#you were my very best friend for over a year

[enwoso]

CASUAL — leah williamson

wow, it’s a long one. this has admittedly taken me so long to write. i had the idea of this fic at the start of october but for some reason its just took so long to actually finish lol, but anyways as always hope you enjoy🤍

warning: implied smut, mdni 18+

masterlist

"girl where did you end up last night?" your best friend and also flatmate, amelie asked as you sat in your local cafe debriefing from last nights' night out events over a 'morning' coffee — it was more late afternoon — the two of you having very different endings to the night.

you sat swirling the dregs of your coffee around as you tried to find the way to explain, not so much how you didn't end up back at the flat cause you know she's knows that after catching you walking through the front door at nine am this morning in last nights clothes your head hanging from both the severe amount of alcohol you'd consumed last night but also in slight shame.

it was more whose apartment you stayed at you were trying to find the words to tell her about.

"oh y/n. you didn't did you-" amelie began as you nodded as a defeated sigh left your lips. that being all the clarification your best friend needed. ok, it may not be your proudest moment but who are you to deny a sexy, goddess of a women. but you knew this was heading in the direction of your getting another ear full.

"y/n.. what have i told you, you need to cut all ties with leah. you deserve someone who's going to treat you so much better-" amelie reached out grabbing your hands as you were still looking down at your coffee cup, you looked up a little.

you knew she was right, but you couldn't admit that to yourself. there was something about leah she was addicting and no matter how many times you ended up in between her sheets telling yourself it was the last time, it always happened again.

"yeah but-" you began but amelie gave you a stern look as her eyebrows raised as you rolled your eyes, "ok i get the message, i'll put it on my to-do list — cut leah williamson off." you dryly said, knowing it would be easier said than actually done.

"seriously you need too, your acting like a loser-" amelie continued as you opened your mouth to say something about the small insult she'd thrown your way but you were unable to. "you are though, your better than the rumours that people are spitting-"

"how do you-"

"people talk y/n!"

you'd heard the rumours going around the locals plus there'd been some article posted on an instagram post noticing you in leah's car after a match — you being labelled as 'mysterious girl'.

you weren't known to the media, thank god, you were lucky if you had over two hundred followers as if you had anymore than that fans would have an absolute field day with the news.

instead you were just a normal, twenty six year old girl who'd grown up in north london and had the usual nine to five corporate job as well as having a casual relationship with the leah williamson but you kept that under wraps as after all it was just something which was casual.

you'd met through a mutual friend of yours who also happened to be one of leah's teammates. lotte, who you went to school together and you'd stayed somewhat in contact. it always being a pleasant surprise to see her whenever your paths crossed.

you had bumped into her in a coffee shop near hours before you were being pressed up against a club wall by a blonde defender, having had one too many. the two of you had spent the night being overly touchy and flirting, her lips being felt all around your body leaving your skin feeling hot and your head all fuzzy.

"mine or yours?" leah whispered against your ear, as her teeth grazed your earlobe, you having to refrain yourself from whimpering. leah's hands gripping your hips as your were tangled in the ends of her hair.

"yours" you managed to get out, although it was quiet leah hear every letter. her hands reaching up to grab your hand as she dragged you through the club and towards the exit without as much of a bat of an eyelid towards her friends who she was leaving behind.

to both your luck there was a black cab waiting on the side of the road, both of you taking the chance to get in as leah immediately told the driver her address.

leah's hand stayed on your thigh the entire time as her thumb drew little circles absentmindedly, the busy streets of london making it feel like it's taken hours just to get a few minutes up the road.

as you watched out the window there was a cloud of regret you knew you'd feel in the morning but right now that wasn't what you mind wanted. you right now wanted leah.

so as soon as you cross the threshold of her apartment, you were pinned against the wall. the coldness sending a sharp shiver down your spine. "your so gorgeous" leah whispered as her eyes darkened, the sweet innocence of her blue eyes long gone.

inching closer so that your faces were impossibly close, taking one of her hands as it lands on the back of your neck and kisses you. slow but deep.

letting yourself get lost in her lips as it becomes more passionate and searching but then leah leans back a little, realising that you were in the middle of her hallway.

"come with me, baby" she whispers, her accent thick as the pet name rolls off her tongue but laced with love making your head spin even more as she extends her hand for you to grab as she leads you towards her bedroom, pushing the door open with her foot as her other hand laces itself back around you waist pulling you back to being impossibly close to her.

giving her a teasing look as she kisses you again this one more needy and fervent. feeling her hands all around your body nipping and pulling at your skin as you feel the back of you legs on the edge of her bed. a slight push and you back met with softness of her white sheets.

a small moan leaving leah's lips into the kiss as she felt your hands gently squeeze her ass, feeling her smile against your lips knowing that you were having the same affect on her as she was on you. you were both driving each other crazy.

as the kiss grow more sloppy as whines were being strung from both of your lips, your hips mindlessly starting to slowly grind against her. leah moving to kiss your neck leaving small kisses and sucking on your neck that elicited small moans from your lips as your breathing hitches.

leah's kisses to your neck becoming more intense you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second as you hips carried on to move against her. your hands lingering on her back as your nails dug that little deeper, more than likely leaving scratch marks.

"please le-" you moan out softly, needing more.

-

that wasn't the last time you saw the blonde defender, nor the last time you ended up with your limbs tangled between each other.

whenever the other had, had a drink or just when you needed company leah seemed to always be there. you felt like you craved her at all hours of the day. you found your mind sometimes wondering what she may be doing when you weren't by her side.

but you weren't together, it was just a casual thing. is what you found you were telling yourself.

but with each weekend that passed you found yourself spending them with leah more and more often. which is exactly what had happened this weekend.

leah had called you, she never calls you only ever texts. strange is what you thought when you saw her caller id on the screen a small smile slipping onto your lips as you pressed accept.

"hello?" you said as leah was yet to speak, you thought maybe she had called the wrong number. maybe she hadn't meant to call you .

"hi y/n-" she finally spoke but she lacked her usual confident tone, this time it had been replaced with a nervous shake of her accent. like she had something in her head that she needed to get out.

"did you need something le?" you ask as there is a deafening silence on the other end, a few rustling sounds before leah clears her throat.

"um are you doing anything this afternoon-" leah paused as you think to your plans for the afternoon, "more specifically are you doing anything at two?" leah continued as she waited your response as you hummed.

"no i should be free, why?" you asked wondering what this was going to lead to, what did she have planned.

"fabulous!" a breath of relief was let out from leah as she had a big grin on her face on the other line which if you could have saw would have made you smile, "since you aren't doing anything, do you wanna come to my match?"

you felt as though her words had just fell on deaf ears, you couldn't believe what you were actually hearing. ever since you and leah had- well whatever your relationship was it had always been in the darkness of everyone else, behind peoples back and away from prying eyes.

this felt like a step, you didn't know what direction but it felt like it meant something good.

as you tried to contain your happiness you nodded forgetting she wasn't actually in the room with you, "i- um i would love to le"

"great! i'll erm get your tickets sorted and send them over" leah explained as you hummed along before she quickly had to say her goodbyes claiming that she needed to get her pre match routine started.

since having to re-organise your afternoon, you were now going around rushing trying to find an outfit. not knowing if it was too cliche you going in an arsenal jersey of leah's or whether a subtle hint of red in your outfit would be a better idea.

deciding on just the subtle hint of red, finding a red cap which just so happen to also be leah’s which she’d left at yours after one night.

once you got the match you were amazed at the amount of people who had turned up, yourself not being as clued in of how big a scale women’s football was as admittedly you didn’t exactly have a big interest in football or in sport in general.

but for leah, you’d sit and watch football match after match if you knew it would make her happy.

once you found your seat in the stand you quickly sent the blonde a message not expecting her to even reply but she did.

Y/N:) - i’m here! good luck, i’ll be cheering you on☺️

LE<3 - i seen you! i’ve been looking for that hat. but i think it’s found a better home now;)

LE<3 - meet me near the dugout at the end!

finding yourself smiling at her messages as she sent another telling you what to say to the security so they would let you in to where leah wanted you to be, before slipping your phone back into your pocket ready to watch a game of football.

the ninety minutes felt as if they flew by, and at first you must admit you didn’t exactly understand what you were watching so you just cheered when everyone else around you did, but at the first half and definitely into the second half you managed to get a few rules down — with the help of a google search..

watching as leah walked around clapping and waving to fans looking so effortlessly good in her kit and with the fact she’d just run around for a good ninety minutes it never managed to fail to surprise you how easy she made it look.

despite the team only coming out with a draw which you knew leah would be slightly huffed about especially since they were by far the better team, you still were incredibly proud of her.

walking down and reciting the exact words that leah had messaged you to the security you made it to where she had told you to meet her, but that’s when a certain someone recognised you. a wide smile and arms wide open for you.

"oh y/n it's lovely to see you" amanda engulfed you in a hug, a warm fuzzy but also bittersweet feeling filling your chest. you'd met her mum totally by accident one of the first times that you and leah slept together. she'd been dropping of groceries for her daughter. leah trying to rush you out the door before things got to awkward.

but instead amanda being the polite women she is asked her daughter to introduce you to her. it ending up you stayed an extra two hours longer than you'd planned much to leah's discomfort, but in a way that made it all the more that enjoyable.

"what you doing after here?" amanda asked as she pulled you out the hug, leah lingering just behind you chewing the inside of her lip. "just if your not busy you can always join us for a few drinks" amanda smiled so sincerely as you thought over the invitiation briefly, would it be awkward - maybe? but friends can go out for drinks too!

“yeah, i’d love too” you grinned as a small cheer left amanda’s lips, you seeing the slight falter of a look on leah’s face before it turned back to her signature tight lipped frown.

or maybe you did it just to spite the blonde defender who stood so nervous next to you.

"brilliant! leah we'll wait out at the cars for you" amanda directed towards her daughter as she nodded a small sigh leaving her lips as she plastered on a fake smile, you knew there was a part of her that didnt want you there but that just added fuel to your fire.

amanda looping her arm with yours as the two of you walked towards where the cars would be at the back of the emirates stadium to take you and the williamson family for a few drinks to celebrate the win.

"so how have you been?" amanda asks as she walks beside you, a genuine interest in her tone, as you hum catching her up with your life which hadn't been all that exciting, most days merging into one.

"leah tells me you've been helping her with some business project? how's it going?" amanda asks and you swear your throat started to close up, your words getting stuck in between your lips as your eyes goes wide.

"oh- um yeah it's coming together-" quite literally. you stutter out a response hoping it doesn't raise to much suspicion and praying that the topic is over with just as quick as it came.

"leah won't give me a clue what it's about" amanda complains as she continues to tell you about the countless times she tried to get it out of her daughter as you hummed along more in your head as to why leah would say you were just business partners? why not just say your friends, cause after all you were?

"mhm well i won't be one to spoil the surprise then" you nervously chuckled as you saw the cars in the distance knowing you were close to the end of the conversation. amanda letting out a groan as she hoped she'd be able to get the big surprise out of you but that would be pretty hard considering there was no big surprise.

you were going to have to talk with leah, which would be a little odd as when the two of you were alone, not much talking would be done well not the converse action.

amanda letting go of your arm as she got into the other side of the cab, leah coming out the exit of the back of the stadium as she jogged quickly getting into the people carrier. sitting herself in the seat next to you as she shot you a soft smile.

-

the night was actually going smoothly, leah seemed to get out of whatever strop she was in when you were stood with her family in the emirates and was actually talking to you now. well more flirting with you. her hand getting dangerously high up on your thigh as she spoke.

"have i told you how pretty you look-" she blurted out as you took a small sip of your drink, a small smile appearing on your face as you lifted the glass from your lips and back to the table.

"you may have mentioned a few times" you whispered as this time it was leah's time to smile as her hand drifted a little further up your thigh as you shot her look as she squeezed your thigh making you jump in your seat a little.

"le-" you harhsly said inbetween your teeth as she looked at you so innocently as if she had not clue what she was doing to you but you know she knew. leah knew what her touch was doing to you and how it was affecting you.

leah had you right where she wanted you and honestly, you were going to let her - you'd face the consequences later on. right now, you wanted her, in more ways than one.

standing up with a loud scrape of your chair, all eyes turning to land on you, "m'sorry just- i'll be back-" you stutter out, your cheeks all flushed as you made a beeline straight for the toilets.

amanda looking worryingly over her shoulder at you before turning to leah, who just simply shrugged that making her mum's eyebrows furrow even more.

"i better go and check on her" leah stood up excusing herself as she followed suit pushing the door on the pub toilet door seeing you touching up your lip gloss as you regained your composure from the feeling on her hands on your body.

leah locking the door behind her, a rye smile on her lips as she stepped just that little bit closer to you, feeling your heart beat just that little bit faster.

was it nerves, probably but maybe it was more the uncertainty as you never knew what you were going to get with the blonde.

"are you sure?" leah whispered as she placed a quick kiss to your cheek before resting her hands to your hips as a smug smile came from you before you nodded.

"do you think you can keep up?" leah teased as your shot her a shocked look as she pulled you into deeper into the bathroom, your back now pushed flush against the sink.

"i'm sure i can.. business partner-" you whisper as you inch closer to her, making your eyes switch between her eyes and lips a flash of shock appearing on her face.

but just as leah opened her mouth to say another teasing comment, you wrap your hand behind her neck and slam your lips against hers. the kiss quickly turning heated when leah's tongue enters your mouth as a familiar warmth floods your body in seconds,

her hands gripping at your waist as she tugs you closer to her without breaking the kiss. the sound of your lips together was enough to leave an uncomfortable throbbing inbetween your legs.

leah pulls back for a moment searching for anything in your eyes that may say that you don't want this but there was nothing but lust, a small whine leaving your lips at the loss of contact in your lips before leah's diving right back in.

the sound that had been blasting through the pub had now quieten to a mere hum as your focus was solely now on the girl in front of you.

her hands placed on the small on your back slightly pushing in to make your back arch as your chest pushed into her. as leah's hands soon made their way slowly to slide down you your ass as your tongues graze against each other.

"so pretty for me, my love" your heart jumps at her loving tone as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks, leah's words always having some sort of effect on you and always leaving you feeling flustered.

leah's eyes roam your figure as her hand traces absentmindedly, as if she planning her next attack on your body. the blonde noticing the way your breath hitched when her fingers sit on your pulse point on your neck.

leah rotating her hand so her fingers lie gently against it awaiting your reaction as she smirks watching as you squeeze your eyes shut, as your hands grip against the rim of the sink.

a small chuckle leaves leah's lips as she leans down to press her lips to your neck sucking harshly on your sweet spot. a string of little whimpers leave your pretty little lips as you tilt your head more to the side allowing leah to have more access.

"le, please do something" you beg, feeling her hand roam underneath your hoodie, grazing across your breasts.

"don't be impatient baby girl" she rasps against your ear, tugging down on it with her teeth as you feel your self squeeze your thighs together. hoping it will help you relieve some tension between her legs.

leah finally lifting your hoodie over your head as she throws to the ground of the pub bathroom. usually you would have felt embarrassed as you would feel your whole body want to cower aways but with leah, it felt different. it felt good, it felt right.

-

it was a typical saturday night, leah had her home match at the emirates on the sunday so she was taking advantage of her the small out of rest time she had. a small hum of the tv playing in the background as you watched it, but really all your mind could focus on was the fact leah’s fingers were combing through the ends of your hair.

you were lying wrapped in leah's arms on her couch as the tv played, leah focused on some insta reel on her phone. you head tucked on her chest as it heaved up and down, the wholesome of the interaction. it felt like it was meant to be — it felt real.

"le?" you whispered your head turning to look up at the blonde as a small hum left her lips, her phone lowering a little.

"where do you see yourself in a year?" you asked, it was something that played on your mind a lot, cause would you still be in some casual relationship with leah or would you have your own apartment and she’d show you off to her friends as something more.

you were more hoping for the second option, since the months had passed since you both promised out of breathe that there wouldn’t be any strings attached.

and boy oh boy had that changed, especially since your favourite bra lived in her dresser. it was pretty hard to be casual.

“cause maybe we’d be more and going on cute little dates in a cafe before you’d go off to training” you began as you sat up, you rambling on as your hands flew around with some enthusiasm making you miss the way leah’s face changed.

“and then when you come home i’d be there waiting, your dinner on the table-“ you paused as you looked down to see leah’s face, puzzled but also her eyes they told you a different emotion, not the same energy you had but it was sadness — more a sense of guilt.

“i- sorry i got ahead of myself” you mumbled as your back sunk into the back of her couch, the further side from her.

leah shook her head, and you were half expecting her to wrap you in a hug and kiss your cheek and tell you it was okay and that maybe she felt the same way.

but she didn’t.

"y/n, remember, we're not together-" leah cut straight to the point, her tone blunt as you felt your heart drop and your brows furrowing and a quickly developing pout spreading across your lips.

you let out a shaky breath as you nodded slowly, you understood. she had kept her side of the promise of no strings attached. “i- just thought maybe?” you said so quietly it only came out as a whisper as you fidgeted with your fingers.

looking up to see leah’s face it told you everything you needed to know. you’d only known the blonde for a several amount of months but you knew her well enough to know what her face was telling you without actually having to say the actual words.

“oh i get it” you scoffed slightly, choking back on the tears which pricked at your eyes. all it ever was going to be was casual.

leah’s opened her mouth but nothing came out as she sat herself up on the couch but before she could even attempt to reach out to you, you were up from the couch. slipping your shoes on your feet. you didn’t want to be in the same room as her.

“y/n- don’t” leah finally managed to get out as she followed your actions following you into her hallway which was littered with her football memorabilia from her glittering career. but you shook your head, her voice to painful to hear as you stopped with your back to her just before the front door.

"do you know what's actually quite funny-" you paused to let out a little chuckle as you stood mere metres from the door, as you looked up from your shoes spinning slightly so you faced her. leah stood her shoulders sunken as she tried to plead with you not to leave.

"i actually thought i meant something to you- but i guess that's just how little i actually meant to you" you sighed as tried to steady your breath, tears prickling at your eyes ready to fall at any moment.

"i- i was ready-" you paused as your words got stuck in your throat, leah reaching out for you as you took a step back. "i was ready to give you my everything" you admitted it coming out just a little louder than a whisper.

"y/n-"

“no leah, you’d made it clear how you feel” you spat out as you spun on your heal, leaving leah calling out your name but your ignored her, reaching for the door and hearing how it clicked shut behind you.

part of you was hoping she was going to rip her front door open and call after you and not stop until you were back in the warmth of her arms but the corridor in her apartment block was silent.

the other part of you hated yourself how long you had let it drag out for, but now you were free. she can go to hell.

stumbling through the street as your tears fell down your cheeks, tapping away at your phone until you found the contact you wanted, the dial drilling through your ear a few times before it got to voicemail.

you sighed as you heard the beep, "i cut her off, amelie."

[lazyscience]

In order to name a specific person as your executor, you need to have a will - otherwise the court will appoint someone, usually a family member, which is exactly what a lot of you don't want. With legal gay marriage, your spouse is the first priority choice for executor unless you choose someone else, and they'll keep their access to joint property, policies and bank accounts. When there isn't a will OR a marriage, shit gets really gray legally.

If you're a grown adult who pays your own bills, has your own bank accounts, has any retirement plans/has ever contributed to social security, and/or have life insurance, you should have a will. I know, I know, there's always time for that.

Spoiler: there is not, in fact, always time for that and it becomes a mess for your loved ones to deal with if you didn't.

You can say you know you partner's wishes, but you will be tied up a lot longer in probate if there's no will even if there are no challenges (probate=the legal process of disposing of an estate). Probate is MUCH shorter when there is a legally sound will - you can't do that shit like on TV where you write "I leave all my worldly possessions to my love, X. Havisham-Goode" on a piece of notebook paper and have a nurse and a janitor date and sign as witnesses - well, you CAN, but it's not like Murder She Wrote, your survivor will probably not find it very useful. Without a will, executor or not, if there's a challenge whoever can afford the most for lawyers will probably end up winning the battle for whatever property/belongings were at issue - like a shared house or bank accounts.

You can buy willmaking software that will do the job for most of us who don't have lots of property, but resign yourself to probably having to spend between $150-300, or more depending on how complicated your situation is/what kind of mutual property you own. If you have a house, significant retirement income in a 401K/IRA/other investments, and/or ESPECIALLY if you have kids, you should probably talk to a lawyer in person - guardianships in particular are nothing to fuck around with on an amateur level. DuckDuckGo "LGBT estate planning (your city/county/state)" to find someone knowledgeable near you, check the Better Business Bureau/Google for reviews, ask your friends who they used. It's not important you LIKE your lawyer, but you should feel like they know what they're doing and are professionally respected.

Look up your state's specific laws and constitution; it's unlikely that the Trump administration will be able to just retroactively ban gay marriages and say none of them ever existed. HOWEVER, what could happen is exactly what happened when Roe was overturned - states that have their own specifically gender neutral or specifically queer marriage friendly laws will continue to allow gay marriage that will need to be honored because of interstate commerce clauses but forbidden to continue in unfriendly states. What would be a whole disaster is if both Obergefell were overturned and the Respect for Marriage Act (2022) had constitutional challenge brought and was overturned - and even then, there would need to be a new federal law passed to forbid gay marriage. This process would not be able to happen on January 21st, 2025 - but be sure they'll be trying for it sometime over the next four years.

What you all need to do is not wait for there to be publicity about it. Hammer your Congressperson, blue or red, male or female, actual phone calls best, second letters, third faxes, fourth emails with YOU LEAVE GAY MARRIAGE THE FUCK HOW IT IS OR YOU'RE GETTING PRIMARIED (maybe a little nicer than that - but ONLY a little)

And fill out your durable power of attorneys, healthcare directives and write your wills in the meantime. They're good things to do even if the fashies don't come for gay marriage; they're a form of tangible help and support you can give your spouse even when you can't do it in person any more. Believe me when I tell you serious illness or death is going to be horrendous for your loved one WITHOUT having to book a seance to figure out what you really wanted, and it'll be invaluable if the worst does happen legally.

Before January 2025:

If you are a USAmerican in a relationship that might be affected by legislation that dissolves same-sex marriages, who may no longer be recognized as next-of-kin, especially if you have children, get your rights in writing!

Your marriage certificate may not be enough to prove you have rights to make medical decisions for non-biological children or for a same-sex spouse or partner.

Go to a lawyer, get it spelled out as clearly as possible that you have a voice in emergency medical and legal situations.

[sashayed]

I haven't said as much about electoral politics this year as I have in previous cycles, because I am exhausted like everyone else and have nothing new or helpful to add. That is still true, so caveat lector I guess lmao!!! Happy American Election Day Fellow Sufferers!!

I have been experiencing an internal backlash the last few years to my extremely Sorkinpilled D.C. private school upbringing -- my childhood spent as a kind of convent schoolgirl in the faith of The System Is Good If We All Participate, which of course has a uhhh let's say generously a minimal engagement with the ways in which many of us are by design shut out of participating. I don't think idealism is necessarily childish, but I think MY idealism certainly has childish qualities, an undergirding of 90s feel-goodism, of civic participation as a subtle ego stroke and of voting -- although I would never have consciously put it this way -- as a way to feel superior to people who don't vote.

Lately there has bubbled up in me a sludgy, adolescent fury at this whole stupid country that has made it very very hard to feel like I should do even the bare minimum. For these people? AMERICANS? The ones that not only want Donald Trump to be president but saw what happened the first time and were like, We love this, do it again but worse? Whatever, fuckos. "I hope you people get your dearest wish and it chews you to death slowly," I may have thought.

I have also thought: why is it so controversial to ask elected officials to stop funding a genocide? Why are we treating people who make that ask, who are watching the current administration directly fund death on a mass scale and objecting to that choice, as if they are being babies and just need to get over it? How are they supposed to get over it? Why is anybody over it?

Anyway all this means that I, a known chipper door-knocker and caller of congresspeople, have been pretty low-key this current cycle. I think that is OK. I don't want to make this a big dramatic confessional about how I didn't write enough postcards or whatever. We all get exhausted and this was my turn.

But it has also been an illuminating cycle in that it's made it clear to me how much at my big age I still want politics to make me feel good, and when they don't, I still have the urge to throw a lil tantrum about it! I can get very superior and intellectual about how right-wing operatives manipulate their voters emotionally WITHOUT EVEN NOTICING that I too have been manipulated, in my case into the feeling that nonparticipation is a kind of revolutionary act.* Just absolute "I threw it on the GROUND" logic happening inside my head. "Maybe if I don't vote I will be doing Quiet Quitting, which is uhhhhh anticapitalist." I'm not a part of your system!!!

Anyway, I am trying to have self-compassion about it, and one way for me to do that is to project my internal experience onto a theoretical reader. That would be you, my imaginary friend who clicked on this post for some reason even though you have already decided not to vote! I just want to tell you that I am more sympathetic to your point of view than I have ever been in my whole life, and I'm sorry I have historically been a glib, holier-than-thou asshole about it in ways that may actually have made you MORE resistant to civic participation.

And you're right: it doesn't make that big a difference whether I personally vote or not, or whether you do. But if there are hundreds of us, and I think there are, then each of those people individually do starts to matter.

I guess I would humbly request that you and I both pay attention to what people who need help are actually asking for. I would ask that we both notice who wins when we abdicate this single responsibility. I would remind us both that participating in the electoral process is not some kind of weird either-or with participating in decentralized community building and mutual aid, and the best people we know do both. Isn't it interesting that somehow, insidiously, without even consciously becoming aware of this belief, we have started to think that you can only do one or the other? Who is telling us that story? Who does it serve?

Anyway. I took the stupid 90 minute round trip to my polling place which was VERY hot for some reason and I stood in the stupid line and some babies waved at me and I cast my vote for Kamala Harris and I'm glad I did it in the same way I'm glad after I do the dishes or take a stupid shower. Doing work doesn't always feel like anything. I also saw a really wonderful small black and white dog that I thought was a cat on a leash. I would not have seen that dog if I hadn't gone to vote. So politics can still make you feel good!!!

*I mean all this analysis is cute and everything BUT ALSO i did switch antidepressants twice in the last year, an astonishingly grueling process that almost made me [affect the trout population]. Could these things be related? hmmmmmmm, don't understand the question, won't respond to it.

[snailchimera]

Speaking as someone who was able and willing to get the fuck out of Florida, it was the right thing to do and I don't regret it, but it fucking hurts. I miss my home. I miss my shitty toxic eutrophic bayou and my lizard neighbors and liveoaks with Spanish moss and palmettos and honeysuckle that is probably invasive and tiny stubborn canebrakes and sandy patches of scrub. I miss bugs, which is not a thing I would have predicted saying, not because I dislike bugs but because it never occurred to me that other places were so bug-deficient. I miss the cluster of left-adjacent people ranging from peace-and-love Unitarians to the serious union folks or the people running a grocery co-op that actually functioned as a grocery store normal people could buy food at to the folks fixed on one specific problem like housing or healthcare to the anarchists and the socialists and the queer community spread through all of the above and That One Communist whose sole purpose in life seemed to be hawking a newspaper, all clustered together because you can't afford to splinter into two billion different factions in a conservative town full of gun nuts, and honestly probably being a more functional group because of it. I miss streets and buildings that used to be fixtures in my life, landmarks that told me exactly where I was. I miss stupid small things like the art on my library card, the sound of a road, an absolutely objectively terrible park that was always full of glass and spent fireworks the day after New Years or the 4th of July. I miss my best friend from middle/high school (though we're still in touch), and at least a couple members of my family, and my dad's weird friend who wrote absolutely godawful political poetry and hand painted beautiful cards for holidays and once tried to steal my pet turtles to turn them loose in the nearby river (which would have been bad as they were a nonnative species).

I have missed multiple funerals I should have been at and I don't think I'm ever really going to get closure for that.

I've been living up north for over a decade now and the air still tastes wrong. The seasonal shifts here are beautiful, but in the way an alien planet is. It is literally physically impossible to acquire a decent orange or orange juice that tastes like it's actually meant to be a consumable foodstuff here, and I didn't even grow up in orange growing country so it's not like my standards are fresh-picked-today high.

And I didn't really leave a community behind the way OP would have to. I was always pretty isolated, all things considered.

I'm out of Florida, and also alive in general, because an internet friend took me in and inexplicably hasn't kicked me out yet. That's not a viable plan for most people. And, although I am spending more money than I can really afford to renew a passport I've never used, it's very unlikely I'd be able to find sanctuary in another country with my disability, spotty work history, and lack of money. Even if I could, there are people I can't leave behind.

I do think you should get a passport if you can. If you have the money, help other people get one too. It's useful documentation, and if it comes down to it... a Hail Mary escape plan is still better than waiting to die. But the people brave enough to keep fighting for their homes aren't stupid, and the places they love are worth fighting for. The people who can't leave are not acceptable losses. And most red states are red because of deeply entrenched systems of disenfranchisement and suppression.

Just care about people.

I see a lot of posts along the lines of, "people stay in Florida because they can't afford to leave," in reference to both climate disasters and Republican politicians.

I don't see enough, "because it's their home, and leaving under such conditions is traumatic, even if they can afford to drop everything and leave."

I wish people would stop telling me "just move" when I talk about the problems I want to fix. I wish people would stop telling me "it's a sunk cost, you should just leave" when I try to encourage political participation and community involvement. I wish people would stop asking me "lmao why" when I say that I love Florida. I wish people would stop asking me if I "need help leaving" when I have never declared any intention to do so, and have been quite vocal about how happy I was to move back to Florida after a long time away.

I know this land, I know this community, I have deep roots here. I'm tired of everyone telling me to rip them up and "just leave" when I'm trying so goddamn fucking hard to try and help make things better.

You might just see a gross swamp full of rednecks, but I see the sides you refuse to. I see the humanity, I see the communities banding together, I see the beauty, I see the hope. I see the climate activists advocating for our people and our environment, engineering new ways to mitigate hurricanes and update our infrastructure. I see the groups fighting for immigrant rights, racial justice and reparations, affordable housing, organized labor, abortion access, and disability justice. I see the queer organizations carving out space and helping trans people access healthcare. I see people fighting DeSantis tooth and goddamn nail at every single opportunity. I see the reasons to keep fighting for this place that everyone else has written off as a cheap punchline.

I wish y'all would stop ignoring us when there isn't a deadly hurricane or a Florida Man headline, and I wish y'all would stop treating Floridians like we're either helpless victims or horrible bigots with zero in-between.

Some of us are doing our damnedest to make things better. Some of us love Florida with every fiber of our being. Some of us think of Florida, and before anything else, we think "that's home."

It feels pretty fucking bad to constantly see people say your home should be abandoned. It feels pretty fucking bad when the entire rest of the world refuses to see your home as anything but a joke or a problem.

Florida is beautiful. Florida is my home. I'm going to fight for it no matter how many people reading this think I should just pack up and abandon it.

[unforth]

I keep seeing posts comparing this to 2004 or other past election losses and how this feels the same or similar to those past times.

As another Old who voted in 2004 (and I missed voting in 2000 by a month and was furious about it) I really can't even put into words how vehemently I disagree.

In 2008, I remember very earnestly sitting down with some friends and saying that if somehow McCain beat Obama, I'd have to join the fucking revolution, because I couldn't believe that this country would elect a Republican AGAIN after the previous 8 years of bullshit. I look back now and think how incredibly naive I was, but I also look back now and think, damn, why aren't I 25 NOW? I can't join the revolution now, I'm 41 and I own a house and have two young children and one old parent depending on me.

Because honestly, truly, as someone who has been studying American history since I was 7, as a Civil War buff with expertise on the years before the Civil War, as someone who has at least some memories of every election since 1988... guys, this isn't the same as 2004. I was furious then. Swift Boat bullshit I swear to fucking dog. And I was and still am fairly convinced that the 2000 election was deliberately stolen. But also I still had every reason then to believe in the rule of law.

In 2004, I still believed term limits would be respected.

In 2004, I still believed a person who wasn't elected would demure gracefully to the winner.

In 2004, I still trusted the courts.

In 2004, I still believed that we'd made progress on bigotry.

I could go on, and to be clear, my point isn't "I thought these institutions were ~good~" in literally any objective sense. Y'all are cynical but my generation was raised by, surrounded by, Vietnam vets and trust me, there was no way to be a kid, seeing what the 70s did to this country, and not come out as cynical and furious as the best of um. (My grandfather was a World War 2 vet, as were his close friends. My father and both his brothers are Vietnam vets, tho my dad didn't go overseas.) But I did believe that even corrupt institutions, even broken racist systems, even fucking Republicans, would follow basic norms of democracy. They said they believed in the constitution and I believed them. I believed that, like Nixon, truly getting caught doing something insane would at least force a mea culpa and turn public opinion. I believed...

Well, I guess it doesn't matter.

Because I no longer believe any of that.

I have watched the guard rails disappear over my lifetime. I have watched the party who once spent 2 years pursuing a guy over a BJ in the oval office elect a convicted rapist. I have watched and at times I've participated and I've voted and I've organized and I've protested and I've read the news more days than not and I've lived and I've grown and I've learned.

I have been an adult, legally, for almost 24 years now.

Guys... there are no norms remaining on the far right. The guard rails are gone. The Fascists control the White House, the senate, the Supreme Court, and things aren't looking promising for the House.

The bus has no brakes anymore. They think they have a mandate - and I can't blame them, as horrifying as this mandate is, because if things had gone the other way and Harris had gotten these results I'd also think it was a mandate.

Please sit with what this means: Trump and the Republican party said, "hand us the reins and we'll make everyone you hate hurt," and more than half the people who bothered to vote said "sure buddy, here goes." We don't have a usurper this time. This is the country that the majority of Americans said they wanted. Whether they come to regret that or not, they saw open Fascism and went "oh yes, count me in." And it wasn't because of the electoral college this time. It was because this country is so bigoted and misogynistic that they'd rather have this than a woman of color in the office.

I'm sick of "well she didn't run a good campaign." (Lie.) I'm sick of, "well we didn't get a primary." (Who cares?) I'm *extremely* sick of "well, Palestine." (Yes! Democrats actions have made the suffering there so much worse! It fucking sucks! You know what's about to suck so much worse?)

15 million people who showed up for Joe Biden couldn't be fussed to place a vote for Kamala Harris. Whatever their reason for not voting, we all knew the outcome if she lost. And seeing open fascism didn't fire them up enough to make the effort, and that's fucking pathetic. The consequences of the worst happening mattered so little to them that they couldn't be fucking bothered to make the minimum effort to stop it, and now millions of people will suffer as a result.

Because here we are: the huge swathe of the country who wanted a strongman now have one.

Look, I don't know what happens next. But I do know, and remember keenly: after 2016, Trump did, or at least tried to do, most of the things he said he'd do. When he was stopped, it was often because of career government employees: judges, bureaucrats, etc. And this time, he's said he's going to purge those people. I don't know if he'll succeed, but I certainly believe he'll try.

This is not 2004 again.

This is 2024. The Republicans have ripped the mask to shreds, shredded apart the book of political norms, and empowered hate, and they've been handed a governmental mandate for stamped "have at with our blessing!" in exchange.

And now they'll use that mandate to make everyone they hate suffer: people of color, queer people, trans people, immigrants, non-Christians.

Don't assume the worst can't happen. I am a Jew, and I have a photo album full of black and white photos of dead people that constantly reminds me: the worst has happened and it can happen again.

Do not despair. Despair is enervating. Be furious. As we should be. These douche bags are repulsive. Be prepared to fight. Be prepared to flee. Be prepared to defend. Don't assume you simply can't do something. There's always something to do, and even the smallest act of defiance can help. There's never any knowing until after which acts of resistance will end up galvanizing the good and just out of their apathy. But that apathy is the enemy.

Because none of this is normal. None of this is "just like when..." Please stop saying it is.

And before anyone screams "privilege" at me, yes, I am in many ways. I'm white. I have access to some generational money even tho my own family lives paycheck to paycheck - we won't be rich but have enough of a support network to be comfortable. I live in a blue area of a blue state. But I'm also a woman (legally speaking, at least) married to another woman - since before Oberkfell, and yes I remember exactly what steps we had planned any time we wanted to leave our state. My wife has physical disabilities. We have two children. Both are biracial (half black). One is trans. We are caring for an elderly parent. I am Jewish and as my kids' birth parent, so are they. I own a publishing company that publishes the exact kinds of queer and kinky lit these people intend to ban. We tick so many boxes of what these people hate.

I know ya'll are scared. Trust me, I'm terrified. But fear is paralyzing. And that won't help. Whatever happens, don't lie down and take this shit.

When Gore lost I was one month shy of my 18th birthday and already in college. I have been fighting my entire adult life, and I'm exhausted. I'm much less able to fight now, much more tied down with responsibilities. But the fight isn't over. I'm checking our passports. I'm packing a go bag. I've convinced one vulnerable friend to move here and I have another who wants to and we're figuring out how to make that happen. I'm protecting who I can, starting with putting on my mask first. I don't know what will happen but if in the end all I can do is uproot my entire life to protect my children then I am preparing to do so. I can at least save them if no one else.

None of this is normal.

And I'm not sure, after Trump's in office, that anything will ever be normal again in the US. At least not the old normal. And there are ways that's a good thing, so many ways that the old normal sucked for so many people, and I'm optimistic that there's a bright future ahead, but man it looks far away right now. I don't want to go back to the old normal, and I want to be part of establishing a kinder, more just, more equal new normal, but we're a long way from there.

Whatever happens, we must endure. We must survive. We must support each other. We must find our allies and be prepared to compromise with them. Don't try to save everyone. You'll fail. Help even one person and you can change the world. Everyone things they can't do everything and so do nothing. That's insane. Do a single thing and it will be better than nothing. One phone call. One letter. One act of defiance. Very few people get the opportunity to grand gestures that matter, and the rest of us will die waiting for that moment. But the secret is that what makes those moments - the time when one person is in the right place at the right time for their action to matter - is built on millions of small moments by millions of people doing what little they can to make things slightly better. Think of every iconic photograph of a Sole Resistor you know of and think about every single tiny thing that had to happen for that moment to occur. Most of us will never me that one person, but that one person is a myth anyway. Countless tiny unseen moments create those myths. Doing literally anything is better than doing nothing.

And tooth and nail, quietly and loudly, in our homes and our towns and cities, during protests or when they come for our neighbors, we must fight.

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. iv

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader summary: Art comes out of retirement to test out his coaching skills. Your relationship with him continues to spiral. warnings: smut 18+, cheating, divorce, rough sex, piv, marijuana use, slight angst, hastily proofread word count: 7.7K divider by @cafekitsune <3 prev part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Kaleb decides he wants to play tennis. Or that he wants to “get serious” about it. He’d done tennis camp every summer along with soccer camp, and he’d enjoyed it enough. But for some reason, he’s determined to be a tennis player now. You blame it on how much time he’s been spending around the Donaldson’s. Between the various play dates and carpooling, he and Lily have been attached at the hip.

The two of you are enjoying a quiet evening  on a weeknight when he brings it up. 

“Lily doesn’t really like tennis,” he tells you in between bites of mashed potatoes. 

“Well that’s okay. Sometimes our friends end up having different hobbies,” you say.

“Hm,” he puts his finger to his chin, “kinda like you and Mr. Art?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well he’s like the greatest tennis player ever,” he says, spreading his arms out wide. “But you’re terrible at tennis. And you guys are friends right?”

His assertion has you placing your fork down. “Okay, first of all, I’m not terrible at tennis. Secondly, it’s really not fair to compare me to a professional tennis player, K, he’s had years of practice.” Then, you reluctantly think of the last thing he said. About the two of you being friends. 

Images of Art kneeling above you in bed dance through your mind. You think of the last time you were with him. How he’d laid his cheek on your thigh while you threaded your fingers through his tufts of blonde hair. His gaze searing as he watched you in all your post-orgasmic bliss. Your chest was still heaving as you tried to recover.  

You clear your throat. 

“Yeah, um, I guess we are friends.” You avoid eye contact with Kaleb and pray he changes the subject. You don’t want to think about Art. 

Unfortunately, your son is too young to properly read the room. If he was, he’d see the way you’re clenching your fork in your fist. Or he would’ve realized by now that his mom is a harlot. Instead of calling you out on your immorality, he turns to you with express earnestness. “I wanna play tennis like Mr. Art,” he says definitively.

He then furrows his little eyebrows and asks you, “you think I can be as good as him one day?”

You smile, reach over to smooth your palm over his curls, and tug his ear. You say what every parent would. “I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, my little monkey.” 

He grins at you, dimple poking out.

After all, you’re almost certain this is just an eager phase prompted by Lily bringing Tashi to school for career day. Tashi mentioned to you that Kaleb was very eager to ask questions about her job. Apparently, he thought it was super cool that she “got to coach the best tennis players in the world.” You’re worried that before dinner is over he might ask you to put in a word with her about coaching him. 

Once you’ve finished eating, tucked Kaleb in, and tidied up the kitchen, you finally get to relax with a cup of lavender chamomile tea.

Before you settle into the refuge of your bed, you make a note to sign Kaleb up for club tennis. 

ᯓ

You’re at a gas station near Kaleb’s school when you realize your dumb credit card has a faulty chip. You grab your purse and lock the doors to your car, having been forced to go inside the store and pay for your gas the old fashioned way. 

The door shuts behind you with a ring of a bell. The unmistakable smell of fuel fills your nostrils as it mixes with stale coffee and the emblematic stench of small convenience stores. You grumble when you see there’s a short line. 

With a sigh, you take a detour down one of the narrow aisles to grab a pack of gum. You pick out a random pack of spearmint, but your inner child lingers on the yellow packaging of juicy fruit bubble gum sitting beside it. When you were little, your mom would’ve made you pick one or the other. Without a second thought, you pluck the yellow pack out from the shelf and head back towards the front. 

On your walk back, you glance out the windows, checking to make sure the pump you’re parked at is still number 5. 

The line is shorter now. There’s only two people. You think you recognize the dark head of the person standing at the counter. They’re digging through the back pocket of their jeans and pulling out a leather wallet when your cellphone dings. It’s an email notification from your boss. You read the subject header before dropping the phone back into your purse, hoping to avoid whatever stressor awaits you there for a couple more hours or so. When you look back up, you’re met with the face of the dark haired stranger. 

His eyes meet yours. Patrick Zweig sends you a mischievous smile of recognition as he saunters toward you. He snaps his fingers. “I know you.”

“Hi, Patrick,” you say through your tight smile. The last time you’d seen him, he tried to blackmail you into going out with him. If he wasn’t so attractive, you’d probably be repulsed by him. 

“Long time no see.” He pockets his package of Marlboros. “How you been?”

“Um just busy you know,” you hum. “You?” 

He nods. “Same, same.” He looks you over, smile growing wider when he meets your eyes after lingering on your cleavage. He doesn’t even attempt to be discreet. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes to the side.

Thankfully, the bald guy in front of you finishes up his transaction so you have an excuse to say “excuse me” to Patrick as you approach the register. You glance back when you hand your money to the bored cashier, catching one last glimpse of Patrick as he exits through the door. You nibble on the inside of your cheek, feeling the tiniest hint of disappointment. 

You accept your change and two packs of gum and make your way back to your car. Not wanting to waste any more time at this point, you toss the plastic bag into the passenger seat and hurry to pump your gas.  

You’re leaning against the trunk while the fuel fills your tank when you hear a small “hey.” 

You’re startled as Patrick approaches you again. You look around suspiciously. “Um are you stalking me?” 

“No.” He huffs out a laugh. “I was standing over there taking a smoke.” He points towards his beat up suv. You wonder why he doesn’t have a better car. You thought tennis players made money. “And I saw you. Didn’t get to say goodbye earlier.” 

You click your tongue. “Well, bye.” 

“Wait—I hope I didn’t rub you the wrong way last time.” He rubs his palm over the back of his neck. “I kind of have a fucked up sense of humor.” 

“It wasn’t the joke,” you supply. “It was more so you trying to blackmail me into going on a date with you.” 

He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know why that didn’t work.” The grin he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. 

This time, you smirk, your gaze tracing the length of his body, from his Nikes to the curly wisps of hair flying in the wind. The gas pump clicks, signifying that your tank is full. You don’t remove it right away because you’re busy letting Patrick type his number into your phone. You wish you could say you played hard to get, but that would be a lie of monumental magnitude. 

You don’t actually intend to call him, content to let his number go forgotten in your phone. After all, what type of woman would get involved with the best friend of the man she’s having an affair with? 

Later on, when you’re having a glass of wine, mommy duties complete for the night, you pause on his number as you tap through your phone. You inhale, take a sip from your glass, and quickly save his contact before swiping out of the app. You can blame it on your being slightly tipsy when you notice that he’s saved as “for a rainy day.” 

ᯓ

It turns out that the tennis thing isn’t just a phase. You don’t mind of course. You’d always support your kid in whatever he pursued. The only issue is that Art fucking Donaldson thought it would be a good idea to train little Kaleb. As if you needed more reasons to be around the man. 

You’d told him that you didn’t think it was necessary because your son was only eight years old. Surely, he wouldn’t need a retired professional tennis player to train him. His tennis lessons at the local club would certainly suffice. Plus, you imagined he had more important things to attend to than give private lessons to a third grader. 

On a random weeknight, you’d gone to pick Kaleb up from a play date with Lily, hoping to grab him and get back home before the rain got any worse. Art had greeted you at the door, placing a hand on the small of your back. 

He decided to bring up the topic again. Even Tashi, who was usually busy with training of her own, chimed in, claiming it would be a good opportunity for Art to find real meaning in tennis again. Whatever that meant. Patrick, who you had been avoiding thinking about, once again inserted himself into a conversation, pointing out how young he and Art were when they first started playing tennis. According to him, it was never too early to learn how to properly hit a ball with a racket. 

ᯓ

The thought of Art spending time with Kaleb through tennis is an endearing one if you’re being honest with yourself. But you know you would have an intense fight on your hands should Chris find out. 

Ever since Art had stepped in with your ex at the fall festival, he’d harbored an attitude toward him. He’d gone as far as complaining about all the time Kaleb spent at his house, accusing you of trying to turn your son against him. If it weren’t for the court mandated visits, you’d have simply told Chris to go to hell. But in an attempt to maintain peace for your son’s sake, you reassured him that Kaleb only spent so much time around Art because Lily was his best friend. 

You asked him if it was worth destroying his son’s friendship. He conceded for the time being, but you’re sure if he found out about any extra tennis lessons, he’d blow a gasket. 

Ironically, you had never been offered the freedom to express such possessiveness. You had to be content each and every time your son stayed at his father’s new house with his new fiancée that you barely knew anything about. You handle some occasions better than others. 

This time, though, when you watch Kaleb go through the front door of their luxurious home, Spider-Man backpack affixed on his back, your stomach churns. Chris’ fiancée smiles and waves to you with her left hand. Bitterly, you think it’s a miracle she can even lift it with the large diamond wrapped around her finger. She places her hand on your son’s shoulder, pulling him into their home, as if she wasn’t the one that helped wreck yours. 

Maybe it’s the fact that this past week would’ve been your anniversary, but your shoulders shake with sobs throughout the entire drive home. You sniffle as you think about Kaleb building a life with his soon to be step-mom. You hope she treats him right, but, ultimately, you wish he didn’t have to know her at all. 

It doesn’t help that you aren’t able to bury your sorrows in Art’s chest or on his dick. He’d already told you about the gala he’d be attending that weekend for the Donaldson Foundation. You haven’t seen him since last weekend, and you ache to call him, but the thought makes you feel nauseous when you think about the wretched irony of seeking comfort in a married man. In a decision that’s almost homogeneously pathetic, you sit in your lonely driveway and send a “hey” to ‘for a rainy day.’

ᯓ

It doesn’t take long for Patrick to offer to come over. You send him your location as you pop open a bottle of wine. 

You reach for a glass, your eagerness causing you to apply too much force as you slam the glass down. It breaks under the pressure of your haste, immediately cracking at the stem. The inconvenience is too much for you. You curse before bringing the entire bottle up to your mouth. You take a swig, red liquid spilling out of the corner of your mouth. With a gasp, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Pitifully, your vision starts to blur again as your eyes swell up with hot tears. You resort to sitting on the kitchen floor, taking the occasional drink, and wallowing in your despair. 

You’re propped against the cabinet, knees to your chest as you cradle the green tinted bottle of red wine like a toddler holding a stuffed animal, when you hear your doorbell ring. You stumble to your feet, dragging them as you move toward the door. When you swing the door open, Patrick is standing there with his hands in his pockets. He looks you over once, mumbling that you “look like shit” before stepping into your home as if he’d been there a thousand times. 

He lifts his eyebrows when he sees the neglected pieces of glass on your counter. He looks back at the bottle in your fist before groaning. “Please don’t tell me you’re an alcoholic.” 

You roll your eyes. “No, I’m just having a pretty shitty day.” 

“No shit,” he snorts. 

You send him a glare. “I don’t even know why I called you,” you say and rub your temples. 

“Because I’m obviously easy and you know it.” He smirks. 

It makes you laugh, your red, puffy eyes squinting back at him. 

Patrick eventually convinces you to smoke the joint he’d brought with him. You haven’t gotten high in years, and you find yourself mindlessly rambling about your life as you pass the joint back and forth to him. You’d stopped crying a while ago, your eyes now red because of the weed. 

You and Patrick are lounging on the floor of your living room. You’re dragging your fingers through the shag rug underneath you and leaning your head back on the sofa when you hear him laugh. He sounds like he’s far away, down through a tunnel, but when you turn your head, his face is right beside you. 

“What’s funny?” You grunt. 

He shakes his head. “S’nothing.” 

You frown and shove his bicep. “Tell me,” you say, scooting closer to him. “I hate feeling left out.” 

His smile falters for a second like he’s remembering something, but when you blink he’s sporting a melancholic grin. “It’s just—you kind of remind me a lot of Art.” His head falls to the side to really look at you. “I mean not like completely, and not really how he is now, but when you’re upset—it reminds me of when we were teenagers.” 

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not,” you say. It comes out as a whisper. Your faces are so close that you don’t want to startle him. 

“Hm.” His eyes flicker to your lips. “Not a good or bad thing. Just a thing.” 

“That’s why you like me?” You mumble teasingly. “Because I remind you of your boyfriend?” 

He smirks, lips so close to yours you feel his breath fan them. “Who said I liked you?” 

“You don’t have to.” You’re just the slightest movement away from kissing him. If you tilt your head just the tiniest bit—

He lets out an almost imperceptible moan when he finally presses his lips to yours. It’s so quiet, you think you might’ve imagined it. It all happens incredibly fast, but feels like slow motion. Your head is fuzzy and your body is tingling as Patrick grabs your waist, hoisting you onto his lap. It takes you a moment to build momentum, your sensory overload working against you.

When you’re finally able to match his energy, the kiss is searing. He’s sucking your lip into his mouth like you’re already his, hands roaming everywhere he can get them. When he bites your bottom lip, you suck in a breath, giving him room to thrust his tongue into your mouth. You mewl at the way your mouths seem to fit together like velcro. Your toes curl and you tighten your fists into his dark locks when you feel his hot tongue traveling down your throat, leaving white hot bites that feel like being branded. His teeth sting and your cunt throbs as you impulsively rut against his length. 

Patrick rubs his large palm over your ass before abruptly smacking it, making you release an embarrassingly airy moan. His teeth tug on your earlobe. “You like that?” 

You only nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Hmm?” He mumbles, continuing to lave over the skin behind your ear. His hand comes down on your ass again, harder this time. 

You let out a pathetic squeal and slam your hips down against him in search of some kind of friction to relieve the ache between your legs. “Oh god—please fuck me—“

His mouth meets yours again. You can barely kiss him properly, panting about needing him to fuck you right now. 

He really is easy, you think, but it’s not like you have room to talk.

ᯓ

The first time Patrick Zweig sinks his cock into you, you’re on your knees, face pressed against your rug. The slam of his hips threaten to take your breath away as tears cling to your eyelashes. He’s rough, possessively grabbing your flesh with no regard for potential damage. When he experimentally grips your hair in his hand, tugging your head back gently, you see stars behind your clamped eyelids.

Patrick nearly whimpers at the way it makes you arch your back into his thrusts with increasing intensity. He groans something about you being a slut and fists your hair with less restraint. Your walls clench around him when he wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you to his chest. 

He grunts into your ear. “I knew you liked it rough, could tell from the first time I saw you.” 

The tears have started to spill now. Whether it’s from the humiliation or the utter ecstasy, you aren’t sure. All you know is that you almost sob when Patrick drags his tongue alongside your face, collecting the salty tears.

ᯓ

He buries himself inside you for a second time no more than twenty minutes after you’ve both cum. You gasp and claw at his back as his body presses you into your couch cushions.

You have to admit that Patrick knows how to fuck. Knows how to read your body, tapping into just the right frequency to get you off. 

It’s obvious that you’ve been craving this type of treatment from the way you’re responding to him. But you’re sure that he must have a sexual sixth sense because in the midst of fucking you wildly, he grabs your ankle that’s dangling by his ear, turns his head, and plants a sweet kiss to the bone. It makes you melt into the sofa. 

He leans down to shove his tongue into your open mouth. Softly pats your cheek, relishing in your cock drunk state. 

“Does he fuck you like this?” He murmurs into your neck.

You don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. 

“Huh?” He prods. 

You choke down a moan. “Better. He—“ You cry out when you feel him start rubbing harsh circles into your clit. “He fucks me better.” 

He huffs out a laugh through his smile, but his hips slam down harder as if he’s determined to change your answer. In less than a minute, you’re biting down on his shoulder when you feel another orgasm rack through your body. 

ᯓ

You take a longer break this time. Stopping to pour yourself a real glass of wine. One with its stem intact. Patrick lazily inhales from a cigarette as he watches you, with hooded eyes, attempt to hold a throw blanket over your bare torso. In contrast, he nonchalantly spreads his thighs over your couch, body on full display. 

His eyes leisurely meet yours. They shine prettily in the dim lighting of your home. His dark lashes flutter on each drag of his cig and it makes the corner of your mouth curve up when you take a sip. The lamps have cast a cozy shade of amber over the room. It blankets Patrick’s skin in a golden aura reminiscent of something being baked in an oven. 

Patrick reminds you of the gingerbread man, you think. It makes you press the tips of your fingers to your lips to stifle a giggle. 

He tilts his head at your odd behavior, but he assumes the weed must still be affecting you. 

Once you’ve placed your glass on the coffee table, and he’s put out his cigarette, Patrick is pulling you by the ankle, tossing your blanket to the side and kissing his way down your abdomen. 

You yelp when he captures one of your hard nipples in his mouth but let him press his hot kisses into your skin nonetheless. 

You end up cumming for the third time that night with his head buried between your legs. 

ᯓ

Patrick leaves while you’re asleep. 

When you wake up around 3am to an empty house, you think it’s for the best. You check your phone. You have a missed call from “a.d.” and a text from Patrick that says “had fun” with a winking emoji. You don’t respond to either, instead, opting to pad your bare feet to the bathroom. You desperately need a shower.

In the morning, you tidy up your home from the events of the night before, cringing at what took place on the terracotta colored sofa.

When the buzzing in your head doesn’t stop after cleaning your entire living room from top to bottom, you find yourself in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. 

You’re frantically kneading dough when the doorbell rings. You frown, not expecting company, but clean your hands as best you can as you make your way to open the door. Sometimes, your talkative neighbor, Mrs. Taylor, likes to come knocking on your door early in the mornings. 

You’re surprised to find that Art is standing on the other side with a latte and a bag containing a chocolate croissant. You assume it’s for you. He places his things down on the table by the door, the one that holds your catch all tray, and scoops you up into a hug. 

He groans into it, making you smile. “Hi,” you mumble into his chest. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” his voice comes out equally mumbled. “Missed you.” You can hear the grin in his tone. It makes your heart clench. 

You allow yourself to hold onto him, despite the ever present worry that you should be reining yourself in when it comes to him. He moves to let you go, grabbing your face in his palm and kissing the side of your head. You whine and lock your arms around his waist in protest. You inhale his scent, all warm and familiar. You’ve missed him. 

“Baby,” he laughs into your hair. You grunt, squeezing him tighter. “Okay, c’mere.” He pulls you into him, securely engulfing you in his arms. “I got you, I got you.” 

You eventually release him long enough to walk into your home. 

You’re relieved that you’d been overtaken by a cleaning spell this morning because you fear that Art might take one glance at your couch and figure out who had been here. That he’d smell him in the air. 

You’re afraid he might’ve detected it anyway when he freezes in the walkway separating your kitchen from the living room. You nibble on your lip as you try to search his body for any signs that he’s onto you. 

To your relief, Art is actually focused on the copious amounts of cookie dough you have on the counter of your kitchen island. He turns to you with the all knowing look of a father, his eyes creased with concern. “Oh no, what happened?” 

ᯓ

After a therapy session in which you decide to stop letting your ex influence your decisions from afar, you finally relent, allowing Art to begin practicing with Kaleb on their private tennis court. It seems like since you got involved with their family, that’s all you ever do, give in to everyone’s requests. In any other context, it would be disturbing, but the sight of Kaleb racing to the court with an oversized tennis bag fills you with joy. The bag threatens to pull him down, but his excitement keeps him upright as he makes a beeline for Art. 

You don’t know who’s more excited to see Art between the two of you. Your son’s tennis instructor waves at you from across the court. And you have to fight the rush that flows through you, threatening to cut off your oxygen, and give a simple wave in return. It makes you feel like a kid with a fervent crush. You could gag.

You remind yourself that you’re here for Kaleb. Not you.

You think that as long as you get to see him happy like that, you’d agree to anything. It’s a scary notion, but becoming a mom has made you aware of a lot of terrifying realities. 

ᯓ

It’s this maternal need to preserve your son’s happiness that leads you to another prolonged encounter with Tashi Duncan. She’d caught you when you were dropping him off for tennis lessons one day. Apparently, she had a free day. Lily was spending the day with her grandparents, and Patrick is, thankfully, nowhere to be found. You try to hide your relief when she tells you that. You don’t think you can face him right now. 

She insists you join her in their sunroom while the boys practice. You try to think of an excuse to turn her down, but you decide your karma from sleeping with her husband has built up too much to take the chance of tacking on more. So, when she offers to make you a cup of tea, you oblige and sink down into the fabric of a warm sofa.

When Tashi reappears, she sits down with a cup of steaming hot tea for the both of you. You thank her with a smile, letting your eyes trail over her figure. She looks ethereal. The sunlight pouring through the glass forms a halo of light around her, illuminating her like a Madonna painting. She has her hair pulled back into a low ponytail that causes her to have to tuck the loose strands behind her ear every now and then. The motion makes you take notice of her slim neck and the way her collarbones dip into her loose-fitted button down. Even dressed casually, she looks like a goddess. 

You feel your heart start to beat a little faster and reach to take a sip of your tea. You wonder how she knew that lavender chamomile was one of your favorites.

It’s only awkward for a moment because the two of you quickly fall into a conversation about what she’s missed now that Art has taken over attending the PTA meetings. That’s how you’d initially met her. She had actually been the one who you exchanged communication with about carpool and play dates. Art’s retirement allowed her to focus on tennis and other aspects of raising Lily that she preferred. You giggle when she admits that she never really liked those meetings anyway. You don’t tell her that you always had that inkling. 

When you mention that Cynthia is still advertising her knitting business at every single meeting, she sucks in a laugh before leaning toward you. She presses her lips together, holding in her giggle. “Guess what?”

You squint at her, your expression already anticipating a joke. “What?” You all but sputter out. 

“I’m probably responsible for like half the sales on her Etsy shop.” She says like she’s admitting to something top secret. It’s a lot like the expression Lily takes on when her and Kaleb are playing “secret agent.”

“Girl, what?” You didn’t think she’d be a fan of crocheted animal figures. 

“I ordered one for my mom for Mother’s Day,” she explains. “She fell in love with the thing I swear, thought it looked just like her little Yorkie, next thing you know she’s asking for the link to share with all her friends.” 

You’re snickering into your mug imagining Tashi unintentionally being Cynthia’s best saleswoman.

She smiles at you. “I’m serious. Apparently, amigurumi is the new thing. It’s gonna be flying off the shelves. That’s why I had to go ahead and put in my order.”

“Of course you know the official term.” You toss your head back. “What’s yours look like?” 

“It’s a little tabby cat,” she smiles wistfully. “Like the one I had growing up. Her name was Aphrodite.” 

It’s a fitting name.

You’re biting back a grin as you take a sip from your tea. You sigh at the taste. “How’d you know what type of tea I liked?” You ask absentmindedly. 

“Art mentioned it to me.” 

You freeze. “Art?” 

“Yeah he says you like to make it before bed. Now, he’s hooked on it.” 

All the blood in your body rushes to your head. You feel that unwelcome yet proverbial sinking in your gut. You think you might start projectile vomiting.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t respond. It’s hard to speak when you feel like you’re dangling upside down on a roller coaster.

“Wait… you didn’t think I knew did you?”

For some unintelligent reason, you decide to play stupid. Usually, in times of danger, humans resort to fight, flight, or freeze. You choose fucking idiot. “Knew what?”

“That you’re fucking my husband.” Tashi says quite unceremoniously.

“What—what do you mean?” You squeak out.

“Don’t.” She laughs. “I’ve known the whole time.” 

“How?” Your voice is shrinking smaller and smaller to your ears. The sound of Tashi’s voice, her pert laughter, drowning it out.

“Art tells me everything.”

“And you’re okay with it?” You attempt to ask though you can barely hear it.

You know your question reaches her ears because she shakes her head and tells you, “I suggested it.” 

Your eyes go wide. Her divulgence seems to propel you forward on your metaphorical roller coaster. In a snap, it brings you out of your stupor.

“I told Art that he should fuck you.” She says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s as simple as telling him to pick up some carry out on the way home. 

You’re confused, and your head is starting to hurt from the whiplash, and you wish this ride would end already. “I’m—I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here.”

“Okay, well, Art’s been attracted to you since the day he met you,” she says plainly. “But he’d never actually do anything about it because that’s just who he is. He needed that push—“

“That push?”

She nods. “He needed to know he could do it and everything would be fine. He’s still figuring out how to be open to stuff like this.” She explains, gestures vaguely in the air. “He’d never break up what seemed like a happy marriage, but when it was clear that your marriage was far from happy…well he started to warm up to the idea.”

“What do you mean far from happy?” The shock has you feeling unreasonably defensive.

“Clearly something was off. You never seemed happy with him. You’ve said it yourself that he was a dick.”

“Um—okay, well, I’d say something has to be off if you’re coaching your husband into sleeping with unsuspecting women.” You shoot back. Your gaze is sharp and accusatory.

She lets her eyes fall down to her lap, picking at little buds of lint being exposed by the sun’s glow. “You’re right, something was off between us,” she says like it’s something in the past. Like maybe they’re good now, but at one time they weren’t. “But Art knows how I feel about him.” Then, her gaze returns to you. “Something tells me your husband either didn’t know or didn’t care.”

Her comment strikes a nerve. Chris did know something was off, and she was right, he didn’t care. He made you feel like needing more from him made you selfish. As if the reminder of the vows he made to you was an affront to him. He knew you were unhappy. That you felt ignored. But he didn’t care. When you’d served him the divorce papers, you naively thought that he’d realize what he might lose, that he might beg for your forgiveness, promise to be better. Instead, you watched him sign the document in the same way he’d signed receipts for dinner before closing the tab and tucking the pen inside. 

You think you envy her. Because she has a husband that actually doesn’t want to leave her. 

“Hey.” She grabs your attention. Her voice softens when she sees your glassy eyes peering back at her. “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to offer an explanation.” 

You work to swallow down the onslaught of emotions threatening to rise up like bile. You release a fractured noise from your throat, letting the revelation fully soak in. “So you really knew this whole time then? Or rather you orchestrated it?” 

“Okay, that’s a little extreme,” she says. “When we found out you were getting divorced, I mentioned to Art that he should pursue you. That’s all.” She shrugs. “I never knew if he’d actually do it or when he’d do it. All I know is that the first night he came home smelling like you, he fucked me like he did when I first agreed to be his tennis coach.” 

“Then, he was constantly meeting up with you or staying to talk after PTA meetings,” her fingers curl to form quotations around the word, talk. “But I knew what was up.” She bites her lip. “It was honestly kind of hot.” 

You frown. The thought of him sleeping with her immediately after being with you has your stomach in knots. The worst part is that you can’t stop wondering if he’d showered first. If he’d cleaned himself up or if he’d went straight to her, buried himself inside her, cock still sticky with your fluids. In a way, it’s like you had also been inside her. If you think about it long enough, you can imagine what it must feel like. So, you don’t think about it. Instead, you fix your gaze on the golden pothos plant sitting on top a table to your right. The tapping of your nail against the ceramic mug fills the silence. 

She gives you a questioning look. 

Ignoring the implications of what she just told you, you settle for the anger you’re feeling instead of dwelling on any confusing arousal. “Do you not realize how fucked up this is, Tashi?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah! It’s fucked!” You throw your hands up. “I mean I’ve been running around feeling guilty, thinking I was a fucking homewrecker while the two of you get off on a cheating kink!”

She can tell you have more to say, so she leans back and lets you go on.

“I mean how could you do that? I was fucking depressed.”

She snorts. “Not so depressed that it ruined your libido. You two have been going at it like rabbits.” Her smirk makes your cheeks burn. 

You place your mug down onto the table. “Wow. You know what?” You’re on the edge of the couch now, body rigid. “You and Art can go fuck yourselves! This is seriously messed up.”

She raises her eyebrows. “As messed up as you fucking another woman’s husband?” 

Her words drip with mirth, and it pisses you off that the fiery look in her eyes is poking at a budding desire in your belly. “This is ridiculous,” you mumble to yourself. You’d rather focus all your energy on being outraged than interrogate why this is kind of turning you on. You’re about to stand up to leave when she places a hand on your arm.

“Are you seriously mad right now?” She asks you. 

An incredulous look takes over your face. “What do you think?” You spit out.

“Well, would you have preferred I not know?” She asks as if you’re the crazy one here.

“I—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, and try to gather your thoughts. “Obviously not, Tashi.” You glance up to the glass paned ceiling. “I just—it would’ve been nice to know what was really going on. I mean he never even told me that you knew.”

“Well, did you ask?” She asks simply. 

Did you? You think back to the past couple of months. The more you and Art hooked up, the more you avoided directly mentioning Tashi. He didn’t bring her up more than what was necessary, so you suspected he was actively trying to keep it from her. 

To be fair, he did mention a couple of times that he’d told Tashi you two were going to meet up for lunch, but you thought he must’ve been leaving out the activities that followed. And if she happened to call him while the two of you were together, he would casually tell her he was with you. You obviously assumed he was downplaying your friendship because there was no way Art would be so nonchalant about a mistress. But, apparently, the word mistress didn’t even apply to you. 

“I mean, I guess I didn’t.” You stammer. “But I feel like that was on him to bring it up to me.”

“Well that’s where you went wrong. Art can get in his own way sometimes.” A pensive expression works it’s way onto her face. “Or maybe part of him did kind of get off on feeling like he was sneaking around.” The thought seems to bring a small smile to her face. 

It still doesn’t make sense to you. You try to tamper down the sinking feeling that you’ve been nothing more than a pawn. “I just don’t understand why you two couldn’t proposition me like a normal couple looking for a third,” you say.

“Who said you were our third?” 

“Oh, so there’s other women you’ve sent Art to fuck?”

“No. I—I don’t just pimp out my husband, okay?”

You back down.

“We already have a…third I guess.”

You look at her with furrowed brows. 

“Patrick.” She answers.

“Patrick? Like Patrick Patrick?”

She nods.

You laugh cynically. You didn’t think this situation could get any worse.

“I know.” She sighs. “I know how it seems—”

“Was that part of the plan too?” You’re out of breath, chest heaving. 

She looks genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“Me and Patrick,” you blurt. 

“Wait a minute, you’re sleeping with Patrick?” She’s scooting closer to you. 

You shake your head. “It just happened once.” You think of how he’d shoved your face into the rug, fucking into you as he grunted out various obscenities. “I was high. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

She looks away for a moment, brows drawn together tightly. She’s piecing together what you’ve told her. 

“I—I didn’t know he was with you guys,” you try. 

She waves you off. “No, it’s not that.” She sits back. “I’m just not surprised that he wormed his way into your pants. He just couldn’t take that Art had something to himself.” She’s speaking to you, but her eyes are trained ahead. 

“So, you really didn’t set that up too?” You ask meekly. 

“God, no!” She says. “I had no idea.” 

You believe her. 

“Look I don’t care what type of weird shit you tennis players are into, if you guys have wild orgies or whatever. I just would’ve liked to have known that I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite?”

You nod. “I mean I sit here and give my ex shit for cheating on me with that skinny ass whore from Modesto. Hell! That’s why I got so much fucking alimony.” You’re rambling now. “And, then, I go and let Art fucking Donaldson screw me and then send him back home to play loving father and husband like it’s nothing. God! And on top of it all, I also sleep with his best friend! I became the whore from Modesto.” 

Tashi’s watching you like you’re a kid experiencing big feelings.

“I felt like a home wrecker.” You sniff. “But apparently I’m actually not…because it was your idea, well only Art, not Patrick, and I—it’s all just fucking with my head.”

Tashi swallows. “I honestly thought you’d be relieved to find out.”

She looks at the frown on your face, takes in the way your plump bottom lip is jutting out. She reaches for your hand. “We’ve never really been the best at communicating. Me and Art. For the past year or so, we’ve gotten better at talking to each other, being honest about what we want, but we’re still working on doing that with other people I guess.” You let her thumb rub the back of your hand before you gently pull away. 

You grab your mug again. The handle is cold to the touch. 

“I promise we didn’t mean to fuck with you. Honestly, I think Art really likes you.” She offers you a small smile.

You look into your mug trying to still your reaction. You don’t care. 

Tashi’s gaze feels heavy on the side of your face as you feel her watching your expression. You start to fiddle with your watch. Checking for the time. Except your watch is too busy displaying your increased heart rate to offer the time. 

You sigh. 

She reaches out to you again, but this time she brings her hand up to your face, moving the curls falling down over your eyes. You let her nimble fingers caress your cheekbone before trailing down to your chin, guiding you to look at her. 

She gives you a steady, knowing smile. “You fell for him didn’t you?” 

Your cheeks go ablaze, and you try to look away from her. 

“Hey.” She grasps your chin in a firm, but gentle hold. “It’s okay.” She nods as if it’ll telepathically make you agree. 

You clear your throat. “I know you say that, but this is all new to me.” Your voice is slightly wobbly and you think you might cry. “I—I didn’t think it’d happen but it did. I thought I could get him out of my system but now,” you inhale and press two fingers against your neck, subconsciously trying to self-soothe. “Now, it’s like—it’s like I can’t stop.” Your voice comes out almost like a whisper. Like you’re afraid to admit the truth. 

And, really, you are afraid. You’re fucking terrified. 

You’re scared to fall in love with a man who already has one—two people in his life that he’s in love with. The last time you entrusted a man with your love, he was only meant to love you, and he couldn’t even give you that. 

What if you realize you’re absolutely enamored by Art Donaldson and he realizes the same thing Chris did? That there’s something about you that makes you unworthy of love. That the depth of you is as deep as your cunt goes and that’s it. 

What if he realizes that he already has what he needs in Tashi, even Patrick? What if they realize they actually aren’t willing to share?

You apparently voice the last bit aloud.

Tashi tilts her head, some of her strands have fallen loose again and she wears the prettiest pout on her lips. “Do you want me to prove it to you?” 

You gulp when her hand presses into your thigh, and she brings her face impossibly close to yours, forcing you to hold her gaze. “You want me to prove that I’m okay with it?” Her eyes flit between each one of yours with a level of seriousness you’d expect from someone like her. 

Her expression demands an answer, and so, you give a faint nod, transfixed on the woman in front of you. 

You gasp when you feel her mouth on yours. 

You learn that Tashi tastes sweet when she has her tongue in your mouth. You think you can taste the tartness of the lemon she’d sucked on earlier. It’s good, and you realize you’re fucked because you really like kissing her. 

Her tongue twirling around yours has you panting quietly, and you keen when you feel her manicured nails press into the nape of your neck. You haven’t kissed a woman since your last girlfriend in college, and you find you miss it. Something about it feels like drinking sweet tea on a hot summer day. Climbing into cool sheets at night when you’re bone tired. Or the feeling you get when you discover the song that you’re going to replay for the next week. 

It also makes you feel absurdly wet. 

The two of you work up a rhythm of pulling away for a breath before coming back together like magnets, letting your foreheads gently press together as you breathe deeply, thumbs caressing skin, eyelids fluttering. 

Your tongue is sweeping across Tashi’s lip, on a path to enter her mouth again, when you hear someone clear their throat. 

There’s an audible smack as you yank yourself from Tashi, eyes flying to the doorway of their sunroom. 

Art is standing there staring at you, gaze shifting from your face to the hand you still have placed on his wife’s neck. His jaw is clenched, and his bulge is painfully evident in his pants. 

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I've been waiting for this since the first post. Let me know how you feel about the reveal <3 as always, my asks are open!

[lonesome-greenery]

I was four at the time and my heel had been sliced open by the edge of a bed so I had a waterproof bandaid on it. This will be important later.

I'd never gone to the ocean or beach for that matter before. That kind of thing just doesn't happen when you live so far inland and have a big family. So this was the first time I'd ever seen something so big and deep. The sand was wet and I was wearing my favorite sun dress. There were some older kids nearby -- I think they were probably ten to twelve years old -- who were building a sand castle with a moat. They had said something about finding a hermit crab and it pinching one of them. I was very careful wading through the water then because I didn't know what a crab pinch felt like, but I imagined it would be quite painful.

My mom was chatting with a circle of adults nearby in some of the deeper water, and I went out to meet her. I was treading water as best I could and the ocean was up to my neck. I say something to her and I'm sent back to the shore because it's too deep for me there and how did I get out so far? Why wasn't my dad watching me?

I get back to the shallows, and I feel something tug on my heel. My immediate thought is a hermit crab having gotten a hold on my foot. It doesn't hurt, but I'm terrified nonetheless and I go running up and onto the shore where the sun has baked the sand to the point that I can't handle the heat.

I'm back in the ocean again with the water around my ankles. I check my heel, and there's an immediate sense of relief. It's just a band aid. A band aid whose adhesive just doesn't work period. It's not a hermit crab, and I'm safe.

Now here's where things get interesting.

I'm standing in the shallows. The wind is picking up and I've just had the adrenaline wear off from being convinced that a hermit crab is attacking my foot. I'm four years old and relatively short.

The wind has picked up.

That means that the waves have started to get bigger. One starts picking up speed as it gets closer to the shore.

I don't know what exactly was going through my mind at that time, but I decide that the best way to handle that is not to go back to the shore (it's too hot on the sand, I'd rather stay in the water), but instead to drop onto my stomach and grab onto whatever stick or ocean greenery is there under the water and let the wave wash over me. I hadn't even taken a breath, but the wave passes over me and I can't get up. I'm sucked under and further out. The water is in my nose and stinging my eyes. I can't breathe. Everything is a murky yellow blue green. I'm no longer holding onto the sand and sticks. Those have slipped through my fingers.

I could very well die in that moment.

I don't realize it at the time. I'm four years old, and this is my first time interacting with a huge body of water.

I'm stuck under the wave for about twenty seconds before someone has grabbed me by the ankle and yanked me out of the ocean. He's one of my parents' friends and had noticed that I'd gone missing. It's the same leg as the heel with the bandaid that he's grabbed. I'm coughing up water and he's setting me upright. My mom and dad are running to check on me. I don't even know quite what's happened.

The guy who pulled me out of the water has sunglasses and assures them that I'm okay. I get told I almost drowned. That I could have died. When you're four, you don't have much of a concept of death. I didn't understand death much less drowning, but I understood the fear in my parents' voices.

I didn't drown, but I could have.

I'm still alive today.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[dc418writes]

Meddling Meet Cute

✨Pairing✨: Terry Richmondxblack!singlemom!reader

Summary🪄: Your daughter’s at it again…

🚨: pretty much all fluff🌸

A/N🎤: it’s my first Terry fic🤗! I’m very nervous (then again when am I not🙃), but I hope you guys like what I came up with☺️

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

“Ma come on!” The excited nine-year-old pulled you just hard enough past the barricades that your steps were a tad more hurried to avoid stumbling over your daughter.

“Callie relax, the rides aren’t going anywhere.”

“I know, but Jianna-,”

“Isn’t going anywhere either,” you chuckle still being led by the girl clearly on a mission with her eyes set on the infamous ‘High Flyer’.

Besties since kindergarten, you couldn’t lie about how cute the duo was. They were practically stuck at the hip during school - always working or playing together at recess - and outside wasn’t all too different seeing that one would typically be at the other’s house. It always brought a smile to your face watching their animated conversations and lighthearted debates.

And after this past year, you were especially glad to see none of that had changed. That she had a true friend to support her during the tough times.

“There she is!,” Callie smiles already beginning to bounce and skip towards her best friend. Jianna begins to frantically wave alerting the much taller and unfamiliar man to her right. Jianna’s mom’s boyfriend maybe? She did mention a new guy she was really into...

Before you can stop her, Callie easily slips away running to hug her friend - and introduce herself to the tower of muscle who adorably shakes her hand with an amused smile of his own.

“Um Callie-?,”

With the man in tow behind them, Jianna tightly wraps her arms around your waist in one of her famous warm hugs before peering up at you with a sweet, “Hey auntie!”

The term given to you by the young girl herself when she was about six since, “You take care of me like my other aunties. So that makes you my aunt too!” You didn’t have the heart to go into the semantics with the wide-eyed little girl, so you just smiled and said, “Okay sweetheart.”

“This is my uncle Terry from the army. Uncle Terry, this is my friend’s mom.”

He was broader up close, and the orange shirt stretching across his chest and shoulders only made that more apparent. That paired with the dark jeans over his thick thighs didn’t help the ache beginning to pulse in your core that you haven’t felt in…damn when was the last time you felt that?

“Hi Callie’s mom,” he greets with probably the prettiest smile you’ve seen in this town on a man and an outstretched hand. A hand that completely envelopes your own once you place yours in his.

“Hi Jianna’s uncle Terry,” you softly chuckle along with the man himself.

God that deep baritone voice was dangerous. And his grayish-green eyes?! You didn’t even know they came in that color.

“Well we’re going to the line bye!,” Callie rushes grabbing Jianna’s hand. Your quick, “Hold it” begrudgingly halts both girls turning around to face you again.

“Tell us what rides you’re going to, and we’ll follow behind.”

“Mom we’re nineee,” she whines with that pouty secret weapon of hers and batting those curly lashes similar to yours.

“You want us to choose the rides?”

There’s a brief, silent stare off between you and your mini me before she announces they’ll be in line at the High Flyer.

“And we’ll be sitting at that bench.” It was about 20 feet away and had the perfect view of both the entrance and exit lines so you would always see the girls.

“Spoken like a true mama,” Terry murmurs with a low chuckle as you both sit. Meanwhile you try to ignore the flutter in your lower tummy at how ‘mama’ sounds out of his mouth.

“Reminded myself of my own back there,” you softly laugh while inwardly cringing. Although you’re enjoying your time so far with Terry - a brief, comfortable silence currently between you two - there’s this creeping suspicion you can’t seem to shake. “Is everything okay with Nitta? I thought she was bringing Jianna?”

“She said she wasn’t feeling the best and asked if I could bring her instead,” he casually answers.

Huh..maybe it’s nothing then.

“She also said Jia told her she really wanted me to go so she could show me around? Didn’t know she was meeting yall here until we got out the truck.”

Yep. There it is.

Your quiet ‘huh’ along with the knowing look on your face has his brow rising in intrigue. And admittedly, he thinks it’s cute how your deep brown eyes slightly squint. “What’s up?”

From your sudden shift to surprised, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear you. Or be paying close enough attention to read you so well. Who wouldn’t pay attention to you though? Bright skin that nearly shined gold when the sun hit you just right. Your full lips that looked so soft. Not to mention your body with curves in all the right places that made him realize it’s been too long since his last time.

You debate on whether to say anything, but the way he deeply gazes at you tells you he probably won’t just let it go. “I uh think a couple of nine year old matchmakers may be trying to work their magic.”

Looking back at the girls, they each throw both of you a quick wave now at the front of the line.

“You think it’s working?,” Jianna asks.

“I mean they’re talking? That’s more attention I’ve seen my mom give a guy,” Callie shrugs. “Might be going better though if he brought flowers like I said.”

“Then that would’ve gave us away like I said.”

“Not that Jia doesn’t want to spend time with you though!,” you hurry to correct meeting those hypnotic green eyes again. “She talked about you all the time when you were gone.”

“Really?,” he smiles and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. Or two.

“Anytime you’d call she’d get so excited. And when you’d send her something for her birthday or Christmas? All she’d talk about for a good week.”

Deep down Terry knew his sister and niece loved him. But actually hearing how he made them feel from another person made him emotional in a way he hadn’t during his time in the service.

“I have a feeling mine was the ringleader here.”

At that moment you can hear both girls squealing and giggling as the carousel like ride gently swings them higher than any playground swing would. Their arms waving and legs kicking before disappearing on the other side.

‘So you were single,’ Terry thought.

“Sorry to get you wrapped up in all this. If it makes you uncomfortable-,”

“Far as I’m concerned, we’re just two friendly adults watching two kids,” he replies holding up his hands showing he saw no harm. “If it makes you uncomfortable though-,”

“No! No I agree, just two friendly adults,” you smile. There was a glint of something behind your eyes that told Terry there was more to your daughter playing Cupid, but rather than dig he opted to leave it alone until you were ready. Hopefully trusting him enough to explain.

“Did you see us?!,” Callie shouts running up to the both of you with Jianna by her side.

“We did. Surprised yall aren’t dizzy going around so much,” you answer making the girls laugh as they shake their heads.

“We should all do the firecracker next!,” Jianna suggests, which of course Callie quickly agrees. Just a few feet across the way, the line was already filling up with teens and adults alike waiting to ride the infamous drop tower that’s been popular since you were a kid. Those already on it screaming as they quickly free fell before stopping halfway to rise and repeat the motion again.

“Afraid I’m gonna have to sit that one out girls, but maybe Uncle Terry will ride with you?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer before being pulled by the girls. Judging from the quick, concerned glance he gives you he clearly wasn’t a fan of the ride either.

‘Sorry,’ you innocently mouth when he turns to you from the line shaking his head with that cute tilted smile.

‘Later,’ he mouths back, which you didn’t fully get until he brought up the Tilted Record when the girls didn’t know what to ride next.

“You gotta ride it ma,” Callie practically begged. “It’s so much fun!”

“Yea you gotta ride it ma,” Terry playfully winks bringing those flutters back stronger than ever as a heat creeps to your cheeks. A few minutes later, you were smushed into his side pleasantly smothered by his clean, woodsy scent as you all spun around and eventually backwards. Callie and Jianna in the seat behind you having the time of their lives squealing and singing to the music playing overhead.

“You did that on purpose,” you jokingly glare up at the taller man while following behind your still somehow energized kids.

He simply shrugs with a glimpse of a smirk on his lips, “Maybe. You had fun though.”

He might’ve had a point. “Still, friends don’t do that.”

His deep chuckle and wide smile hits you deep instantly making your knees feel like jelly - something you never thought possible let alone experienced. Not even with Callie’s dad. “Best friends mess with each other all the time,” he counters. “Guess we’ve leveled up.”

-

“So Jia’s uncle was nice,” Callie starts. She tries peeking at you in the standing mirror as you dutch braid her hair for the night, but it’s difficult with the way her neck is craned downward.

“He was. We’ll have to get him something for winning those stuffed pigs for you and Jianna.”

“Mhm,” she agrees as you move to the last section. “So what else did you think about him? You think he’s cute?”

You knew she’d been itching to ask since you both got in the car. Especially after Terry was nice enough to make sure you got there okay before wishing you both a good night.

Securing the last braid with the small rubber band, you pat the spot beside you beckoning her to join you in the king sized bed. She instantly climbs in snuggling under the fluffy throw she loved so much. “Callie I don’t want you worrying about me and dating alright? And definitely no more blind dates.”

You still had nightmares about the one with her principal. Who can put away that much shrimp?

“I just want you to be happy. Like how you were with dad,” she whispers peering up at you.

Eventually you’d have to tell her the truth about that strained relationship and how things were only ‘happy’ for her sake.

“I am happy lovie. Long as I have you I’m good,” you smile kissing her on the forehead. “You just focus on being the amazing kid you are okay?”

She nods, sleepily smiling and clearly minutes away from slumber. “Love you ma.”

“Love you too. Now let’s get you to bed.”

Moments after returning to your bedroom, beginning to feel the familiar heaviness of your lids, a couple of short vibrations from your phone stop you from sliding under your covers curious as to who would want something this late.

Hey, it’s Terry. Got your number from Nitta (sent 10:56 pm)

She’s still feeling bad so looks like I’m bringing Jia to dance tomorrow and apparently on snack duty?? (sent 10:57 pm)

Hey and yea forgot it’s her turn. I was next week but we can switch. I’ll pick something up, no worries😊(sent 11:02 pm)

Also I can take Jia if you want? Not sure if you had other plans (sent 11:04 pm)

Was that too much? What if he thought you were trying to pry?

Nah it’s ok, I got her. And thanks for taking over🙏🏽 (sent 11:13 pm)

Look at us, friends helping friends😉 (sent 11:14 pm)

“Nice,” he thought as his hand frustratedly passed over his face. “And with the winky face? Somebody take this damn phone.”

lol always😌! (Sent 11:17 pm)

Terry didn’t realize he was holding his breath until your response finally flashed on his screen allowing him to breathe again. Relief soothing his tense muscles as he sat back against the wooden headboard.

Neither one of you were really able to sleep that night though. Thoughts of the other and the time at the fair admittedly making each a little excited about being together again the next day.

And while you never knew what was planned for the future, something told you this ‘friendship’ would be far different than your other ones.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 6 | Birthday Tears

summary: today was your birthday, the day you’ve never got to actually celebrate because of some family issues. Youve now always avoided your birthday and didn’t want to celebrate it, when you were coming home from the grocery store you were met with a sweet surprise when entering the house…

warnings: FLUFF, brief mentions of family issues but aside from that nothing else!

authors note: day 6 is now complete ! Big thanks to my honey @/strnilolover for the idea and the other ideas, luv u sm💋. And tysm for all of the support throughout this whole thing, I rlly appreciate very single one of you sm. Hope y’all enjoy this one

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

The crisp autumn air hung in the space around me as I clutched the grocery bags and carried them home, each step filled with a heavy amount of memories I wish to forget everyday. Today was my birthday-the day I’ve avoided for many years now, it’s always been a battlefield in my family and it just serves as a reminder of fractured connections and unmet expectations. Each year I have tried to wish it away, for it to vanish and forever be forgotten by everyone on earth, pretending like the specific date held no significance to my well being.

I arrive at my shared apartment with my roommate Madi and set the bags down in the kitchen counter, the delicious scent of fresh basil and ripe tomatoes filling the air as a reminder to the pasta I was planning on making for tonight’s dinner for me and Madi if she wouldn’t be staying at her boyfriends house again. Just praying I won’t burn it, like it happened the previous times. I dismiss the slight sorrow hollowing a hole in my heart at the thought of others celebrating their birthday and looking forward to it, while I was avoiding it at every cost and turn I made.

My hands moved over to the grocery bags, taking each product outside and placing them one by one in the fridge at their designated spots. Just as I turn around, my attention was immediately brought to flickering lights coming from under the door leading to the living room. Did I forget to turn off the lamp before I left? Curiosity piqued as I took a step closer, my ears picking up the soft hum of perhaps my favorite sounds. Laughter but genuine, joyful laughter. Was the TV left turned on too alongside the lamp?

I paused for a moment, my heart slightly racing as trepidation coursed through me. Maybe it was best to retreat my steps back into the comfort of my lonely routine and worry about it later but something, perhaps a whisper of longing and something I lost a long time ago, pulled me towards the room without my consent. Cautiously I creaked open the door, expecting to see the same mess of a variety of items I was going to clean up when I got back home but instead I was met with colorful confetti scattered across the floor of the room along with a chorus of “Surprise!” Which caught me completely off guard.

The confetti danced in the air as I stood at the doorframe, completely surprised but then I scanned the living room. Alongside the festive chaos was standing my boyfriend, Christopher and surprisingly my roommate Madi without the presence of her boyfriend along with some of my other friends who managed to somehow scrunch into the small space of my modest living room. My heart swelled, shocked by their presence as it was unprepared for the flood of overwhelming emotions all coming down at once.

Chris moved to stand next to me, wrapping a loving arm around my waist and pulling me closer to his side as I admire the whole surprise still. “Happy birthday, ma” He celebrated, glancing down and chuckling at how well the surprise worked on me. The warmth of his small embrace scattered across my whole body and enveloped me in a safe space I never knew I needed to feel, urging away every of the shadows that clung to my heart on this day.

“What is all this?” I stammered, continuing to try and process the sight placed in front of me. On the small coffee table landed a homemade birthday cake topped off with several candles, decorations created from paper and a pile of gifts wrapped in pretty shiny wrapping paper. “We figured you finally needed to stop avoiding your birthday, everyone deserves to celebrate their birthday after all.” Madi beamed as she stepped closer to where me and Chris were standing while Chris adds, “We couldn’t let another year go by without making it special, y’know?”

Realization washes over me, the overwhelming kindness in their gesture felt like a balm to all of the years I’ve neglected my own birthday. I didn’t expect anyone to remember, let alone plan a whole celebration surprise party in my honor. “I- thank you guys. I honestly don’t know what to say.” I finally managed to speak, my voice faltering. I suddenly felt vulnerable, emotions catching right in my throat as the memories of family disappointment flooding back. Yet, while standing among my friends, a new warmth takes me into an embrace. This was love but uncomplicated and genuine which makes a soft tear roll down my cheek.

“Well let’s get this party started now, shall we?” Chris grinned, grabbing my hand and leading me to the couch, where they had already set up laughter-filled games and a playlist of my favorite songs. The atmosphere radiated with joy, and those initial bad memories and emotions I felt faded away, replaced with surprise and joy.

As we celebrated, each laugh, each honest word, chipped away at the walls I had put up to protect myself. The clinking of glasses, the sugary taste of cake, and the joy in my friends' eyes began to stitch together the lost fragments of my broken heart. I realized I wasn’t celebrating the absence of what had been, but rather embracing the promise of what could finally be.

When the time comes to blow out the candles, I wish for something different this year. Not for the day to disappear and be forgotten, but for the future where birthdays would mean love and connection. Laughter and joy echoes through the walls of my soul, when I open my eyes I was met with smiling faces, and I knew, despite all that had been, today had changed my perspective on birthdays.

This birthday was the beginning of a newfound respect for the day I had so long tried to erase—a day I could finally acknowledge as my own, filled with sweetness, acceptance, and the warmth of friendship. Today, I felt more than just celebrated; I felt alive.

Guestlist!

| - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - |

[luminalunii97]

tw: suic*de, harassment

An iranian highschool student took her own life after receiving relentless harassment by the school staff over hijab dress code. School system in Iran is as awful as you can imagine. the harassment, the belittlings, the use of misogynistic language to keep girls in line, and the physical and verbal abuse. The principal and management staff in iranian schools are normally students' first bullies.

Things I've personally experienced at school, first hand (happened to me) or second hand (happened to my friends), are: getting slapped (x2), getting your hair pulled violently, getting your uniform ripped, getting suspended for three days because you dared to wear makeup/pluck your eyebrows/dye your hair, getting permanently expelled because you brought a cellphone to school (electronic devices are forbidden at school), getting called a wh*re by school principal because they found a love note from your boyfriend in your bag (the school has the right to check students belongings including looking into their bags and doing body checks to see if they have illegal things on them), and using fear inducing tactics to threaten you into following their backward rules (for example in my highschool they used to force us into watching "educational" videos about girls who got r*ped because they didn't have hijab and talked to boys, or video simulations of what hell looks like for women who don't wear hijab. In both instances, some of my classmates got so sick that they spent the rest of the hours crying, and one of my best friends literally threw up)

These are pretty common experiences for many iranian girls at school. Needless to say, many iranian teen girls hate school, have very low self esteem and a lot of mental health issues. Society is already pretty unsafe and hateful towards woman, school as an extention of the regime is the cherry on cake for us.

Of course the school experience is different from person to person based on the city/region/environment, but the difference is in the degree of how bad it was.

[Tweet made by Iranian journalist and human rights activist, Masih Alinejad, Nov 5, 2024:

Forced Hijab Claims Another Life: 16-Year-Old Arezoo Khavari Takes Her Life After School Harassment Over Dress Code Violations💔

A 16-year-old schoolgirl named #ArezooKhavari tragically took her own life by jumping from a building after being sent back from a school trip for violating the dress code by wearing jeans instead of the prescribed uniform.

Her grieving father revealed that this was not an isolated incident; Arezoo had faced repeated harassment from the school for her attire and her non-compliance with the mandatory hijab policy. Last year school almost refused to enroll her.

Following her death, her father lodged a formal complaint against the school authorities, accusing them of negligence and insensitivity, especially for their failure to offer any condolences or follow up after the incident.

A reliable source told me, that she was threatened with expulsion after the school’s vice principal handed over a video of her dancing without hijab to the principal for disciplinary action.

This case echoes a broader issue in Iran where in 2023, nearly 1,000 schoolgirls were victims of poisoning attacks, believed to be linked to the enforcement of discriminatory hijab laws in gender-segregated schools.

The responsibility for Arezoo’s death falls squarely on the shoulders of the Islamic Regime in Iran. /End of tweet]

#woman life freedom

[betterthanyalls]

hi!

can i request for a hermes x gn!reader x odysseus? :)

i was thinking that maybe reader is already a friend of odysseus, like a childhood friend maybe or a neighbor/citizen of his kingdom and has known him for years

reader liked ody but ody already has penelope so they arent flirting anymore but when hermes shows up and starts taking readers attention for himself that's when ody starts to get a little jealous maybe? aaa sorry it has been a while since ive requested anything - i hope its not too specific ;v;

i just thought it would be fun to see witty banter battles and playful snark ^^"

I have spent my entire day throughout school and home to work on this so i am very sorry for any mistakes or if its bad, i was speed running before i eepy, also i tried to make reader x odysseus more platonic cus he got penelope yk? ALSO NGL THIS WAS VERY FUN TO WRITE HEHEHEH

Masterlist

Divine Intervention

Hermes x GN!Reader x Odysseus [p]

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Fluff

Words: 2.1K

Published: 11-5-2024

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gentle puff of air blew through the vacant meadow, flowers brushing each other in a picturesque view. Within the center of the field, two souls lied together, laughing and gazing at the clouds with imagination. 

“That one reminds me of Argos,” Odysseus pointed up to a running puff of white above that loosely resembled said dog. “Oh, I see it!” Penelope grinned, her smile shining brighter than Helios. A short distance away, under the shade of a tree, sat the best friend of the couple. With their backs against the tree, Y/n watched on emotionlessly. Their mind felt blank; witnessing the source of their love showing admiration to somebody else delivered a new type of pain to their chest. Y/n felt lost. Would they never be the first choice? Odysseus had known them for the entirety of both their lives, but the moment he met Penelope, he forgot all about Y/n. He was head over heels, claiming he’d marry the princess before he turned twenty. Sure, they stayed friends, but that wasn’t enough for Y/n though they’d never admit it. Y/n couldn’t even blame Odysseus. Penelope looked like a goddess sent from Olympus. Anyone could mistake her for a divine being. 

With a silent sigh, Y/n prepared to push themself to their feet and take their leave. But a new presence stopped them from rising up. Looking to their left side, Y/n saw another figure sitting beside them. “Wow, really the third wheel, huh?” A cheery voice sounded from his mouth.

“Who are you?” Y/n asked, like any sane person would. “You mean you don’t recognize me? Your friend Ody would if you asked him,” the individual turned to face Y/n, giving them a good view of his identity. A metal helmet sat atop his head, adorned by smaller, brown, speckled wings. A mischievous grin was placed on his lips, with the rest of his face remaining covered by a shadow. Y/n leaned back slightly so the sun could pierce the shade better, revealing more of the man. A chiton made of the finest silk hung loosely from his shoulders, stopping at his knees. The male sat casually criss-crossed, his back propped against the same tree. A scepter sat on the ground beside him, holding two golden snakes and two glistening wings, power radiating off the item. Another point of interest for Y/n’s eyes were the sandals on his feet. Not in a footfetish type of interest, but intrigue with the fact wings fluttered like no big deal off the heels. Just as Y/n was going to breathe out his name, the guest spoke first. “Indeed, it is I, Hermes. God of messengers, travelers, luck, gambling, borders, animal husbandry, thieves, wit, speed, language, trades, commerce, athletes, merchants-”

The god continued rambling proudly about each of his domains as Y/n’s awe slowly fell into a deadpan. “I know you,” they cut off his boasting, not truly caring if it was rude. Thankfully, instead of being offended, the god merely grinned. “So, Y/n, what are you doing out here? Away from the party?” Hermes had a teasing tone in his voice, gesturing to the two lovers ahead of them. Odysseus and Penelope had no knowledge of a god offering company to their closest friend. Y/n wanted to ask how he knew their name, but they figured it was some divine power thing.

“Ody wanted to spend time with Penelope, but he was too nervous to come alone. So he dragged me along. But I don’t want to intrude on their moment together,” Y/n shrugged, looking at their friends.

The mischief god watched the mortal for a moment before a plan formed in his mind. “Well, I can’t let such a beautiful soul be alone, now can I?” Y/n turned to face Hermes, an amused yet confused smile on their lips. “I’m sorry?” They inquired, not sure if they understood his words correctly. In response, Hermes stood up and held his hand out to help the mortal up too. “If they have their moment together, then allow me to give you a moment for us.” The god had a gentle smile, keeping his hand out for them to grab. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n hesitantly took his offer and grabbed his hand. He pulled them up to stand beside him.

“So, where are we going?” Y/n asked, looking into the forest behind them. Hermes just laughed in excitement.

“You’ll see!”

And before Y/n could utter another word, the god pulled them close and took off racing through the trees. The world whipped past them at lightning speed. Trees, rocks, roads, towns—everything went by in a flash until suddenly it all paused.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped away from the god. Their legs felt like brittle wood, threatening to give out at a simple breeze. Once they caught their breath, the mortal looked around to see them in the center stands of the nearby sports. Athletes were in the midst of competition down below, and nobody seemed to question two people just appearing. Hermes sat down on a stone slab and patted for Y/n to sit beside him. Doing so, the god offered them some grapes he may or may not have stolen from other mortals. “Did you choose this event just because you’re the god of athletes?” Y/n questioned  with a small laugh, taking a grape to eat and watching the sports continue. Hermes responded with his own laugh, beaming at the person beside him. “Would you leave if I said yes?” Y/n pretended to think for a moment before turning to face him with a hum. “No, but you better make this worth it,” they chuckled playfully, popping another grape to their mouth. ~~~~~ Hermes did truly make it worth it. So worth it that the two began going on adventures every day. From splashing around in rivers to exploring dark caves, the mortal and god’s friendship grew each day.

Anytime Y/n questioned themself in a mirror, Hermes would somehow maifest behind them to compliment their looks before going back to whatever job he had that day. “Dahling, you look gorgeous—beyond stunning, truly.” Was heard more than once

They would even find gifts sometimes, usually always stolen, waiting in their bedroom.

~~~~~

Currently, Y/n and the king of Ithaca were sitting in his bedroom, just talking like old friends. “So, you’ve been disappearing randomly only to come back in one state or another. Not to mention, you’ve been much more upbeat lately. What’s going on?” Odysseus interrogated with a grin. Y/n stayed quiet for a moment. Could they tell their lifelong friend about the new soul in their life? Odysseus had a raised brow, waiting for a response. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything.” He offered with a calmer smile. Y/n’s expression softened, and they sighed, deciding to speak the truth. "I met someone,” they began, trying to form the correct words. Something in Odysseus’ eyes changed at this revelation. His posture stiffened just for a moment before returning to his previously relaxed state. “And who may this 'someone’ be?” The king continued, trying to get as much information as possible. With a quiet whisper, Y/n confessed. “Hermes...” Their lips held a bashful smile as they looked away from their friends' eyes. The friend in question paused, blinking slowly to process the information. “Hermes?! The god?!” He exclaimed with an open jaw. Y/n quickly shushed him, shoving their hands in his face. “Sh sh sh! Shut up! Not so loud,” they hissed, taking their hands away carefully once Odysseus nodded in agreement. “You know Hermes?” He continued to quiz. “Don’t you?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the first conversation with the god. Hermes said that Odysseus would know who he was.

“Well, yeah, I do. But I didn’t think you would too,” he tried to reason, although his point fell flat. “You don’t think a lot,” they retorted. Before Odysseus could try to fire back, a sudden breeze blew in from the open balcony. Looking over, a certain god stood against the stone railing with a familiar grin. “If it isn’t my two favorite mortals! If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say I was the center of this discussion,” Hermes laughed, waltzing into the room. He ruffled Odysseus’ hair playfully before taking a stand next to Y/n.

“Hermes.” Odysseus brought a hand up to fix his hair. The god just laughed again, wrapping an arm around Y/n’s shoulder to give them a side hug. The narrowing eyes of the soldier didn’t go unnoticed by Hermes, brightening his smile.

“Hey Hermes,” Y/n greeted warmly.

Odysseus didn’t enjoy seeing his best friend so cozied up with another person. Even if that other person was a god who saved his life multiple times and also his great-grandfather. An idea began forming in his mind to get rid of the situation. “Y/n, I think I remember seeing a show taking place in the city. You and I can go see it now before it finishes,” the king offered, casting a victorious grin to Hermes as Y/n gave their own smile. “That sounds cool! Yeah, we can go!” Y/n moved away from Hermes' hug as the two mortals took their leave. Once they left, Hermes frowned and took his own leave back to his previous tasks for Olympus. ~~~~~ It didn’t take long for a secret war to begin. Every moment, Y/n was in between two opposing sides. They were either with Odysseus one day and Hermes the next, or they were sitting in between both males who kept trying to one-up each other, which would eventually end in arguments.

“I mean honestly, darling, why spend your time with such a brute when you could have someone as divine as I?” “BRUTE?!”

“Really, Y/n, he’s the god of lies. If anything, his words mean nothing compared to mine.” “Your entire reputation is a lie.” “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Y/n—” “Oh, please. That’s more of a stress than a privilege.” “Did you hear something, dahling? Why, I can’t seem to hear anything below FIVE FEET.” “OH HOW MATURE—” “IT IS!!”

This took place almost daily, and it acted as peak entertainment for Y/n. ~~~~~ Today, unlike any other, Y/n and Odysseus sat quietly in a familiar meadow. However, the king was being unnaturally quiet. Turning to face their friend, Y/n spoke up.

“Ody, are you alright?” Concern was clear in their voice as they waited patiently. Odysseus didn’t make any notice of hearing their words for a minute before he finally answered.

“You’re replacing me.”

Those words caught Y/n off guard. Odysseus was looking at the grassy field around them rather than meeting his companions eyes.

“What? No, I’m not. What makes you say that?” They furrowed their eyebrows in worry, anxious for his reasoning.

“You spend more time with him,” he hissed, speaking of the god like venom on his tongue.

“Well, maybe, but-”

“BUT NOTHING! I’m supposed to be your best friend! Me! Not him. It’s us against the world; we agreed on that years ago.” Odysseus turned to Y/n with a deep frown, his eyes showing unease. He had been betrayed time and time again before; he couldn’t risk losing another friend.

Y/n stayed silent, stunned by his sudden outburst. Odysseus just looked back to the meadow, shame filling his soul. After a few moments, Y/n regained their bearings as sympathy and guilt covered their features.

“Ody,” they called softly, but he continued to look away. "Ody, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he looked over to his friend.

“Ody, I could never replace you. You are woven into my soul like a grapevine. Why do you think I would break our pact?” They spoke softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Odysseus sighed, looking back to the ground. He felt so stupid for assuming they would hurt him too.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled gently, looking at them out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s alright; I would do the same if I were you. I forgive you,” Y/n smiled warmly to him, earning a hesitant smile back from him.

~~~~~

After this whole incident, Odysseus stopped arguing so much with Hermes. Sure, the mortal still gave the god a few half-hearted glares, but they eventually learned to share Y/n’s attention.

The trio sat calmly on the balcony of Odysseus’ room, waiting for Penelope to arrive for a nightly get-together. The sun sank slowly below the horizon, offering a charming glow to the city.

“So, darling, how’d you manage to get such a feral man to calm down?”

“FERAL?!”

[iichfilwypj]

labyrinth | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: none! ღ wc: 588 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 -pt 6

Remember how I told you a certain daughter of Hypnos was terrified to meet her best friend’s family?

Yeah, well.

Emphasis on was.

After waking up, she half-expected to face an interrogation. You know, the typical ‘Who are your parents?’, ‘Where are you from?’, ‘Are you planning on turning my son into a criminal?’ and all of that.  

But instead, she was met with a plate of blue pancakes, the scent of salt air, and a pair of big green eyes filled with curiosity looking at her.

Percy was nowhere around, but both Sally and Estelle were close by,  making sure the girl was settling in well. It didn’t take long before the girl felt very comfortable, joking with Percy’s family as they prepared dinner together.

They were just like him; welcoming, funny, caring. Her smile never faded; the overwhelming sense in that home was undeniable, but it felt like a good kind of overwhelming. 

"And then he fell! Right on his face!" Sally said with a chuckle, recounting stories of her son’s childhood. The girl could only laugh along –Percy hadn’t changed much over the years. 

At their feet, Estelle was making the impossible to get their attention, handing them random toys and pulling their shirts. 

“I was so worried, I thought he’d be disfigured forever!"

“I mean…”

“Estelle!” Percy’s voice rang out suddenly from the kitchen. He was standing in the doorway, grocery bags on his shoulder. He rushed toward his sister, leaving the stuff on the floor and lifting the little one high above his head. “Mom, I found our dinner! Prepare the oven!”

All Hypno’s daughter could do was watch the familiar scene unfold before her eyes. She was well aware that Percy was good with children; at camp, everyone looked up to him, not just as an example to follow, but as someone they could trust. 

She then noticed how pretty Percy’s hair looked, even when it was messy from his sister’s tugging. The way he locked eyes with her for the smallest second, as if to make sure she was laughing even though his back was in pain. How his pretty green eyes wrinkled when he smiled at her even.

She saw a small dimple on his cheek that she had never noticed, at least not so closely. She realized that Percy had her mom’s smile.

Percy’s smile was her favorite, how could she not-? 

Uh, oh.

Her mind went completely blank.

Or, not quite; every thought that came to her was of Percy. Percy in his armor, Percy laughing with her, Percy bickering with a camper, Percy staring at her, Percy asleep, Percy talking, Percy…

Percy. Percy. Percy. Percy. Percy. Percy. Percy. Percy. Percy. Percy.

The thought hit her, out of nowhere, uninvited, all at once. Her chest tightened, and suddenly she felt a rush of emotions. Good emotions. She had always been careful, always so cautious about her feelings, scared of those that appeared like a fast rising elevator but wouldn't last.

But she remembered the way her heart skipped a beat when he did literally anything, the fluttering she had tried to ignore before. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. 

She felt lost in the labyrinth of her own mind; how could Percy make her feel like that?

And when the kitchen was left empty and he came closer just to hold her body and kiss her cheek, she was sure. 

I don’t just like him. 

Uh, oh. I’m falling in love.

HIII!!! i love it and at the same time i hate it ;) doesn't have a lot of interaction but our girl finally noticed something! i have plans for the next two chapetrs IM SO EXCITED I LOVE U ALL SO MUCH this is one of my favs song in the whole world!!!! love it love it love ittt

[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Domestic Violence, Language, mention of death

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309. In this story the reader is a widow who has a 4 year old daughter. She’s dating a very abusive man, so she enrolls her daughter in preschool to keep her as shielded as possible. At the preschool we find her daughter has made friends with a set of twins. At pick up one day the reader realizes the parent of her daughter’s best friend is none other than Jensen Ackles. A friendship forms, and decisions are made after a particularly nasty fight with her boyfriend. 

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life.

*This chapter sets up the story-it’s a bit long due to this.*

Minors DNI 18+

You sat on the side of your bed rubbing your arm, trying to get the sting of the pain to go away. Another night, another argument with Robert, your boyfriend. You’d only been dating about 9 months, and at first everything seemed perfect. You felt the sting of the tears fill your eyes 

Knowing how much he hated when you cried, you fought to keep them at bay. Crying after he hit you only made things worse. You were thankful, however, your four year old daughter, Jazmyne was already in bed. 

You did your best to keep her shielded from the violence that plagued your life now. Your late husband, Josh, was a kind, gentle man. He wouldn’t lift a hand to you and was an amazing father to Jazmyne. Josh was so gentle that if a spider got into the house he’d scoop it up and carry it outside. He died unexpectedly after a workplace accident. Your heart was irrevocably broken when the two of you lost him. 

Now Robert was in your lives. You met him at a house party and he swept you off your feet. The first time he hit you, the two of you were arguing and things got heated quickly. Then he slapped you across your face, drawing blood from your mouth. You made him leave and told him it was over. 

For almost a month you kept him at bay. Then loneliness, apologies and manipulation took over. You took him back. Things were fine, and then a switch flipped again. 

The latest fight was over dinner. You’d come home late from work and he was mad because dinner was late. After picking Jazmyne up at your friend’s house you decided to stop and grab a pizza. When you got home, he was there and became angry when he saw the pizza box.

“What the fuck is that?” He growled as he motioned to the box. “It’s dinner, and I’ve asked you not to use that language in front of my daughter.” He stepped closer to you and grabbed your chin hard, “I’ll talk however the fuck I want you stupid bitch!” You jerked your face away and set the box down. 

Looking at Jazmyne you spoke softly, “Go play while mommy gets your dinner ready, okay?” Your beautiful little girl nodded and bounded down the hall to her room. 

You grabbed a plate for your toddler and started to cut up her slice of pizza. “You’re a lazy fucking whore, you know that. What kind of mother doesn’t cook for her family?” You ignored him and kept getting Jazmyne’s food ready. 

He grabbed your arm hard, pulling you around to face him and causing you to drop her plate. “Don’t you fucking ignore me. I asked you a question.” “Robert, I’m not in the mood to fight with you. I think you should leave. I’m exhausted and I need to get Jazzy ready for dinner and bed. I don’t have time to deal with this.”

You tried to pull your arm out of his grip, but it was too tight. “Let me the fuck go!” You yelled. 

Robert got in your face, his eyes dark with anger, “I’ll let you go when I feel like it. You belong to ME!” He let go of you, grabbed some food and went to sit in the living room. You walked towards Jazmyne’s room and found her crying.

You ran in and got on the floor, “Oh baby, what’s wrong?” “He hurt mommy.” She softly said. You scooped her up and held her tight, knowing you needed to make a change before it was too late. “I’m okay baby girl, I promise. Let’s go eat our pizza and we can play with your new bath paint tonight.” 

She smiled wide and nodded. You took her into the kitchen, put her at the table and got her a piece of pizza. You cut her slice and grabbed you one too. You noticed she kept looking towards Robert and you could see the fear in her eyes. You knew exactly what you needed to do. 

After dinner, you got Jazmyne in the tub and she played with her new bath paint. She talked about her new friends at preschool and how much fun they were. You had recently put her in preschool to help her socialize and to shield her from the crap between you and Robert. 

“So, Jazzy, what are their names?” You asked her as she excitedly talked about her new friends. “Arrow and Zeppy, they are twins, well his name is Zeppelin, but everyone calls him Zeppy.” She said with a smile on her face. You almost choked on air. There was no way these children are the children of the man you’d pined after, Jensen Ackles. You’d been a fan of his for years and watched everything he was in, at least twice. You were heartbroken when you heard his wife died during childbirth. She was giving birth to the twins, and there were complications. 

Jensen disappeared from public life after the death of his wife. He still acted on Supernatural, but his appearances in public and at conventions stopped. It wasn’t until recently he had started to make sporadic appearances and going back to conventions. 

After her bath you got her ready and into bed. Walking into the living room you saw Robert sitting on the couch. “We need to talk.” You said as you walked in. He looked up from his phone and his jaw clenched. 

“I’m going to record this conversation for my protection and yours. I don’t want any confusion as to what is being said tonight.” You told him as you hit record on your phone and he scoffed.

“I deserve better than to be with someone who puts their hands on me. My priority is my daughter, and she always will be. I don’t want her to grow up thinking it’s okay to be hit or grabbed by someone who says they love her. I want you to leave, and not come back. I’m not doing this anymore. We aren’t good for each other, so this, (you motioned between the two of you), is over.” 

Robert sat silently. The eerie silence sent a chill through your body. He sat up and started to speak low, “If that’s what you think, then I guess there isn’t anything I can do about it.” “That’s what I’m saying. I need your key.” He pulled out his keys and took the house key off his ring. Then he stood up, grabbed his stuff and left. 

You let out the breath you were holding and quickly went and locked up the house. You called your best friend and told her what happened. She was glad you finally kicked him out. “Do you need me to come over tonight?” She asked. “No, he left his key, so I’m sure it’s going to be okay.” You reassured her. “Okay, well I’m proud of you, if you need me, let me know.” “I will, I love you girl.” “Love you too, bye.” 

Hanging up you grabbed your pajamas and went to take a shower. Climbing in you felt the pain from Robert’s abuse. You cried. Your tears mixing with the water that cascaded from the showerhead. 

After your shower you climbed into bed and scrolled on your phone. You found yourself on Jensen’s Instagram page, smiling at the pictures he’d posted of himself and his children. A new post popped up and it made your heart flutter. It was a picture of his twins and he captioned it with “These two are rocking their first year of preschool. Zeppy has a new little friend he talks about all the time. He said she’s a princess because her name is Jasmine.” Your eyes went wide, was he talking about your Jazzy? You smiled and put your phone down, falling asleep.

The next morning you got Jazzy up and ready for school. On the drive there she was really quiet. “Jazzy, baby, what’s wrong?” You looked in the mirror and met your daughter’s big green eyes. They were full of sadness and fear, “I’m scared mommy.” A frown formed on your face, “What are you scared of baby?” “Robert. He hurt you.” “Oh baby, I’m okay. I made him leave. He won’t be back. It’s just you and me now.” A small smile formed on her face.

Getting her out of her seat at the school the two of you walked hand in hand towards the entrance. Your daughter squealed in excitement and dropped your hand, taking off towards two children. “Arrow, Zeppy!” She squealed. The two children turned around and smiled, running towards her. 

You continued walking and made it to the very excited children. Hugs were exchanged and giggles filled the air. Then there he was, Jensen Ackles. He chuckled as he walked up to you and the three children, “Oh this must be the little princess.” You smiled as your eyes met his. He extended his hand, “Hello, I’m Jensen, and these two are mine, Arrow and Zeppelin.” You extended your hand to shake his hand, not realizing there was a bruise on your arm or on the side of your face. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N and this little one is Jazmyn. I’ve heard so much about your children from her. They are really sweet to her.” 

You noticed his eyes kept scanning you and that’s when you noticed the bruise. You pulled your arm back and felt the embarrassment fill your cheeks. Zeppelin spoke up, breaking the silence between you and Jensen, “Daddy, can we have a playdate after school? Pleeease.” The three children were looking up at Jensen and you. “Well, how about we plan something for the weekend, that way you three can have longer to play, I mean if it’s okay with you.” He looked at you. “Oh absolutely. Besides, I have to work late today and Jazzy will be at her Auntie Nichole’s house.” 

Jensen grabbed the twins’ hands and started to walk towards the door, “We probably should get them inside.” He gestured. “Yeah, don’t want them to be late.” 

After saying your goodbyes, you and Jensen walked towards the parking lot together. “Hey, Y/N. Let me give you my number so we can work out the details of the playdate, and if um, you need anything, please call me.” You offered him a soft smile, “That would be great, Jensen, thank you. I know Jazzy will love it.”

The two of you said your goodbyes, and as you started to walk away Jensen stopped and called your name. “Hey, Y/N.” He stepped closer to you, “He’s an asshole and you don’t deserve that. I promise we aren’t all like that. If you need anything, please call me.” “Thank you, Jensen. For everything, and just so you know I made him leave and broke up with him.” Jensen smiled and lightly touched your arm, “good”. 

Hours later your shift was done. Nichole had picked Jazzy up from school and she was going to bring her home later. You pulled into your driveway and walked in your house. Putting your stuff down you decided you’d take a quick shower before Jazmyne got home. 

Getting out of the shower and getting dressed you walked into the living room and turned on the television. Just as you sat down the doorbell rang. You thought it was Nichole with Jazmyne, but you were wrong. Standing in front of you with eyes full of rage was Robert. 

“Robert, what the hell are you doing here?” Before you could get an answer he came into the house and punched you across the face. You fell to the ground and he started kicking you and punching you. 

You put your hands up to defend yourself and screamed and cried for help and for him to stop. After what felt like hours, he finally left. You laid on the floor, bleeding and in so much pain. You found the strength to grab your phone and pushed the call button. 

“Hello?” The voice on the other end said. You were in and out of consciousness. You started to speak weakly, “Help me…” “Y/N!? Is that you? It was Jensen. You accidentally called Jensen. “Y/N! Answer me, what’s wrong?”

All you could get out was “Jazzy.” Before you passed out. Jensen hung up, called the headmaster at the preschool and told them what happened. They told Jensen they would call 911, he asked for your address but they wouldn’t give it to him. 

Panic filled his body. He called Jared and had him and Gen watch the kids. He was heading to the closest hospital to wait to see if you were brought there. 

The ambulance arrived and Jensen saw you. He tried to get the nurse to tell him what was going on with you, but she wouldn’t give him any information. He paced the waiting room floor and tried everything he could think of to get someone to give him information. 

About 30 minutes later he saw Jazmyne come in with a woman who was close to your age. Jazmyne immediately saw Jensen and ran to him. Nichole tried to grab her, but she was too quick. 

Jensen scooped her up and she threw her arms around his neck, “Hey Jazzy, are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?” Nichole stepped closer, “Oh hi, um how do you know Y/N and Jazzy?” “Hi, I’m Jensen. Jazzy goes to daycare with my twins, and that’s how I know Y/N. She and I just met today, but I’ve known Jazzy.” 

Nichole stretched her hand out, “Hi, I’m Nichole, Y/N’s best friend. Do you know what happened?”

“Not really. She called me and all she said was “Help me, then she said Jazzy’s name. I didn’t know her address so I called the headmaster and told her what happened. I can only assume this was her ex’s doing. She told me she kicked him out.” “She did, but I think he came back over tonight.”

Just then the doctor came out. “I’m here for the family of Ms Y/L/N” Jensen and Nichole stepped forward. “Hi, we’re her family. How is she?” “I’m Dr Fitzpatrick and I’ve been treating her. She has multiple lacerations, some broken ribs, a broken nose and orbital bone, and lots of bruising. She was beat up so badly we have to put her in a medically induced coma to help her body heal. She will be in it for a few days.” 

Jensen and Nichole gasped, “When can we see her?” Nichole asked softly. “You can see her one at a time, but I don’t recommend you take her in there.” The doctor nodded. They both nodded, “Nichole, you go and I’ll stay with Jazzy.” 

Nichole nodded, thanked Jensen and walked to your room. About 30 minutes later Nichole was walking back into the waiting room with red, puffy eyes.

Jensen walked up to her and gave her a hug. She sobbed into his chest. “Jensen, she looks so bad. How could anyone ever do something like that to her. She’s such an amazing person.” Jensen just held her tight. “Do you mind if I go see her?” He asked softly. She shook her head. 

As Jensen walked down the hallway his heart rate sped up. When he saw you laying in your bed, bloodied, bruised and broken his heart ached and anger filled his body. Robert had to pay. He sat beside your side and held your hand, “Hey Y/N, Jazzy is safe. We need you to get better. I can’t plan that playdate by myself.” He chuckled as he held you tight.

Before he left the room, he leaned over and kissed your forehead. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he felt the need to do it, “You’re safe Y/N, and so is Jazzy. I promise you both will be safe.”

Jensen walked back towards Nichole and Jazzy. He gave Nichole his number and told her if she needed anything, or any help with Jazzy to give him a call or send him a text. She nodded and said thank you. 

Jazzy clung tightly to his neck, and Nichole had to pry him off. Jensen stepped closer, “hey, Jazzy, maybe Auntie Nichole can bring you over tomorrow afternoon so you can play with the Arrow and Zeppy, would you like that? She nodded wildly, “Okay, see you tomorrow then.” 

Then Jensen was gone. A few hours later, when she was sure you were out of the woods, she and Jazzy left for the night. 

She was worried about you, but Jensen, oh Jensen was worried about you, Jazzy, and wanted to hurt Robert for hurting you. He couldn’t shake the feeling, but drove home. 

You were left laying in the bed, listening to the sounds of conversations and unable to react or speak to them. You heard Jensen, felt Jensen, and above all you felt his emotion behind his voice. That was something you were thankful to have heard and felt, at least that and Jazzy gave you something worth fighting for. 

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[fibro-memes]

Fibro Fog Stories Please!

Ok, so I'm trying to do a little project to show my best friend (and all of you!) that fibro fog is something we all deal with, and doesn't mean something is wrong with YOU personally, no matter how ridiculous/crazy/important the situation is.

Soooooo can we all share our best/worst/craziest fibro fog moments??

I have two to start.

1. The moment that inspired this post....my best friend and I got pulled over today as we were on the way to register her car...because although we were right and it was November, it was actually November of last year and we totally spaced it. (We did a partial last year and forgot we wouldn't be all set til the next year like you normally are. Luckily the cop was very nice and believed us and let us go with a warning and we went straight to register it!)

2. Last year I was at a store looking around. I had a shirt on my arm I was going to buy. I looked around for awhile longer and then headed to the car. Completely forgot the shirt was on my arm and didn't realize it until I was back at the car. (And yes I went back in and paid!)

These stories just go to show it doesn't matter how important things are...brain fog doesn't discriminate. Anyone have more stories to share??

💜💜💜

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 6

Hello! And welcome to another chapter of this very underrated fic. Thank you to everyone who has given it love in the way of comments, reblogs/tags, and likes.

It's London calling! And we meet a Murray Bauman in the wild. Eddie and Steve get a little introspective and Steve does something rash.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Their trip through the haunting and beautiful Ireland was amazing. So many tales and history. This is why Steve wanted to do more than just America like Eddie had originally wanted, because America just didn’t have the history Europe and other places did. Not unless you wanted to disturb actual First Nation people and that was something he wanted to avoid at all cost, thank you.

They were on the ferry from Northern Ireland to Scotland and Steve was looking out over his shoulder at the water as he leaned against the guardrail. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the wind to blow through his hair.

Eddie slid his arm around him and Steve laid his head on his shoulder.

Today Eddie had his beard and faux-dreadlocks in a light blue button up shirt and cream colored wide-legged pants. His chunky sunglasses covered the his face.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, “until we reached this leg of our journey and you started to disguise me, I didn’t realize how much I missed just being Eddie Munson, regular guy. I can really see the appeal of you and friends’ way of doing it.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Of course it means that we can’t go all out and buy everything we want, stay in fancy hotels, show up at restaurants without a reservation and get in. But I can go into my local grocery store and buy two tubs of mint ice cream because I felt like it.” He lifted his head to look Eddie in the eye. “Like some Karen would judge me, but it’s not going to go up on TMZ that I’m letting myself go.”

God, Eddie had had that happen more times than he cared to count. Like once Chrissy was on her period and he went to go get her chocolate, Ben and Jerry’s, and pads. Before he even got to his car it was all over the internet that he was letting himself go, just because it was 2am and his best friend needed something to help her feel better.

“You think you’ll ever come out?” he asked, pulling Steve in closer.

It was a familiar and well-worn topic of theirs; whether or not Steve would ever come out as bisexual at least.

He ducked his head and looked away. He didn’t know. He didn’t like hiding parts of himself for those he loved. He would like to tell people this is the love of my life.

“Would you leave me if I said no?” he mumbled, not daring to look up.

Eddie placed his finger under Steve’s chin and lifted his head gently. “Of course not, Stevie. There are literal actors who have been married for years and no one knows. It’s just between them. We could do that too. Just a quiet ceremony, Robin and Chrissy as the witnesses, and a justice of the peace.”

Steve let out a weak sort of watery laugh and shook his head. “I want all our friends there, famous and otherwise. I want a full tilt party with music playing into the early hours of the morning. I want fancy tuxes and flowers galore. I know I might not get that, the absolute coward that I am. But if I marry you, it be to scream from the rooftops that I love you.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Softy.” Steve blushed. “Besides there is nothing in the world that says we can’t have it both ways. Have a quiet little ‘just us’ and then go full tilt when you come out. You don’t even have to tell anyone. Just a little comfort that I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie kissed him deeply and then tucked his head under his chin and they stayed like that until the ferry docked in Scotland.

~

God, Scotland and England were beautiful countries Eddie decided as he watched the rolling green hills from his train window. That was another thing he really liked about Europe in general, just all the different ways to travel that weren’t a car.

He looked over at Steve who had his glasses on and reading a book. He smiled at the title. His boyfriend wasn’t a fantasy fan or science fiction either, really, but put a clever mystery in his hands and you would have to pry to the book from his cold, dead fingers.

He glanced over at Chrissy and Robin who were playing Go Fish! They had asked him if he wanted to join them, but he passed. He rarely got time to just relax and watch the scenery go by when he was on tour. He was always doing something related to the band. Writing music, practicing, talking about the next venue, interview, or TV spot.

Him and his friends had fun, because of course they did. But it was nice to just let his mind wander. Currently he was sad that they were going to have to miss Wales this time. He really wanted to buy some Welsh gold jewelry. It’s super rare and absolutely gorgeous.

Maybe he would have to come back later and get something special for Steve. Just something simple like matching bands even if it wasn’t on the left hand. Or necklaces. Just something simple to prove they were it for each other.

“I made an appointment with a well-known tattoo artist in London,” Steve said nonchalant, but like he was reading Eddie’s thoughts.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Steve. Robin nearly giving herself whiplash in her speed.

“As your friend, manager, and platonic soulmate,” she said darkly, “I advise against that. You can cover it up but someone, somewhere will see it.”

Steve looked up from his book and leveled her with his best bitchy glare. “Not if it’s on my ass.”

Chrissy and Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and they shared a shocked glance. Eddie always loved tattoos, he had a couple of stick and poke style ones from when he was young and stupid and couldn’t afford to pay for an artist to do the job, but there was one place, well technically two if you included his dick, which he absolutely did, that he refused to get a tattoo on and that was his ass. Not being able to sit down properly for what would probably be weeks was not his idea of a good time.

“Not really, though, right?” Chrissy asked with a grimace.

Steve took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Of course not really. Sheesh, you guys. But I hid fucking hickies from the both of you for a year and you never noticed, so I’m pretty sure I can hide one fucking tattoo.”

Robin and Chrissy shared their little ‘manager’ glance and Chrissy folded first.

“You’re right, Steve,” she said calmly. “Not once did you forget or slip up and you should be applauded for that. But is there a reason you’re deciding to get a tattoo now instead of waiting until we’re back in the States and you can use Eddie’s personal artist?”

He looked over at Robin and their little telepathy thing went off again and this time Robin folded first.

“It’s for Eddie,” she murmured. “They can’t be out as a couple and with Steve being the romantic that he is, wouldn’t want to get married without all his friends there, so this is his way of telling Eddie he isn’t going anywhere either.”

Eddie blinked for a moment. “Do you think they take walk-ins?”

“I booked it for both of us.” Steve smiled at him and took his hand. Eddie beamed back at him.

“They are so disgustingly cute,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms. “I bet Steve has this really sweet idea for a tattoo that even if people do notice it they won’t be able to tell the meaning but he and Eddie will know and be so sickeningly precious about it.”

Eddie gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. “I love my super clever boyfriend and can’t wait to see what this brilliant plan is.”

~

Steve’s brilliant plan was half of a white mask on Eddie’s inner wrist and half of guitar on Steve’s and when they held hands it formed almost heart.

The tattoo artist was really impressed with the idea and was more than happy to implement it. Steve walked out of there, completely smug as Chrissy pointed out. Deservedly so.

They were to stay in London for three days because of all the haunted places in London alone, there were so many worth visiting. They were going to start at Jack the Ripper tour and move onto the tour of London.

The tour they learned with deep dismay had accidentally been scheduled at 2pm and not 2am like Eddie had thought it said. It was so boring and their tour guide so dull, Eddie accidentally tripped of one of those concrete pillars they had in the middle of the sidewalk to prevent cars from driving up on it.

“Oof!” Eddie wheezed as he straightened up. “Why do they even put those things here?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” a nasally voice said from behind them. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

They all turned slowly to see a weaselly little bald man with thick horn-rimmed glass.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy said slowly. “Murray Bauman, as I live and breath. What the hell are you doing in London?”

He shrugged. “Eking out a living doing tours for bored tourists. When the biggest metal band in the world drops you, so does everyone else.”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a grimace. Corroded Coffin had deliberately did that to Nancy after the shit she pulled with Steve and trying to be The Fallen’s agent. But this one was a complete accident.

“Oh fuck off,” Robin said with a grin. “You love it. I can tell. You have actual notes written down, you have a map marked with all the spots the murders take place. I bet you have all the great stories.”

Murray flushed and cocked his head to the side. “I mean I didn’t want to brag. But yeah, certainly better than Molly over there.” He jutted his thumb at their tour guide. “Most of the good ones are from tour companies and then you get people like Molly who make it look legit online and trick people into taking day tours.”

“God, I was so bored,” Eddie huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I felt jet lagged.”

Murray’s eyes instantly narrowed and cocked his head to the side and instantly everyone else tensed up. He took in their reactions and mimed zipping his mouth shut.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “if you’re still in town tomorrow, meet me here at 9pm and I’ll give you a proper tour.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “Or what?”

“Huh?” He was confused for a moment before he smacked his forehead. “Oh! No, no. I’m not going to blackmail you. Holy shit. If people want to enjoy a vacation without all the publicity, good on them.” He looked Eddie up and down. “Looks good on you kid.”

Eddie was suddenly glad for the large sunglasses and beard because it hid the blush on his cheeks.

“No, I’m just saying,” Murray continued, “that if you wanted to experience a proper Jack the Ripper tour, I’m willing to do it. I don’t have a tour currently booked and beside I like her.” He pointed at Robin, who grinned back him.

The four them all shared glances at each other.

“I’m down,” Steve said with a shrug. “If you’re as good as you say you are and aren’t trying to actively ‘get back’ at Chrissy for taking your job, I know I’d be interested in seeing what Whitechapel has to offer after dark.”

“I like him too,” Murray said brightly, rubbing his hands together. “So what do the rest of you say?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Steve’s three menaces said together.

He just smiled fondly and shook his head.

~

Part 7

Tag List: CLOSED

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[neverenoughmarauders]

Hi! what are your thoughts on the ever present fanon idea that James repeatedly asks Lily to date him before she finally concedes (he pesters her tbh)?

I feel like this throws a lot of people off of Jily as it just adds a bit of creepiness to the ship and makes it weirder for Lily to get with James considering this behaviour, after what must’ve been a fair amount of reckoning since he tormented her childhood best friend for years. Like even if Lily hated Snape at this point I don’t think she’d forget how James treated him easily and let James off the hook without a proper reckoning so adding pestering behaviour to that dynamic just makes their relationship more unlikely ya know. Honestly just tryna find reasons why fandom in general dislike Jily more than jegulus atp.

Hi anon

This idea that James repeatedly asked Lily out I think far precedes Jegulus. In my youth, the few fics I engaged with (often because my best friend kindly helped translate them) seemed to position it as a very cute thing - although it always annoyed me even then, because it has no basis in canon. The day and age where James persistently asking Lily out was seen as cute are over, and now this fanon idea is presented in favour of Jegulus or Snily.

Actually, as an aside, in general the marauders' story is one that has aged poorly... You can't really view the marauders without the lens of it being the 70s and during a wizarding world war - but people do and it completely changes everything.

How do I feel about it?

I feel the same way about this as I do with all fanon ideas that get presented as evidence. It drives me up the wall no end. We all get carried away with our own interpretations and that's fine, but if people cannot separate canon from interpretation of canon /headcanon from fanon, how can we have an informed debate?

Canon:

"Why are you so obsessed with them anyway? Why do you care what they’re doing at night?” “I’m just trying to show you they’re not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are.” ... “I didn’t mean — I just don’t want to see you made a fool of — He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!” The words seemed wrenched from him against his will. “And he’s not ... everyone thinks ... big Quidditch hero — ” Snape’s bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent, and Lily’s eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up her forehead.

My interpretation of canon:

The conversation between Snape and Lily to me indicates that it is a relatively new development (which means sometimes not long before/after the whomping willow incident). At this point I think it's hard to argue that James has asked Lily out - why on earth would Snape feel the need to point out that James fancies her if this be the case.

Canon:

“I will if you go out with me, Evans,” said James quickly. “Go on ... Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.” ... “I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” said Lily. “Bad luck, Prongs,” said Sirius briskly, turning back to Snape. ... “There you go,” he said, as Snape struggled to his feet again, “you’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus — ” “I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!” Lily blinked. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I won’t bother in future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.” ... “What is it with her?” said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. “Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,” said Sirius. “Right,” said James, who looked furious now, “right"

Also canon: Lily found James attractive at this point, despite not liking him very much. It was confirmed in an interview, in response to whether or not Lily hated James, but as we know even from the source text:

“How come she married him?” Harry asked miserably. “She hated him!” “Nah, she didn’t,” said Sirius.

My interpretation of canon:

James is being an immature d***. That aside, nothing about this dialogue suggests to me that James has ever asked Lily out before. Why? James looks FURIOUS at the rejection, he does not give off the vibes of someone who has routinely been rejected by Lily.

There's also the small stuff which doesn't by itself mean anything but which adds up, such as Sirius' and Snape's reaction. Sirius doesn't come across as someone who has seen this a hundred times. He's obviously far less affected or surprised by the outcome, but that's not the same thing. Snape completely loses it with Lily - why? It's not the first time James and Sirius has bullied him, but if it's the first time Snape has listened to James ask her out - worse still, use him to ask her out, he might be furious. He told her so, didn't he? James Potter fancied her.

My headcanon:

We know Lily found James attractive, and that James is shocked to be rejected. We also know Snape is nervous that Lily might be falling for James: 'I’m just trying to show you they’re not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are' Why? Probably because by now Lily and James have flirted a little on and off. If Lily spoke the way she spoke to James by the lake - if James routinely asked Lily out - then the conversation between Severus and Lily makes no sense.

If people want to like Jegulus, they can. Personally, I think Jily holds everything I want from an "enemies" to lovers trope, and if I want another trope it's usually best friends to lovers, and I've got prongsfoot for that. Or if I am feeling like I want both, there's always Jilypad <3