#(i found this from my drafts and i still remember what this was in reference for so hey if someone does like comms or whatever

[the-kipsabian]

hey yo moots

does anyone do typography

i have a text i'd wish to turn into something aesthetically pleasing and idk maybe like a wallpaper or something

lemme know??

[bitchyycapricorn]

Draw Me Like One of Your Italian Girls

Peter Parker x Artist!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2k

Synopsis: During a school trip to Venice Italy, Peter finds himself in his classmates room.

Warnings:Smut!, unprotected sex, consumption of alcohol (reader and Peter are 18+ legal age), intoxicated sex, nude artwork, could be considered dubcon

AN: not edited. This has been in my drafts for over a month.

Your eyes flicker from the reference on your laptop, then back down to your paper. Your pencil sketches smooth charcoal lines across the off white paper. Furrowing your brows, you shift the image slightly to get a better look at the image displayed on your screen. 

“Hey Y/N, what are you up to?” Peter asks, popping his head into your room. 

Stopping your movement, your eyes drift up to where he’s leaning against the doorway. “Drawing,” you reply with a small smile before going back to your sketch. 

Peter shifts awkwardly at the door, “Like a picture?” The words come out before he can fully think about what he was saying. And as soon as they came out, he wanted to drown himself in the canal. 

Another smile appears across your face, this time it stays for a moment. “No, I’m drawing up a plan to murder the rest of the class before fleeing the city to live as a fugitive in Rome.”

He gives a small laugh before nodding. “O-oh yeah, that makes sense.” 

You catch the nervous twitch in his voice, the way his body appears to be more tense than usual. “You can come in and shut the door.” You say after a moment of silence. 

He nods quickly, stepping into your hotel room before closing the door. “So uh, where’s your roommate?” Peter asks after fully shuffling into your room. 

“Brads room.” You shrug. 

Another “oh,” escapes his lips knowing that your roommate wouldn’t be back anytime soon. You give a small nod before patting the spot next to you on the bed. “So um, what are you drawing?” Peter asks finally. 

A blush spreads across your cheeks as you tilt the picture for him to see. His eyes scan the drawing and he immediately recognizes him and Ned near the docks. 

“You were actually in the way when I was taking my picture, but I decided you both were cute enough to make the cut.” You tease. 

Peter could feel his face starting to flush again, “cute enough?” He laughs. 

Giving a simple nod, you continue your work. “So what brings you to my room Parker?”

Peter debates whether he wants to be honest or not. On one hand, he could say he had a question about tomorrows tour. On the other, he could ask you to go on a walk with him along the canals. Mainly so that he can confess his feelings for you, which he’s been bottling up since as long as he can remember. “Would you like to walk with me?” He asks quickly, deciding it was worth a shot. 

“Mm, but that would mean I’d have to step out of my artistic zone.” You hum, finishing the last of the sketch and setting it on your nightstand. 

“Y-yeah of course, I’ll just-“ Peter replies as he moves towards the door, assuming you were politely turning down his advances. 

Panic quickly floods your brain as you watch him begin to leave. “Wait!” 

Peter pauses, turning to face you. “Yeah?”

“Stay, let me draw you.” The words tumble from your mouth in a hurry, as you pray the brunette boy won’t exit your room, at least not yet. 

Peter’s body seems to stiffen even more before slowly relaxing ad he looks around the room for a moment. “You want to draw me?” 

A hum leaves your lips as you gaze hopefully at Peter. “I enjoyed drawing you in this one,” you nod to the picture on your nightstand, “you have a nice figure.”

Another blush spreads across Peters face as he takes a seat on the small bench in your room. 

“Is this good?” He asks, trying to sit up straight for you. 

“Yes, just stay still…”

+++

You had been drawing and posing Peter for the last four hours. Somewhere around 11 you had both found the ‘complimentary’ drink assortment stored away in the little cabinet. 

You weren’t really sure which glass of wine/alcohol you and Peter were on now, just that you were stumbling slightly and giggling like crazy. 

Peter’s shirt had been discarded to the floor some time ago and you were still busy ogling over his toned chest. His defined muscles and hard abs that were otherwise hidden by his clothes made the butterflies in your stomach twist and turn. 

“Take your pants off now,” you slur, running your hands down Peters chest as you both stumble around the room. 

“My pants?” Peter quips, equally as drunk. 

“Mhm, I wanna draw you neeked,” a giggle escapes your lips as your fingers fumble around with the zipper of Peter’s jeans. 

It takes a moment for Peter to understand exactly what you want, but once it hits his jeans and boxers are discarded on the floor in a small pile. “Like this?” He coos, throwing his arms in the air to show off his now very naked figure. 

You clap your hands together and squeal, “Good good, now pose for me.” Peter stands there with his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest. Your eyes scan his body up and down, taking in the sight of not only his hard chest, but his hard dick as well. “God you’re built like a Greek god,” you breathe, quickly beginning to sketch. 

Peter hums before giving you a smirk. “Or Roman god since we’re in Venice.” 

“Modeled after the Greek gods sweetheart,” you snicker, making the outline of his abs with your pencil. 

“Are you as turned on as I am right now?” He asks after a few minutes. 

“Yes.” You say without hesitation, moving your pencil downwards to sketch his throbbing cock. “After I finish this I’ll suck your dick.” You giggle again.  

“Oh god,” Peter moans, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. “Are you done yet?”

“No silly. I’m still drawing your penis.” Another snicker leaves your lips as you delicately sketch out Peter’s lower regions. 

Peter lets out a groan, shaking his hips slightly. “Look it moves!” 

You look up to see Peter swishing his dick back and forth causing you to let out a loud shriek. “You have to stay still so I can finish!” A wheezey laugh leaves your chest as you move down to draw his legs. “I’m almost done I promise,” you grin. 

“Well hurry,” Peter whines, staying as still as his drunk little body could. 

“Shhh you can’t rush perfection.” You hush, moving as quickly as you could through your sketch. It took a few more minutes before you turned the drawing around to show Peter. “Look. You’re like the statue David.” You beam proudly. 

He gives you a lopsided grin before quickly scampering over to your bed. “Take your cloths off too and I’ll draw you!” He ushers as you add the sketch to the many others from that night. 

“Okay okay,” quickly getting up you strip completely, kicking your cloths off to the pile of Peter’s clothes. A low hum escapes his lips as he takes your sketch pad and pencil. 

“Pose!” He grins, watching you get into the same pose as him. You place your hands on your hips and stick your chest out proudly.

“Boobs…” Peter mumbles, sketching out a big circle for your head, followed by a stick body, stick legs, and stick arms. He then adds your hair, eyes, and a smile. Looking at the photo for a minute he realizes what he’s missing. “Boobs,” he says again as he draws two boobs onto your stick body. “Perfect!” He cries as he turns it around to show you. 

“Oh! Oh! You’re an artist! A sexy sexy artist,” you cry, wobbling over to Peter so you can throw yourself into his arms. Your legs straddle his hips, hands going into his soft curly hair. His lips press sloppily to yours as he tosses the notebook to the ground. His hands move up to your hips, squeezing the plush skin. 

“Fuck you’re so hot.” He moans against your lips. “The reason I asked you to walk with me earlier was because I wanted to tell you how I feel. I wanted to kiss you in front of the bridge.” His lips press against yours again before continuing. “But this is so much better.” 

“Is it because we’re naked?” You moan, grinding your hips into his. You’re slick gliding over his hard cock as you rock your hips. 

“Fuck, yes.” He groans, eager to be in you.

You let your another moan as you continue to move your hips against his. “Can I put it in me?” You beg, as if you could read Peter’s mind.

He nods as he kisses you again “please,” he groans as he helps lift your hips up. You quickly reach between the two of you so you could line him up at your entrance. Peter helps you ease down onto his throbbing cock. His tip barley enters you before his hips involuntarily buck upwards. You let out a small cry as he bottoms out into your sensitive cunt, eyes fluttering shut as his hips drop back down onto the bed. 

Another gasp leaves your lips as Peter begins to bounce you up and down his shaft. “Fuck you feel so good Y/N,” he growls in your ear. His fingers digging into your skin as he helps guide your sloppy, drunken movements as you grind on his dick. 

He’s so deep in you that you can practically feel him bulging in your stomach. “Peter fuck, you’re filling me so well,” you gasp as his hips thrust up into yours now. A feeling in your stomach begins to grow as Peter continues his brutal attack, his cock going deeper into you with every thrust. 

Stars begin to form in your vision as you press your chest into Peter’s face, his hands keeping your hips still so he can thrust up into you. His hips snap up to yours again as the feeling in the pit of your stomach grows, slowly spreading all over your body. You let out a strangled cry, feeling yourself come undone, cunt clenching around Peters dick making him moan. Your orgasm spreads all over your body like a hot fire, Peter helping to grow the flame as he keeps thrusting into you. 

His hips falter for only a moment before he gives one last deep thrust into you, filling your cunt with his cum. Your body goes slack as you fall forward into Peter. His brain and body going completely blank as well as he falls backwards, bringing you with him.

+++

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of Peter’s face only inches from yours, his hot breath fanning your cheek. You can feel his hot skin on yours as you go to unstick yourself from his sweaty grasp. Your head is pounding and your whole body feels weak. As you sit up it becomes evident that Peter had stayed in you the entire night. As your hips shifted slightly you could feel his dick hardening in you again, filling you up like he had the night before. 

A small groan escapes Peter’s lips as he shifts on the bed. His eyes peel open, looking around the unfamiliar room. A small shriek escapes from his mouth when he notices you sitting naked on his lap, his dick buried inside your cum filled cunt. 

“Sh sh, what the fuck happened?” You groan, holding your head as you look around your now destroyed room. 

“Shit, I think we had sex!” Peter groans, memories slowly coming back to him. 

“Oh fuck,” you mumble, noticing the the abundance of empty bottles discarded around the room. Your eyes travel over to the nightstand where an assortment of drawings lay spread out. All of them are Peter, some with his clothes on, some with his shirt off, then the one of him completely nude… Oh, and the one Peter drew of you. 

“I’m so so sorry, this is all my fault,” Peter sputters, guilt building up in his stomach as he realizes what truly happened last night. 

You let out a long sigh before laughing. “Why are you apologizing? I had a blast, even if some things are a bit fuzzy.”

Peter stops his profuse apologizes, eyeing you carefully. “You aren’t mad?” 

You shake your head, letting out a small hum as you eye the pictures again. “No, I’m glad you came into my room last night.”

+++

Taglist

@nataliewalker93 @sarapaprikas-blog @justkeepitblanc @sickomodesmell @etaerealboy @purplerose291 @witheringawayagain @arij3lly @dandelionqueen @brightlilith @laurens2002 @siriusly1 @shugrcrush @hazzarules @cl0v3r-s0up @jibiwoni @maria-pqrker @just-henny @little-jana @ellie-emb @valslittleheart @reeseisinapiece @happilyneverafter69 @gram-cracker24 @kisstheskin @whenmypartysover @nightiresss @wowitsem @chinaza444 @sherlockstrangewolf @daisydark @shine101 @moniffazictress11 @cryptidcreaturewrites @severenpcenergy

[bellamybellamyblake]

Violet Eyes, Red

Pairing:

rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)

Summary:

you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.

Warnings:

aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.

Word Count:

2,140

A/N:

literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected

The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.

You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.

One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.

Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.

Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.

He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.

At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.

But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.

And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.

It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.

I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it. 

He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.

Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.

You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.

You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster? 

You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.

Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.

With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.

His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe. 

He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."

"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."

You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"

"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."

Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.

You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.

He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.

"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."

"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."

"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."

You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."

His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"

"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"

"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."

You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.

Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."

He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.

He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.

How he had been praying for you.

With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say. 

Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.

"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."

"But I-"

"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."

"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"

You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."

His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.

"Is it?"

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.3

John having to get high out of his mind because he knows he's invited Paul to come play with him is so so sad. These are the same guys who used to sit facing each other on a bed playing guitars for hours, and now this is them?

Is John calling Paul “Jack Lemon” a reference to “some like it hot”? Because if so, I have questions. Anyway, when your estranged best friend shows up to hang out with you and a bunch of people, talking about being in love again and getting jizzed on is extremely normal and acceptable behavior.

This jam session is so fucking painful though. Paul's doing his best to just push through and get them to actually play something and John's just too far gone.

My theory: there's two reasons he did this. 1. He's avoidant and the last thing he's going to do is let on how bad he needs John in his life and how scared he is that if John gets back with Yoko that that'll be difficult. And 2. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't. If he'd kept it from John that Yoko wanted him back and later John cried to him about how much he missed Yoko or something? Paul can't have that.

John singing a snatch of Yesterday before a take of “Whatever gets you through the Night”??? Did either of them ever write a song where they weren't thinking about the other? Did they ever have a minute of peace without the other rattling the bars of the cage in his brain?

“Hold me Darling, come on, listen to me. I won't do you no harm.” Duh it's about Paul. Oh my gosh.

And with Bless You I'm always so torn. There are so many obvious references to Paul which the doc points out beautifully, but situationally it could also be about Yoko. Maybe it's about both of them in the same way that don't let me down is about both of them.

Anyway the cosmic visuals are gorgeous.

Why'd you have to phrase it like that though? Twice?

Hall of Fame moment. It's a high point for him career-wise and he chose to pull Paul into his spotlight. Not only to sing Paul's song, not only to name-drop him, but to publicly call him an official romantic title. Not “boyfriend” or “ex-wife” which both could've been much more mocking if that's what he was trying to do. But “fiance”. It's official and respected, but it's still got the lustful, unsettled, connotation that something like “husband” lacks.

Johann Weener, everyone. What a loser.

Everyone who still refers to Lennon Remembers like it's the fucking Bible listen to this. It doesn't go on for the next five years, let alone fifty.

John refusing to walk to blocks to sign the papers when George and Paul flew over the ocean. And only on the basis of astrology. He really didn't want the divorce. My heart aches for him. But he made his bed as they say.

I'm putting on my tinfoil hat again here, but I do just have to point out that one of John's first songs, “Hello, Little Girl,” has a line that goes, “you never seem to see me standing there”. And the earliest draft of WISHST, which was started soon after, answers that line. “I saw you standing there.” (Yes, it said you originally, not her). So maybe. Just maybe. That song wasn't just a Paul song, but a song that John knew Paul had put a message in for him. Okay, I apologize for the insanity. On another note, I do wonder if he ever found out what Paul thought of that.

Interviewer: ≈ at this point, do you like writing by yourself, or do you want to write with Paul again?≈ John: ≈well it's a bit of both. It's the same for Paul. We were talking about it a week ago. Okay, cool. So they definitely talked openly and honestly about potentially writing together again.

John, about their partnership, “There was always the feeling that someone was there if you needed it.” Paired with the gayest picture ever taken and then Paul singing “if I can do anything at all, let me help.” Thanks. I hate it.

John was so excited for New Orleans! What happened? I mean I have my theory based on May's book and the sudden shift in behavior. But it's pretty dark.

You know how crazy Paul is about John in interviews now? How he can't seem to keep John's name out of his mouth? John was worse in the seventies. He's promoting his Rock’n’Roll album, talking unprompted and romantically about how he met Paul, when the interviewer reminds him what relationship he's supposed to be romanticizing right now. So John remembers too and dedicates the album to Yoko who he's just got back together with.

Biconic quote.

Interviewer asks, after John's brought him up, if John's pleased with how well Paul's doing. John expresses his relief that Ringo has "found himself a niche" and then

I really do think that last bit sums up a big chunk of how John feels about Paul, and why he feels alright playing dirty against Paul or slagging Paul off. Why it would have been the furthest thing from his mind that Paul actually struggled or was insecure. Why Paul had to remind him, “I'm only a person like you, love.”

What an insane thing to think, let alone say. What if Julian had heard that? I'm pretty sure Julian and Paul weren't in contact, really at all, until the eighties, right? So John's doing better than he is at this point (I mean he's his dad, he should be). John is insecure about every possible thing and compares himself to Paul in every possible way.

Baby. He needed some serious help. The thing that sucks about being ahead of your time is that you also have to live in a world that's behind your needs.

And then. “There's always a friendly tv channel to turn to that's going to make you feel less alone.” I wonder if Paul “Call Me Back Again, John I know you're not that tired from the baby just let me in the fucking door” McCartney heard this? It's possible with how obsessive they were, but it's also impossible with how busy he kept himself.

Okay, here's the first story we've been missing about Paul experiencing negative emotions. And, of course, as always in this doc, it's paired perfectly with “Don't Let it Bring you Down” which is the musical mission statement of Paul's clenched-jawed smile philosophy.

"I tend to get a bit absolute in my statements." Yes, John. Yes you do. Another quote that Big Lennon fans should keep in mind.

John on the three weeks he took to decide if he wanted to continue the band after the first Hamburg trip: The others were mad because we could've been making money. Yeah, John, Paul suddenly had to work in a factory after he'd thrown away an educated, white-collar career (the first in his family) to be in your band. I'd be pissed too if you just didn't even bother to call. Anyway I just hate how casual John is about it. Someone who never had to worry about money is just never going to get that.

John doesn't even remember a ballpark number of how much they were making. Paul remembers exactly bragging to his professors that he was making fifteen a week in Hamburg. Sorry to go on and on about this right before Paris, but to me it's an important difference between them.

Anyway, the fact that Paris was more than just a vacation for them. The fact that – according to Stuart and John at least – they might not have come back. It's dizzying. They really thought about just running off together. I wonder what made them decide to come back and continue the band.

No offense if you do, but I don't personally believe in this stuff. What would the motivation have been for the tarot reader to tell him that? Either way, fuck him.

Gosh the live version of “Call Me Back Again”. You feel it, physically, how bad he wants this phonecall. And the desperation from such a successful man is fantastic. Literally, John, how did it feel to be the only man in the world that could get Paul McCartney to beg? “Pretty baby” “what can I do?” “Boohoohoo babe.” “I tried the operator, but I just can't get through.”

Reporter at the Wings over America tour: No John Lennon, no George Harrison, and no Ringo Starr, just Paul McCartney. And for everyone here tonight, that seemed to be plenty! Obviously he's loving this praise after all the negative press. Anyone would, and Paul needs it more than most people actually. But I bet part of him is like “stop. Don't say it like that, they already hate me enough as it is.”

How many times has John admitted that he finds Paul attractive? “It was no surprise, you know, when the kids – girls saw him, they go ‘ooh! Ooh!’ right away, you know?”

“I know it's true. It's all because of you.” Playing over this? Are you kidding me? Anyway I've never seen the picture version of this, so I thought I'd screenshot it.

But actually, in a way, the original written lyrics to Now and Then are less depressing than what he sang on the demo. “I know it's true, I'm still in love with you, and if I make it through, it's all because of you,” is obviously sad because they're both married to other people. But at least in that version, John's saying his own personal resilience to life's struggles comes from his relationship with Paul, which is nice. Whereas when John, who is sliding into a self-hating deep depression I'm comparing himself to Paul's phenomenal success, sings “it's all because of you” in a general sense, it almost feels like a callback to the ‘I'm shit and I couldn't do anything but be a Beatle (and ride Paul's boat)’ quote. Which is heartbreaking. I wish he could've recognized his own genius.

But yeah either way it's enough to make your heart heavy. If anyone needs a good cry, just go to the last five minutes of this. That should've been the now and then music video, but Paul's too scared of feelings. Which. You know. Considering how much it affects me, I can't even imagine how much it affects him. So he gets a pass.

“Why must we be alone? It's real love. It's real.”

[hyukaslvr]

just like the stars // j. han

<masterlist

summary✮⋆˙ you and jisung met unexpectedly, both of you being idols and needing to get away from stress and your thoughts. so when needed, you had each other, the hood of your car, and the stars beeming down against you two- and your long talks, of course.

genre✮⋆˙ fluff, idol!reader, idol!jisung, friends to lovers, secret friendship and relationship

warnings✮⋆˙ han jisung(yes, he is a warning, gosh)

w.c✮⋆˙ aproxx 1k

a/n: han han han han han. god, i love han. this has been in my drafts for awhile unfinished and i just had to finish it. also, please acknowledge my secret secret reference at the end, thank you love you💋.

han jisung was the light you needed in your life ; his laid back smile, his contagious laughter, his puffy cheeks, his crescent eyes, his soft and loving hands, his small careful gestures- everything about him glowed, shining like broken glass and straight through your pounding heart.

how you met was weirdly addicting, you thought about it almost everytime you snuck out with the boy. it was quiet funny too.

you were trying to escape your thoughts, stealing the keys to your companies car that is lended to your group and you whenever you needed to drive without a team member. you remember the night so vividly, you being stopped at a stop light, not even noticing the car doors were unlocked until the back opened, revealing and bundled up jisung, also trying to escape his thoughts. his apologies immediately rushing out as he thought you were an uber or a taxi driver, yet you let him stay. the two of you knew of each other, never talked before yet it was so easy to talk to him that night, and every night after that.

you drove him around for hours, almost until daylight rose, that’s how you found your special spot. driving around with no clue or direction, finding yourselves on a cliff with the most perfect view of the entire city lights.

you let yourself back into real time, letting yourself stare at the boy beside you. you couldn’t stop staring, even if you wanted to. you were way too distracted with his cute hand gestures as he spoke, letting his body and mind relax as the wind blowed against the two of you. you give him a hum of agreement, letting him know you’re listening to his ranting, but we both know your mind and heart was some place else, blown away by his beautiful structure.

the stars beamed down on him, like bright pixy dust, making him stand out in the dark night. god, you lived for nights like this, especially with him.

the both of you wrapped in your favorite blanket that stays in your car, specifically for nights like this, but you would never dare to tell him. the nights you both escape your dorms, away from your members and companies attentions, letting yourselves talk for hours in the middle of the night on top of the hood ; it was so peaceful, letting yourselves speak your minds to eachother, knowing you both wouldn’t dare mention any of these meet ups or what gets spoken about to anyone, not even chan or your leader.

“i think the song came out great, it isn’t the top song of our comeback- but it definitely made impact,” he finally faced you, his cheeks slightly pink from the cool breeze blowing harder against his skin, staring at you with a smile that almost reached his eyes.

“you did great, ji. but, i think secret secret is still my favorite produced by you, through-” he playfully pushed you, causing a fit of giggles between the both of you; not the both of you, just you, as he’s poor heart couldn’t handle the sound. now, he wishes he put your laugh in a song, it’s better than any song he’s ever heard. his cheeks may have been cold two seconds ago, but they’re flushed and heated now, eventually letting himself laugh with you, a huge smile plastered across his face.

“you’re taking the blanket!” he teases, tugging hard to get more warmth around his prickled arms from goosebumps, caused by mainly from what he calls: your music. you didn’t let go of the blanket though, you simply scooted closer to the boy, letting your side and your head fall onto his, a satisfied smile on your face as he stiffens at your touch and warmth.

“thank you, han,” your hands resting in his lap, snuggling your head deeper into his neck, “you always make things better, nights like this always do,” you continued, not letting him question your blurting. he lets his heart control his arm, letting it droop around your waist and pulling you closer to him. he would use an excuse of being cold right now just to hold you, but he couldn’t let this intimate moment down with his silly cover ups.

his empty hand reached to hold your cold to touch ones, letting his thumb slowly drag across the skin as his hums in agreement, “i like spending nights away with you,” he speaks quietly, closes his eyes slightly tight before opening them to look at you as your head raises a bit to listen to the man more intently.

“and i like you,” you blurt, lost in the look in his eyes, the stars glistening in them, “the stars look pretty tonight,” turning your head away to lose his locked eyes. a hand removes from your nestled ones, softly grabbing your chin and tilts your head back towards him, but you didn’t dare open your squeezed shut eyes.

“y/n, look at me,” he pouted, his heart beating like crazy watching your lashes fluttered open with your lids, almost immediately locking eyes with his shaken ones, “you like me?”

“so if i do? i like the stars too-”

“but you like me?” his face inches closer to yours, a smile enlarged his face, making your breathing hitch while his breathing tickles your lips. the distance being close enough to barley lean and kiss him right there and then.

“like you in what way?” you give him a teasing smile, hiding the fact your whole body was rising in heat and your stomach felt exploding with butterflies, “in a way i want to kiss your stupid smile off your face? maybe-” your remarks cut off in the best way possible, his soft lips locking his yours and you let him kiss you.

your hands left his lap, reaching to hold the face you always wanted to cup in your palms. you let yourself melt in his hold, his hand leaving your chin and wrapping around your waist tighter than ever, pulling your body closer to his if that was even possible.

kissing jisung felt indescribable, his head turning slightly to kiss your plush lips more deeply. you couldn’t put into words how accomplished you felt with yourself, you’d pay your shoulder if you weren’t mushy in his arms. his lips felt and tasted better than you ever thought they would, you imagined it happening but never expected it to be way better than your silly day dreams.

you practically chased for more once his lips pulled away from yours, trying to catch both of your breathings, letting you both stare in a daze at each other. he looked so beautiful in this moment, you wanted to take a picture of his slightly moisturized lips that were once against yours, his mouth slightly ajar as he caught his breath.

“and i like you, in a way i wanted to kiss you,” he finally speaks, his eyes searching around your face, watching your cheeks darken with a soft smile on your lips.

“yeah, i think i like you in that way too,”

“you think?!” he scoffs, rollling his eyes as you giggle, a smile never leaving his face though, turning his head completely away in childlike manner. you use the advantage of your hands still on his warm cheeks and pulled his back down to yours to leave another soft kiss on his lips.

“keep kissing me and i think i won’t be able to stop,” he says, letting his forehead lean against yours once your lips break apart.

“and what if i don’t want you to stop?”

“then you’re asking for it!”

his lips placing across the skin on your face, giggles emerged from your stomach and your chest as he sprayed you in kisses. “i, like, you, so, much,” he speaks between kisses; first on your cold nose, the second on your forehead, the third on your left cheek, the forth on your right, the last one being your lips. you kiss him back with just as much love, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting the noise of the car honking below you and the wind blowing against your ears fade away, as all you can pay attention to is the lips against yours.

han jisung was your light, your love, he was everything you’ve ever wanted, even if you’ll stay a secret. that was okay with you, your secret late night sneak outs made up for the fact you couldn’t look his way in public events.

he was your secret secret, and you were glad to be his.

[red-riding-wood]

Saltwater Tears

@runnning-outof-time K... Tumblr ate your ask when I saved it to my drafts so I apologise for the shitty screencap (I always take these beforehand in case it does this lol). And thank you for the request. <3 As I promised, I brought all the angst.

Also, while writing this, the character/reader reminded me of the song Dragonslayer by Lana Del Rey (Isa, you have ruined me) so I decided to use that as some added inspiration.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

WARNINGS: Angst, sexual references, mentions of cheating, language

WC: 1816

Thomas’ words still echoed through your throbbing skull, no amount of his haughtiness lost on your memory as you trudged through the rain slicked streets. The coldness of his gaze was blazoned on the forefront of your mind, the flippancy with which he had dismissed you after the tense meeting with your father as if you were merely a trophy to flaunt before shelved to suffocate in a slow build of dust.

And with each step, your lungs seemed to constrict tighter. With each step, you remembered bits and pieces of the evidence you’d found of his infidelity – the unfamiliar hair brush on his bedside table, the smell of another woman’s perfume on his sheets. You hadn’t wanted to believe it, hadn’t found your suspicion to be unbearable until now.

He called your name past the roar of the storm, but it only drove the spike in your heart deeper each time, your tears mingling with the cold of the rain and your body shuddering from head to toe.

And yet, every time your name was uttered, you couldn’t help but falter, your bleeding heart beating for him and some cruelly human part of your mind urging you to turn back and let yourself fall into arms that would be so warm in the cold, that would soothe the bitterness in your burning veins.

You jumped back, a sheet of filth drenching the skirt of your dress. A shiver seemed to travel to the very marrow of your bone, and as you stopped, staring in shock at the car that sped by and the road you had nearly stepped across, your heart felt as if it were about to split your ribcage in half.

“Y/N.” A gravelly yet distant voice called to you so soft now, a warm breath on your neck sending another shiver to your aching bones. You turned, slowly, and swallowed your grief as you met Thomas’ piercing eyes. Once his touch grazed the bare of your arm, it was over. You weren’t going anywhere.

“Let’s talk about this,” he said, catching his own breath as his fingers travelled down the length of your arm and laced with your own that shivered, numb, from the cold.

That was the first time you had ever heard Thomas Shelby suggest you talk about anything, and it pulled at an aching heart.

“Okay. Let’s talk,” you breathed, voice nearly washed away by the roar of the storm. You blinked fiercely, lashes fluttering in the rain that struck them. “You never told me your history with my father.”

“It’s in the past,” Thomas said, and you nearly winced at his words. As his other hand reached to brush the hair slicked to your cheek, you flinched away. And like that, your bleeding heart came undone, and you said, “Really, that little pissing match was ‘in the past’? The entire purpose of that meeting was just to rub his nose in the fact that you fucked me.”

Thomas’ hand seemed to catch in the air, not used to this side of you. The side of you that was bitter, that was fed up.

And he didn’t say anything. But his fingers loosened from yours.

You choked back a sob, and your words came weaker now, and you stammered over them because you couldn’t believe what you were saying, didn’t want to imagine him answering. “Did you… did you ever… Do you really want me? Or is this your way of getting back at my father?”

All your life, you’d been taken advantage of by men who wished to grow closer to your family for their ties and their power. And while your father had many enemies – the Blinders included – you never could have imagined that someone would pretend to love you just to hurt him, let alone the one person who seemed to understand you, who’d offered you some ounce of reprieve in this unforgiving city.

You’d been used many times, but this, this was different. It would’ve hurt less had you stepped onto that road.

Thomas was still silent, chest heaving as he panted out his own breaths. Blue eyes twisted with grief, the bright of them taking your reluctant mind through memories of the pastel sky above the two of you as you rode through the countryside, of the dress he had bought you and had said did not compare to your beauty.

Your fingers bunched the drenched fabric of the very same dress, peeling wretched garment from your flesh as if it caged you to such memories. You tried not to think of all the times you’d worn it for him, that it had been discarded across the same bed that had been inhabited by other women.

“I know about her,” you added bitterly. “Or them. I know about them.” Your eyes bled tears, and your heart pumped venom. “I’ve lied to myself for too long,” you said, as you began to turn away. “Goodbye, Thomas.”

“They were just business.”

You halted, anger flaring from the raw ache of your heart, and you spun on your heel. “So you’re using them, too?” you snapped. “Everything is business with you, Thomas. Everything. Even me.”

“You’re not just business.” He took a step forward. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

It seemed as if your heart hadn’t broken enough. At his words, it shattered in your chest.

“Y/N, I want you,” he said. “And I don’t say it enough, but I love you. It was never about your father.”

“What was it about, then?” Your voice shook and you fought against every basic instinct to draw him in close, to press your chin to his chest and hear his own heart beating for yours.

He shook his head, lips parted but not speaking, as if at a loss for words. You were about to turn away again, when he took another step forward, his hot breath fanning against your cheeks. “That first time you asked me to take you to the ocean. And fuck me, I nearly didn’t say yes.” The faintest of chuckles broke his speech, the rare chuff of his laughter clawing at your aching chest. “But when you caught the wind in your hair it was like you came alive.”

Past the damp of the rain you could smell the sea, could nearly taste the saltwater on your lips when he’d kissed you that day. The last of your worries had melted away in the heat of that kiss, had been swept away by the breeze and carried far offshore. Or so you had thought.

“And you made me feel alive,” he said, his hands cupping your cheeks now. You were paralysed, at his mercy, leaning into his touch and inhaling the scent of horses and gunpowder past the rain. “For the first time since the war.” 

Breaths exchanged, and you tilted your head so that his lips brushed your forehead instead, and you said, “Why don’t you say things like this to me more?”

“I don’t know. But I can. Just come back to me.” His fingers wrapped around the back of your neck as if to trap you. You’d never heard him so desperate. It nearly made you do exactly what he asked.

As if that wasn’t what you yearned for. As if you wouldn’t do anything to forget all of this and go back to that day by the sea, or under the pastel blue sky on the back of a racehorse.

“I want to.” You could hear his heart beating now, thundering like the hooves of one of his horses as you uttered your truths into the dampened fabric of his shirt. “And I want to believe you. But I don’t know if I should.”

“Come back inside,” he breathed against your hair.

“I don’t know if my heart can take this, Thomas.” You tore yourself away, practically shoving him off while avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know if I can go through this again if you’re lying…”

“I’m not lying. Look at me. Look at me.” Firm fingers swept beneath your chin and forced your gaze to his.

“If I make you feel so alive, why do you keep killing me, slowly? Why do I keep watching you drift from me?” As if you were taken by that ocean. Your saltwater lips trembled around your words.

They were questions you’d been burning to ask for a long time now. Questions you’d buried beneath your own lies that you told yourself, like how you’d buried your anguish beneath the sands of the beach only to feel it slam once more against your chest, harder, more forceful than anything you’d known.

You couldn’t take it anymore, not as each second of silence that dragged by killed a piece of you. “You can’t answer. And if I come back to you, it’s going to keep happening.” You spoke past the rising sand in your throat until it came out as a whimper, and you shook your head helplessly, and you realised that it was your tears that you could taste on your tongue, not the ocean. “I’m so torn, Thomas.”

“I’ll flip a coin,” he said, digging into his pocket. “Heads, you trust me. Tails, you walk away.”

Those words might as well have been the last nail in your coffin. They’d sealed your fate, at one time. When he’d asked you to work for him. When you knew the moment the silver caught the wink of light that he would be your undoing no matter what it landed on.

“Not everything can be solved with a coin,” you protested, the bitter taste of betrayal on your tongue.

“Remember, it will tell you what you want. Remember when – “

“I remember, Thomas.” It was all coming crashing down on you just like the rain that pelted your shivering body, and you closed your eyes, your tears achingly warm as they bled across your cheeks.

“Watch.”

“No – “

The coin was a watery vision as it came down in the air, your lashes peeling open and lips parting in terror. Whatever it landed on, it was over. Either he’d kill you slowly or you’d die here, tonight; you’d never be the same. Your fate had always been sealed.

He snapped the coin shut in his hand. You met his eyes, your own fear reflected in their bright blues. And you realised that neither of you wanted to look. And so, tentatively, you asked,

“What is it?”

Slowly, he opened his hand. Slowly, you both looked at the coin. And slowly, the shards of your heart weighed so heavy in your chest that you felt as if you’d collapse to your knees.

But the answer wasn’t what crushed you. It was the realisation that, despite what the coin said, despite knowing what was best for you, you just…

… you couldn’t.  

A.N. I'm leaving the ending ambiguous and it's up to you if the coin landed on heads or tails!

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

TAGLIST: @eclecticwildflowers @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife @runnning-outof-time @poisonedtruth

[shina913]

On Tilt, Part 1 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 1 Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: idol!AU; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic; cussing; explicit sexual conversations; dirty talk; clit play; heavy petting; oral sex (F-receiving); intercourse; orgasm denial; fingering; masturbation (mutual); exhibitionism; stamina!; multiple orgasms; pining; unrequited love; miscommunication

Word count: 4.5K words

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

A/N: First off—boop! Title change! This was going to be called something else but decided to switch it up last-minute. I've had this sitting in my WIPs for a while. So long that ago that this was was actually drafted before the first hiatus announcement in June. This is the first time I am writing an idol!AU (please be kind)! I’m not sure how many chapters this will be yet…could be two, could be three. For now, please enjoy and let me know what you think! Now, excuse me while I get side-eyed by my WIPs.

You are jolted awake by your phone blaring loudly. What time was it? It was still dark out.

“Hello?” You croaked out drowsily–your eyelids fighting to stay closed.

“Hey.” You’d recognize that rich baritone anywhere.

“Uh…hi.” Your eyes flickered, pulling the phone away from your ear to figure out what time it was. Too early. 

“Remember that dark blue strappy dress that you had?”

“W-what?” You responded after a beat once your brain lurched forward. “Where are you?”

“Los Angeles. Just chillin’ at the hotel,” he rasped. “Were you sleeping?”

“I was,” you answer dryly.

He chuckled into the phone. “You never used to need that much sleep.”

“Well…I’ve changed. And you have, too,” you point out while rubbing your eye, mid-yawn. “We’ve already had this discussion.”

“I know, I know,” he relents, effectively dropping that subject. You fall silent on the other line. A few beats later, he asks, “Are you alone?”

You scoffed. “Namjoon, who else would I be with?”

He laughed from deep within his chest and it tickled your ear. “So–can we keep talking about that dress?”

After rolling your eyes, you try to wrack your brain for any memories of whichever dress he was referring to. You owned so many over the years. “I don’t know…I’m kind of drawing a blank–”

“Whenever I pushed one strap off, the other would fall, too.”

As soon as he said it, that certainly narrowed it down. You zero-in on the dress and the memories came rushing back, hitting you like a tidal wave. You hummed at the nostalgia. The dress used to be one of your favorites–and clearly, it was his too.

“Now I remember.” It was a navy-blue, silky, cowl-neckline dress with spaghetti straps. It had an asymmetrical hemline–the longest falling right above your ankle but it had a pretty high slit that went up your thigh. If you picked your feet up too high while climbing some stairs, people would get an eyeful. Luckily, back then, you and Namjoon always took elevators. Except that one time when you both snuck into the emergency exit where you had a little private moment by the stairs.

You blink the memory away. “That was a nice dress,” you say leisurely, trying to fight off the drowsiness. Maybe he wasn’t even thinking about that scandalous-looking slit…or that night by the steps. 

“And I also remember that it had that sexy slit that went all the way up your left thigh…” he drawled. “That came in handy that one time by the steps? You know, the emergency exit?”

Fuck. He could read minds now, too? You were wide awake now. “Uh huh…” you drew out while your eyebrows furrowed. What was he up to?

“Mmm…you had great legs.”

You sat up on your bed. “‘Have’.”

“Sorry, say that again?”

“I have great legs. Present tense,” you corrected.

He gave another deep, throaty laugh. “I will not object to that. I love your legs. I love having them wrapped around my neck—like that time I came home to you after that show?”

Your mouth went dry. That was the night he made you cum so hard that you bit him so deep on his shoulder that you drew blood.

“Joon…” you rasped. 

******

“So, did either of you do anything fun last night,” Lani asked while she perused the brunch menu. You’re not sure why since she ordered the same thing every time.

“Happy hour with a couple of coworkers. We went to a bar that had an indoor bocce ball court. I’d never been but it was pretty chill. Also, everyone should try playing drunk bocce ball,” Jia giggled.

“What about you, YN?”

“Oh, you know—not much. I had a quiet night, after work; turned in early and then…had- accidental-phone-sex-with-Namjoon,” you say in rapid-fire succession.

“Sorry, w-what?” Jia chokes out as her eyes bulged out of their sockets. But before she gets another word out the server stops at your table to take your order.

After they walk away, Jia picks up on your last comment. “Now hold on a second–you can’t just drop ‘Namjoon’ and ‘phone sex’ in the same sentence and expect us to just take it in stride!”

“I didn’t know that you and Namjoon were into phone sex,” Lani says, waggling her eyebrows teasingly as she turned in her seat to face you.

“We weren’t. But their break is coming up and he’s been calling me for the past couple weeks–”

Jia sighed and admonished you. “YN, you shouldn’t be having phone sex with your ex.”

“Okay well, let me correct that–it was technically not phone sex but more of a…a trip down memory lane,” you clarified. “Also, he’s not my ex. We never really defined—whatever this is. So, how can you be ‘ex-whatever’ if you never really ‘were’ in the first place?”

“Fucking without labels. I like it!” Lani winked at you.

“What-everrr,” Jia says, annoyed. “He’s in and out of the country. When he’s here, he’s usually in the studio. You guys barely see each other but as soon as he calls, you come running.”

“Excuse me but I do not come running, Jia,” you argued.

“You just come,” Lani snorted.

You give Lani a deadpan look before turning to Jia again. “For real, though. I think that I’ve actually gotten better with this whole Namjoon business! Would it kill you to give me a little credit?”

Jia softens her expression at you. “Sorry, YN. It’s just that I really care about you and…when he left for that one tour then went straight back into recording the new album without seeing you–I saw how much it tore you apart." She reaches across the table to rest her on yours. "There are other guys out there. Other guys who can be present…who can love you and argue with you, in person. None of this complicated idol-bullshit.”

You tried. You really did. You put yourself out there, met other people…none of them lasted. Namjoon was always there for you. And you were there for him. You were familiar with each other. Neither of you needed a manual to navigate each other. 

With Namjoon, it was just like stepping into that navy-blue dress. Easy, comfortable…and you always felt sexy.

It was just too much work dating–trying to get to know someone new and getting used to them. You had grown too impatient for that.

Or maybe you just had to admit that you didn’t want to find someone new…because all you really wanted was him.

******

After playing the last night of the band’s stadium tour, Namjoon picks you up from your place so you could head on over to another hotel, only to switch cars, to drive off to another hotel. It was like a shell game. He needed to play it safe because he never knew who’d be watching or following him. It all came with the territory.

It was just before midnight. You paused before sliding into the backseat next to him. “I’ll need you to take me back home tonight.”

Namjoon cocked his head to the side, looking slightly disappointed. “You won’t stay the night with me?”

You paused, leaning on the open car door–fully intent on standing your ground.

“I’d really like you to stay,” he added with a flash of his dimple.

The truth was, you really wanted to. And once, back in the day, you would drop whatever you were doing whenever he was back in town for his visits until you ended up resenting him for it. You may not have learned to stay away from him, but you’d picked up a thing or two about having a healthier relationship–more for your sanity. “Look, let’s just keep things simple, okay?”

His chest lifted and fell on a deep breath. “As you wish.” With that, you climbed into the backseat of the SUV with him, shutting the passenger door.

“Can I schedule time for you to spend with me?” He asks softly.

You sat so close to each other, thighs and elbows pressed together…but there was an unspoken distance between you. Even though you enforced it, you still wished it didn’t have to be there.

“When?” You ask him with a hint of exasperation.

“I was hoping for one more night this week and all of next weekend for sure.” They were on an extended break. The other guys would disperse and travel back to their own hometowns after a publicly-announced hiatus by the record label. He’s decided to spend the next three weeks in your area.

You nodded then glanced sideways out the window. He vaguely mentions that it was another 10 minute drive to the next hotel–giving you time to think about how the rest of tonight could go. More sex? More Namjoon? You craved both–more than you’d like to admit…and it would’ve been much nicer without so many doubts and reservations.

You missed how carefree you both used to be. When you first met, there was no sense of time or what day it was. You’d go whenever and wherever you pleased. His schedule was packed but he always, always made time for you.

Sometimes, he’d go as far as clear out a whole place for both of you. Once or twice, he paid to access some museums after-hours. You’d stare at sculptures and paintings. He’d wax poetic about each piece while you hung on to every word he said. Afterwards, he’d take you back to the dorms and fuck you into the morning.

And then…the schedules just got more complicated. International attention heightened. Next thing you knew, he was on planes more often than he was on your bed.

“Listen,” he began, “You should know this is hard for me, too.”

“At least you have a clue about what’s going on,” you argued softly, turning away from him to look out the window while the car zoomed past your quiet neighborhood and into the city.

The announcement of the extended break was a surprise to you but he’d vaguely hinted at it several times during one of your clandestine meetings. What he hasn’t disclosed were his plans during this break.

Namjoon turned in his seat and reached for you, catching you by the nape and pulling you in. You closed your eyes, anticipating the moment when his parted lips would touch yours. His tongue caressed the curve of your mouth…the feeling had you leaning closer for more.

“Can we worry about the rest on a different day? I just want tonight to be about…us.”

Us.

Even though you went months without seeing or talking to each other, he always spoke of you collectively–never individually…never apart.

You nodded and gave him a small smile. The subtle gesture lit a flame. You stared at each other in the dark–only catching flickers of your features as you passed the staggered illumination of dim street lamps and tunnel lights. You saw him moisten his lips with his tongue and in a matter of seconds–the flame had escalated into a raging fire.

“Always so sweet,” he murmurs while you feel his finger brush the shell of your ear. The darkness combined with his deep, silky voice sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m going to spread you across my bed and lick you from head to toe.”

You hummed. “You’re good at that.” You were needy in an instant.

He pulled back, as if to look away, then surged forward again, catching your lips in a heated, hungry kiss. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue stroking, exploring. You were just as greedy for him, your hand sliding into his hair, seizing the roots while you had your fill of him. He cupped your breast in his hand, massaging it, his thumb and forefinger capturing your aching nipple and tugging rhythmically. You moaned, turned on to the point of no return.

“Fuck, YN,” he groaned, releasing you and falling back against the seat. “I want you. Right here. Now.”

Truth be told, you were incredibly tempted to demand that he raise the partition so you could climb him right then.

“Tell your man to drive faster,” you said in a rush as you pressed your thighs together–as if that would stop your juices from flowing.

He threw his head back, his laugh booming through his chest. Moments later, he turned his head, leaning against the headrest to look at you. “Fine. But when we get to bed, I’m taking it real slow.”

******

And boy, did he take it really slow..

“Namjooooon,” you dragged out. Fisting at the sheets, your body arched off the mattress, lifting yourself greedily to the torture of his mouth. You’d almost forgotten what he could do to you, how he could penetrate your skin to get into the very heart of you.

He held you pinned at the thighs, his mouth on your throbbing center, his tongue licking leisurely. The slow rhythmic strokes over your clit had you gasping. The need for an orgasm was so fierce, you were drenched in sweat, legs practically burning from the strain while he held you wide open.

“My god, your tongue…” you whined.

“Yeah? Did you miss it while I was gone?” He gives your sopping core a quick flick of his tongue.

“Ahhh! Yes…Oh my god, yes,” you groaned.

He slowly pushed two fingers into you, making you gasp softly. After a few slow pumps, he paused to turn his wrist so his palm was facing upwards. His thumb was now circling around your clit while his two other fingers, still buried in you, curled and stroked at the bundle of sensitive nerves.

The sensation made your whole body clench tightly–it won’t be long now before you’d start to fall apart.

“Yeah? Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes,” you distractedly admitted. Your mind, clearly elsewhere while he dangled you over the precipice of your climax.

And then you felt empty. Having withdrawn his hand, you saw him sitting up, gazing down at you. “Show me?”

“Show you what?” You asked, trying to regain focus.

“Show me how you touch yourself.”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’ve seen me touch myself.” You referred to previous nights when you’d call each other over video while he was away. “Now come on, please,” you begged. “Make me cum,” you almost whine.

“No, I want to see it in person,” he says.

“But you’re right here, how come I need to do it?” you argued. Any longer and you’d lose your lady-boner and call it a night.

“I’ll do it with you,” he answers. With a flash of his dimple, he sat back on his heels, dropping his hand to fist his cock.

Your eyebrows quirk, suddenly intrigued. You’d never touched yourself while he was in the same room with you. You shifted restlessly, your attention fixed on his long, nimble fingers.

“Come on,” he coaxes you while he stroked himself, squeezing right when he reached the tip, bringing a flush to his face.

Your core began to ache at the sight. Your fingers move of their own volition, sliding between your legs to rub your aching bud.

“Fuck, this looks so much hotter in person.” He was watching you closely, his gaze was hot and hungry. His tongue slid slowly along his lips, as if he was tasting you. When his teeth caught the fullest curve of his lower lip, you could have sworn you felt it.

You knew that look well. And you knew what came after it.

******

He thrusted hard, sinking deep in one lunge, wrenching a cry from you as you fell hard into orgasm. Neck arched and eyes squeezed shut, you laid on the bed as the pleasure pulsed through you, your core tightening around his cock as he kept his rhythmic ministrations.

He groaned, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets and pumping himself into you. The climax grew once more, spurred by the steady lunges of his hips...the feel of his cock fucking into you relentlessly.

You writhed helplessly, lost to him, desperately hanging on to the part of your soul that wanted to surrender. You gripped at the back of his broad shoulders tightly, your nails leaving marks and scratches at his repeated assault on you.

Namjoon’s lips were in your ear, his breath hot and needy as he growled after every thrust.

You felt the muscles flex as his body worked to give you another orgasm. You’d lost count after the second one. 

His teeth sank into your earlobe, groaning in pleasure while his abdomen contracted against your stomach, his sweat and yours mixing together.

“You won’t believe how much I thought about you this whole time,” he gasped. 

So he has thought about you. In what way? Thought about fucking you? Or thought about you just because? As much as you wanted to unpack that, you brush the thought aside. Right now, he was dicking you down real good–and that needed 100% of your attention.

“So g-good.” You swallowed past a dry throat.

He drove the point home with every thrust, fucking you so thoroughly you couldn’t think beyond the need to cum again.

Your body was not your own as he had come to fully possess your whole being.

Namjoon was the only one who could do this to you...make you mindless...drive you crazy. When you were in bed with him, you were his. Ready and willing to do whatever he wanted, to take whatever he chose to give you, knowing he would make you orgasm over and over...

You whined, feeling his grip tighten on you, every muscle on his body gathering as his own climax brewed.

You realized then that he was hanging onto you as desperately as you were to him, you felt that urgency in every breath, every touch. 

Your eyes stung with tears when your orgasm hit, sucking the air out of your lungs, causing spots in your eyes. A long, drawn out moan escaped from your mouth–a mix of pleasure and relief.

“Ah, baby.” He kissed you, absorbing the sound, slowing until he was just circling his hips, feeling every hard inch of him inside you. “I love that sound you make when you cum. It tells me how good I make you feel…how much you love me touching you…being inside you…”

How much you loved being serviced by him. How much you loved—

He rips the thoughts away from you when he takes your mouth, kissing you deeply. His hips circled again, making you feel every inch of him. The slow, purposeful stroking over your nerves kept you hot and on-edge.

“I missed you so much, YN,” he whispered into the kiss. “Did you miss me, too?” He asks in a soft, almost pleading tone.

When you didn’t reply, he brushed the sweat-slicked hair strands away from your face and searched for the answer in your eyes.

You stared back at him wordlessly, your jaw slackened while your core rippled along his length. His eyes clenched shut and his lips parted, his body tightening along with yours. “No, no. Not yet. I don’t want to cum yet.”

“Please..come on, Joon….” You were begging and didn’t care. You just wanted him to come. You wanted it more than your next breath.

“No. I’m not rushing this.” He reached behind him to grab your wrist, bringing your right arm up and over your head. His other hand pushed beneath your bottom, lifting you into a smooth, easy thrust. “Hmm...so good. So perfect for me. Always.”

You wanted to tease him with your own little naughty comeback, to play the game just as he was, but you couldn’t think of anything. You were at a loss for words.

“Stop thinking and just feel it…feel me,” he murmured, nibbling on the corner of your mouth, dragging his lips across your jawline. “Let me make you feel good, baby. That’s all I want. To make you feel good.”

Turning your head, you caught his lower lip with your teeth and let him.

******

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His thumb brushed the corner of your brow and drifted down to your cheek, tucking stray strands behind your ear.

Your lips twisted wryly while you laid in bed, cocooned in him. You glanced up at him. “How sexy you are. It’s embarrassing how often I think about that. I need to get over it already.”

He cupped the back of your thigh and urged you tighter against him, teasing you with an expert roll of his hips. It was sickening how much he knew his way around your body. “As if I’d allow you to do that.”

You scoffed, pushing off him slightly. “Huh. ‘Allow me?’ A little cocky there, aren't we?” Deep down, heat slid through your bloodstream…your body becoming way too greedy for him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t prefer a fan who’s more starry-eyed and would easily drop their panties for you, Mr. Kim.”

He ignored your jab. “What I want,” he purred, cupping your jaw and rubbing your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, “...Is you being too busy thinking about me to think about anyone else.”

You pulled in a slow and shaky breath. You were completely captivated by the smoldering look in his eyes, his sexy-as-hell voice, his body, and the mouthwatering scent of his skin. He was your drug, and there were no signs of you kicking the habit.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, completely entranced.

With a soft groan, he sealed his mouth over yours, stealing away thoughts of what time it was with a lush, deep kiss…a kiss that almost succeeded in distracting you from seeing the slightest hint of insecurity he’d just revealed.

You pushed your fingers into his hair to hold him still and kissed him back, your tongue sliding along his. 

His arms banded around you and tightened possessively. “I want to spend the weekend with you down by the coast—naked.”

He had a little known vacation property by the beach. There were suspicions from gossip sites but nobody could ever confirm. He had taken you there a few times. It had its own private beach access and was remote enough so nobody would randomly come snooping.

You giggled. “Sounds like every guy’s wet dream.” As big of a kick as you got out of Namjoon in a bespoke suit, you much preferred him stripped down.

“Is that all we’re going to do?” You wondered. “You want me laying there, all ready and splayed for you?”

He let out a deep, sexy chuckle. “We could go on a hike. Maybe swim? Watch the stars. We’ll have some food to eat…and then I’ll eat you out,” He traced vague shapes on your hip bone with his pointer finger, making you squirm.

“Haven’t you had your fill?” You ask him.

“Of you?” He laughed. “Can you fit the ocean into a cup?”

You scrunch your face in confusion. He was always good with his metaphors, which flowed easily into his lyrics.

“You and your damn hyperboles.” You remarked with a laugh.

“I don’t exaggerate. It’s just a fact,” he answers frankly. For a moment, your head floats up into the clouds again. You feel a light, warm fluttering within your chest.

“So–would you be okay with that plan? You, me–alone in a beach house…clothing completely optional?”

With a sigh, you acquiesced.

******

Lani eyed you as you slid onto a bar stool at her breakfast nook the next morning. She knew when she saw your makeup-free state, which betrayed the shower you’d taken just a half hour before. She quietly poured you a cup of coffee, sliding it towards you. She opens the fridge and puts the creamer next to you.

“I forgot how much I like Namjoon,” she said casually as she looked out her kitchen window, watching his black car with heavily tinted windows drive off.

You nodded while stirring in the creamer in your coffee. You liked Namjoon, too. Thing was, in his line of work, the way the band was just starting to hit their stride globally–it made things…painfully uncertain.

“You two gonna work it out or what?”

“I don’t know,” you say vaguely, taking a long sip of your coffee…as if it held the answers to all of your questions about him. “At least this time, I know the rules.”

“Okay so maybe I don’t like him so much anymore.” Lani poured herself another cup and took a sip and sighed. “I always had a feeling that he was in love with you,” she says unceremoniously.

“He’s in lust,” You countered dryly. “And…whatever, I can live with that. It’s the other stuff—the way he talks to me sometimes, as if there’s more. I keep running all of these scenarios in my head, about why he keeps coming back to me—that part is hard for me to deal with. It’s kind of a mind-fuck.”

“You know that I know some people who can knock some sense into him,” she deadpans as she peered at you above her coffee mug. 

You smiled. “I think it would be better if those people knocked some sense into me instead.”

“We can do that, too. It’ll be like a two-for-one deal.” She tapped her mug against yours. “But you’ve got plenty of sense. You know what you’re doing. You just wished you weren’t doing it,” she chuckled. “And he obviously doesn’t have a clue or else he wouldn’t risk letting you get away. He’ll never find anyone better, you know. Someone who knows him inside and out.”

You snorted at her. “Don’t get all sappy on me now, Leilani. I might have to kick your ass.” She laughed at the way you invoked her full name. You were only half-joking. In reality, you felt emotional and…attached. Sex with Namjoon did that.

“Fine, if you want to skip the sappy shit, let’s just eat. Get off your ass and help me make breakfast.”

With a groan, you slid off the bar stool. You weren’t much for cooking–more about eating. “Damn. Can we get back to being sappy instead?”

Before you round the counter to head into the kitchen, your phone pings. It was a text from Namjoon, saying that he just got a last-minute individual schedule and that next weekend might be up in the air.

You scoffed after you read it, and practically flung your phone against the counter, where it lands with a heavy clack, startling Lani. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” you answer instantaneously, swallowing your irritation, hoping it would pass.

Did you really expect anything less? The company liked to keep them busy even with scheduled breaks. Just because he wasn’t traveling, did you actually think you’d get some quality time with him? It was easier said than done.

Lani stands there eyeing you suspiciously. But before she picks up on your sudden contemplative vibe, you distract her.

“What do you need help with? Do you want me to cut up stuff? Mix? Beat anything?”

She laughs and goes on asking you to take some scallions and eggs out of the fridge to make pajeon.

“Did you want anything else in it? Ham? Kimchi?” She asks you.

You sighed. “I’m cool with whatever,” you say, noncommittally.

She tells you to chop up the scallions, showing you the right way to position your fingers and hold the knife. You mimic her actions thinking that it wasn’t that difficult to learn.

Now, if only Namjoon were just as easy to figure out.

Next◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @itdoesntmatterwhy @yu-justme

[good-griief]

Time ; Regret

here's part two of "time"! i'm sure you all don't want me to end it here, so even tho i think it'd be a little cruelly funny to leave it up in the air like this, i promise there will be a part three— tho that will be the last part. this part is pretty dialogue-heavy, so i hope you enjoy the 'voices' i gave the characters<33

note sorry to have to post this again but tumblr posted it at the complete wrong time from my schedule and it wasn’t the right draft :( ( some kind of phone to computer mix up idk what happened</3 )

warnings ambiguous relationship/feelings between abby and reader, reference to romance, implications of unrequited love (it's not), she/her reader, lasting effects of torture to reader, morally grey reader, mention of joel's death/torture, ambiguous/story-teller dependent interpretation of major past event between characters

tags @frogtits1 @sawaagyapong @augieee21 @sunkissedbibi @eden-nox

part one part three

link to chapter 2 on ao3

After that, Abby decided against hugging you again, knowing she’d just get emotional. She didn’t know how you’d react to that anymore, so she played her safest bet and explained what happened from a distance, offering to help you work as she did. You didn’t react, but she could tell how upset you were just because you were so quiet. 

When she offered to come over that night, you agreed immediately, and when she came to your house, you opened the door with puffy red eyes and swollen lips. She gave you a somber smile. “Come on.” She opened her arms for you, holding you for a moment before she came inside. “They wouldn’t want you to cry,” she said, trying to say something comforting you might, and it coming out improperly. It made you chuckle at her attempt, making her sigh as she stepped away from you. “I’m still not the best at comforting people,” she said quietly, shutting your door behind her as she entered with a small smile. She reached out, dragging her knuckle beneath your eye to rid of any stray tears. You smiled at the gesture, gaining one from her, too. 

“You’re right, though.” You blinked away your feelings, taking her hand and leading her to your room so you could sit on the bed together. There was a brief, awkward silence. “What… Uh, what happened? How did it get to this?” You asked as you released her hand, playing with your own to distract yourself. 

Abby swallowed, pursing her lips. She had a feeling you’d judge her for what she did, but she wasn't going to lie. “Joel… The way we— I killed him. Tortured him in front of his brother, and killed him in front of that girl; the one he killed everyone to save. She came after us. Went through all of our friends to get to me, and… let me go.” You couldn’t tell how she felt about being left alive, but you were glad she was, placing your hand back on hers for added comfort. “Don’t.” She went to pull her hand away, but you grabbed it with both of yours. “You can be upset with me—“

“I’m not.” You shook your head, holding her hand gently. “I never should’ve given you that lead. I’m sorry.”

“I would’ve found out eventually.” She shook her head. “And I still would’ve done it…” She grimaced. “And this all would’ve happened anyway.”

“There’s no point in blaming yourself,” you sighed. “You just have to—“

“Let go? Yeah… I’ve heard that,” she scoffed, giving your hand a squeeze before she let go. “Couldn’t do it before either.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, Abby.” You shook your head at her. “You just have to accept it. It probably won’t ‘get better,’ and you’ll probably never let go, but you’ll be able to move on with your life, and not feel guilty for that. Then eventually, you’ll start to remember happier things about them, and… you’ll accept it.”

“Is that what you did? Just accept it?” Her lip sneered when she asked the question, but her brows were bent upward with a contradictory emotion. 

“I wanted to go back—“

“Why didn’t you?” She asked quickly, eyes rimming red just as quickly and making you avert your gaze. 

“I couldn’t…” You shrugged, forcing that same flippancy you gave Mel and Nora. “I mean… I left like a fucking coward, Ab,” you laughed at yourself. “Going back? I’d feel like a complete fool. I couldn’t face you guys— I couldn’t even face you guys four years later. The only thing I could do was keep going and try not to fucking die, I don’t know.”

“Everyone wanted you back,” she muttered, now understanding the brief encounter you had months ago. 

“I didn’t think you did.” Abby frowned, the words sounding like you were singling her out. “I thought, I don’t know, even if everyone else wanted me to be there, you wouldn’t after I suggested something so stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” she said, chuckling lightly at your tone. 

“It was insensitive.” 

She shrugged. “I didn’t care… I didn’t even think of that, I just—“ She shook her head, sighing. “The first thing I thought when you mentioned it was that you were going to leave… I wanted to make it my choice that we wouldn’t see each other again, so I said something stupid— but if I’d just waited, let you talk, then… I would’ve realized you wanted to go together. Everyone just thought you planned on going alone.” She pursed her lips, looking away. “It was my fault everyone responded like that— don’t say it wasn’t,” she said before you could object. “No one would’ve said anything if I didn’t.”

“I didn’t care that much about what everyone else said. I figured they just thought I was going to leave you all, but… I thought you were telling me to leave for bringing it up in the first place.” You lied back on the bed so Abby wouldn’t see your face. “Even still, when I was alone, fucking terrified, the only thing I could think of was whether or not you guys were okay; how, maybe, it was better that I wasn’t there… It seemed like you guys got even closer when I saw you.”

There was a brief pause as Abby looked down at you. Clearly, you both needed to have this conversation, but it was almost impossible to have with how hard it was to sort out either of your feelings. 

“The first thing I wanted to do when I realized you were gone,” she started slowly, “was go and find you; tell you that I don’t care, and if that’s what you wanted we could go. We could go to Los Angeles, or Santa Barbara, or San Francisco, or wherever the fuck you wanted to go, ‘cause I had no fucking idea what I was going to do without you… And I needed you.” The waver in her voice made you shut your eyes, taking in her words with a crease between your brows and a frown tugging at your lips. “I fucking needed you, and I just wanted to be with you, and I was scared, so I snapped at you thinking— I don’t know what I was thinking… Maybe-maybe if you knew we wouldn’t be together, then you wouldn’t go? Fuck, I just wanted you to stay with me,” she was rambling, words quick and spilling out until she caught herself, “and everyone else. Where you were safe. Where we were all safe. Together. I didn't mean to push you away.”

You had no idea what to say, staring up at the ceiling with a frown as your eyes shone beneath the warm light. You were quiet, voice small as if you knew just how wrong you were now. “I just wanted you happy,” you mumbled, hardly confident in what you used to think to yourself to justify your actions. 

“Without you?” She scoffed at you. “Really?”

You shrugged, now thinking of anything that could back you up. “You had Owen.”

There was a moment of pause before Abby laughed, grabbing your pillow and hitting you with it. “Fuck you.”

“What?!” You laughed, pushing the pillow away and covering your face as she threw it at you. “You… loved him, or whatever,” you waved off, unable to hide the disdain in your voice. 

“That’s what. You never liked us together.” You shrugged. “Why?”

You looked over at her, looking her up and down. “I don’t know.” You moved to sit up, huffing as you did and covering it with an exaggerated sigh. “You were my person.” There was a faint upward pull to her lips at that, but it fell quickly when she replayed the sentence in her head. She was your person, and you had stayed hers. After all those years; years of having your picture in her room or pocket, you had stayed close to her heart, but now she was nothing more than an old friend to you. “What?” You asked when you noticed her expression, reaching out and placing a hand on her thigh. 

She swallowed, looking down at your hand. “Did you— Did you ever…” She stumbled over her words as she stared at your hand on her, eventually looking away. “Think about us? Any of us? I mean, you, Mel, and Nora were so close…”

You waited for her to finish, but that seemed to be the end of her sentence, so you stood. You went to your dresser, hand on your lower stomach as you grimaced but made sure to hide it from Abby. You grabbed an old jewelry box, taking it in unsteady hands and carrying it back to the bed where you set it down. Around your neck, there was a leather necklace you untied and pulled from your shirt, taking the key at the end of it and unlocking the box. 

There was an old tape recorder inside. Headphones and car keys too, and a stack of photos among other trinkets.

Abby looked shocked, looking at you before reaching for the box when you nodded. The car keys, from the first time her dad taught you to drive, were tied to an old coin he’d gifted you. They were on top of an old photo of you and him in his greenhouse. 

Her hands went for the other photos, looking through them and seeing how many there were of her or the two of you. You had more of your friends than you did with them; some of these photos she’d never seen before and making her brows pull together as she smiled somberly. 

“When I was in Washington,” you spoke up quietly, looking at the pictures as Abby went through them. “Leah was on patrol when my group was leaving. I didn’t have many pictures of us together, so she gave me most of those… I guess she just had them with her.”

Abby smiled faintly. “She kept pictures of us with her all the time.” Her smile then fell again. “I thought you guys left immediately?” 

You pursed your lips. “I needed a little extra medical attention before we could leave. She found our hiding spot.” You quickly continued before she could question you. “So I told her about how I lost one of my only pictures of us and my other tape recordings, and she just gave them to me.”

“Of us?” She looked up at you and you nodded. Abby went into her pocket, fingers digging for a wrinkled piece of paper. “I don’t have the recording with me; it's in my room, but… ” she muttered, pulling out the photo and smoothing over the water damaged paper before she handed it to you. “It’s a little ruined.”

“You had this?!” You took it, looking down at the picture and feeling your eyes burn before you moved to hug her, arms squeezing around her shoulders. “You don’t know how bad I felt about losing this, Abby.”

Her hands found your hips, awkwardly pulling you into her before her arms went around your waist to comfort you with how emotional you were getting over one picture. “It’s okay,” she tried to soothe, hand running up and down your back. “I’m glad you lost it. I finally got to keep a picture of us,” she laughed awkwardly, leaning back against your bedframe with you still in her arms. She knew you were trying to hide your face from her, so she let you stay as you were. “I actually thought you just left it behind.”

“What?” You laughed, pulling back to frown at her. She smiled at your laugh, hands still resting on your waist in case you hugged her again. 

“I found it by the fire after you left.” She shrugged. “It was with your MP3.”

“So, what? You laughed again. “You thought I was burning pictures?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” She laughed, releasing you as you sat next to her with an eye roll. 

Usually, you’d lean into her, or rest your head on her shoulder when you sat next to her, but now things were so different that you couldn’t just bounce back into old habits.

Every touch, every word, every glance, it was all based on feeling; some feeling that was brought up by the past before that fleeting feeling passed too, and soon, Abby was starting to realize you’d become complete strangers to one another. You hardly understood each other anymore. You weren’t certain how the other would react, or reciprocate, you didn’t even know what could be said at times. Even if you could reminisce for hours, when it came to talking and being present, there was hardly anything you could do. 

It left Abby forgetting your advice and wishing she could go back to do this all over again; forget about finding Joel first and just find you. Or just go with you to California and spend the years like you did. No matter how much she wanted to go find him. No matter how much she would have regretted it. 

At least you wouldn’t be a stranger to her. 

Though, she had no idea how those years were for you. She didn’t know the hell you’d gone through, or the sleepless nights. No matter how much you told her that night, you didn’t tell her how you made yourself sick with guilt to the point that you had to lock all of your keepsakes away. Especially because you thought you’d lost one. She didn’t know how hard you worked to accept everything that happened, how seeing them after four years caused a rift between you and your squad to the point that they were telling you just to stay in Washington, how her showing up completely threw you off guard. 

But maybe that was for the best. 

Because that night, while she was wide awake, thinking of how she could find a way to know you again, you slept soundly. Sleeping through the night for once as you lied with the picture Abby left with you under your pillow.

The next morning, Abby came to the greenhouse. You smiled when you saw her, setting aside your plants to give her your full attention. 

“Hey.” She smiled. “I’m going on my first patrol—“

“Already?” Your worried tone made her chuckle. “Ab, you’re still recovering.“

“I know, but I need to get back out there. I’ll go crazy if I don’t.” You grimaced, crossing your arms. “I was wondering if you’d go with me? It’s just around the island, so no combat.” You narrowed your eyes, wondering why she’d bring that up. “It’ll be quick,” she continued to try and persuade you. 

“I don’t go on patrols anymore,” you told her, replacing your questioning glare with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Oh…” She didn't ask why, just nodded before reaching into her pocket. “Okay, well, I brought this with me to give back to you—“

“No, no, no. Keep it.” You took her photo out of your pocket and handed it over. “I’m sure you’ve realized these go together now. You’ve had them for years. Please.”

The way you spoke to her, so cordially it seemed formal, made her feel uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t describe. She gladly kept the items, thankful you hadn’t, but also wishing you at least seemed to want them. 

“Maybe…” You looked around, all of your morning duties done for now. “Maybe I could go with you just this once,” you suggested upon seeing the look on her face. 

But she didn’t want you to placate her. 

“That’s alright.”

“You sure?” You frowned at the sudden change in tune.

“I’m sure there’s a reason you don’t go anymore.” She gave you a smile and you nodded. 

After that day, you didn’t speak much. Lev would come for lessons, and Abby would have to get him sometimes, but slowly, she just faded into another one of your comrades; people you knew but had no relationship with. People who hardly crossed your mind on a day-to-day basis. 

She overheard you with one you were closer to— one of your new friends. 

“So,” she started, “you know that new girl?” She asked as Abby passed by the greenhouse on her way out to patrol. She planned to get a pouch from you, but paused to eavesdrop. “I heard she’s from Salt Lake.”

You’d hummed. “We grew up together… But I don’t really know her anymore,” you’d admitted quietly, solemn. 

Your friend huffed a laugh. “You’re so dramatic. What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You chuckled. “I dunno, just… Ya know, when I did know her, she was the best person I ever met. So gentle… kind. She had a way with animals— people, too. I don’t know, she was always so perfect to me when we were younger. I probably had a little crush on her or something.” Your friend cooed at you. “But as we grew up, we were, just, so close. Her dad just took me in like family after mine was… taken.”  She could hear your voice falter. “But when he was killed, things changed… Remember that tip I gave in Washington? ‘Bout Tommy.” Your friend hummed. “His brother, Joel. He was the one to kill him, and Abby… She beat him to death. In front of his brother… In front of his kid.” 

She could hear the way you struggled to get the words out, biting her inner cheek. She wanted to leave, but she also wanted to know what else you’d say, waiting for you to continue. 

“And I don’t even blame her. It makes me sick, but I don’t blame her ‘cause if I ever found out who destroyed my family?” Your voice darkened. “I’d do so much worse.” 

“No need to justify to me,” your friend huffed, humming in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean.”

There was a pause before you spoke again “And sometimes, I wish I’d been there to see it through. To know that he’s actually dead… Or, even just to be there for her— ‘cause the girl that I knew? She never could’ve done that. I never would’ve let her get to that point; feel that way? Hurt that much but… I left her.” Your friend tried to speak over you, but you stopped her. “So, I can’t help but feel at fault for what happened to our friends. I don’t know anyone who would still want to care about me after what I did. So, I just feel like I don’t know her anymore. I can’t understand her at all.”

Abby thought of talking to you that night, telling you she overheard the conversation, but she couldn’t bring herself to face you knowing how guilty you felt. 

What if seeing her made you feel worse? Talking to her made you feel sick? She’d spent all these years feeling guilty, only to find out you felt the same— and now even more so because you knew how she ended up here. Like this. 

She could say the same thing about you. She thought you were perfect when you were younger, she wanted to protect you as you got older, and she felt like she failed you now. Like it was her fault you felt this way. She could say the exact same things you did, which was why she kept her distance and waited for you to come to her. 

She waited. 

And waited. 

[agendabymooner]

pride & pettiness || jb22 series (1)

jenson button x ofc (british actress!ofc)

EXTENSION TO THE MR. DARCY TYPE (SMAU)

Summary: Ada James Abbott was an actress first and a writer second, but it seems like meeting a certain Jenson Button added more to her title as she learned to love and list down the most significant moments of her life with him.

OR her book, Mr. Driver, consisted of diary entries and memories that Ada remembered still to this day. These are the contents of the journals.

Content warning: Use of explicit language, Pride & Prejudice references, email exchanges, journal entries + scenarios (per time skip), fluff, yearning, Mr. Darcy & Lizzie Bennet dynamic (with a bit more humour and less aloofness), strangers to situationship to lovers??

Note: I’ve been talking to @daaiissyyyyy about sharing this thing because I have kept it in my drafts for a while. This may not continue or may continue but enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

i. 2004 In which, Ada and Jenson met for the first time. Also when the British actress found him attractive until he started talking.

JOURNAL ENTRY 1: SILVERSTONE 2004 — MR. HONDA DRIVER IS A HANDSOME GIT

I thought Hugh Dancy was the most attractive and insufferable man to have ever existed. But then my manager generously forced me to attend a race in Silverstone that eventually led me to some man named Jenson Button. He graced the grid with his boyish smile and his trademark charm that made me wonder if girls had ever fallen to their knees to be with him. 

But his charm was arrogance in disguise. Who would have thought that a man so handsome could be stupid enough to downplay a stranger’s ability? Especially if he hadn’t seen enough of what I do? He doesn’t even know who I am and I don’t think that he is ever interested to know— but his jokes said otherwise. The endless flirting wasn’t the only thing that had my face flushing. 

I probably overthink his jokes and had taken it to heart. But I can’t be blamed for that. He’s just attractive and I thought that he had potential. Then again, I shouldn’t expect too much from men. 

SILVERSTONE, ENGLAND

Martin Brundle and his Grid Walk was the best part of the race; each celebrity or guest who graced the race with their presence loved having a conversation with him. 

Ada James Abbott’s experience, however, was something of a memorable one. After all, meeting the most handsome man to have ever existed happened there. Live on the telly with his stupid attractive smile. 

“The movie, King Arthur, is in its first box office week. You happened to play Guinevere,” Martin pointed out, making Ada nod and grin.

She stood next to him with all the smiles that she could offer — just happy to be recognized by someone in this industry of sports. The former driver then continued, “And you’re here in the grid now to spectate and enjoy the race— do tell: why were you not here the last time when the Pirates of the Caribbean movie came out? We were anticipating your appearance as you have obviously played the role of Elizabeth Swann. I was hoping to tell you more about what I thought of it.”

Ada giggled quietly before answering, “The schedule was quite tight during that time with having to go to tours and promote the film and filming other works in progress. We can absolutely discuss what you think but I do not think that it’ll be something that everyone would like to hear about on such a busy day!” 

“Are you a fan of Formula One?” The reporter asked, a glint of curiosity washing through his features as he waited for the British actress to answer. 

Ada then hummed, “It used to be something I watched. My father tried to rope me into watching it with him before, but it seemed to be only effective for my brothers Ralph and Nathan. I would watch at least… a race every month. It’s- yeah- it’s not something I would watch by myself so being here now and watching the real thing is an experience my dad would kill to see firsthand.” 

“And you’ve met the drivers from the team you happened to be a guest in?” 

“I did,” Ada replied with a nod, “David Coulthard, or DC— he insisted that I call him that— is a lovely man. He ran through the basics of his car and obviously had put up with my lack of knowledge in the technical aspects of the race. Kimi Raikkönen is a rather reserved one, and we’d obviously have to work on our relationship because of the lack of communication. Otherwise, it is amazing! I’m quite fortunate to be at the McLaren gar—“

“Would you look at that beauty!” Ada turned towards the direction of the voice and found herself staring at the facial features of the speaker. 

A handsome man, he was. 

“I think that you are speaking about yourself, Jenson,” Martin joked as ‘Jenson’ approached the two, now standing next to Ada as her face flushed red. “That head of yours would make the car lose its balance.” 

“I didn’t say anything about myself,” Jenson scoffed playfully before peering down at Ada with a… smirk.

Ada lost all of her senses as Jenson began to speak, “‘Sides, if anything— this pretty face would make me lose my balance.” 

“I assume that you’ve seen Ada James Abbott before,” Martin piped up, making Ada glance at the man and shift back to look at him.

She wasn’t able to see the handsome man, Jenson, next to her, but she could remember how the upper part of his race suit hung from his waist and how his eyes lingered on her. 

What she wasn’t able to see however was the shaking of his head. Martin then continued to speak, “She’s quite an amazing actress, Jenson.”

“Is she really?” This comment had Ada turning as she looked at Jenson, whose smirk continued to grow while he spoke. “I’d believe any lie that you would tell me, especially if I’m being graced with your beauty.”

“What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” Ada spewed out, slightly baffled as he laughed heartily. 

“I’m just saying,” Jenson winked at her, “I’ll believe it when I see a trophy, darling.” 

With one comment, all the butterflies in her stomach had turned into something more sour. Ada Abbott’s smile turned strained as she only nodded before looking back at Martin Brundle. She wasn’t about to give this man the time of day right now. Perhaps he’d have to either retract his words or at least act like he just insulted her on live television instead of joking around like nothing happened. 

JOURNAL ENTRY 2: EAT YOUR OWN WORDS, MR. HONDA DRIVER.

I just won my third trophy of the year. It’s quite amazing. But there’s something wonderful about making Jenson Button eat his own words. It was probably my pride that asked for his email address but sending him an image felt nothing of malice but satisfaction. God, did it feel so good. 

TO BE CONTINUED

[starg1rlie]

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 ㅤㅤPROLOGUE: The Baby | (MLIST)

⟡ rating. slight romance + angst ( adolescent audience )

⟡ summary. ( the re-written version of "better late than never" is finally here! i know some people have asked about it, since i've deleted it but it's BACK NOW!! ) not all fairy tales end in a happily-ever-after. take (Y/N) and ajax for example; they had the love story of a lifetime and yet it's now all water under the bridge. ten years after the two of them split up, it was suggested that (Y/N) spend a summer vacation over in snezhnaya to give their son and the father some time to bond together and enjoy a relaxing break. however, that's easier said than done.

notes. you have no idea how long this post has been sitting in my drafts, oml. hey, yep, this is leo here, formerly known online as tarluscious (or, leo, as my moots know me), here to talk a bit about the remake of this delightful series. ever since i started publishing more and more chapters of this series back when it was still a "fly by the seat of my pants" project, i wasn't happy with the final results. i mean, hell, who's ever happy with the first attempt? and i've been meaning to re-write this series for so long, but i never found the time to. when i took my hiatus a couple of months ago, i was a little sad that i wouldn't get the chance to write BLTN over again. however, my friend, who now runs this blog (hyokkun) with me, suggested that they might re-write it, and we came to a happy conclusion that the both of us should work on this project together. so here we are, with the prologue. yayy. just wanted to say that what this means is, hyokkun has added their own inputs into this series, while i, leo, am the main author of it. so, all that being said, i hope you thoroughly enjoy this re-written version. please note that some things may be different from the last time you've read this series, and that's because changes has been made to fit the new plot accordingly. reblogs and likes are appreciated ! | wc. 1,542 words ( 8,566 characters )

⟡ feat. childe / tartaglia x female! reader ( she / her pronouns are used )

ㅤㅤA cry split through the peaceful silence of the hospital. A baby, swaddled in warm, cuddly blankets had begun wailing, even though he was cradled within the arms of his mother. He kept bawling, even as the mother hummed a lullaby, even as she rocked him back and forth in her arms, even as she cupped one side of his delicate face and whispered 'It's going to be okay' over and over again.

ㅤㅤA new wave of sickness passed over (Y/N) as she stared down at her stomach, imagining what it would be like bigger, pondering over the process it takes for a baby to develop within her. It both simultaneously intrigued and terrfied her. She couldn't imagine popping out a baby from her unmentionables, let alone having it stuck in her womb for months. Yet as she began to wonder, a new question came into light: would she give up this baby? Could she?

ㅤㅤPeople say that you don't really have a choice when you're young; no one's capable of raising a child when they're barely just a young adult, and yet, she could name a few people she knew right off the bat who were doing just fine with parenting. But the real question was if she was ready for this. Be it ready to give it up or ready to endure the consequences, it didn't matter. She just had to know for sure if she was ready.

ㅤㅤShe still remembered the conversation that had went down only a few weeks ago. She refers to it as a 'discussion', but really, it was a full-out argument....A migraine had formed underneath her temple and had buried its heels in deep, causing a resonating pounding to echo within her head, messing with her already tangled up thoughts. And yet, that day's memories remained untouched. If anything, it was tugged free of the mess and pulled into the light.

ㅤㅤ"What the fuck? What the fuck?"

ㅤㅤ"Saying 'what the fuck' over and over again isn't going to make the situation anymore better than it already is, Ajax," (Y/N) interrupted, breathing out a slightly exasperated sigh. She'd been scared out of mind about telling her boyfriend about the news and this was exactly why: he'd take it badly. He always took life-changing news badly, unless it involved travelling, free food, or money. She'd grown used to his childish behaviour ever since the two started going out, but right now was not the time to act like a child.

ㅤㅤ"Then what will make this better? Huh? Please elaborate on that for me," Ajax replied sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air. He'd been pacing for the past five minutes since (Y/N) had spilled the beans about her pregnancy. Anymore pacing and he'd pace a trench right through their apartment floor. "Because I really don't understand how anything can make this better."

ㅤㅤ"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you're going to be a father? Haven't you been going on and on about wanting to have a son one day?" (Y/N) retorted, patience fizzling.

ㅤㅤ"When I'm thirty, not twenty-four!"

ㅤㅤ"What's a few years early? If anything, you'd get your dream quicker," she mumbled under her breath, absentmindedly flipping through the channels on the cable.

ㅤㅤAjax leapt forward and snatched the remote out of her hands, slamming it roughly onto the glossy surface of their coffee table, one that he'd insisted he put together himself, even though the table had come from IKEA, and he knew nothing on how to read instructions in Swedish. That little memory caused a tiny pang to go through her heart, enough to make it ache just a little bit. Please, she prayed, please let us get through this together.

ㅤㅤ"You're not listening! Do you honestly think that I'm ready for this? That you're ready for this? We're still in college for God's sake, do you expect us to be whizzes at parenthood?"

ㅤㅤ(Y/N) barely managed to withhold a snort at his sarcasm, but politely shook her head. She knew deep down inside that she wasn't ready to be a mother, let alone have a child at such a young age. What would her friends think? What would her parents think?

ㅤㅤ"What, then, I 'spose you expect us to waltz right in and get comfortable in our positions as parents, right? We'll be fine, so long as we manage to balance a baby into our already hectic and crazy lives, right? Just plop it right in between work and college and paying bills, hm?"

ㅤㅤ"Right," she repeated.

ㅤㅤAjax paused his pacing for a moment. "Do you understand the concept of sarcasm?" he asked incredulously.

ㅤㅤ(Y/N) went silent, seemingly contemplating whether she'd been too hasty to cast in her answer earlier.

ㅤㅤ"Whatever. It doesn't matter." His jaw tensed and for a moment, he looked as though he might punch something. Not (Y/N), heavens no, but something. Possibly the fridge (poor thing; it never did anything to deserve this sort of abuse). "What matters is that you're pregnant and we're still in college. We're students, we can barely make it past out deadlines, let alone manage a child." He sounded almost tired, and for the first time in a while, she just now noticed the bags under his eyes, and the tired croak to his voice, taking the place of the usual charming lilt he normally had. How many times had she come home from her part-time job at the laundromat to see him passed out on the exact same coffee table they were currently in front of, drooling all over his calculus homework? How many times had she come back from her lectures to find a pristine sink and an empty fridge? Ajax was incredibly vain and conscious about his self-image, that he took great lengths to make himself look presentable each day. But ever since his senior year in college started, his schedue started going downhill and he never had the time to do any of the things he normally did to take care of his body. He hadn't eaten proper food for days, and has been liviing off of coffee (and her fancy vanilla oatmilk creamer) and Doritos for God knows how long.

ㅤㅤ"What are we going to do?" (Y/N) asked finally, voice timid and quiet, as if anything louder might break the fragility of this scene.

ㅤㅤWhen Ajax looked up, she had expected his face to be sad, almost regretful for saying such things about the situation, but instead she found his gaze hard and penetrating, almost menacing. "We can't look after a baby right now, (Y/N), you know that."

ㅤㅤAnd the truth was, she did know it. She just chose not to believe it. But the way he worded it, the way he said it, seemed to hint at something. Something that made waves of nausea roll through the pits of her stomach.

ㅤㅤ"You're not suggesting...."

ㅤㅤ"An abortion," Ajax finished quietly, gaze trained on a coffee stain on the carpet.

ㅤㅤ"Ajax, no. No. We can't give the baby up before we've even tried. That's just cruel. This is your child, possibly the son you said you wanted, and you're just going to throw him away? Let him die before he gets a chance to play on a soccer team, like you did? Before he even gets a chance to see the two people who made him?" Your voice broke at those last few words and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face in thick, wet trails. "You might be giving up on him, but I'm never letting go."

ㅤㅤAjax inhaled sharply, air hissing through clenched teeth as he breathed out. "We aren't ready for this, (Y/N)."

ㅤㅤ She knew he was right. She knew it in her heart and in her brain. But some part of her wanted to keep this unborn baby that was developing within her stomach right now. Some part of her wanted to know the happiness of being a parent, a mother.

ㅤㅤShe didn't want to follow through with this. She didn't want to let the baby die. And yet...

ㅤㅤ"Miss (L/N)? You can come in now. Dr. Li's ready for you," a voice called, interrupting (Y/N)'s train of thought. She looked up, one hand resting on her tummy, the other clenched around a cell phone. The screen was still on, a barrage of messages (most likely from her family and friends) lighting up the screen with soft 'pings'.

ㅤㅤShe breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly, a breathing trick she'd learned from online to calm her nerves down.

ㅤㅤFinally, she spoke.

ㅤㅤ"Ah, sorry. I'm afraid I've changed my mind. If it's alright with you, I'll be canceling my appointment."

ㅤㅤThe nurse hesitated for a moment before nodding along. She obviously was not paid enough to barge into patients' lives, so she (wisely) kept her nose in her own business. "Of course, miss. I'll let him know you'll be leaving. Have a lovely rest of your day."

ㅤㅤ(Y/N) nodded along before waddling out of the waiting room, feeling giddy and deliriously light from the weight that had just been lifted from her shoulders. Ajax would be upset over this, yes, but it would be worth it. She could feel it in her bones.

📮 tagging. @kiryoutann, @ajaxstar, @mobiussdarling, @samarill, @dinolvrrr, @messyserver, @xxfrostiee, @enviouspeanut, @ehddsnys, @maaarshieee, @dazaiscum, @mochicurls21, @shinobuko, @iiyumii, @meiraloves2dmen, @retiredmommylover, @electronicphilosopherflower. if your user is highlighted in BOLD that means your current URL does not match the one you inputted in the form. fill out this form if you want to be tagged

[pessimisticoptimistsblog]

A/N – I know this is a day late, depression has been rough this week, and the amount of details in here had me pulling my hair out. This is entirely back story for my OC, very minimal Lucifer. Also, barely proofread, but I needed to get it out of my drafts so I don’t delete the whole thing and my account. Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

CW: language, I think? Also, the phrases and her mom's accent are Scots. Hopefully, the page I used to reference it was accurate

Chapter 6

My History

Caelwen’s eyes snapped open at the sound of birds. She hadn’t heard birds, real birds, in centuries. Propping herself up with her hands, she looked around to find the source of the sound; perhaps Lucifer had made a chirping rubber duck? But instead of the dark reds, pinks and blacks of the fallen angel’s workshop, she saw trees full of green leaves and patches of yellow flowers scattered in the tall grass around her. This couldn’t be hell, so where was she?

The last thing Caelwen remembered was Lucifer above her, casting the spell to break the seal Adam had placed on her. What the fuck happened?

"Hullo! Hou'r ye?” A voice sounded behind Caelwen. The brunette spun around into a crouch to face the stranger with her fists raised. Taking in the woman before her now, Caelwen’s shoulders slumped in disbelief. There stood her mother, wavy light blonde hair tied back with a leather cord and warm brown eyes shining, just the way she looked the last time Caelwen saw her.

Caelwen dropped to her knees fully, making no effort to stop the tears beginning to stream down her face.

“Well? Hou’r ye, love? Been awhile, hasn’t it?” The mother’s smile was bright as she walked closer to kneel next to her daughter. “I’m so happy to see ye, though, the circumstances aren’t ideal” she spoke in a whisper and wiped away her daughter’s tears.

Caelwen’s eyes darted over her mother’s face, taking it in before launching herself into the older woman’s arms. Caelwen squeezed her mother tight, terrified she’d disappear, and sobbed loudly. The last time she had seen her mother, the woman was being dragged off by angry villagers while Caelwen had hid inside a hollowed out tree.

“Now now, wee one, enough of that – we don’t have much time. There’s some things I need to tell ye.” Caelwen pulled away slightly, looking up at her mother in confusion. “You’re sleeping, love. Breaking that seal did a number on your mind and soul, you would’ve died if not for Lucifer’s magic being stronger than your father’s!” She said with a half laugh.

Caelwen raised a hand to her chest, remembering the burning pain from before she passed out. She looked to her mother, opening and closing her mouth a few times, too used to not having a voice to remember what it felt like to use it. “W-what, what do you-,” Caelwen coughed a few times, her throat dry.

Oh! Here, drink. It’ll help.” Her mother handed Caelwen a small pouch filled with water.

Taking a few eager gulps and wiping the couple drops that escaped from her chin, Caelwen tried to speak again. “What do you mean ‘we don’t have much time’? What’s going on?” Her voice was hoarse and quiet.

“Well, ye can’t stay here forever! That man, Lucifer, is losing his mind over you. Ye’ve been asleep for a week, Cae’. Poor thing hasn’t been away from your side for more than a few hours. Ye found a good one, better than I did a’ least!” The blonde woman chuckled while brushing Caelwen’s hair away from her face.

The younger girl blushed at the talk of Lucifer; even though he had told her she hadn’t misread the signs, it was still so odd to hear he had been caring for her. “Do you mean Adam? Is that what we need to talk about?”

“Aye. With you being fully intact now, it’s time ye know everything. Adam and I met not long after me ma and da passed, sweating sickness, and I was doin’ my best to maintain the house. I’d had gentlemen coming around for weeks, but Adam was so charming. He told me he was a knight for the king, didn’t know he meant God at the time o’course, only found that out when I had you! He’d been so kind, told me he’d marry me once he was released from service. When I told him I was carrying you, he got so angry – told me to take something, anything to get rid’a ye and then left. I couldn’t bear to do it, so I started running. After the first few months, I couldn’t hide ye. People started to notice the bump. And that I was alone. They all thought I was a harlot, then a witch, I was barely able to find food and shelter before I’d be shunned. And then I had ye, and you were so perfect! But, ye had these wee little nubs on your back. And after your first year, they’d grown and had feathers; that’s when I realized your da wasn’t human, he’d been the only man I’d laid with so I knew it'd been him.” Caelwen’s mother paused, a sad smile on her face.

Caelwen looked puzzled for a moment, acknowledging what her mother had said. “I don’t remember having wings until a few weeks after you died. How could I have had them when I was a baby?”

The older woman chuckled slightly, “I’m getting to that. When you started toddling around, I couldn’t hide them in a swaddle and a child from a village we passed through saw them. Thankfully, her parents thought she was dreaming. I started looking for ways to hide them and remembered something my ma had taught me. My ma was a witch, but a clever one, no one ever knew except me when she told me as she died. She’d always told me before I knew what she’d meant, that healer women always had the best books. The next village we reached, I found a healer and asked if she knew of a book that might help. She only helped when I told her who my ma was and what I truly needed, and thankfully, I kept the secret well. She also helped me with the seal we used, but she’d tied the seal to my life, so once I died, so too did the seal.”

“And that’s why they only showed up after you died. And grandmother being a witch, explains why Adam believed you bewitched him, everyone back then believed it ran in the family.” Caelwen laid back, staring up at the blue sky before her as she thought over everything she had learned.

“Aye, but there’s one more thing. Your great-great grandmother made a deal with a demon that all of the daughters in her line would honor him and spread his name in exchange for protection from evil men. If we ever failed to uphold our end, we’d all suffer for eternity. But if the demon ever allowed harm to befall her line, that daughter would gain abilities to aid her in the depths of hell. That’s why you were able to survive so long with half of you sealed off, the demons deal took effect when Adam hurt you.” The older woman looked off into the distance as Caelwen sat up, processing everything she had learned.

“What about you, though? Men killed you, so why didn’t you survive in hell?”

“Before they could try me as a witch, one of the farmer’s wives had given me a drink with mandrake. I died before the men could do anything, and I didn’t stand much of a chance when I landed in hell.” Caelwen’s mother had a sad smile on her face - she never should have trusted that woman.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, taking in everything around them and enjoying each other’s presence.

There was one more mystery for Caelwen, though. “How are you here then? If you’ve already died in hell, how are you here telling me all of this? Even if it is a dream, I couldn’t possibly have any of this information in my subconscious.”

“A deal I made before I died in hell, so that when you made it down here I’d be able to tell you everything I never had a chance to while alive.” The older woman paused, looking at the sky. Then, as if getting a signal, she nodded and turned to Caelwen. “We’re out of time love, you need to start trying to wake up. Come here,” she held her arms out to her daughter.

Wrapping her arms around her mother, Caelwen held her tight, not ready to leave the warm embrace. Her mother pulled away, brushing loose hairs away from Caelwen’s face, then cupping her cheek. Brown eyes gazed into green, “A love ye, Cae. Be safe, please, and kick yer father’s arse for me?”

Caelwen leaned into her mother’s hand, closing her eyes and laughing slightly. “I think I can do that. I love you too.”

When the Nephilim reopened her eyes, her mother was gone, and so was the field. Now surrounded by the inky blackness of her mind, Caelwen crossed her legs and tried to focus on waking up.

~In Hell~

“I’m sorry Charlie, I can’t come today… yes she’s still not awake… I know, but I-…” Lucifer was pacing the floor of his room, shrinking into himself as he spoke to his daughter. He hated to disappoint her, again, but Caelwen could wake up at any time, and he wanted to be with her when she did. Sure, it had been over a week now, and the doctor he'd sworn to secrecy had said it may take a while still, but what if it didn’t and he wasn’t here?!

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Charlie. I’ll- I’ll be there in an hour, okay?... Yeah, see you soon.” Lucifer ended the call before walking closer to his bed. He looked down at Caelwen’s prone form, her hair splayed around her peaceful face. Grabbing her limp hand, Lucifer squeezed it, whispering, “I’ll be back tonight. Can’t keep letting Charlie down, right? Heh…” He laughed awkwardly, releasing Caelwen’s hand and darting out the door before he could change his mind.

Later that night, Lucifer returned home, drained. He loved helping Charlie and bonding, but dealing with the sinners of the hotel was far from enjoyable. Lucifer walked into his room, removing his coat and vest and rolling up his sleeves. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up while briefly glancing towards his bed and then moving towards his bathroom.

Entering the bathroom, Lucifer looked at his reflection, releasing a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment before his brain finally caught up with him. Lucifer’s eyes sprung open, and he threw open the bathroom door to look at his bed. There was Caelwen sitting up in the bed, green eyes glittering as she tried to hide her laughter behind a hand.

Calewen had stared at Lucifer as he walked into the bathroom, wondering if he had noticed her. She had been awake for a couple hours, long enough to mull over all the information she had learned and stretch out the stiffness in her joints.

“You’re awake? How- uh, how are you feeling? Any pain?” Lucifer questioned the Nephilim in his bed. When she shook her head, he let his shoulders relax. “Did it… have you tried to talk? To see if it worked?” Lucifer nervously fiddled with his fingers as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Caelwen cleared her throat slightly, “It worked. Thank you, Lucifer!” She smiled brightly at the fallen angel before her. “And thank you for taking care of me while I recovered, I’m sorry to have worried you.”

Lucifer smiled tiredly, “I’m just happy you’re okay. And that it worked!”

Noticing the bags under her companions eyes, Caelwen pat the bed and started to rise, “We can talk more in the morning, you look like you could use some sleep. I’ll head to the guest room, it’ll be nice to stretch my legs!”

Before she could swing her legs over the side of the bed, Lucifer was pushing her back down. “No! No, stay, please! I can go sleep somewhere else, no need for you to push yourself!”

Caelwen looked at Lucifer’s panicked face, raising a brow and grabbing his hands that held her shoulders down. Lucifer, realizing what he had done and the position they were in, jumped off the bed, half tripping over his feet as he backed away towards the door.

A quick, high-pitched goodnight was the last thing Caelwen heard before Lucifer had disappeared in a puff of red smoke.

A/N – I’m stopping here for a few reasons, but mostly because this chapter has kicked my butt and I hate it. Sorry it’s a bit shorter than normal, but this took like 2 days to write. Next chapter will be a bit more of like fleshing out the relationship.

Tag list

@leximus98

[kindlingkeen]

Loyalty

A deleted scene from The People We Choose, part 1 my Choices ‘verse, a Jason-centric Lost Days AU. Warnings for references to temporary character death and canon typical violence.

Takes place circa chapter 1. I took this scene out fairly early on while drafting, so the characterization and continuity are a bit off. In other words, don’t take it as canon for TPWC. I may clean it up at some point and post it on ao3, but for now it’s going to live here.

“You’re just a pathetic gutter rat. Loyal to nothing and no one.”

One of the League’s pet assassins spits the words in Jason’s face, and they manage to hit with more than just saliva. Jason is holding the woman at knifepoint, so clearly the assassin is a biased source. But, still. 

Loyal to nothing and no one.

Is he? Is there no one he’s loyal to, nothing he believes in, Jason wonders. But, really, why should he be loyal to anyone in the first place when no one has ever been loyal to him.

It was the story of Jason’s miserable life (ugh, lives) - he’s never mattered enough. Not when it counted, not when it meant something. Willis chose an easy life of crime. Catherine chose the oblivion of drugs. Sheila chose her greed. 

And Bruce, Bruce chose the fucking mission. And he would keep choosing it.

And then there was Alfred. Jason had mattered to Alfred. Jason was sure of it. Alfred had loved him independently of the suit he wore, the criminals he did or did not hit, the person he was or the person he was trying to be.

For that, Jason thinks that he will probably always love Alfred. 

But, for Alfred, Bruce always came first.

Bruce chose to take Robin away. Bruce chose not to avenge Jason. Bruce chose to keep putting kids in the suit that Jason died in. 

And Alfred chose to stand by Bruce and allow it.

So, Jason thinks that he will probably always love Alfred. In a way. But it’s not enough.

Loyal to nothing and no one.

Jason remembers suddenly, something Talia said to him early on in his training at Tadrib Almawt as he lay nearly unconscious, bleeding heavily from a poisoned knife wound.

You made your own magic, Jason.

Jason used to think that being Robin gave him magic. What he could never really put a voice to, could barely admit to himself, was that it was that Bruce wanted him, that he thought Jason was special—that was where the magic came from.

When Robin was beaten and broken in a warehouse and Jason lay alone watching a timer count its way down to zero - he knew, he knew Bruce was coming. He wrapped that knowledge around himself like a fire blanket for his soul and held onto it with all his heart when the moment came - when he knew that no one was going to make it in time.

When Jason woke up in his coffin, he woke up crying out for Batman. When he dug his way out of his grave, he crawled out screaming for Bruce. Alone in a hospital, lost and confused, as his mind splintered apart, he pleaded for his dad. 

But when Jason woke up again, this time for good, drowning in green and pain and rage, he found himself in a world where his murderer was still bathing the city he called home with blood, while a black-haired, blue-eyed boy in Jason’s colors chased after him, a dark shadow following close behind. 

After that, when Jason woke up screaming from nightmares of dying, of choking to death as the world burned around him, he woke up with wordless shouts caught in his throat and cold, hard truth beating in his ears.

He never really had magic at all.

Delirious from blood loss and rambling with fever dreams, he’d blurted out the whole pathetic mess to Talia. He remembers with perfect clarity how she stood silently near the head of his cot watching one of Tadrib Almawt’s medics stitch him up, her face as hard as granite.

At first she’d said nothing at all, lips tight and grim, until the medic finished the bandages and bustled out of the room.

Then she sat abruptly on the side of his cot and looked him in the eye, her firm hand on his chin anchoring his head in place. 

“Jason, it’s unclear to me how exactly this could have escaped your notice,” she said, her tone drier than the desert around them, “but you were dead, and now you are not. You are magic.” 

Her hand reached down and wrapped briefly around his. When she spoke again, the Arabic words came out soft and liquid, like a dream. 

"لقد صنعت سحرك الخاص يا جيسون."

Talia was out the door and gone before he’d even realized she’d moved. Her words echoed around Jason as he shifted restlessly, trying to find sleep. 

You made your own magic, Jason.

Jason focuses again on the assassin dangling limply in his grip, the memory fading away.

I’m loyal to what matters, Jason thinks, his hand reaching out to wrap around the assassin’s sword. 

“I’m loyal to myself,” Jason whispers in the assassin’s ear, as he runs the sword through their gut.

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Alright folks, final Qsmp post of the day (--will have mentions of the Forever situation fyi--)

The prison event was very fun and I got some good laughs (especially from the therapy session). I'm glad to be back and have broken the ice after being radio silent for like 3 weeks.

Going forward, I don't think I'll be as emotionally invested with the lore as I was before with Forever's content, and him not being here is still weird for me. There's moments that feel so much like he should be there, and references that I know would've been made if the server wasn't collectively ignoring his existence. I understand why they're doing that, and I'm not saying they shouldn't. I remember seeing some posts after the initial blow up saying it would probably feel off for a while before the server found a way to fully move past it. Its completely understandable, just like I hope its understandable that people like me still feel sad and hurt over the loss. That'll take a while, and I'm sharing this cause I hope this can resonate with anyone who feels the same.

Oddly enough, this whole situation gave me the opportunity to step back and learn a lot about myself. Hyperfixations are a big deal for ND people, it can be life consuming, and as much as I stand by the fact that everything would've been astronomically better if this never happened... I do think it helped me analyze my own brain in a way I didn't before, issues I had been ignoring or hadn't realized. There's a lot to life, and sometimes you lose sight of that when you're zeroed in on one thing 24/7. I'll still think about the cubito and consume content of him until I naturally lose interest (shout out to the other former Forever fans who are doing the same, separating character from CC of course), but from here on the Qsmp is something I'd like to just have fun with. Something for creativity and culture, but as a fun hobby rather than a serotonin lifeline. This may sound dramatic, but you never know what's happening in someone's life, and what they use to keep themselves going when nothing else is going right for them. Its why this kind of content exists, and I'm thankful for what this server provided when I was still figuring myself out. Even with the situation, I don't want to forget about any of it. But I think I'm ready to take a new and healthier approach this time.

Having said that, I'm glad I could be here for today, and I want to continue being in this fandom until the server itself is ready to end. The Prison Event, whether planned in advance or last minute, was honestly a really great way to give a bit of a blank slate for people still feeling weird about Forever's absence. It brought a new premise disconnected from him and gave people like me a reason to come back to livestreams. I'm glad to have broken the ice and to know that I can come back to the Qsmp fanbase and content, even if its different this time, I'm glad its there for me to return to when I feel like it.

There's a billion drafts for other fandoms and topics that I want to get through, and I'd like to be more consistent with them since my Qsmp hyperfixation has calmed down a bit. But I'll be here, sometimes blogging, sometimes just vibing. Its good to be back, I missed all of you a ton. See you at the Inmate Crucifixion <3

[waitmyturtles]

From The New York Times: [Thai] Lawmakers Block Prime Minister Candidate From New Vote, Drawing Protests

[July 19, 2023: Pasting here to bypass the NYT paywall. I thought this was an excellent overview of the recent history of Thai elections, and how the Senate confirmation process works. Again, remember: references to what’s happening politically will likely make it into the dramas we watch later this year and next. By Mike Ives and Muktita Suhartoto.] 

Protests erupted in Bangkok on Wednesday, hours after Thailand’s conservative establishment suspended a progressive leader and lawmakers denied him the chance to stand for a second parliamentary vote for prime minister.

The candidate, Pita Limjaroenrat, leads a party that won the most votes in a May election after campaigning on an ambitious reform platform that challenged the country’s powerful conservative establishment. He lost an initial parliamentary vote for prime minister last week.

Late Wednesday, lawmakers voted to deny Mr. Pita, 42, the chance to stand for a second vote on the grounds that Parliament’s rules do not permit a “repeat motion.” Mr. Pita’s supporters see that as a not-so-subtle move to keep him out of power.

The mood in Bangkok, Thailand’s muggy capital, was anxious as protesters hit the streets on Wednesday afternoon. Mr. Pita’s supporters have been expressing outrage online toward an establishment that often pushes back against Thailand’s democratic process.

“In my heart, I knew this would happen, so it didn’t come as a shock,” said Wichuda Rotphai, 41, one of hundreds of people who gathered outside Parliament on Wednesday to support Mr. Pita’s doomed bid for premier. “But I’m still disappointed, and I can’t accept it.”

Here’s what to know.

What does Pita Limjaroenrat stand for?

Mr. Pita’s party, Move Forward, has proposed ambitious policies for challenging Thailand’s powerful institutions like the military and the monarchy. The party won 151 seats in Parliament, the most of any party, and 10 more than Pheu Thai, the party founded by the exiled populist Thaksin Shinawatra, whose influence still towers over Thai politics.

Mr. Pita’s party has formed an eight-party coalition, which nominated him for prime minister last week. He came up short in the first vote because the Senate is controlled by military-appointed lawmakers who oppose his candidacy and the Move Forward platform.

I’m confused. Why are senators so tied to the military?

Becoming prime minister requires a simple majority of the 500-seat House of Representatives and the 250-seat Senate.

But the rules governing Senate appointments were drafted by the military junta that seized power from a democratically elected government in a 2014 coup. They effectively give senators veto power over prime ministerial candidates.

Last week, Mr. Pita won only 13 votes from the 249 senators who voted for prime minister. Mr. Pita acknowledged in an Instagram post on Wednesday afternoon that he was unlikely to become prime minister.

“It’s clear now that in the current system, winning the people’s trust isn’t enough to run the country,” he wrote.

Why was it such an uphill battle?

Mr. Pita had faced a slew of challenges even before Parliament denied him a chance to stand for a second vote.

The Constitutional Court said on Wednesday morning, for example, that it was suspending Mr. Pita from Parliament until a ruling is made in a case involving his shares of a media company. Investigators are trying to determine whether Mr. Pita properly disclosed owning the shares before running for office, as required by Thai law.

The court’s ruling forced Mr. Pita to leave the chamber. It would not necessarily have prevented his coalition from nominating for a second time. But Parliament saw to that on its own.

Mr. Pita’s supporters have said the investigation is one of many ways that the establishment has been trying to unfairly derail his candidacy.

So who will be prime minister?

Before the drama on Wednesday, Mr. Pita had said if it became clear that he could not win, his party would allow its coalition partner, Pheu Thai, to nominate its own candidate.

Pheu Thai probably will do just that, but is also likely to form a brand-new coalition, one that is more palatable to conservative lawmakers who cannot stomach Mr. Pita and Move Forward.

Pheu Thai’s candidate would likely be Srettha Thavisin, 60, a property mogul with little political experience. If a new coalition materializes, he could be voted in as prime minister as early as this week.

Mr. Srettha would immediately present a sharp contrast to the current prime minister, former Gen. Prayuth Chan-ocha, who led the 2014 military coup.

A more remote, but not impossible, scenario is that Pheu Thai allows a party from the conservative establishment to nominate a candidate as a condition for joining a new coalition. That candidate could be Gen. Prawit Wongsuwan, 77, the deputy prime minister in the current government.

What would a Srettha victory represent?

Many would see it as a triumph for the democratic process in Thailand, a country with a long history of mass protests and military coups. Some foreign investors would also see a potential boost for a sluggish, coronavirus-battered economy.

But many of Move Forward’s progressive supporters would be angry about the establishment blocking their party from forming a government. On Wednesday evening, a demonstration reflecting that anger was taking shape at the city’s Democracy Monument.

The size of the protests over the next days or weeks will likely depend on who becomes prime minister. If it’s Mr. Srettha, demonstrations could be sporadic and modest. If it’s General Prawit or another military figure, they could be sustained and intense.

Ms. Wichuda, the protester, was one of hundreds who gathered outside Parliament on Wednesday afternoon, peering through its gates at police officers in riot gear. She said that while she did not agree with Mr. Pita’s contentious pledge to revise a law that criminalizes criticism of the monarchy, she still felt he had been “robbed” by politicians who were afraid to give a younger generation the chance to improve the country.

“If they can do such things to people with money and power,” she said, “what will be left for us, the common people, who have no position and no title?”

[saltyr3mix]

perhaps Sparrow for your ask game if you have any for him!

HA HA HA I HAVE TOO MANY (Litteraly writeing a post/essay on him right now in drafts after getting a comment on a recent post) but here are the basics

Really really bad at taking care of himself. mans is constantly forgetting what he needs in order to live

Copper sparrow spoke through a speaker on his chest rather than mouth

*refer to storming sacrifices world building* He has the longest comas/takes the longest time to switch between hybrids

Scott found and read/watched his studies while Sparrow was bust being copper

Skulk sparrow wears extra jewelry and noise makers because if hes still enough he becomes invisible to himself and that's not a fun feeling. to feel like you don't actually exist. he also stomps around a lot for this same reason. basically Skulk sparrow is extra loud.

Hates being underground. this is mainly for angst purposes. but also because he was a pilot who i feel would love being up and in the sky and underground is like the furthest you can be from that.

Before he studied hybrids he studied birds!

He loses more of his memory with each life change. but if he had to pick the thing he wants to remember the most it would be his friends and interactions with others.

Skulk sparrow hates the texture of wool. Copper sparrow hates being to close to sources of heat and dirt. The human sparrow doesn't like small spaces.

Responds to the name Owen but never understands where the nickname comes from. hes never used it before landing here yet he knows its his.

THANK YOU I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND IM GLAD OTHER PEOPLE WANT TO HEAR MY THOUGHTS ON HIM HE MEANS SO MUCH TO ME

[swearingcactus]

DETAILS IN FAR CRY 6 THAT I FOUND ON MY SECOND RUN THAT I CURSE UBISOFT FOR NOT EXPLORING FURTHER

this is a long ass post so im putting it under the read more tag haha woops

Dani was 18 when the orphanage let them go for being of-age (in May 2014), About a month later in June 2014, they were drafted into the military. They stayed in the military for 3+ years, as evident from a letter of warning issued to them in 2017 because they were doing black market smuggling. (I wish they explored more on this instead of just putting it in as letters we can find because it would've answered Dani's perhaps overtly casualness in doing smuggling activities for Bembe.)

Speaking of Bembe, remember the boat that Alejo and Dani were supposed to ride on to get away from Yara? It turns out Bembe was the one who got them that spot in the boat, with a letter sent to Alejo to leave with his friend that night. Since Bembe and Dani didn't know each other before the events in-game, Alejo must have contacted Bembe alone. This makes his death (and his ghost blaming Dani for it) hit a lot harder, considering Alejo had done the heavy lifting to get them both out of Yara, and Dani still didn't manage to do so.

If you leave to find Libertad, but go back to the beach where Lita's body is still there, Dani will question Lita's opinion that what had happened was fate. (Before sadly and bitterly telling her to rest in peace.)

Despite this, a treasure hunt in El Este has Dani look for boats named after the Legends of '67. One of the boats is named Roja Victoria, to which Dani laughs at the name and says it's fate.

The 6 in Dani's default outfit/baseball jersey might be a reference to them being the protag for far cry 6 (hurhur)

Dani's big dream after moving to Miami is to open a bodyshop called Huérfanos (orphans), (which is a weird ass branding for a business and I'm thankful that the evil ghost of Alejo talked shit about it 😭)

With two different voice actors (and surprisingly slightly different animations for cutscenes), there's a lot of differences on body language and how male and female dani talk with the other cast. Some notable differences are:

female dani tend to be calmer when talking to people, which makes her being the representative of Libertad trying to bridge communications a great choice. In comparison, male dani is more brash, but it fits with them being a nobody orphan from Esperanza with a Libertad armband that people are initially constantly hostile with.

when meeting espada, female dani caught espada's blade without flinching (badass). male dani pulled his head back as he caught it and was jittery after, which in reality would be more realistic.

male dani's character model is significantly more roughed up and bloodied during the torture scene in comparison to female dani's (booooo!!)

female dani sounded way nicer to diego, gently asking "and you won't be? 😔🥺" at diego's insistence that his father was only evil because he was brought up that way. male dani was straight up yelling the line "AND YOU WON'T BE ‼😤🤬" which makes the ensuing scene where diego almost shoot them hilarious with male dani's threat to shoot diego be much realer. that man was ready to throw hands with a 13 year old roblox player.

Also if you pay attention, Diego's screen during the hotel raid is a paused FPS game that kid is a #gamerrrr, and it's hilarious that the implication he's in the hotel suite is just because he wants to peacefully game. (also also Diego might just be the second canonical gamer in Far Cry, considering Jason's the first. Nick Rye from FC5 is also a gamer but he seems to only play arcade games. Vaas being a gamer with his knowledge of Silent Hill is debatable as the DLC may or may not be canon.)

back to male and female dani's differences, during the dinner scene where Antón was threatening to kill Clara and Juan was going to shoot Diego, f!Dani kept staring at Diego and quite obviously says "Juan." warningly, while m!Dani glances at Diego before closing his eyes and whispers Juan under his breath. (Personally m!Dani's approach to try and warn Juan without letting Antón know is more nuanced imo)

m!Dani panicked more when Clara was shot than f!Dani, but f!Dani panicked and yelled out "DIEGO, NO!" when Diego was shot in comparison to m!Dani's quiet horror

m!Dani has a more snappy/accusatory tone when talking to Clara when he was going to meet Máximas Matanzas, re:how a lot of people got hurt due to the riots that they caused in Esperanza. this makes his interaction with them a lot more interesting, since it's obvious Dani disagrees with plenty of their actions (Talia killing Marquessa, his initial annoyance at Bicho, Paolo killing that doctor after getting the intel, etc.)

Valle de Oro is the ONLY time in-game that Dani complains that they have done plenty of things for the faction and demanded them to do something (the rap show) in exchange.

this also makes Dani's relationship with Bembe interesting especially with how Dani doesn't deny Bembe's line about not lying to their friends. Dani was just saying what they needed to say and did what they needed to do to get Máximas Matanzas with Libertad, not because they actually actively like them. Dani possibly didn't kill Bembe because deep down they agree with him to a certain level.

This is a bit of a stretch, but I'd like to say that at the end of Máximas Matanzas's arc, Dani agrees with Juan that their music was no Pedro Torrero, and might hint that Dani (like Juan) dislikes their voice and takes on the revolution, as well as being another way to cement the whole 'Dani will wind up like Juan, an adrenaline junkie addicted to the revolution' narrative.

Another case in point, Dani's much friendlier with Espada and with La Moral's crew, having heartfelt calls with Espada and partying along with La Moral.

Máximas Matanzas suffers a lot as being the most disliked part of the game, if Dani did dislike them and it was made as part of the story, it would actually make the whole thing way more interesting.

Another way Máximas Matanzas arc could've been better executed is if they just explored Talia's POV & the True Yaran Academy storyline further. A big part of why people hate the arc is because of Talia's constant bitching and ordering of Dani around and absolutely no plan other than being loud. The important thing about Talia is: her anger is just covering for her fear. We see this when she's visibly nervous (and hiding it with anger that they WON'T stop the show even as the FND is raiding their location), and when she shrinks when Maria started berating her and Paolo's ideals, something that must have been drilled onto her in the academy. Talia eventually snaps and kills Maria, a very, VERY, bad decision that paints Libertad in a bad light-- but if we had an insight to how the brainwashing worked like what happened in FC5 with Faith's region? Or see shells of people like the Marshall in 5, who were successfully brainwashed and what Talia feared to become? I think the storyline would've went very differently. regardless of Dani's opinion of her and how it would still be a dumb decision, we'd still understand where she was coming from-- something most players don't in the current storyline.

When you kill El Doctor, when Dani was still hallucinating, if you wait long enough and let El Doctor mock Dani, saying that orphans make the best test subjects, Dani would frustratedly yell at him to shut up.

Other than being likened to Juan, Dani is also called similar to El Tigre (being the fist of the revolution/the hero) and also to Lobo. The latter is interesting, because there is a lot of similarity between Lobo-Santos and Dani-Clara. Santos/Clara is the educated politician with a squeaky clean public image who orders the previously nobody Lobo/Dani around to do the dirty work. the only difference between them is that Lobo eventually snapped and aimed to rule Yara tyrannically and was put down. its a good thing Dani seems to have zero ambition! haha :)

After El Tigre hugs Dani when they first meet, Dani angrily tells him to "never do that again." we see that he actually honors this request. the next time El Tigre congratulates Dani for successfully taking back the hotel for La Moral, he just settled for a very enthusiastic handshake and shoulder squeeze

Yelena is catholic, she makes a cross before talking to her boyfriend's grave. Most yarans seem to be catholic but it seems like from the main cast, she's the only one other than the Castillos who's explicitly religious

Dani is also religious but to the native religion of Yara: Triada.

The religion is banned and deemed as a savage practice, and Dani mentions that they haven't seen the Triada symbols around since they were a kid.

The only other person who seems to worship the Oluwas that is named is the father of Zenia Zayas, Elisio, a propaganda artist who became depressed after his divorce and then turned to work with the FND. He became obsessed with the Oluwas and seemed to become insane with his worship to Ida, the Oluwa for passion, fire and war.

Dani is special in their devotion to the Oluwas because it seems that they did gain special favor from the gods, being able to get into the deepest magical caves and was deemed worthy by Oluso, the guardian. This makes Dani similar to Ajay in how they are somewhat chosen ones that doesn't go insane even with their proximity to supernatural powers like normal humans do (Ajay's being his multiple travels to Shangri La and visions as Kalinag that he brushes off like a whole chad.)

This is not a new detail but I'm gonna put it here since it's not mentioned anywhere in the wiki. The Triada features 3 Oluwas: Ida (a male Oluwa for passion, fire and war), Oku (a female Oluwa of water, life, and justice) and Mimo Abosi (Oluwa of wind, trickery, and luck).

There seems to be a lot of concept art re: dark magic rituals that didnt make the final cut except as easter eggs:

last but not least: dani is canonically short :)