slow and quiet life is everything he could have ever wanted. And having you beside him through it all, it makes it all the sweeter. 

The night markets, various trips to the Underdark, and wanderings across Faerun have been the most uneventful, but greatest adventures you’ve had yet. Long gone are the days of swords, crossbows, and knives, but everyday spent together is just as thrilling, in its own special sort of way. Journeying by foot, you’ve stayed in almost every inn from the Gate all the way down the sword coast. One of your favorites is in Candlekeep, a small little bed and breakfast that overlooks the ocean. The constant background noise of the crashing waves drifting through the window is heavenly. 

Your dear friend Gale, bless him, writes every few weeks to update the both of you on an enchantment he has been working on diligently- one that will allow Astarion to return to the sunlight. Neither of you hold any hope in this, so as not to be disappointed if it doesn’t work out. Still, the sentiment and effort is more than kind of him to do for you two. You’re content, your days are the world’s quiet nights, and all is well.

Thanks for reading! <3 - Tilly

[yummyrevivalfluid]

Don't Look At Me With Those Eyes

Senku x Artist Reader Pt.3

Summary: Senku doesn't seem to understand what it means to be an Artists Muse, specifically yours. (Senku doesn't understand love)

Word Count: 1,355

Tag List: @maria-trisha @xtfhtfrj @markerelll @minimissmelody

I think that is everyone that requested to be tagged! If it didn't work please let me know so I can figure out how to fix it!

HAPPY VALETINE'S DAY!!!!

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

My muses are my love

He couldn’t stop the words chanting in his head. No matter what he did, your voice flooded his thoughts.

My muses are my love

Just the thought of you invaded his mind. He’s been lying awake for the past twenty minutes, trying to fall asleep but to no avail. Every time he found himself closing his eyes, visions of your flustered face appeared.

‘Are you thinking of me’ Senku wondered.

‘Is that what it means to be your muse?’. Was he on your mind as you were on his. He wondered if you were also in the same predicament as him…or maybe you’re drawing? Painting? Were you blowing glass? Or whatever crazy art medium you found yourself exploring…

My muses are my love…

Why did you have to plague his mind? What do you mean about your muses being your love? Why did you look so vulnerable as you said it? More importantly why HIM? Is it as Byakuya said before, “opposites attract”. Is it because he��s so different from you, you find him appealing to be your muse? What is he supposed to do with this information?

Torn and confused about what he needed to do with this newfound information, what the information even meant, and what it meant to him, Senku stepped outside to the balcony and watched the stars.

What does it mean to be an artist’s muse?

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

Something has changed, that much you were aware of. But was Senku aware? Since the day you asked him to be your tutor, something has shifted between the two of you. You couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. As far as you were concerned, you treated Senku the same way you have always done…

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t catch the way Senku was staring at you from his desk. Something that he’s been catching himself doing more than he’s meant to. He’s been catching himself staring at you from his desk, in passing at the school halls, even at your home as you studied beside him.

God, I feel like a creep, Senku cringed. It wasn’t your typical space out staring, he’s been watching your expressions, studying your features, getting lost in your eyes…

Wait what!?

He wasn’t sure how long you caught him staring but you were flushed. You quickly averted his gaze and fumbled with your bag and pulled out a sketchbook. The same one he was snooping in. He watched as you begin to scribble your pencil onto the paper…your eyes were shimmering, Senku noted.

Senku was studying you again, and he wasn’t being subtle. Forgetting or ignoring the fact that you caught him just a mere seconds ago. Unfortunately for you his staring didn’t let up for the next few weeks. Every time you cross paths with him, you can see him looking at you. His eyes were softer than what you were used to seeing. His brows still furrowed slightly, but his gaze was gentle as you felt him examining you. Whatever he was doing, you let him. You just assumed he was doing some weird scientific research, and you were his victim.

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

Tutoring you had become a new routine for Senku.  After all the after-school clubs have ended, having cleaned up the lab, Senku met up with you outside of the school’s art studio. He was waiting patiently for you, resting his back against a pillar as he thought of the material, he was going to be tutoring you. After ten minutes had passed, concerned and curious about what keeps you late, he makes his way inside the studio and finds you cleaning up.

“Did you forget the concept of time, airhead?”

“Sorry for keeping you waiting!” you huffed, as you carried a can of paint back to its proper storage. “I lost track of time! I was in the zone. I got new inspiration for my muse!” you laughed.

Muse

The word that’s been haunting Senku’s mind. A word so foreign to him that he doesn’t understand what it means to be someone’s muse. What it means to be your muse.

Senku walked closer to a canvas with a big drape covering the art underneath. He’s assuming it’s yours. It must be. It was the only one out, the only one with cans of paint underneath it. Curious of what you’ve been painting, he begins to lift the edge of the drape. Before he can even process the bits of the painting he can see, he feels your touch on his wrist. He looks at you and he find himself again studying your expression. Studying the look in your eyes.

He doesn’t believe he’s seen this look before. Was it fear of what he was going to find under the drape? Are you embarrassed of what you’ve spent so long painting? Is it the feeling of vulnerability? Showcasing your muse to others but the muse itself.

“It’s not done yet…”, you said softly, almost a whisper to his ears. You watched as he let go of the drape. Hiding your painting.

Hiding your feelings from him.

“What is it?” he asked, as he continued to study you. Watching your expression turned to something he’s been seeing so often. The averted eyes, the flush to your cheeks, the slight stutter to your words. He felt the touch on his wrist fade as he watched you pick up cans of paint from the ground and begin to walk from him.

“…my muse.”

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

Muse…

Muse…

Muse…

Muse…

Muse…

Never has a word frustrated him this much. Seeing the word? The paper suddenly crumbled under his hand. Hearing the word has his eye twitching. A simple four-letter word is haunting him. Teasing him for not understanding. Frustrated that you don’t seem to know the effect the word has on him. Not aware of the feeling he gets when you throw the word around. Not understanding that uneasy feeling in his stomach that seems to get amplified every time he studies you.

“I don’t understand this….” You groaned. You dropped the pencil in your hand as you laid sprawled on your bedroom floor. You waited for Senku’s response. Waited for him to tell you off. You waited for him to call you an airhead. You waited and yet nothing. You turned to look at him and found his eyes already looking back at you. “Senku…”

“Hmm?” he hummed back. His eyes never leave yours.

“Umm…is there a reason why you’ve been…staring...” you asked nervously, unsure what to do under his gaze. You watched as his gaze hardened. Not being able to handle anymore, you finally break away, retreating your eyes to the white ceiling.

“It’s a bad habit.” He replied, as he crawled to the space beside you and laid beside you. You both laid in silence, enjoying the presence of the other. You closed your eyes and listened to Senku’s breathing, until that feeling came back again.

“you’re staring again, aren’t you?” you asked quietly. You were afraid to open your eyes, you don’t think you can handle him being so close to you, his eyes on you…

“Yeah….my eyes bother you that much?” he teased, taking joy as he heard your breath hitch.

“It…flusters me…” you whined, “so stop looking at me with those eyes…”

“What eyes?” he questioned. Has he been staring at you in another way he wasn’t aware? He gets up from beside and crawls over you, he ignores your gasp and looks down at you. Staring at you, studying you, your expressions, your noises. His body hovered over you, his arms caging you in, leaving you nowhere to look at but him. “These eyes?”

He waited for your response, his eyes flickered between your betraying eyes, exposing your vulnerability, and your lips, waiting for your words. Instead, you raise your hand to his face, your fingertips slightly brushing his lips as you cover his eyes with your palm. He feels your body pressed against him as you sit up on your elbows, he can feel the heat radiating off your body. You lean to his ear and whisper, “yeah, those eyes.”

----

A/N: So I'm thinking of breaking away from my original plan of doing only 4 parts to this series. I'm not sure how many parts there will be...I'm also thinking of rewriting the 1st chapter, sort of build more of the frenemies relationship.

Anywayssss can yall guess the song inspo? Theres two! One based on the title and one named dropped. Would you guys be interested in a song playlist for this series?

Mini spoiler for the series?!?! Theres a lyric I want to include in a future part, angst approaching!! Hehehehe

I, I loved you and I still do

Just wanted passion from you

Just wanted what I gave you

I waited and waited

-The Greatest Billie Eilish

....requests open?

[thoughtdaughtermadz]

¨Carpe Diem,¨ Keating whispered loudly. ¨Seize the day. Make your lives extraordinary.¨

When asked about living, most people will tell you about working. When asked about living, most people will tell you about suffering. Very few responses come, where people will tell you about trees. Where people tell you about oceans they´ve swam in. Very few responses come, when asked about living, where people actually tell you about living. Most people's definition of living is often closer to misery. Don’t let that become the definition of your life, before it already is.

The pressure to conform, is a pressure almost too forceful to deal with. It is strong, and will have you within its cold grasp quickly. Before you know it, you’re sunk into the couch, wondering where your potential went. I wonder if the Dead Poets ever found themselves in that position, ten years later, wondering if their passions went with Neil. Were they trapped in that coffin with him, threatening to burst out? Or were they still inside them somehow, buried deep? There was a poet somewhere inside of Todd, and I believe that a fraction of that poet was Neil. But Neil is dead, so where has that poet gone? Is the poet with the sweaty-toothed madman, under that blanket of truth? Is the poet inside him fighting to come alive again, now that now that the thing that created it has died? Is Todd dying, because Neil already has? Are our passions our life’s worth? Are all we are, what we have inside us, and what we can do with it? These, are questions you should ask yourself.

How many Mozarts never became musicians, because they washed clothes for four hours a day? How many Kafkas never wrote their ‘Metamorphosis’, because they had to have dinner done by five every evening? How much potential was wasted, because incredible minds rotted away in houses for fifty years? I wish to know just how different media would be today, if passions had been explored. To me, this is why telling women to “get back in the kitchen”, is in a way, telling them to go kill themselves. But that might be just me.

‘The Dead Poets Society’ is a story of rebirth and death all in the same. Mr. Keating was an anomaly of a man to most faculty and some students at Welton. His ideas and actions left everyone wide-eyed. But what he did for that specific class of juniors, was something I’ve only ever hoped I could experience. He was the first person, possibly in these boys' entire lives, to show them to think for themselves. He taught them that the greatest poets or writers were also considered anomalies for their time. He taught them so many things, things that no one taught me, but things that I had to teach myself. To improve, is to be introspective. Looking inside yourself, at all, could be terrifying to some. But it isn’t, to the ones who do so periodically. When you are familiar with yourself, the things about you that you want to run from, are things you sit and drink lonely with. Things you have already made peace with, or even better, you work at everyday to make better. So what happens when you finally look inside yourself, and like what’s there? You be happy there’s nothing to hide from, and live your life blissfully ignorant, until you realize that there will always be slip-ups, relapses, and regrets. Life isn’t perfect, and neither are us as humans. Seeing is better than being blind, and the next time you’re asked about living, tell the truth. Tell whoever asked you, that life is about finding yourself, and most importantly, that life is worth finding yourself for.

Just a little something I wrote that’ll end up going to my English teacher

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[kithj]

some stories are written precisely to elicit strong emotions from the reader INCLUDING negative ones. some stories and characters are meant to be upsetting, they are meant to challenge you and make you uncomfortable!! when a story makes you feel Big Feelings sometimes you are meant to sit in those feelings and ask yourself why! fiction is a great space to explore these emotions in a safe environment. you, as the reader, are meant to think critically about the art you are enjoying and that includes asking yourself questions like why has the author presented their art in this way and what are they trying to tell me. and then you get to have fun picking it apart and figuring it out and deciding what, exactly, the art means to you.

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...

[tenderpreyy]

​I’m thinking again about Astarions sexuality and how I've seen some people (to be fair, just a few) talk about it. Mainly, people pointing out his flamboyant behavior, and that us as players are learning more about his past male lovers than female ones and basically all these things for some people pointing to him being gay or at least not interested in women in the same way he is in men. And him only being a romance option regardless of gender, because, well, all companions are and he is therefore just "playersexual", only showing interest in female player characters because he has to, because of the game mechanics.

I think what really rubs me the wrong way about this topic is that it echoes the kind of things bi/pan people (speaking as a bisexual woman myself) find themselves dealing with irl. Whether through some form of internalized biphobia or from the outside through other people's comments. Of course this is about a fictional character so it’s not like he has any feelings that could be hurt. But when i see people tallying up how often he mentions men vs. how often he mentions women it really reminds me of a way of thinking I sometimes fall into in regards to my own sexuality. This is definitely just an internalized response and not something I actually believe when I truly think about it for a second, but I know these patterns of thought very well. Of observing my own behavior. How often do I find which gender attractive? Am I attracted "enough" to women? Do I talk about men's attractiveness too often? Is it the other way around? Am I only saying this woman is attractive to prove something to myself? I literally have a girlfriend and my attitude towards mine or other's sexual orientation is generally a huge big "whatever, I don't care". And I still have a passing thought like that from time to time.

So seeing people talk about a fictional character in this way really sends home how many people (whether consciously or unconsciously) see attraction as some sort of equation, you can solve, where in the end you get a result of either gay or straight.

[butteredfrogs]

im just gonna say whats on my mind feel free to ignore this post its kinda petty but i just have to let it out

[walker-lister]

I just have to remind myself sometimes that no matter what anyone else says, the way a piece of media makes me feel and the positive impact it has had on my queer identity is valid, and that tearing myself apart thinking I have to defend it or questioning my own place within queer communities is not at all important when compared to the almost tangible sense of 'rightness' that piece of media helped me to feel about myself.