#what’s up with couples divorcing/ separating this year

[confusedspaceotter]

Me seeing yet another couple announced they will/have filled for a divorce : guys romance is dead

Also me, reading fanfic of my favourite ship : nah we good

[favoritebatfam]

Okay, I can’t be the only one who has a picture in my head of child Bruce being adopted by a fae, and almost stolen.

In my head, Bruce is like 9 or so at the time. I read somewhere that the fae tend to take kids sometimes to raise them or to have them as pets. So I’m imagining this super powerful fae who got attached to a child of like a witch or something, and is raising this kid in this weird in between place between the fae realm and human world.

So the kid probably explores and ends up finding Bruce and befriending him.(Maybe there’s an entrance to that dimension in the cave that becomes the Batcave, and Bruce is exploring.)

So Bruce is unceremoniously adopted by this sort of fae child and it takes a little while for either of their respective adults to notice. The fae notices and is debating whether or not they should take Bruce, but then Alfred notices.

Alfred is British, and the British have so many myths and stories about the fae, so there’s no way Alfred doesn’t become convinced they are about to doom his kid to a life as a slave.(Bonus points if this leads to Alfred having a tiny crisis about being Bruce’s father figure and not wanting to replace his parents)

I’m not 100% sure about the rest of the au, but I can clearly picture in my head the fae kid sitting with Bruce at a table, eating cookies, while Alfred and the Fae being have a ‘conversation’(I’m imagining that thing where character a is oblivious to character b and character c having a full out brawl.) Bruce and the Fae kid eat cookies while their respective guardians duke it out.

Years later, Bruce is asked by the kids about the iron brass knuckles in the cave, covered with something.

[tojisun]

!! it’s very silly and unserious and the only reason it’s long is because it’s so vivid in my head. unedited as hell </3

nosy neighbours tf 141 got me giggling. and it’s not even inherently sexy nor attractive, it’s really just them being in people’s (or a person’s) business.

thinking about how, in retirement, they still bought a house together because it’s so odd to have separate lives. and so they bought one in the suburbs, with five bedrooms and four baths, and a really big backyard. kyle picked up gardening so the backyard was not just a plus but a damn requirement.

so they move in, not giving a damn about that one old WASP couple across the street watching them all with a sneer because apparently moving in with your mates is unusual. well, whatever. fuck them.

then they meet their new neighbour. you’re single—divorced, price would tell them later—whose life is centred around your 9 to 5 job at an office in the city which you wake up at 5am for.

you leave the house at 6:30am and then amble back home when it’s pushing 8pm. it’s a boring life; a boring routine. not even your little front lawn of cared-for wild flowers managed to hold their attention longer than a day.

so with that said, they’d like to go on a record and say that it’s all johnny’s fault.

friday evening, he started the game by saying, “she bought a baguette.” he paused. “and a bottle? it's shaped like lube?”

john blinked, setting his book down. “what.”

mactavish shrugged, still peering from the crack in the curtains. kyle walked in then, his apron all dirtied. “hey, i’m craving a baguette.”

johnny laughed and looked at price like price was supposed to get something from that. of course he didn’t, but johnny’s always been good at carrying the momentum so, to no one’s surprise, he repeats the observation three days after the previous one.

“bag’o coal and lemon bread. what the hell.”

“that’s a disgusting dinner combo,” kyle chirps, switching the channels.

simon throws a pillow at him because he had been watching a documentary about moths when kyle changed the program without asking him.

“it’s just monday,” john finally replies, cementing his participation in the game. “why’s she buying lem—did she not grocery shop?”

johnny looks at him, wide-eyed. “that’s a good question, sir.” then he turns, ignoring them again to peer at their neighbour. john’s sure you’re back in your home so he really doesn’t know what johnny’s watching at that point.

simon was successful at wrestling the remote control back to him, and the program’s returned to the moths.

.

thursday evening, two and a half weeks after monday’s lemon bread and bag of coal, the game picks up again.

“who the hell makes a rug purchase during the weekdays?” kyle asks, his voice teetering between fascination and concern.

“how long’s the rug?” johnny replies, all of them watching as kyle stands in front of that slip of window they now use for ‘bird watching.’

kyle spreads his arms out—2.5 ft.

“huh,” johnny says. “for the toilet, you reckon?”

“probably for the cat, actually,” simon cuts in.

“what cat.” john doesn’t even know who asked that, but really—what cat?

“a round thing,” simon answers. “grey fur.”

“aww,” johnny croons. “that’s cute.”

john sighs and turns back to the morning paper’s crossword puzzle for the day.

.

you don’t join the neighbourhood’s annual summer barbecue party much to their disappointment. although, in all fairness, john understands your decision because they wouldn’t have gone to it anyway had they not found out that the host this year was going to be that WASP couple who still sneered at them every chance they get.

the wife, of course, couldn’t turn them away in front of the other neighbours who particularly loved kyle and, shockingly, simon so there they are, eating what is begrudgingly some good ribs while listening to the neighbourhood gossip.

and while each story was riveting, nothing could honestly hold a candle to their ‘bird’ and your peculiar grocery runs.

.

one evening, you come home with a man. john tells them it’s your ex-husband, admitting to them that yes, he’s now used up their once-a-month pass to accessing ‘special’ resources with regards to finding more about you.

“think they’re fuckin’?” johnny asks, no longer feigning disinterest.

kyle groans because it had been more than a minute now since johnny dropped a card from his stack; they tried their best to be patient as they waited, thinking mactavish needed more time since, apparently, he’s never played cards before—growing up as a catholic boy, he’s always been told that any form of gambling was a gateway to eternal damnation.

john didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t have to make bets to be able to play cards.

“maybe,” simon replies, ignoring kyle’s angry grumbling. “why else would she bring him home? her house ain’t really a wonder.”

“…how do you know that?” kyle asks, his words measured and slowed.

simon blinks, then he sniffs, before looking away.

“hey!” mactavish screams, catching on. “we agreed no tampering with anythin’ of ‘ers!”

“yeah? well tell ‘at to cap’n too—he was already there when i broke in.”

johnny turns to him with a theatrical betrayed look. kyle drops his head on the table because the game’s been fully abandoned now.

“sir,” johnny says, his voice airy like he’s speaking mid-gasp. “you didn’t.”

john licks the back of his teeth, then, “jus’ wanted to see ‘er cat, s’all.”

.

the ex-husband leaves three hours later with a familiar rug tucked to his side.

.

“huh,” simon murmurs, his voice so faint that john almost missed it. “tulips and tuna today.”

johnny and kyle would’ve loved the update but the two are away for the week.

john messages it to the group chat.

suds (19:21)

> holy shit she’s improving.

.

oddly enough, it took them six months since they moved in for them to finally talk to you.

or, well, for you to talk to them.

“i’m havin’ a yard sale tomorrow,” you say after the introductions have passed, your lips tugged up in a shy smile.

john honestly couldn’t even remember how he used to envision you—old age caught up to him and for a whole while, you were nothing but a coloured blob in his eyes since they turned out to be more damaged than expected—but whatever that had been was erased the moment you stood before them.

shy and awkward, your back slouched just a little like you’re trying to curl into yourself in the face of their rapt attention, but even then you’re beautiful.

“yeah?” kyle asks, smiling; the first to break out of the trance you put them into. “and would y’need help, pretty miss?”

“oh, you,” you murmur, strained laughter peeling from your lips. “and yeah, i do. would that be alright? i tried moving my old couch downstairs and my back almost gave out. i swear, i thought i was going to see the lord today.”

johnny laughs, loud and booming. “well we’re glad that you didn’t die today, otherwise who would take care of little truffle, huh?”

john barely stopped himself from heaving out a loud sigh, an attempt made more challenging when he caught the way kyle whirled his head to glare at mactavish, the act not any less subtle since it startled you too. simon grumbles something incoherent—it’s lost amidst johnny’s petering laugh and your swelling horror.

“…how, exactly, do you know my cat’s name?”

[hazelsmirrorball]

Bed Chem | Oscar Piastri x Singer! Reader

summary: when rumors build up calming that the couple had broken up, they decided to break the internet with a new music video

faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter

pairings: oscar piastri x gf!singer!reader

a/n: Excuse any errors english isn’t my main language

oscxy/n via instagram !

liked by user167, user189 and 1,560 other.

oscxy/n been missing them more than usual!

view all comments

user14 they usually give us nothing but i honestly prefer the “soft” launching then having nothing

-> user189 soft launching?! they’ve been doing that for like five years now. Do they know we know they are dating each other or do we still need to act ?

user17 i know they don’t owe us anything but what if they broke up? Oscar hasn’t been liking y/n’s post since january

user34 i just want what they have!!!

user67 okay but when are we getting popstar x f1 book?

user902 what y/n should do is realease “gross”!!! A instagram post is not enough

user98 let them breathe please!!!!

f1.gossip via instagram !

liked by landonorris, user15 and 12,000 others.

f1.gossip a close source to the australian F1 driver, Oscar Piastri confirms that he and popstar, Y/n L/n are no longer together after five years of dating. Source claims that the “please please please” singer was found getting extra cozy with her music video love interest for the “Feather” music video.

view all comments

user167 this is a lie, they told me personally that they are still together!

user51 can you guys please keep their private life private

user091 gossip pages try not to invade peoples privacy, level 100

user17 why is lando lurking in the likes?

user78 please don’t tell me lando is the “close source”

user51 they have to be together!!! no one is separating my parents

user578 please!!! i know they rarely post each other but let’s make it know that they are still together

user479 guys guys guys!!! this means we are getting a new album

y/n via instagram!

liked by logansargent, lilymhe and 2,478,892 others.

y/n well, i guess it’s time to write new music again

view all comments

user16 omg it is real.

user78 y/n unfollowed oscar!!

user89 guys! guys! guys! i need someone to talk about this!!

user57 i’m sorry but this is insane

logansargent super proud of the new music!

-> user89 now we know who got logan in the divorce

user71 are we finally getting an angsty heartbreak album?!

y/n via instagram stories

oscarandy/n updates via instagram!

liked by user17, user67 and 1,493 others

oscarandy/nupdates Oscar in Y/n's album release party?! OMG

view all comments

user72 guys? are we all seeing the same thing? the is not Oscar in the first pic

user57 don't be dell they are literally in two different places

user28 guys, let stop this. They clearly broke up. There is no point of digging more into this

user32 well, guess it's time to say goodbye to our Lover

user98 pretty sure we are finally getting a sad album

y/nhq via instagram!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 2,891,298 others

y/nhq the music video for "Bed Chem" is out right now!! feat. Oscar Piastri

view all comments

user18 I thought we were getting a heartbreak album but this is going to be the ovulation album of the century

user71 bed chem is amazing!!!

user910 guys guys guys who can I tell this too

user280 okay but the two of them making out on top of the mclaren was crazyyyy

user18 I didn't know they had it in them

user52 and we thought they broke up, those two were just rehearsing for this damn video

y/n updates via instagram!

liked by y/n, oscarpiastri and 1,567 others.

y/nupdates Y/n got asked how was filming "Bed Chem" with Oscar.

"Honestly, we were so shy about it at first. Like we usually are really shy when it comes to out relationship and being public about it. Now, by doing this everyone was going to see a part we see behind close doors"

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user19 guys this is crazyyyyy

user28 they are so cute I love them!!

user51 shy? Oscar's hand placement was everything but shy

user28 I know they were obsessed with eachother

user539 she was such a blushing mess in this interview

user78 I love seeing this side of our girl

y/n via insta stories! oscarpiatri via insta!

oscarpiastri via instagram!

liked by landonorris, logansargent and 832,902 others.

oscarpiastri so happy to finally be my lovers, love interest. Guess I'll switch professions! (by the way, yes I'm the cute boy with the white jacket and the cute accent!)

view all comments

user17 Oscah, you little slut

user78 omg omg we finally get a post of them together

mclaren please don't

user24 they are so cute

user28 Oscar, can you fight?

y/n I love you so so much! My forever love interest

user27 Oscar, we heard bed chem...didn't imagine you as the kinky type

landonorris honestly need to get that song out of my head because I can't imagine you like that

[wolverigrl]

The Red Carpet Confession

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Here's another try! Please let me know in the comments if you liked it and if you'd like to have a part two? :)

Warnings: literally none, only some light fluff but nothing more!

!Disclaimer! The movie that the next parts are about is fictitious. It's a Marvel movie in which y/n plays one of the main roles as a Lady Deadpool variant.

Time period around 2015. Hugh's divorce fictitiously occurred here a year earlier.

Hugh is 46, and y/n is in her late 20s.

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

The energy at the movie premiere was electric—the buzz of the crowd, the flashing lights, and the excitement in the air. Hugh’s hand rested comfortably on the small of my back as we made our way down the red carpet. Every now and then, I found myself leaning into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort that came so naturally between us. I glanced up at him, admiring the familiar crinkles around his eyes when he smiled and those laugh lines I adored so much.

We had come a long way since our first meeting at one of Ryan’s infamous dinner parties, where Blake introduced me to Hugh. Some months later I found out that my ex fiancé cheated on me. That night was a turning point for me. Blake, always the caring friend, had rallied Ryan and Hugh to come over with takeout and wine, determined to cheer me up. The four of us spent the evening in my living room, talking, laughing, and simply being there for each other.

Hugh had been a quiet comfort, sitting beside me as I cried, his arm around my shoulders. At one point, Ryan insisted on taking a selfie—our eyes a little red but smiles plastered on our faces. We posted it with the caption:

>>vancityreynolds: Friends who stick by you, no matter what ❤️<<

It was a moment that solidified our friendship, and from there, Hugh and I only grew closer.

Over time, our bond deepened. We started working out together, pushing each other to new limits. One day after an intense session, we snapped a photo—both of us sweaty, grinning, and flexing our biceps. I couldn’t resist adding a cheeky caption:

>>y/n instagram: Who needs a gym partner when you’ve got The Wolverine pushing you?<<

The post went viral, and the fans went wild. The comments were full of playful speculation, with people shipping us hard.

>>loganskittycat: You two should just get married already😩<<

One fan wrote, while another cheekily commented:

>>carllax03: Are we sure this is just a workout partnership? Because I’m seeing serious couple vibes here🔥<<

I remember laughing about it with Hugh, but the truth was, there was something between us—something neither of us had fully acknowledged.

Things got even more intense after Hugh's separation. I made sure to be there for him, offering whatever support I could. We spent a lot of time together during that period, just talking, laughing, and working out our frustrations at the gym. He was hurting, and I wanted to be the friend he could lean on. But every time we were together, those buried feelings would start to bubble up again, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore them.

There was that one time I posted a photo of us at the beach in Australia, where I had visited Hugh some days after he told me of his seperation. We were walking along the shore, deep in conversation about the breakup, his children, life and relationships, when the paparazzi caught us.

>>thehughjackman: The best view in Australia, and I'm not talking about the ocean 🌊<<

The next day, the headlines were full of speculation, but what really made the fans go crazy was Hugh's comment under a selfie of us at the beach:

The internet literally exploded with fans shipping us even harder than before.

>>catpool3000: Okay, if you two don't date, the universe is seriously broken😩<<

>>marvelboyx: He's flirting right in front of us! This is not a drill guys!<<

I found these fan comments so amusing and laughed it off, but the truth was, Hugh had become someone I couldn’t imagine my life without.

As we continued posing for photos on the red carpet, I couldn't help but remember the time we ran into a group of fans during another walk, this time back in New York.

Hugh and I had been grabbing coffee when a few fans approached us asking for photos. Hugh was, of course, his usual charming self, chatting with them, making them laugh, and posing for selfies.

One of the fans turned to me, a little shy, and said: "You're so awesome, y/n. You and Hugh are just the best! Your energy is amazing."

I smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you, sweetheart, that means a lot. Hugh makes it easy, though. He's got the charm down to an art."

Later, those fans posted the selfies on social media, gushing about how kind and down-to-earth we both were. The most comments were full of love and support, with many noting how natural Hugh and I seemed together, how much they 'shipped' us. It was sweet, even if it was a little overwhelming.

The speculation about us had been growing for months, especially after that interview with Jimmy Fallon, where Ryan and I were guests. We were there to promote the new movie, and naturally, the conversation turned to the camaraderie on set.

Jimmy Fallon, ever the curious host, leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, y/n, what was it like joining such a big, well-established cast for the first time? Did you find it easy to get along with everyone?"

I nodded, smiling at the memory of my first days on set. "Honestly, I was a bit nervous at first. I mean, these guys are legends." I said, gesturing to Ryan.

"But they made me feel so welcome right from the start. It felt like I was joining a big. slightly dysfunctional, but very loving family."

I chuckled, trying to keep my cool. "I mean, Hugh and I did spend a lot of time together. We bonded over our love for fitness, and he's just such an easy person to get along with. But really, the whole cast was amazing."

Jimmy grinned. "And was there anyone you got particularly close to? I mean, everyone's shipping you with Hugh Jackman after those workout posts."

Fallon wasn't done yet. He leaned in closer, his tone playful. "But come on, Y/N, who was your favorite on set? Who was the person you looked forward to working with the most?"

Before I could answer, Ryan leaned over, placing his hand dramatically on his chest. "Oh, come on, Jimmy, we all know I'm her favorite," he said with a mock pout. Then, as if sharing a secret, he turned to him, cupping his hand around his mouth like he was about to whisper.

"But between us, it's the Aussie. It's always the Aussie."

The audience burst into laughter, and I playfully shoved Ryan's shoulder.

"You wish!" I said, unable to keep a straight face.

Ryan shot me a wink. "Hey, you don't have to deny it, y/n. We all know how much you love Hugh's, uhh workout routine."

I rolled my eyes, laughing along with the audience. But deep down, Ryan's joke hit a little too close to home. Because as much as I tried to brush it off, there was a growing part of me that knew he was right.

Now, as we walked the red carpet together, another interviewer caught up with us, asking the question we'd been dodging all night. "Hugh, y/n. The internet is buzzing with rumors about your relationship. Care to set the record straight?"

My heart skipped a beat. I glanced at Hugh, and he met my gaze with that familiar, playful glint in his eye. He leaned in, his voice low and teasing, as he spoke into the mic,

"We've certainly spent a lot of time, and we do get along really well."

Hugh and I exchanged a quick look, a silent understanding passing between us.

"We've had some pretty intense workouts together." I couldn't resist adding.

The double meaning wasn't lost on the interviewer or on Hugh, who shot me an amused look.

The interviewer pressed on. "So, is it safe to say you're more than just friends?"

Hugh grinned, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. "I think we'll leave that up to your imagination."

The reporter laughed, realizing we weren't going to give a straight answer. "Fair enough. But you two certainly know how to keep us all guessing."

We thanked him shortly after, said our quick goodbyes, and moved along the red carpet to the next interview.

Another reporter greeted us, smiling, and started right with the conversation.

"Y/n? Hugh, you two have been quite the talk of the town with your workout posts. Can you tell us a little more about your training and diets while preparing for the movie?"

Hugh grinned and nudged me playfully. "Y/n here is a beast in the gym. She's got more discipline than anyone I know, and she doesn't let me slack off."

I laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Hugh's being modest. He's the one who keeps me on my toes. It's hard not to be motivated when you've got The Wolverine next to you, pushing you to do just one more set.

The interviewer chuckled before shifting the conversation to a more private topic.

"And y/n, with your costume being so form-fitting, what kind of uhh.. support did you have underneath?”

The question caught me off guard, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Before I could respond, though, Hugh stepped in, his expression turning serious.

"I think that’s enough for this interview. Thank you for your time." he said, his tone polite but firm, effectively ending the conversation.

The reporter looked taken aback but quickly recovered, thanking us for our time before moving on. As we walked away, I felt a surge of gratitude for Hugh’s quick intervention. Without thinking, I placed my hand on his chest, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

"Thank you."

He smiled down at me, his eyes softening as he replied.

"Anytime, darling. Anytime."

As the last flashes of the cameras faded and the final questions from reporters dwindled, Hugh and I finally stepped off the red carpet. The air was buzzing with the excitement of the night, but it was the thought of the after-show party that truly had me giddy. Hugh could sense my anticipation and chuckled, his arm still comfortably wrapped around my waist as we made our way to the venue.

Inside, the party was already in full swing. The room was filled with a dazzling array of celebrities, all mingling and celebrating the movie. My eyes widened as I spotted a few of my own favorite celebrities across the room, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. Hugh noticed my reaction and gave me a teasing smile.

"Someone’s excited." he said. His voice was warm with amusement.

I laughed, unable to contain my enthusiasm.

"Can you blame me? This is like a dream come true! There are so many people here I’ve admired for years."

Hugh shook his head, his eyes crinkling with that familiar, affectionate smile. "It’s adorable seeing you like this, y/n. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself."

We made our way further into the party, the music and chatter surrounding us. It didn’t take long before we spotted Ryan and Blake, who waved us over from a corner where they were chatting with a few other familiar faces.

As we joined them, Blake greeted us with a warm hug.

"You two were fantastic out there." she said, beaming. "How many relationship questions did you get?"

Ryan grinned, leaning in with a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, did they finally get you to confess?"

I exchanged a quick glance with Hugh before we both laughed. "Oh, you know, we kept them guessing." I said, shrugging lightly. "It’s more fun that way."

Hugh nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We might have let a few things slip here and there, just to keep them on their toes."

Blake raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You two really enjoy this, don’t you?"

"Maybe a little." I admitted with a grin, feeling a little mischievous. "But in the end, it’s our story to tell—or not."

Ryan lifted his glass, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, here’s to keeping the world guessing, then. And to the best workout partners in the business."

We all clinked our glasses together, the sound of crystal ringing out as we toasted to the night and everything that had led us to this moment. The conversation flowed easily, with laughter and banter filling the space between us. As I stood there, surrounded by friends who had become like family, I felt a deep sense of contentment.

As the night wore on, we mingled with other guests, and I let my inner fangirl come out to play, much to Hugh’s amusement. He watched with a fond smile as I excitedly chatted with some of my favorite stars, his laughter echoing in my ears when I returned to his side, gushing about the conversations I’d just had.

Blake nudged him playfully, a knowing look in her eyes. "You’ve got your hands full with this one, Hugh."

Hugh just laughed, looking over to me, while I was talking to Ryan. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

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

Next part

[oh-no-its-bird]

Jokingly thought to myself "Kakashi got a sharingan pass bc the Uchiha like him" which turned into "dumb au where the Uchiha just really like Kakashi for some reason (clan stuff??)"

Which then turned into two separate fic ideas where either Obito survives and Kakashi is a hot commodity for the Uchiha (much to Obito's displeasure, he has dibs you guys go away what the fuck!!); or a kid era fic where the Uchiha take one look at Obito's eye in his head and go "DIBS!! DIBS!!! THIS MEANS WE HAVE DIBS!!!!" and just violently adopt him

Anyways:

Really stupid 'Madara adopts Kakashi after Sakumo's death' AU where Madara never left the village and continues to live as a very grumpy old man.

He adopts Kakashi partially out of spite for half-Hatake!Tobirama + the Hatake were very old Senju allies so spite for that too. Plus a little bit of "damn, another once strong clan wittled down to nothing"

(The fact he never left means Tobirama died at a much later date and also made Kagami hokage)

Madara is visiting Tobirama's grave just to go "get fucked bastard, I stole your nephew, he's mine now." (Ignoring the fact Tobirama probably would have quietly approved anyways)

Obito is around and hates Madara with an inexplicable burning rage and the feeling is mutual. Madara has beef with this literal 11 year old and it's embaressing for both of them.

Obito just has another reason to be mad about Kakashi's general existence (why does the old man seem to like HIM???? What the FUCK????) Obito doesn't know whether he should be telling Kakashi to stay away from Madara or Madara from Kakashi. He does both.

Also Madara and Tobirama were like DEFINATLEY gay together but it was kept behind closed doors and also they continued to hate on eachother in and out of the bedroom. They had the energy of a married couple who regularly gets divorced and remarried like 3 times a month. Everyone hates them.

Madara regularly goes to cuss out Tobirama's grave when mad ab something, then ends his rant with a quiet, begrudging, "miss you, bastard."

Just in general mad bitter old guy Madara harassing the general Konoha population as equally grumpy, 9 years old and almost as bitter as he is Kakashi watches

Kakashi is going to grow up to be an even bigger bastard than canon, thanks Madara!

Eventual obkk where Obito realizes if he marries Kakashi one day Madara will be his dad and he almost seriously considers just. Not.

Is it really worth it. Is it REALLY worth it. Before he sees Kakashi smile or smthn and goes FUCK ok maybe it's worth it.

[lxvvie]

Divorcecanons, Phillip Graves edition:

You asked for a divorce based on "irreconcilable differences" and Graves... agreed. Without a fuss. See that GIF up there? That's the same questioning look he gave you when you brought it up. Did you ever stop to ask yourself why he agreed to it?

Doesn't matter though 'cause even though the divorce is official (you sure about that, darlin'?), it's like nothing's changed between you and your ex-husband. Much. Except you're not wearing your ring. Mm. Terrible, sweetheart. Absolutely terrible.

Sure, he's moved out. Graves has his place set up for the time being and you're set financially, but he's never too far from your house. Your house that belongs to you two. Your house that belongs to you two because you're MARRIED.

Need repairs? Not to worry darlin', if it ain't something he can fix, he knows people who know people. He's there to oversee it, too.

Social events? Going out together? You fuckin' know it, doll. Got a dinner with the fellas at 7. He'll be there to scoop you up at 6:30.

Need a sounding board? Well, who else are you gonna turn to? He's been that for years. A simple... separation won't stop that. He's all eyes and ears, beautiful.

Talking shit about your asshole neighbors? Well, tell 'im all about it. He told you some of them were full of shit but now you're seeing it for yourself and it's... ugh. You don't have his gift of gab.

The bed's cold at night? Damn. Bummer. If only your HUSBAND was there to keep it and you warm but he can't. Because you're divorced. Bummer.

Dating. Oh, boy. You told Graves it was high time you started to move on but the thought of Graves giving someone else his last name has you feeling some type of way. Must be those post-divorce (what divorce?) blues.

Except when you dipped your toe into the dating pool, it was two hells and two nawls. No one could make you laugh like Graves did. Some couldn't hold a conversation at all. Some wanted sex right then and there. You were kinda-sorta-absolutely catfished a time or two. Or three. Jesus Christ.

But there Graves was to be a listening ear. After a couple drinks and rants about dating and your dry spell, you were face down, ass up in your MARITAL bed, and Graves' hands were gripping your hips like his life depended on it. You're pretty sure you broke the bed. That could be the wine talking, though...

But it doesn't matter 'cause come next morning, you wake up in his arms and the bed isn't cold anymore. Oh, and your ring is back on your finger. Again. "How 'bout it, darlin'?" Well, you can't complain, can you?

It's a good thing Graves knows people who know people 'cause what divorce again, darlin'?

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 4.7k warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀 notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think! ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted of my latest fics! ✨

03:49 PM

Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.

Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.

And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.

So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.

Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…

Fine enough.

But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”

You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”

Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”

“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.

There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.

“Hey.”

If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.

Still. 

You can’t help that you miss him.

“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.

He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.

“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”

“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”

“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.

You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.

Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.

Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.

“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”

“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.

“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”

He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”

You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.

“How’s Alfie doing in school?”

“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.

“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”

You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.

“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”

“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.

He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”

“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.

A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.

You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.

The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.

Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.

The same vulnerable look.

“Hey, bub.”

“Hi.”

“Can I get a hug?”

There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.

“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”

“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.

“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin. 

Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”

Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”

“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.

The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.

But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine. 

And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.

“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”

“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.

“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.

Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”

“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.

“It’s your dad’s time—”

“No!”

“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight. 

But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.

So much for quality time with his son. 

Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”

“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“

“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”

It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.

“Alright, fine.”

“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”

You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”

Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.

“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”

Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”

Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.

“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”

“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”

He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either. 

“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.

God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall. 

Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”

“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”

Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father. 

“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”

Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”

“What, are you trying to kick me out?”

“No, I just—”

Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”

He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”

You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…

Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together. 

With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.

***

05:04 PM

By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.

“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”

Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.

Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.

“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”

The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”

“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.

Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”

“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”

His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”

“Why? You don’t miss home?”

There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.

He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma. 

Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up. 

Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”

“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.

“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”

Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”

The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head. 

You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.

“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.

“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”

“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.

You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms. 

“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.

“Can I watch Bluey now?”

You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”

Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”

“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”

Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Your meeting went okay?”

“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”

“Yeah…”

You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”

Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…

“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.

You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”

You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”

“Don’t forget your crayons!”

Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”

“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”

The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”

There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household. 

“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.

You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”

“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”

Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”

“Er, kind of.”

“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.

Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”

“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?

“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.

He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”

“You never taught me how to do it, though.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”

He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”

For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.

And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?

“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”

You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.

“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”

You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating. 

“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.

“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”

“What’s a burr, sir?”

Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“

Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…

In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…

“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”

Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.

“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?” 

“That’s basically it, yeah.”

The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.

“Listen, I—”

“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.

It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.

***

if you've reached the end of this page, thank you so much for reading! do tell me what you think, reblog, send me asks, thoughts, ANYTHING. i would LOVE to hear your opinion!!!

[harzilla]

Original post found here. https://www.tumblr.com/harzilla/760718001365549056/ohh-brain-rot-time-long-lost-sibling-au-except

Expanding on the idea. I want to thank @achromaticbibliophile for a lot of these ideas

Riddle and Yuu growing up in complete opposite lives. Riddle under strict parentage while Yuu grows up in a family similar to the Robinson's in Meet the Robinson's. A chaotic but loving family that sees failure not as a bad thing, but as a way to learn. Who finds a baby on their doorstep and adopts without hesitation. The two butting heads at first. Until the truth of Yuu being Riddle's sibling is revealed. Perhaps Yuu's hair is platinum blonde or even white. Perhaps Riddle is the Red Queen to Yuu's White Queen. Riddle who is introduced to Yuu's adopted family and it's all so chaotic, dinner nearly a food fight and afterwards he's brought into the kitchen to help make the dessert. Messing it up and he thinks it'll be another oyster sauce incident. But instead everybody cheers and ohh. It's actually okay. Yuu and him sharing the story of him messing up the tart after his overblot The family turns it into a silly joke. The dessert is missing something, why not oyster sauce? The family, having a contest to see who can create the weirdest dessert, and Riddle winning by making a traditional Queendom of Roses star gazey pie. Riddle, who finds himself laughing along with the rest of the family. Welcome to the family Riddle.

Leona, who has always been the unfavored. Who is brought to meet Yuu's adoptive parents. Leona, who had to convince Falena not to come but instead sends a note thanking the parents for raising the third Kingscholar child. Yuu's parents shocked to see their lost child come home sporting ears and a tail and bringing home a brother. Leona, who finds himself at ease when they ask him about his aspirations, his plans for the future, he's just Leona to them.

Jade and Floyd. Who grew up with a mother who was always worried about them. Eventually learning about a third eelver who was lost to the tides. One day a kid runs up to their parents with a baby wrapped in a towel. The adults panic but the couple eventually adopt the child. Yuu who doesn't have a clue until the day they go to the coral sea to retrieve the photo and transform into an eel mer. Jade immediately separating Yuu and bombarding them with questions while Floyd keeps the others away. Jade and Floyd who drag Yuu back to NRC.

J&F: Found our lost sibling.

Azul: What?

J&F: *dumping them into a tank* Found our lost sibling.

Rollo, who hates magic. Magic lost him not one but two siblings. Rollo, who plans to rid the world of magic. The masquerade invitation to NRC. Rollo, who is shocked when the previously uninvited Prefect looks strikingly similar to himself and his deceased brother. Perhaps he sees Yuu as an even bigger motivator for his plans. Magic took his siblings from him, and if he destroys it, then magic can never take Yuu from him again. Yuu who at the end tells him that yes, magic may have separated them but magic also brought them back together and perhaps magic may allow him to see the world they grew up in.

Malleus' was expanded on a lot and is practically a fanfic in onto itself.

This idea is actually thanks to @kitsun369

The Spade family, a set of baby paternal twins. One that looks like their father, and the other who looks like their mother Dilla. The parents separate after a particularly nasty divorce. Only for the baby with dad to disappear after their father is attacked and injured. The parents, but especially Dilla spend years mourning the loss of one child. One day, Deuce overhears his mom on the phone crying to his grandmother because she's afraid something will happen to Deuce if he doesn't get on the right path. She's already mourned one child. She can't bare to mourn another. That day Deuce decides to turn his life around, he never wants to see his mom cry like that again.

Deuce who becomes friends with the prefect. They're like peas in a pod. They're each other's biggest supporters. The day they go to the White Rabbit festival and Deuce introduces his mom to Yuu, she's shocked because this child is practically the spitting image of her ex-husband when he was that young, even down to the same hair color. She doesn't want to get her hopes up but could it be?

[andavs]

sorry what do you mean by eddie & shannon being a classic military couple?

Sorry it's been a minute, but this got away from me.

So military couples are notorious for getting married very young and very quickly for the benefits, and they’re also notorious for their relationships failing and getting divorced.

They skip the time usually spent building a solid foundation and partnership, and jump straight into marriage. Then if deployment comes up, one of them leaves for an extended period of time. This leads to a lot of relationships where sex is the only area where they’re compatible, because they’re both growing as people completely separate from each other. They’re handling different stresses, different schedules, sometimes completely different realities, until they’re finally reunited and a lot of the common ground they built their early relationship on isn’t there anymore. So they focus on the good things to keep things going because it’s easier, which is often sex.

Sound familiar?

Eddie and Shannon both said that they were always good at sex, but that’s about it. They never learned how to work as partners before they got married and became parents, and with Eddie deployed almost straight out of basic and overseas for half of their marriage, they never got the chance. Even just communicating was a struggle; anytime they tried to broach a difficult subject, it devolved into a yelling.

Like the fight about Eddie reenlisting:

Readjusting to civilian life is always rough, even with a really solid support system and no PTSD. Not just coming back to safety from danger, but while you're deployed, everything is relatively "simple". Even if you’re in a warzone and seeing combat, everything else is handled for you—food, clothing, medical, housing, etc. Coming back to suddenly having to worry about rent and paying for the dentist and grocery shopping and feeding the kids and getting them to school is a big adjustment and it can be overwhelming.  

So is coming back after a year and really realizing how much of your family's life you missed. They handled things without you, your kids grew and changed without you—you don't even know what you missed but you know you're out of sync, and it can be incredibly isolating. Reenlisting to get back to the familiar and "simple" life of the military isn’t uncommon.

Eddie didn't even know how to hold his son, let alone process the CP diagnosis, and all the bills and headaches of everyday life on top of that. Shannon was used to the bills and headaches and wanted him back so she wouldn’t have to handle it all alone, but he was so incredibly overwhelmed and disconnected that reenlisting was, in his mind, the way to solve a lot of those problems. (It’s also possible he got a pretty good bonus for reenlisting, which it sounds like they really needed, and Eddie was raised to do whatever it takes to provide.)

Then the welcome home party:

This comes with all the same problems as the reenlisting argument, but this time with more trauma and no exit strategy because Eddie was shot multiple times and discharged. The only way he's been able to "be a man and provide" for his family is unavailable, and he's clearly struggling with feeling useless and out of his depth.

Each member of his family in that scene puts pressure on common points of stress of returning from deployment:

Helena's on him for not knowing how to care for Christopher, and everything he’s missed while he was away.

Ramon's proudly holding up the symbol of his trauma and reciting the certificate, lauding the job Eddie can't do anymore.

Shannon's clearly been living for the day he gets back so she wouldn’t have to do it all alone anymore and they could get out of Texas. It was her light at the end of the tunnel, and she wants to get out of there as soon as possible.

None of them were being intentionally malicious, but Eddie constantly downplays everything about his military service ("I was just doing my job" / "I just did what anyone else would do") so none of his family really knew what he went through or how much it affected him. He came home pretending he was fine, so they expected him to be fine. Maybe they wanted him to be fine so they didn’t see how much he wasn’t. 

This is a really common problem for combat veterans and their families. They don’t want to think about what they’ve been through so they shove their medals in a box in the closet. They don't want to talk about it because their family won't understand or they don't want to go into the gory details, maybe they feel ashamed, or maybe they just aren’t ready to revisit it yet. But by not talking about it at all, the disconnect grows and they feel more alienated from their family, who has no idea how much they're struggling so they don’t know how to help, or even that they need help.

And Eddie’s clearly struggling in that scene, literally backed into a corner, snapping that he needs time because he doesn't know how to say that he can't handle up and moving to another state on top of everything else he's still not adjusting to. He probably can't even admit that he's not adjusting because this stuff should be easy and everyone else can get his son a drink, but he can’t even do that right. He was an incredibly competent and capable soldier and medic, and now he doesn’t even know where the juice boxes are.

But to Shannon, who doesn't know what he's feeling, he's being stubborn and dismissive of what she needs and everything she's been dealing with alone. And again, they never learned how to tackle these kinds of issues without fighting each other.

They were both at the end of their rope, and had similar responses that were incompatible with each other. Eddie dug in where it felt familiar and safe to him, in El Paso with his family nearby. Shannon retreated to where she could feel safe: LA, with her mom, where she wouldn't have someone correcting everything she did and constantly breaking her down further. It's possible she had her own support system there that she'd been largely cut off from while in Texas.

It's also not uncommon for a returning soldier to get boxed out of childcare and family decisions; their partner has gotten so used to handling it on their own that it can feel like they aren’t needed anymore. But sometimes the opposite happens: their partner has gotten so overwhelmed handling it all on their own that they end up dumping it on the returning soldier, like what happened when Shannon left. She was able to get away and breathe without everything on her shoulders, but then it all fell on Eddie who was already struggling with the basics.

Combine all of that with the stigma of PTSD within the military and so many soldiers willfully ignoring the symptoms, the way Eddie was raised to “brush it off, keep moving forward”, and Eddie’s very internal, freeze response PTSD symptoms where he just kind of shuts down and tries to stay where it’s safe, and you’ve got a dude silently drowning in Texas until he’s forced to make a move because his parents want custody of his son.

Most of this came from the book I Always Sit with My Back to the Wall, which again, seems like the instructions Eddie was built from.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 2] Toji's Miserable Attempts to Change Your Mind

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You’ve had many plans for your life, but packing your clothes to move out from your apartment– Toji’s apartment, at twenty seven years of age wasn’t one of them. Even though it was your decision, you never thought you’d be getting divorced. You really love Toji, and while part of you really wants to stay, you know you need to leave.

He tries to convince you to stay, loving you the best way he knows how to: having sex. You don’t turn him down even though you probably should since you’re separating. It’s temporary as you move out. You keep each other entertained, as bad as it sounds. He has sex with you to get you to stay and you simply enjoy it.

Things have changed though, a month later you find an apartment that you can afford with the new job that you got. You have some savings from the occasional allowance that Toji gave you (once a month and it couldn’t even buy you a damn loaf of bread), and of course apart from your day job as a receptionist, you’ve gotten a waitressing job during nights. You’re trying your best to save up and move out. You’re not taking care of the house or anything and you’re hoping that maybe that’ll finally get Toji to sign the divorce papers that he refuses to sign. 

Toji didn’t expect to come back home to this. You’re grabbing your clothes from the closet and shoving them into a suitcase. There must be a better way to do this all but it seems like you’re in a rush to leave. You don’t seem to notice his presence or at the very least, you ignore it.

“Are you really doing this?” Toji clears his throat and speaks up to catch your attention. You give him a side eye before walking into the closet to get more clothes. Toji really thought for a moment that sex would be enough to get you to stay, you had no problem accepting it anyway; but you’re still packing your stuff, “I hope you know that I won’t support you. You’re doing this because you chose to, I will fight tooth and nail so you don’t get a single penny from me.”

“I don’t want your stupid money.” You’re clearly annoyed and you display it in your tone. You feel underappreciated because he doesn’t care to notice that you’ve been working and that you’ve stopped doing housework. You feel more invisible than ever. Toji watches as you put more stuff into the suitcase, at this point it’s overfilled with clothes. “I have two jobs, Toji. I wasn’t counting on you, I never was.”

“Can’t we talk about this?” Toji asks, and you chuckle but it soon turns into a fit of laughter. Toji crosses his arms and watches as you laugh your heart out, and he wonders what he said that causes such a reaction. A tear streams down your face and you wipe it away, calming down and taking a deep breath.

“We’ve had a month to talk about this, Toji. You just thought that throwing yourself at me would solve all of our problems.” You point out, and he bites his tongue. He ends up sighing, loosening the tie that’s tight around his neck. He takes a seat on your side of the bed, watching as you zip the suitcase close. “Believe it or not, sex doesn’t solve all problems– In fact, for our situation it doesn’t solve anything.”

“You wanted attention and I’m giving it to you.” It’s as simple as that, at least in his mind. You roll your eyes before looking through drawers to get stuff that you bought, items that belong to you and you’re taking to your new place. “I don’t know why you’re so complicated–”

“No, I’m simple! I want a divorce and you won’t give it to me.” You slightly raise your voice. You find a couple items and throw them on the bed before looking for another suitcase. You can’t believe just how complicated Toji is. You get another suitcase, but this one has a couple things in it. You open it and you find a couple CD cases, and you take them out. They don’t belong to you, you don’t have any CDs, so the only reasonable explanation is that they’re Toji’s. You put them aside, but you know you’ll be putting them into your laptop and playing the contents of it later. 

You walk back to the bedroom with the suitcase, and throw it on the bed. You begin to throw your stuff in it, and Toji can’t help but watch. He hears as his heart slowly breaks, he just didn’t think that you’d be doing this. You sleep next to him without a problem, and you have no problem giving in to his touch. The first night you told him you still wanted a divorce, but you stayed with him; you still kissed him back, you caressed him, you laughed at his awful jokes (granted not as hard as before). Toji really thought that he had you back, you just needed time.

“How about we… Tomorrow, will you give me a chance? Let’s go out.” Toji doesn’t know what to say. He’s realizing that after you leave, it’ll be hard to see you again. Nothing is tying you down. You’re ignoring him, your eyes focused on organizing the items in the suitcase, something that you didn’t care to do for your clothes. “Just– I promise that I’ll sign the divorce papers without a problem if after tomorrow–”

“Fine. Let’s go out.” You say but you continue packing everything away because you know it’s not going to work. Nothing Toji can do will make you change your mind. 

Tossing and turning in your bed leads you to look again for the CDs that you had put aside earlier. You had forgotten about them since your mind was preoccupied with what Toji has planned for tomorrow– Or today since it is past midnight. Toji’s snoring so you’re not too worried about him hearing you get out of the bed, get the CDs, get the laptop, and then go to the living room.

You put the first CD in, the one that has the oldest date. You wait a while for it to boot up, but when it does, you hate the video immediately. His late wife, Toji’s, appears on the screen and she’s so strikingly beautiful; it’s not because of her, she’s a woman that you respect and admire. What you hate is how you see Toji. So happy about the fact that he’s married. Your chest feels heavy and for some reason tears well up in your eyes.

Toji wasn’t this happy when he was getting married to you. You were like her, over the moon and smiling during every minute of the event… Toji on the other hand wasn’t like he’s in this video. He looks so genuinely happy, and so in love with her. You doubt he’s ever looked at you like he looks at her.

You have to skip forward because you take heavy breaths to keep yourself calm. You pause right at Toji’s toast, and while you know that you should skip forward because what he’ll say will shatter you, you keep the video playing. You’re not a woman that usually gets jealous, the fact that you stayed with Toji after his betrayal is telling of that aspect, but when he opens his mouth your hands are shaking. Your whole body shakes due to the immense jealousy that runs through your veins. You have to try your best to hold back your tears when he calls her his soulmate and the love of his life. What really sticks with you is:

I don’t know what I’d do without her, she’s everything to me.

You have to take out the disk because there’s tears running down your face. You’re not mad because he loved someone else, you’re frustrated because he never grew to love you like he loved her. Matter of fact, you’re not sure if Toji even loves you even when he’s been trying to assure you of it lately. You put in the other disk because you just want to know the contents of it. You take a deep breath as you wait for the video to start.

“Is this working?” Toji’s eye is right on the camera, and you chuckle as you watch your husband try to figure out how to work the camera. He finally adjusts the camera and you get to see him, and her as well. She has a cute baby bump and you smile. She sounds so sweet,

“We’re so excited to meet you, baby.” And Toji wraps her arms around her, his hands landing on her baby bump. “What name did you choose again?”

“Megumi. He’s our little blessing.” It’s cute, it’s really cute. It’s so nice to see Toji smile like an idiot, and look how he looks so lovingly at his beloved. He’s so excited to be a father too… The same Toji that told you he didn’t want kids, that in order to get married you had to accept the fact that you wouldn’t have children. He just simply didn’t want them, no other reasoning than that. You wanted kids but you accepted it. Being a mother is something that you’ve always wanted but for Toji you were willing to give that up; additionally, you had Megumi as a stepson and that was sort of enough even when you weren’t supposed to act like his mother.

You’re bawling your eyes out for the rest of the video, even when you’re supposed to smile. Toji kissing his wife’s belly, blushing as she brushes his hair with her fingers. He talks to the baby and is as sweet as ever with her, and you’re comparing yourself to her. You’re wondering why you aren’t enough, why can’t Toji love you? He would never treat you like he treated her, and you don’t mind not being treated the same but Toji doesn’t even try. You’re just an afterthought. 

The video ends and you take the disk out again, and you put in the last one. You take a deep breath, wiping away the tears. You knew Toji had a whole life behind you, you shouldn’t care. You’re separating anyway. You laugh seeing a tiny baby Megumi, really nothing like the angsty teen that he is today. A chubby baby, who’s so sleepy. 

Toji looks so happy as he holds his son. Over the moon with his baby, and you begin to wonder why Toji doesn’t want kids. Maybe he just wants one woman to be the mother of his kids but since she’s no longer in this world, he doesn’t want to have more. There’s so many cute moments, mostly focused on Megumi. When he learned how to talk, calling Toji dada, and it’s so visible how happy Toji was. Watching as Megumi learned how to walk, you realized something: you’re not willing to give up having a baby for a man that doesn’t love you. You want your own family, one where you’re loved.

You’re tired of not being loved enough, and it causes your heart to ache. A sob leaves your lips and you’re about to shut the laptop when you hear him ask, “Why are you watching that? It’s three in the morning.”

You turn to look at him, the bit of light coming from the laptop illuminates your tears. You want to ask him why you’re not enough, why he chose to marry you, why he doesn’t love you, why he insists on you staying, why he chose you. There’s a lump in your throat and you’re not able to ask him anything though.

“Do you want a baby?” He asks, and you end up nodding in response, wiping away your tears. And he might not want to be a father again but he’s willing to do it all over again if it means that you’ll stay. “We can have one.”

“We’re getting a divorce, Toji.” You remind him before shutting off the laptop. You stand up from the couch and walk back to the bedroom. He walks behind you since he stood up because you weren’t by his side. He has to get used to it though, you’re leaving soon.

“When are you moving out?” He asks.

“In two days.”

Toji makes sure you dress appropriately for your date. It’s supposed to be a surprise, and you’re not exactly too excited to go out with him. No matter what, you’re leaving. You’ve been saving up for this. For the first time, Toji is actually worried that you’re going to be late and he rushes you to leave.

You wonder what you’ll be doing since he’s in such a rush. And then you get to the movie theater. When you’re in the parking lot, you ask, “What movie are we going to watch? The new dolls ones?”

“It’s a surprise.” He responds, turning off the car. He gets out and he rushes to open the door for you but he never does that for you so he can’t do the chilvarious act since you’re already out of the car. He throws his arm over your shoulder as you walk to the entrance. You’re going up to the ticket booth to get the tickets, but Toji has a different idea. He waves at the worker as if they know each other, and you two walk inside the movie theater. “Do you want anything?”

“I guess… A small popcorn.” You’re unsure. Toji never buys anything from the movie theater during the rare occurrence he actually goes. He walks away to get the popcorn while you patiently wait, looking around. You’ll be moving out tomorrow, and that’s the only thought that runs through your mind when you look at him. It makes you want to cry… It’s for your own good, yet you don’t want to go.

“Let’s go.” There’s a small smile on his face when he’s walking over to you. You’re not sure where you’re supposed to go since you don’t have any movie tickets so you have no option but to follow him. You get to an empty auditorium, and he tells you, “Choose where you want to sit.”

You do get excited, even though you told yourself you weren’t going to get excited over anything during this date. You walk to the very top, and he follows you. You begin to munch on your popcorn while watching the previews, and you can’t help but ask, “What movie are we watching?’

“It’s a surprise.” He responds. You try to think of all the movies that are currently being shown, however, none sound interesting enough to draw Toji in. You won’t push it though, you don’t care. You’ll stick around for one bad movie if it means that Toji will finally sign the divorce papers. 

You finish eating the small bucket of popcorn before the movie actually begins, and when Toji notices, he’s kind enough to take it from your hands and stand up. Before he leaves though you request, “Could you get me a drink? And some candy?”

“Of course, honey.” He says before walking away. You’ll take advantage of this since you’re leaving soon. Your eyes then go to the screen to look at the previews. You know they’re ending and the theater is deserted which makes you assume that it’s an unpopular movie. You don’t care all that much about it, you’re just hoping that Toji will come back before it starts because you aren’t all that great with summaries.

When it does start, he’s still gone. You make sure to pay attention so you’ll be able to explain at the best of your ability. You begin to realize how familiar this movie feels– You try to recollect your thoughts, trying to remember all the movies you’ve watched and then it hits you. You watched this movie years ago with Toji during your first official date.

You’re overflowing with emotions lately. Maybe it’s because a divorce isn’t an easy process, especially when Toji wants you to stay and you love him so much. You’re tearing up watching the beginning of the movie, and your glossy eyes are so focused on the screen that you don’t realize Toji has come back with everything you’ve asked and more.

“Everything okay?” He asks, and you nod in response. You smile at him.

“You remember.” You say as you take the popcorn and drink from him, allowing him to keep the other stuff.

“Of course I do.” He responds. Years ago you came to watch a movie but instead, you did anything but watch the movie. In your defense, you tried to but it wasn’t all that entertaining especially when you had Toji next to you. Your heart softens as you realize that he did this for you.

“How much did this cost?” You question, feeling bad because you know what’ll happen next. His efforts are in vain.

“Not much.” He tries to play it off. Toji isn’t a man that saves up a lot of money, and while this didn’t cost a lot, it costed the little amount of money Toji had saved up. 

The scene is about to play out like it did in the first time. He cups your face and pecks your lips, “Any price is worth it when it comes to you.”

It’s not much effort either, but his words and his actions are making you reconsider even when you had set your mind to leaving. But then you remember how happy he was in those videos, how he called her his soulmate. Toji can’t do that with you, at least he hasn’t in the five years that you’ve been together, and you doubt that he will if you stay. If you decide to stay, it’ll take a week for Toji to go back to being himself. And while he offered to start a family with you, you know it won’t end well.

“Toji…” You begin, your voice nearly breaking. You slowly blink, trying to hold back your tears. He knows what’s coming as he stares at your face.

“If this is about having kids, I told you I’d have one with you.” He reminds you. You take a deep breath, trying to gather all the words you need.

“But you don’t want one. We’re not having a kid to try and save this marriage. That’ll just end up horrible. You won’t love my baby and I’ll have to raise them by myself.” You point out. “Toji… All I want is for someone to love me, and have my own family. You once had that and… You know how it feels. I want to start over with someone else as fast as I can.”

You have to look away because just looking at Toji makes you want to burst into tears. Your heart holds so much sadness, and the last person you want it to unfold with is Toji.

“I know you don’t know how it feels like to be unloved by someone you hold dear to your heart, but let me tell you, it fucking sucks.” You try to chuckle as tears run down your face. You’re not sure why. Maybe you want to disguise your tears, but it’s a horrible cover up. “If I stay, everything will go back to how it usually is within a week. I just want to start over and not be a placeholder for anyone.”

“That’s not how this is, baby. I love you.” He tries to assure you but your mind just replays the video of how happy and in love he looked when he was with her. He’ll never look at you like that, and thinking about it breaks your heart. You deserve someone like that. 

You give him the popcorn before standing up. You weakly smile at him, and you’re about to mutter an apology to him but you end up biting your tongue. He doesn’t deserve one. He chose this. Out of the two of you, you’re the one deserving of an apology. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

You leave to go to the bathroom to fix your makeup and try to watch the movie. Maybe you’ll finally grasp the plot of this movie the second time around– You also really want that candy. You look in the mirror and try to smile at yourself. Your makeup isn’t all that bad, just tear stains ruining your foundation.

It hurts to see him try so hard but you wonder why he’s trying. You’re not the woman he loves, and the man also seems to not care for housework all that much because he hasn’t noticed how your apartment is a damn mess. Maybe Toji does love you… But you shake the thought out of your head because it’s ridiculous. 

There’s a tap on your shoulder and you turn to see what looks like a teenage girl. You raise your eyebrows and she asks, “Do you have a pad or tampon I could use?”

“Uh… Yeah.” You search in your purse for the pad that you keep in case of emergencies, and when you find it, you hand it to her. She thanks you before going into one of the stalls, and you focus on finishing up your makeup.

You freeze, the brush in your hand falling into the sink when you realize something that’s so very important.

You’re late.

[thehighladywrites]

THIS ISN’T GOODBYE, THIS IS SIMPLY SEE YOU LATER…

⋆˙⟡ pairing: ex husband/baby daddy rhysand x fem reader

⋆˙⟡ summary: people who love each other will always find their way back. you and rhys divorced a few years ago, but you will always love each other

⋆˙⟡ warnings: 18+, mdni light angst, hurt to comfort, fluff, smut, violent behavior (not rhysand), misogyny, they’re in love your honor😔

⋆˙⟡ amara’s note: i’m a little iffy about this bc i feel like it could be better but i hope you love it. The smut isn’t really that smutty, it’s more fluffy. Please, let me know what you think; leave a comment😌💗 also english isn’t my first language so if something doesn’t make sense, ignore💀 ALSO LISTEN TO CEILINGS BY LIZZY WHEN YOU GET TO THE RUNNING SCENE PLS IT’S GONNA MAKE SO MUCH SENSE (i hope)

Getting back into the dating scene after your divorce felt strange. Unbeknownst to you, you found yourself unconsciously comparing every man to Rhys, nitpicking on their behavior. Seated at a beautiful restaurant with a guy quite different from your usual choices, things seemed promising until he gave you some backhanded compliments.

“You say you're a doctor? You?” His words grated on your nerves, and you couldn't fathom why he was so shocked.

“Yes, I am. Is that surprising to you?” you retorted.

He chuckled nervously and shook his head. “No, no. I just pegged you for a nurse or something. You know, something more feminine.”

Your hopes deflated. Turns out, this guy wasn't different at all—he was just like every pompous and misogynistic man out there.

Keeping your cool, you fire back with a smirk,

“Is this coming from the person who just told me they bake for a living? I pegged your for a construction worker, you know, something more masculine.” With a smile you excuse yourself from the table, leaving him puzzled and perhaps questioning his outdated assumptions. Your departure left him to contemplate his lacking dinner date skills.

In the search for someone matching the love you'd known, you found yourself in a loop of comparing every date to Rhys. You shook your head, realizing you needed to stop this habit and maybe, just maybe, find happiness beyond those high standards.

With a dramatic exhale, you frowned, blaming Rhys for your lousy love life. After all, he had treated you like a goddess, setting extremely untouchable standards.

—

As if the mother herself had heard your wish, you finally met a somewhat decent man who wasn’t giving you any backhanded compliment or was making you feel uncomfortable. Although he was somewhat nice he was a little bland and not something you would typically go for. He was very nice with your daughters but could have a temper.

But beggars can’t be choosers right?

With utmost tenderness, you approached the conversation with your twin daughters, explaining the new man in your life. In soft words, you explained that mommy and daddy weren't together anymore, framing it as a journey of finding happiness even though you deep down weren’t feeling the happiness you portrayed. You emphasized the still-there love between you and their father, assuring them that sometimes people are just better off as friends.

Even though the news initially saddened them, your gentle touch in explaining the complexities of grown-up emotions, coupled with the warmth of your smile, melted their worries away. As they saw the happiness radiating from you, your daughters embraced the idea, understanding that your heart always carried love for them and their father.

Little did you know that your mischievous baby girls spilled the news to Rhysand, sharing every detail about the man you were seeing, your dates, and even telling him that you still loved Daddy. However, being the little dramatists they were, they exaggerated, making it seem like you were head over heels for him.

Despite almost three years of separation and the seemingly agreement to divorce, the twins' confession ignited a flame of jealousy in Rhysand. The mere thought of you going on dates and being entertained by other men stirred an irrational desire within him to claim you as his own. Witnessing other males treating you and touching you made him feel absolutely murderous.

He hates that you’re not together anymore, hates that you don’t wear your wedding ring even tho he wears his, he hates that he’s not by your side. But most of all he hates himself for ever letting your marriage break apart.

Rhys had attempted countless times to mend what was once whole, to win you back and rebuild what had crumbled. However, you always hesitantly turned him down, insisting that you couldn't put each other through that hurt again.

The fact that the girls spoke so highly of the man you were dating only fueled Rhysand's jealousy and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes dramatically. “Oh, he’s so nice, took us out for ice cream and we went to the theater,” they gushed. He couldn't shake the feeling that it should've been him – watching plays with you and your daughters, taking them out for ice cream together. The longing for the life he once had with you remained a persistent ache in his heart.

Of course he doesn’t let it go the next time you come around to drop off the girls

The joyful echoes of your daughters filled Rhysand's new and massive mansion, quickly greeting their father and saying goodbye before dashing inside, leaving you and Rhysand alone. Observing them run to the living room, playing with their new toys, you couldn't help but smile. With their father's violet eyes and dark hair, they were practically clones of Rhysand.

Caught in the moment, you looked up at Rhysand, finding his captivating eyes already fixed on you.

Fuck.

The intensity of his gaze almost made you forget the dinner plans with your boyfriend.

“I heard you were seeing someone,” he remarked, and you froze, feeling an unexpected twinge of embarrassment. It wasn't supposed to be a secret; you just weren't ready to share it yet. Trying to save face, you swallowed back any stutter and inquired,

“Who told you that?”

“My daughters told me all about him.”

That’s what you get for trusting 6 year olds. Your attempt at secrecy shattered, and you found yourself apologizing,

“Ah, sorry for not telling you about it; it's all very new, but the kids seem to like him. And I promise he wouldn’t be around them if i didn’t trust him.”

Rhysand's jaw ticked in frustration. Well, wasn't that just fucking great? Your daughters not only liked but loved the guy, and here you were, agreeing with them.

“So, you two hit it off. How marvelous.”

You sighed and looked away,

“Please, just don’t.”

Silence hung in the air as you both stood there, the weight of unspoken emotions filling the room. Breaking the silence, you sighed, signaling your readiness to leave your old house.

“Okay then, I'll be leaving now. I'll come pick them up later tonight. Thanks for watching them tonight, I know it was last minute. But, um, actually, can I pick them up tomorrow instead?” you asked, and Rhysand felt a flicker of suspicion, silently praying he was wrong.

“ I thought we agreed on tonight. Do you have other plans?” he inquired, hoping for a straightforward answer.

Your face flushed red as you considered explaining the evening's plans, but it felt wrong to share such details with Rhys. Opting for a lie, you hoped he wouldn't catch on.

“Oh, yeah, I've got some things I need to do at the hospital tonight. You know, just some reports on a few patients. Nothing major, but I might be a bit... worn out tonight, and that's why I need to pick them up tomorrow.”

The half-truth hung in the air, and Rhysand's suspicions lingered, creating a subtle tension in the farewell.

“So this has nothing to do with you going on a date with your little friend? Sorry, boyfriend.”

Before you could respond, Rhysand stepped closer, closing the gap until there was almost no room between you. You backed away slowly until your back hit the front door. His towering presence made you look up at him, a shiver running down your spine. Tilting his head, he approached your ear, and the soft words he spoke, combined with the warm breath on your skin, sent a wave of heat through your body.

“It should be us, love. Please come back to me,” he murmured, and your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the proximity. As his hands came around your waist, turning you around so your back rested against his sturdy chest, it became impossible to leave the embrace of his warmth. Deep down, a part of you didn't want to escape the intoxicating sense of his presence.

He pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around your middle as his calm heartbeat pounds against your back, his words confessing a truth that breaks your heart twice.

Once, because the vision he paints sounds so ideal – the two of you getting back together, going on dates, playing with your daughters, being a whole family again. It's the life you had once dreamed of, the life you wanted with the man you spent centuries with, the father of your kids, your greatest love.

The second break comes with the painful reminder of why you found yourself in this mess in the first place. Rhysand had been too consumed by his work, constantly holed up in his office, neglecting the precious time with you and your daughters. Despite understanding the importance of his duties, you couldn't help feeling the sting of neglect. It reached a breaking point when your girls tearfully asked for their daddy every night, only to find he wasn't there.

Realizing the toll this dynamic took on your family's well-being, you made the difficult decision to part ways. Telling Rhys that you weren't good for each other at the moment, you emphasized the need for him to work on himself and find a balance between work and family.

As you gather the strength to move out of his grip, facing him becomes the hardest task.

Turning around to meet his gaze, his face reveals the devastation within. His once vibrant features now wear a sad and empty color. You utter words that add another layer to the heartbreak,

“Rhys, please, you know we can't. Someday but not now.”

His eyes gloss over as he whispers,

“Fate was not in our favor, my dear. But I swear on everything I have, I will do my best to earn you back.”

Tears well up as he kisses your forehead, whispering promises of finding a way back to you.

The weight of the unspoken goodbye lingers, and you walk away, hoping that time and healing would pave a path for the future you both yearned for.

Because you did want to be with him, you really fucking did, and you cried the whole way home. Rhys had given you the town house while he lived in the River estate. The tears flowed even more freely as you sat in your empty and silent house.

Each sob intensified as you went to your cold and empty bed, the very one that used to cradle him in – your husband, your heart. The ache of the empty space beside you was a painful reminder of the love that once filled those sheets, now replaced by solitude and the haunting echo of what had been lost.

—

Your puffy eyes opened slowly, abruptly yanked from a deep slumber by the pounding on your door. Glancing at the clock on your desk, the numbers 1:46 glared back at you – who the hell could it be at this hour? Irritated, you stumbled to the door, ready to chew out whoever dared disturb your sleep.

The door slammed open, revealing Sam standing there, visibly upset. Your still-sleepy brain failed to connect the dots fast enough, and it took a moment to register that you were supposed to be on a date with him tonight. The realization dawned, and you found yourself caught in the awkward aftermath of a missed arrangement, facing Sam with both confusion and exhaustion etched on your face.

“Where the hell have you been? I have been waiting for hours,” he exclaimed, his worried and angry eyes searching yours.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, you pulled him in by his hands, urging him to come inside. Apologizing over and over, you hugged him tightly, saying that you fell asleep over and over until he forgave you.

A part of you knew you did it to calm his potentially violent reaction.

“At least your alive. Next time, let me know so I don't look like a fucking idiot,” he said, his comment irking you despite understanding where he was coming from.

Stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around Sam's neck, pulling him into a distracting kiss that escalated quickly.

Before he could say anything more about the situation and grow even more angry you kissed him again, trying to shift his focus elsewhere, which was easy. He lifted you and walked you toward the bed, the same one you had shared with Rhys.

Suddenly, a wave of panic hit you at the thought of another male's scent mixing with Rhysand's. With huffed breath and panicked words, you interrupted the moment, “No, not the bed. Let's just use the couch instead.”

Your urgency left no room for argument as you pulled him toward the living room, desperate to avoid a mix of past and present that could overwhelm you with regret.

—

The birds chirping outside stirred you from your sleep as you stretched in your soft bed. Morning got here quicker than you thought. However, the warmth you felt next to you wasn't just the morning sun – it was Sam. Your eyes opened, facing the clock, you saw it was very early in the morning, 3:57. The memories of the previous hours hit you like a brick. A bigger realization followed – Sam's scent now filled the air, replacing the familiar citrusy aroma that had been your husband’s for centuries.

This revelation overwhelmed you, making you want to throw up as tears welled up as panic set in. Crying over this felt foolish, considering your separation from Rhys, but it made everything feel permanent and official, like there was no turning back. The chance to reconcile seemed lost.

As you stood up, the room spun with regret, and you slithered to the bathroom. The sight that greeted you made your stomach churn – bruises covered your neck, arms, and legs. Your hair was a mess, and your lips were swollen. More tears fell as regret, deep sorrow, and the weight of your choices consumed you.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to be like this at all.

In your panicked state, you stepped into the shower, hoping to wash away not only the physical remnants of the night but also the emotional burden that clung to your every step.

The steaming shower brought no comfort, and as you shut it off and walked up to the mirror, wiping away steam, you saw a hollowness in your own eyes. The water didn't wash away the feel of Sam's hands on you. But you knew you could drink a tonic for the bruises, so you could atleast pretend it never happened.

Frustrated and heartbroken, you couldn't stop the tears from flowing. The one person you needed the most, Rhys, felt impossibly distant, intensifying the ache inside you.

Desperation took over, and wiping away tears, you threw on a robe, downed the healing tonic and quickly ran over to his house. Each step carried regret and a deep yearning to fix what had gone wrong.

Your Rhys, the father of your children, yours.

He was what you needed in the moment, he’d make it all better.

In the midst of irrationality and impulsivity, you could not find it in you to care about the consequences. All you needed was him.

You burst into his estate, slamming open the doors before frantically searching for him.

“Rhys?”

Your attempt at a yell came out as an ugly cry, tear-stained and choked.

Yet, it was enough to grab his attention.

Rhysand descended the stairs, clad only in pants, his trademark messy bedhead on display as worry etched across his face.

It was so unlike you, and it had him speculating the worst.

Before he could ask you any questions, you ran up to him and broke down in his arms. Rhysand immediately comforted you, picking you up, and hauling you upstairs to his bedroom.

No words were needed as he undressed your sobbing form and put you in his shirt before pulling you closer to him, making you sit in his lap.

Your face buried in his neck, tears dampening his skin. Rhysand, familiar with your ways, sensed you’d open up when ready. He sat, holding you, flooding your mind with love and reassurance without a single word.

Rhysand conjured a glass of water, holding it to your lips, ensuring you didn't exert yourself. As you downed the refreshing water, he gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering by your neck. His thumb traced soothing circles on your cheek, a silent gesture of comfort.

“Thank you, Rhysie. M’sorry for showing up like this but I just needed you.”

His gaze intensified, his grip firm yet reassuring as he held your chin, locking eyes with you. With a seriousness that touched deeply, he spoke, his words carrying a sense of unwavering commitment.

“You don’t apologize for it. I’m here for you, no matter what. Do you understand?”

You nod, throat closing up at the wave of emotions,

“I understand.”

He leans forward, kissing your forhead while cradling your head,

“Good girl. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

With teary eyes you look up to him and reveal what’s on your mind.

“I want us back together again. We belong together and I’m tired of pretending we don’t. I miss you so much. You’ve been working on yourself and I’ve been doing the same. I know we’re ready.”

Rhysand remained silent, his eyes studying you carefully. He sensed an emotional storm within you and was hesitant about decisions made in this state.

“I do not disagree. Reuniting our family, especially getting you back, my sweet girl, is my ultimate desire. But, I want you to sleep on it. I want us to discuss this when we're well-rested and more alert. What do you say?”

You knew you were being rash and quick, so you were thankful for Rhysand's guidance. You nodded in agreement.

He kissed your cheek and gently placed you under the sheets, joining you in bed. Rhysand pulled you closer, and soon you were resting on his chest, listening to the steady thudding of his heart.

“I’ve always loved you, Rhys, so much. I hope you know that.”

His heartbeat quickened as he pulled you even closer.

“I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”

—

The chirping birds and soft sunlight streaming through the window woke you up gently. Your body felt completely relaxed and at ease, knowing you were safe and sound. Stretching lazily, you sighed in contentment before rolling over in bed.

You felt the warmth of something next to you, so you snuggled closer, enjoying the comfort. After a few moments, you felt it stir.

The moving object was Rhysand. Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you almost scrambled away in panic before the events of this early morning flooded back to you.

Despite the fact that you had left your boyfriend alone in your house and now found yourself in your ex's bed, cuddled up to him, you didn't feel any panic. Instead, you felt indifferent. You felt surprisingly good, even better than before. You felt right. Like everything was in it’s place.

“Don't panic,” Rhysand murmured softly, reaching out to gently stroke your back. “We need to have that talk, darling.”

Nodding silently, you agreed to follow him downstairs, your mind racing.

You couldn't help but melt around him. There was no need to even use your brain around him. Rhys made everything feel delightful as he began fussing over you. He did everything from dressing you in the cutest outfits to gently brushing your hair. With his big, warm, comforting hands, he led you downstairs, making every step feel like a new chapter starting.

Once in the kitchen, Rhysand set to work, expertly whipping up breakfast as you watched him, a knot of anticipation forming in your stomach. You knew this conversation was important, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort as you observed his familiar movements in the kitchen.

You couldn't help but admire Rhysand as he moved around the kitchen, his muscles flexing with every movement. He had a newfound confidence about him, a certain dad-like aura that only added to his appeal. His masculine energy was buzzing, and combined with his good looks, it was hard not to be drawn to him. Rhys had grown impossibly more majestic and stunningly handsome in the years you were seperated.

Rhysand caught you staring, and a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Like what you see?” he teased, his voice low and suggestive. The heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly looked away, unable to hide your blush.

“Maybe I do,” you whisper teasingly, a hint of mischief in your voice.

“Careful,” he warns with a playful glint in his eyes, matching your flirtatious tone.

As he handed you a plate filled with nostalgic food, you couldn't help but feel touched by his thoughtfulness. He had even removed the bits you didn’t like, showing that he remembered even the smallest details about you. It warmed your heart to know that he still cared so deeply.

After you finished eating, he cleared his throat with a serious yet excited tone and said, “Let's talk.”

With a nod, you accept and he extends his hand, guiding you to a cozy sitting room.

“Where are the twins?” you ask, curious when you don’t hear or see your daughters.

“They’re with Cassian and Nesta. They came and picked them up earlier this morning,” he responds.

You nod again, then sit down on the cushy couch next to him.

“Rhys, I’ve thought about it for a while, and I think yesterday just cemented it for me. I think I’m ready for us again, and I’ve missed us together. What do you think? I mean, do you want me too?”

He flashed you his most sincere and hidden smile he only showed you and grabbed your chin with his pointer and thumb

“Sweetheart, I’ve missed you more than words can express. Of course, I want us to be together again. You are my everything and I will never again risk you.”

He took a deep breath and looked down, his voice filled with remorse.

“I've hated myself for letting you go so easily. I wasn't there for you or the girls, and it will always be my biggest regret. I vow to never again disappoint you and to do everything in my power to earn back your trust in my presence. Please forgive me.”

As the faint burn of the promising bargain tattoo emerges on both his and your wrists, a soft smile graces your lips. With gentle assurance, you reach out and place your hand on his, your touch offering comfort and calmness.

“Rhys, I forgive,” you say sweetly and hopeful. “I've missed you, and I want us to be together again. Let's leave the past behind us and focus on building a future together, okay?”

Feeling his arms around you, you melt into the hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. His touch is comforting, and you revel in the warmth of his warmth. As he gently squeezes your waist, you giggle, feeling a sense of joy wash over you.

He attacked your cheek with kisses, making him land on top of you on the couch as your back rested on the seats.

“But I think we should take it slow. Maybe start off by going on dates.”

He pulls back and looks at you, his gaze intense yet tender. “Yes. Let's take it slow. We have all the time in the world, no need to rush.”

You both sit there, locked in a silent exchange, the air thick with anticipation as you inch closer to each other.

“We definitely shouldn't kiss, right?” you ask, feeling the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

His arms tighten around you as he speaks softly, his words grazing your lips. “We shouldn't.”

The moment your lips touch, tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It's been so long since you felt the familiar warmth of his kisses, the feeling of home in his embrace. Rhysand, your darling, the love of your life—you've missed him more than words can express.

As the kisses grow more messy and desperate, a soft whimper escapes your lips, causing his eyes to darken with desire.

A sudden panic washed over you at the thought of your now ex-boyfriend waking up to find you gone.

“Rhys, I have to go back and end things with Sam,” you blurted out, your voice raspy and flustered between kisses.

Rhys's expression darkened as he heard about your ex-boyfriend.

“I'll handle it,” he declared, determination lacing his voice.

“What does that mean?” you pressed, curious and a little concerned.

He responded with a secretive smile, kissing you again, his touch making you melt into him.

“Don’t worry your little head about it. I got it covered,” he assured, his tone confident and reassuring.

So you let it go. If he said he had it handled, then you trusted him to take care of it.

His assurance left you feeling cared for, sparking a desire for more. More of him, and more of that comforting reassurance he provided.

Before you could voice your need for him, he beat you to it. With a tender kiss on your forehead, he spoke softly.

“I’m going to take you upstairs and make up for lost time. But before we start, I’m going to feed you a little bit more. Don’t argue, you’re going to need the energy.”

Your mind went blank, slipping into a submissive state, ready to follow his lead without question.

With a nod, you rose from your seat, arms outstretched in silent compliance.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured as he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you in his arms. With each step towards the kitchen, his gentle strokes on your hair and whispered promises of what lay ahead sent shivers down your spine, heightening the anticipation of what was to come.

After quickly eating the food he conjured up, you stood up in a rush and grabbed his hand, urging him to take you upstairs right away.

He chuckled and scooped you up, showering kisses on your lips and neck as he carried you upstairs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his middle.

Your nails dig into his scalp, head thrown back as you whimper with pleasure. Your toes curl as his teeth graze against a sensitive spot, his smirk growing against your skin.

“Tell me, darling. How do you want it today?”

You're only aware that you're inside the bedroom when he sets you down in front of the bed.

You know exactly how you want it. You want him to take charge, dominating your every move, just like he used to. Rhys knew how quickly you submitted to him, and he had a hunch of how tonight would go. It was easy slipping into those roles with him in charge. So you look up at him with a shy smile, fondling with the strings of his dark linen pants, and tell him.

“Can we please do level four?”

Pride spread across him at your good manners. He loved that you still knew what to do even after years of not being together.

He would have sent all his loving emotions through the bond if it existed. The absence of a bond between him and you always seemed abnormal. Both of you questioned the Mother’s decision all the time, hiding the fact that you both were scared of the possibility of your mates popping up and claiming the other.

Shaking away his thoughts, he smiled at your words again and complied.

Step by step, he undressed you, his eyes never leaving yours. Rhysand’s eyes dropped to your pebbled nipples, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the intense attention he gave you.

“You still remember the safe word?” he rasped out, his pupils expanding as you nodded, your lips nervously caught between your teeth.

He pounced on you, eagerly kissing you in a brusing manner as he tightened his arms around you. Rhys slowly made you back, resulting in you falling backwards into the bed before he climbed on top of you.

His hands found your waist amd subtly squeezed before sliding up to your boobs and playing with your hardened nipples.

You whimpered in pleasure, making him smile as he lowered his mouth to attatch to your right breast. His wet, warm tounge swirled around the bud, biting and licking soothingly. He repeated the move on the other side, reveling in the way you were squirming under him.

“Is it too much, sweetheart?”

“Not enough.”

So his hand slid down your body until his thumb brushed over your throbbing clit. Your eyes rolled back when he put pressure on it, rubbing tight circles against you. It was almost mortifying how quick you melted and lost your mind.

A few more circles and you’d be cumming. Almost, almost.

The pleasure was short-lived when he removed his thumb, causing you to pout slightly as your brows furrowed in confusion.

“No teasing. You can play later, I’ve missed you too much.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a heated makeout session.

You also wrapped your legs around his waist and whispered against his lips,

“I need you so bad, please. I need your entire being.”

He slipped one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he added another finger and felt your walls pulse around him. Rhys pulled them out before shoving them back in, repeating the move, stroking your walls. He curled his fingers inside as he carefully watched your face morph from a begging expression to a fucked out smile.

“I will give you whatever your heart desires,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again. As he did, he conjured his massive and majestic wings, spreading them proudly behind him, a breathtaking display of power.

Your wobbly smile melted into tears of joy as you whispered, “There you are,” feeling overwhelmed by the rush of emotions at seeing him again.

Rhys didn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He held onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy, circling it and letting your wetness drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his cock, he used it as a lubricant before he slid himself inside you.

Rhys pulled out and then in again until his entire cock was stuffed in you. He then leaned forward, putting his forehead in the crook of your neck, gently biting and sucking hickies onto your skin. He began thrusting, harder and harder. The entire room echoing with skin slapping, groans and pornstar-like moans.

Rhysand’s gripped your hips in a brusing manner, rocking them back and forth forth as he moved his own hips.

He lifted his head and gently brought his hand to your face, cupping your chin as he murmured,

“You're mine. Mine to love, to fuck, to have.”

You nod eagerly, your need evident.

“Only yours, baby. Forever and always, yours.”

He growled softly and turned your body around so you were on all fours. Gripping your hair, he pulled it back, causing your back to arch against his chest.

Rhysand put his dick back in and pumped deliciously against that spongy spot that had you acting like a mindless fool.

“You got fucked this good while we were seperated, hm?”

His hand snaked up and held your neck, applying a gentle pressure, a hint of restraint, as he taunted you.

Of course, he already knew the answer. But it was always nice to hear it from you.

“M-right, there, no one compares to you. No one could ever, ah fuck, do me this good. P-please, let me cum.”

“Fuck, yeah that’s right. But I think it’s a little too early for you to cum. I told you I wanted to make up for lost time. We’re nowhere near done.”

You let out a whine at the denial, a little vexed that he didn’t give you permission yet. But you knew he had plans so you decided to wait in hopes of getting something better.

“Good things come for good girls, you know that right?”

“I understand. Just keep going.”

You knew you forgot to add a please and were more than happy when he gave your puffy clit a slap.

“Manners.”

“Keep going, please.”

He chuckled at how quick you gave in and kissed your cheek, letting go of your hair and pushing you forward to your elbows and knees. Rhys grabbed your hips and gave you deep, slow and intentional strokes. Almost like he wanted you to cum early.

Rhys kept going for a long time, bringing you to the edge, only to snatch away pleasure in the last second. You were tired but knew all of this was building up into the most intense and powerful orgasm ever.

“Do you know how much I love you? Do you have any idea how deep my love for you goes?”

Cue the waterworks.

Really, his words started making you bawl right there. With concern etched on his face, he gently moved you into missionary, turning the back-breaking backshots into a tender moment. As he pushed in for the last time, he hovered above you, his forearms on either side of your head, kissing your puffy lips.

“I love you too, Rhysie, so, so much. There's really no one I love more than you.”

Your words were raspy and choked, his words were sweet and understanding.

“I know, sweet girl. I know you do.”

Suddenly, a snap felt in your chest. You both locked eyes, breathing heavily as you felt a thread weaving your very souls together. Tears prickled in your eyes at his words.

As the realization of the mating bond sinked in, a warm glow envelops both of you, filling the room with a sense of love and belonging. Rhysand's eyes softened even more, if that's possible, as he gazed into your tear-filled eyes.

“You're my mate,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “My soulmate, my other half.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the connection between you grow stronger with each passing moment. “And you're mine,” you replied, your voice filled with emotion. “Forever and always.”

Rhysand moved quicker and quicker, finally allowikg you to cum.

You were on the verge of passing out, the only reason there was any sort of fight in you left was because of the charged bond.

Before he pulled out, you locked your legs around him and begged him to stay inside. He did and slumped on top of you, his head resting on your raising and falling chest. You ran your hands through his damp, dark hair and reveled in warmth when he wrapped his wings around the two of you.

You both rest for a while before starting up again. Normally, a session like this would have you knocked out cold but you guessed it was the fresh bond.

The entire day was spent tangled in sheets and fucking in showers, other rooms, hallways, kitchens, roofs. Rhysand also sent a mental message to everyone in the inner circle, breaking the news and asking them not to disturb you for at least a week. He also asked Cassian to keep looking after the girls and warned that anyone who got too close would likely die.

—

You and Rhys, lay together in a pile of fluffy blankets and pillows on the floor, the bed damaged and broken from the week’s activities.

“Rhys, do you know what I think? I think it’s kind if poetic that we broke up and then became mates. I mean, it sounds very romantic.”

He chuckled and pulled you closer to his chest.

“You know what? I agree. The Mother does work in mysterious ways. I guess we weren’t ready before.”

You smile at him and nod,

“I’m glad we find our way home.”

With a tender look and a sweet kiss, he whispered,

“As am I, darling.”

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[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday! I would love some more rarepair dot/jack and miss fisher's murder mysteries. You write them amazingly 💚

Dot feels guilty for agreeing to go on this date. Her divorce from Hugh has only just been finalized, never mind that they’ve been living separately for the last year. She’s grateful it’s over with now – she doesn’t know how she would have felt if they’d been separated for longer than they’d been married under one roof, and that’s exactly what would have happened if everything had taken a couple more months.

It still feels too early, and it’s not like she’s ever dated before, Hugh having been her first relationship. But her neighbor Andrea had insisted that this would be good for her, and that her brother’s friend was perfect for her, and Dot is running low enough on friends that she hadn’t wanted to offend her and risk this new friendship collapsing in on itself.

She’d kept Jane and Mr. Butler, and Burt and Cec, of course, but all their other friends had landed firmly on Hugh’s side in everything, which she can’t even say is unfair, considering. But it is a little lonely. There’s a reason one of the first things she’d done was move back to Melbourne, toward the people who still liked her and away from everyone else. Her mother is appalled, but her priest is excited enough at having her back that he’s apparently willing to overlook the whole divorced bit.

She resists the urge to smooth back her hair again, wonders if she should have chosen a dress with a longer hem, but being a divorced woman provides so few benefits that it seems only fair that she take advantage of them.

“Dorothy?”

She looks up, breaking out into a smile at the familiar face. “Detective! How are you?” She gets to her feet, although she still has to crane her neck to look up at him. She forgot how tall he was. “You look well.”

“As do you, Miss Williams,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

She flushes. She never would have worn anything like this a few years ago, but lots of things were different then. Besides, Miss Fisher is always encouraging her to take risks in her letters. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” he says, lips pulled up on one side. On a second look, it seems like she can figure that out for herself. He doesn’t look old, really, but he does look tired, something weary about his eyes and shoulders that he didn’t have when she saw him last.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, cutting off whatever answer he would have grave.

The relief on his face makes her think she made the right decision. “I’m meeting someone, actually, although I’m not sure who. Andrea wouldn’t even give me her name.”

Dot blinks once, twice, then raises her hand to her mouth, heat crawling it’s way up her neck. “I’m going to kill her.”

It only takes Jack a second to catch on. “Ah. But,” his eyes flicker down to her hand, “I see.”

Hugh hadn’t told him, then. He’d called her Miss Williams, but that could have been habit more than anything else. Maybe they don’t talk. She assumed they did, but she’d assumed a lot of things.

Jack’s hesitating. If she lets him, he’ll make some sort of excuse and she won’t see him again unless she starts stalking crime scenes again.

“I’ll tell you the dirt details, if you like,” she offers, sitting back down looking expectantly to the chair across from her. He takes it, some of his hesitance bleeding away as he leans forward. “It’s not that exciting, I’m afraid.”

He smiles at her. He really is very handsome. “I bet I can guess.”

Dot raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“You outgrew him,” he says. “He was always struggling to keep up with you.”

It sounds so cruel put like that, but it’s also entirely correct. Hugh’s a good man and he’ll probably be a good husband – to someone else. To someone like she used to be, perhaps, but not at all for who she is now. “Well, I wish someone had told me that.”

“It didn’t seem appropriate,” he says, almost apologetic, and his eyes start to dip lower before guiltily jerking back up to her face.

“No,” she says, almost breathless. “I suppose not.”

[disneyprincemuke]

love like this * aa23

alex may be the reason your parents are separating, but he proves to you that soulmates still exist

pairings: alex albon x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of divorce

notes: the alex albon tag is waYYYY too dry and i can't keep waiting!!! so i aM TAKING MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS!!! also, inspired by that one scene in the office

(f1 masterlist)

alex was having a great day. he'd woken up with the sun shining brightly on the right side of the bed. to make it even better, he's on his way to spend the day with you.

he had everything planned out: he has a list of activities you could do, movies you could watch, and places to walk at in case the day dragged on too long to stay in. he has a bouquet of flowers pressed against his chest and takeout from your favourite restaurant. he's very excited to finally just lay back with you after a stressful couple of weeks.

that was until you opened the door for him. you were glaring at him like you've never before with your phone pressed up against your ear..

he's in shock when you ignore his lean for a welcoming kiss. you don't even acknowledge the flowers in his hands. you just leave the door open and turn around, walking further into your apartment.

alex walks in hesitantly, slipping off his shoes. typically, he'd leave it by the door under the shoe rack. judging by your mood, however, he neatly places it on the rack.

he loses you in the apartment so he just invites himself in to place his presents on the table.

"love?" alex calls out softly, dragging his feet against the cold tiles of your apartment. "i brought us food."

he finds you in your bedroom, just having ended your phone call. "i got your favourites from your favourite downtown. care to have a meal with me, love?"

you whirl around, now tears in your eyes. "what did you say to my dad?"

alex raises an eyebrow, lips parted in shock at your accusation. he's only met your dad once - 3 days ago after flying in. he knows they clicked because he's found himself a new texting buddy. he's even secured your father tickets to the final race this year, supposedly.

"what do you mean?" alex is careful with his tone. the last thing he wants to do is end up in a fight with you.

"that was my dad on the phone," you point to the device that's on the other side of the bed with your other hand on your hip, "he called me to say that he's filing for a divorce."

alex tilts his head. he's very empathetic, truly, but it's difficult to know what to say to you when he doesn't know what's going on. as far as he knew, he didn't have anything to do with this. "i say this in the lease oblivious way possible... but, why is it me?"

you huff, looking away as tears start to fall out of your eyes. you're very close with your parents and alex knows that. "he said he knew after our dinner that night." you wipe the tears away roughly and look back at him. "what did you say?"

"i," alex trails off at a loss for words. he's trying his best to recall the evening word per word, but nothing comes up. nothing that would warrant your father wanting a divorce from you mother. "my love... i don't know. i didn't say anything to him, i swear!"

"there has to be something." you sound defeated as you drop yourself back into your bed, arms spread out as you stare at the ceiling. "they've been together longer than i've been alive. there's no way this came out of nowhere."

but he really doesn't know what it is. "do you want me to talk to him?"

"no!" you shriek, sitting up quickly at his proposition. "you've done enough, alex! don't talk to my dad!"

he stands at your door, shoulders slumped and mouth gaping wordlessly at you. you do feel bad that you're taking it out on him. but your dad didn't elaborate further when he told you. he said he'll do it in person when he arrives at your apartment.

"i'm sorry," alex finally says. "i don't know what i could have said for this to happen... but i'm so sorry."

the doorbell echoes throughout your apartment, followed by a loud knock that's softened by your distance from the door. you sigh, shaking your head slightly as you get to your feet. "that's my dad."

"okay," alex nods, walking towards your bed. "i will stay here until you've talked. okay?"

you nod, muttering back a soft "okay".

you don't say another word as you pass him. but there's a warmth that explodes within your arm when his hand wraps itself around your elbow.

"i love you," alex says, tilting his head as he anticipates your response.

you nod weakly. "i love you."

the next 10 minutes pass by very slowly. from the comfort of your bed, alex heard nothing but silence for the first few minutes. suddenly, the apartment drowned in your sobs while you dad tries to calm you down.

it took everything in him not to come out to get you in his arms. he hates it when you're upset.

he tried not to eavesdrop on your conversation. not that you'd even spoken loud enough for him to make out words from either of you. so he settled for instagram, but even that wasn't entertaining enough to keep him occupied.

so then he moved on to tiktok, but that was too overstimulating for his head. he just wanted it all to be over and have you explain everything to him.

what kept everything moving quickly was when a notification from george came through, prompting a quick game of 8ball on message. it was entertaining: the insults from george as he slowly won.

but his eagerness to shove the win in his friend's face is quickly forgotten when he hears the front door close. the phone is thrown into your duvet and he pads towards the door.

he creaks it open, popping his head through the door. "my love."

"alex," you sigh from your door, hand still clutching onto the handle. you choke back on a sob at his name, falling to your knees.

"hey!" he runs to your aid, arms instinctively wrapping around you. he brushes his fingers through your hair as he sits back and pulls you into his lap.

your face is buried in his shirt as you continue to cry.

"i'm sorry about everything, my love," he hums, cheeks resting on the crown of your head. you clutch onto his shirt with everything you've got, still in disbelief at how everything crumbled down so quick.

your parents had always been your role model. their relationship was the clear benchmark to what you looked for your whole life. never did you think that the love of your life would be the downfall of that.

"it's," you take a deep breath and exhale shakily, "it's okay."

"is it," alex isn't sure he's ready for the answer, "really because of me?"

you nod, the tip of your nails tracing the design on his shirt. "my dad..."

"i'm really sorry. did he tell you what i said that caused all this?" alex has had his fair share of separated parents. he's been through this before, but he was fairly young when it happened.

perhaps it never gets any easier despite age.

you nod again. you lift your head and scramble slowly to untangle yourself from you. "he did tell me what happened," you whisper. you crawl to the empty spot in front of alex, mimicking his position - legs crossed and back pressed against the wall.

you reach forward to take his hands into yours. "when we went to dinner and i left for the bathroom... he told me that you told him how much you loved me... and how you feel when i walk into the room.

"the way that i make everything better, especially on days where everything just doesn't seem right. and how... i make you want to be a better version of yourself," you swallow the lump in your throat, your grip tightening around his hand that you could barely feel yours. "about how sure you are that i'm your soulmate. i guess he had never felt that way about my mum even after all these years."

alex is slightly appalled. all of those were said to your dad in confidence. none of those were supposed to get back to you, because he truly believed that it could lose meaning if you find all of that out.

but you've never been loved like this before. and truly, it felt exhilarating to know that love like this exists. and you've found it in the one person that made your heart flutter when you're together.

"are you okay?"

"i'm okay," you nod. you give his hand a final squeeze before getting to your knees. you throw your arms around him, bumping your head very lightly into the wall behind him. "thank you."

"what for?"

"for loving me the way that you do."

he tightens his arms around your waist, his face buried into your shoulder. "and thank you for showing me what love really is."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not expressing an opinion on my children's education?

I don't think I'm the asshole for this but my brother told me off for it and one of my friends said I was being a crap dad for it.

Me and my wife are separated - I moved to a city a couple hours away from her and my two children a little over a year ago. We would be divorced if that was legal. As it is, we still mostly have shared finances because 1) we can't actually separate our shared bank account and 2) it's my responsibility to send money to them. My wife has a full time job just as I do. I opened a separate bank account when I moved so that all of my personal apartment stuff goes through there instead of the account my wife and kids use.

A week or so ago, my wife called because our children are getting close to a new level of education (I don't know what this would be in the American system - sort of pre-career or pre-university level?) and she wanted to discuss where they're going to go.

She laid out their options and various merits (from a financial perspective, from a career perspective, a social perspective, etc). I listened to her points, but I haven't seen either of my children in a year and we don't talk much (my wife and I have only told them that I moved for a new career opportunity and said that we didn't want to make them move too; we haven't told them about the difficulties between my wife and I), so I don't know much about what they want to do after secondary school and I don't feel comfortable advocating for any particular school on their behalf.

Anyway, I didn't really have anything to say, but my wife started yelling at me for not giving her an answer (she didn't actually ask me a question) and I told her that I would be happy to pay for whatever the children chose. This was not the answer she wanted from me. She kept yelling at me, mostly about the fact that I need to move back in with them and that living apart is making me forget how to be a father (all of which have been routine in our calls since I left, as well as in a slightly different form in the years before I left), so I activated my smoke alarm and hung up.

I'm sorry for my English, it is not my first language.

What are these acronyms?

[gardenschedule]

John not meaning what he says

You know, we all say a lot of things when we don’t know what we’re talking about. I’m probably doing it now, I don’t know what I say. You see, everybody takes you up on the words you said, and I’m just a guy that people ask all about things, and I blab off and some of it makes sense and some of it is bullshit and some of it’s lies and some of it is — God knows what I’m saying. I don’t know what I said about Maharishi, all I know is what we said about Apple, which was worse.

John Lennon: The Rolling Stone Interview, Part One

“It’s sort of complicated but sometimes you say things, but it’s not really what you meant to say. If I say something to you and you hear it different from what I’ve said it, and you answer back and we’re not really getting down to it. I’m really talking like that you know. Like somebody says ‘do you want ice cream?’ and I’ll say no, and actually I meant yes. You find yourself saying the opposite of what you mean. This happens to me quite a lot. I speak a lot, but what I say is not always what I mean.“

John Lennon, 1973.

‘I was told recently by Yoko that one of the things that hurt John over the years was me going off and doing The Family Way,’ Paul says. The filmmaking Boulting brothers had approached him via George Martin. ‘I thought this was a great opportunity. We were all free to do stuff outside the Beatles and we’d each done various little things.’ When he mentioned it to John, Paul said, ‘He would have had his suit of armour on and said: “No, I don’t mind.”

Paul McCartney, c/o Ray Coleman, McCartney: Yesterday and Today. (1995)

But by the time I arrived, an agitated John was deeply involved indeed. More specifically, he was having a row with Paul and George Martin. “We’ve already done the concept album,” he argued, presumably referring to Pepper. “Why do we need to do another one?” “Look, John, we’re just trying to think symphonically,” George replied. “We’re trying to create a complete work out of song fragments.” John was derisive at first, saying, “You’re taking yourselves too seriously,” but when Paul invited him to contribute some compositions of his own to the medley, he seemed to capitulate. “Well, I might have one or two that could fit,” he said sheepishly. I exchanged glances with Paul. I’m sure we were both thinking the same thing: He’s just been waiting to be asked.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

SHEFF: But you didn’t compose your stuff separately, as other accounts have said? JOHN: No, no, no. I said that, but I was lying. [Laughs.] By the time I said that, we were so sick of this idea of writing and singing together, especially me, that I started this thing about, “We never wrote together, we were never in the same room.” Which wasn’t true. We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball.

John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

PLAYBOY: "When you talk about working together on a single lyric like "We Can Work It Out,' it suggests that you and Paul worked a lot more closely than you've admitted in the past. Haven't you said that you wrote most of your songs separately, despite putting both of your names on them?" LENNON: "Yeah, I was lying. (laughs) It was when I felt resentful, so I felt that we did everything apart. But, actually, a lot of the songs we did eyeball to eyeball."

John Lennon, 1980

“No, no, no,” he answered and he meant it. “I’m going to be an ex-Beatle for the rest of my life so I might as well enjoy it, and I’m just getting around to being able to stand back and see what happened. A couple of years ago I might have given everybody the impression I hate it all, but that was then. I was talking when I was straight out of therapy and I’d been mentally stripped bare and I just wanted to shoot my mouth off to clear it all away. Now it’s different. “When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that, and it was just like the old days in the Melody Maker, you know, ‘Lennon Blasts Hollies’ on the back page. You know, I’ve always had a bit of a mouth and I’ve got to live up to it. Daily Mirror: ‘Lennon beats up local DJ at Paul’s 21st birthday party’. Then we had that fight Paul and me had through the Melody Maker, but it was a period I had to go through.

John Lennon, interview w/ Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life. (September 14th, 1974)

GEORGE: I remember the day when John did an interview with a certain magazine and said certain things, and then I remember the day when he disagreed with what he’d said, but the man who interviewed him denied him the right to change his mind and, even though it was two and a half years, later still went ahead and published something which John said he no longer agreed with himself on. Which means the dream was over, yet certain people wouldn’t allow him to have his dream... over. Nudge nudge wink wink, say no more. [inaudible] JOHN: In other words, imagine if somebody or if you accidentally bang your head and you shout, “Ow!” – that’s the end of it. [self-conscious; laughs] Right? GEORGE: And he said that too. JOHN: I mean, it doesn’t go on for the next five years, right? And we all did that.

December 21st, 1974 (New York)

INT: It seem that you did minimize a little bit, what the, what the effect was on the, value and lifestyle and all that. You said that there was almost nothing left of Beatles. JOHN: Well I get bitter too, you know. And uh, also it was always the insistence that the Beatles led something, you know. And if anything they were figureheads, you know. And, I put it more succinctly later on when I thought about it. When I said those statements A) I was bitter and upset; emotionally upset cause we just split up, you know. I call it a divorce right. But when I think about it, obviously…you know, I can change my mind.

John interviewed by Jean-François Vallée in April 1975.

Underground journalist Felix Dennis watched the session. ‘I remember Ringo getting more and more upset by this… I have a clear memory of him saying, “That’s enough, John.”’ Lennon and Ono competed to come up with the most insulting lines, Dennis said. ‘Some of it was absolutely puerile. Thank God a lot of it never actually got recorded because it was highly, highly personal, like a bunch of schoolboys standing in the lavatory making scatological jokes.’ ‘John would forgive himself, and expect Paul to forgive him,’ Derek Taylor recalled.

Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money: The Battle for the Soul of the Beatles. (2009)

I went through a period of trying to encourage Paul by writing and saying things that I thought would spur him on. But I think they were misunderstood. That's how "How Do You Sleep?" (on the "Imagine" album) was intended. Although I suppose it was a bit hard on him.

John Lennon Talks To Ray Connolly May 18th 1972 Radio Times

“At the moment he is cut off from the three of us. The last time I saw him was in December.” Asked whether he thought John Lennon’s recent unkind references to Paul on his “Imagine” album, had deepened the rift, George replied: “Maybe John felt like that about Paul at the time he was writing the song, but he doesn’t feel like that all the time. The song doesn’t represent what he really feels. It’s just John – people don’t really understand. “I think John’s record is great – though that track about Paul is a bit hard. But it’s only something felt at the time . . . ”

George Harrison, interviewed by Mike Hennessey for Record Mirror (October 16, 1971)

JOHN: (smiles) You know, I wasn’t really feeling that vicious at the time. But I was using my resentment toward Paul to create a song, let’s put it that way. He saw that it pointedly refers to him, and people kept hounding him about it. But, you know, there were a few digs on his album before mine. He’s so obscure other people didn’t notice them, but I heard them. I thought, Well, I’m not obscure, I just get right down to the nitty-gritty. So he’d done it his way and I did it mine. But as to the line you quoted, yeah, I think Paul died creatively, in a way.

John’s Playboy interview as published in the magazine’s January 1981 issue

He turned to me and told me that he had been equally vicious about Paul during the same period and that Paul had got it right when he had declared that the only person John was hurting with his vitriolic behavior was himself. It was not exactly an apology, more like an explanation.

Glyn Johns, Sound Man: A Life Recording Hits with the Rolling Stones, the Who, Led Zeppelin, the Eagles, Eric Clapton, the Faces… (2014)

“I have to ask you, what was all that stuff in the telegraph about?... And he’s gone oh yeah, look, speak to Paul about that, I wasn’t in a good place mentally at the time. Just speak to Paul about it…. I thought it was a real cop out because he had hurt me, he’d said something unfair, and rather than just apologise, what he basically said was I’ve apologised to Paul, and Paul’s accepted my apology for for my behaviour in that period, the immediate aftermath of the Beatles, and therefore speak to him and he will explain to you why you should forgive me”.

I am the EggPod guest Sam Delaney talking about a Get Back screening Q&A with Glynn Johns

“I’m trying to be mad at you, but you’re so nice, it isn’t easy,” Glyn replied. Then he explained that he had been upset by John’s comments about him in the “Lennon Remembers” interviews. John had said that Let It Be, which had been re-mixed by Glyn, had wound up sounding awful, and Glyn, a true professional, had been very offended by John’s comments. John did not remember saying it at all and he was very embarrassed. He explained, “I had just done primal therapy. I was just lettin’ off steam. That interview was just a lot of anger.” Glyn stared at John. John’s words had hurt him, and he had never expected that John would not remember what he had said, nor had he perceived that the comments would be dismissed as “just lettin’ off steam.” Like everyone else, he believed everything the public John said and took him very seriously. John repeatedly apologised to Glyn, and eventually the matter was dropped.

Loving John

“John’s most influential interviews, interviews which people took as gospel truth, were for John occasions to blow off steam and then to forget what he had said.”

May Pang, The Lost Weekend

At the time, we at Apple weren’t feeling good anyway, because Apple had failed; and here was one of our friends telling everyone who reads Rolling Stone that we were bastards. In the end we had to say, ‘Well, we’re not.’ John later retracted some of it, and we became friends again. And I forgave him. He would forget he’d said it, and expect to be forgiven, as he always was.

Derek Taylor, interview w/ Peter Doggett for Record Collector. (August, 1988)

John had gone through a tremendous upheaval in his private life, and he was a very odd person at times; he wasn’t at all himself. There was the famous interview he did for Rolling Stone, which has been reprinted many times, in which he says many unfair and untrue things, slagged everybody off, including me. I took him to task over it later on, asking him, “Why did you say all those things? It wasn’t very nice.” He said, “Oh, I was just stoned out of my head.” That was his only apology, really. Unfortunately, that has become history now; it’s accepted as the Bible.”

George Martin, interview w/ Howard Massey for Musician. (February, 1999)

“If you look at interviews and stuff with John, from around about that time he was in Imagine [documentary] he kind of admits that he’s having problems with himself. So, well, the first thing you do when you’re having problems with yourself is you bitch about someone else. And the closest person was me…He had a real go at me. I personally think it was ‘cause he was trying to clear the decks for Yoko. He’s got a new love, he’s trying to say to her, “Look, baby, I love you. I hate those guys.” And I think—you also have to remember John was going through a lot of problems. And you know, as they say, people, when they’re going through problems, come out with that kind of stuff. You know that, we all know that. When you’re in a bad mood, the first thing you do is badmouth somebody else. You don’t want to badmouth yourself…Some of the times, he was having other sorts of problems…So—like most of what John said, I take it with a pinch of salt. I love him still. I don’t care what he said, you know. Even if he badmouths me, I still know that he was a great guy, and that he loved me.”

Paul McCartney

PLAYBOY: In his Playboy Interview, John said that was a song he didn't like and never could have written.

PAUL: Who knows what John liked? You know, John would say he didn't like one thing one minute and the next he might like it. I don't really know what he liked or didn't like, you know! It would depend on what mood he was in on a given day, really, what he would like.... I don't care; I liked it!

Paul McCartney: The Complete Playboy Interview, 1984 (thanks @tavolgisvist for the quote!)