#I think it’s time to stop pretending like these are 5 sentences

[unfortunate17]

Wilmon + “It’s never been like this with anyone else”

ugh the devastating normal people quote. here’s a little FWB au to commemorate it.

“It’s never been like this with anyone else,” Simon whispers then, a hushed confession he only has the courage to make in the dark as he shifts closer, pressing his cheek against Wille’s bare chest.

In response, Wille laughs, breathless and bitter, his chest stuttering on a shaky inhale, “At least you have a point of reference - I wouldn’t even know.”

The words land like bullets, Simon sucking in a sharp mouthful of air as he tries to sit up. “What do you mean?” he breathes, his lungs crumpling with the shock of Wille’s confession. This was supposed to be the last time, he thinks hysterically, this was supposed to be goodbye. “Do you not - I thought you were seeing other people? You were out with that guy - Johan or whatever his name was - just last week?”

Wille’s face is still flushed - probably from a mixture of their activities and the alcohol he’s been drinking all night. “You know I’ve been lying about all that right?” he confesses, voice hitching like he’s holding back tears, “there’s no one else, Simon. There’s never been anyone else for me other than you.”

Simon tries and fails to put some space between their bodies, his mind coming apart at the very seams. He does his best to crane his head back, struggling to look up at the bottom of Wille’s chin. “Wille,” he begs, “hang on a second, what do you - you mean - but why would you do that?”

Wille’s jaw is clenched so tight that it’s trembling, “Don’t tell me that you don’t know why, Simon. Please.”

[solxamber]

Stolen Kisses - Rollo Flamme x Reader

5 times you kiss him and the one time he kisses you

Rollo Week D7! and that's a wrap! and it's very very slightly suggestive at the end but nothing really nsfw.

The first time it happens, it's almost instinctual. You're sitting beside him on the edge of the fountain in the middle of town, the evening casting a golden glow over everything. He’s telling you about something—probably the new reforms he’s working on for the city—but his face looks so serious, so intent, that you can’t help but smile.

Without thinking, you lean in and gently press your lips to his forehead. It’s soft and fleeting, like the brush of a breeze. He freezes mid-sentence, eyes wide in surprise as his hand flutters to where your lips had just been.

“W-What are you doing?” Rollo stammers, his voice uncharacteristically shaky.

You grin, pulling back but staying close. “You were overthinking again.”

He tries to hide the pink that rises in his cheeks by turning his head slightly, muttering something about "distractions" under his breath. But you don’t miss the tiny, almost imperceptible smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

It’s during one of the city’s festivals, and despite his usual disdain for such "frivolous" celebrations, Rollo finds himself walking with you through the lively streets. You’ve been excited all day, dragging him to stalls and making him try different foods, and while he pretends to be unamused, you can tell he’s having a good time.

At one point, as you’re watching a parade go by, you catch him looking at you with a soft, contemplative expression. He tries to school his features into his usual neutral mask, but it’s too late. You’ve seen it.

Without a word, you lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek. It's quick but deliberate, leaving a warm imprint on his skin.

He stiffens instantly, eyes darting to the people around you as if someone might have seen. “Must you always do these… these things in public?” His voice is low, but there’s no real bite to it.

You just laugh, taking his hand in yours. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.”

He huffs but doesn’t pull away, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks once again.

Rollo isn’t much of a morning person, and today is no different. He sits at the breakfast table, eyes half-closed, nursing a cup of tea like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His hair is slightly mussed from sleep, and there's something endearing about seeing him like this—so unguarded.

You’re sitting across from him, quietly enjoying your own drink when a mischievous idea strikes you. You get up from your seat and walk over to him, leaning down to kiss him on the nose.

The kiss is soft and playful, your lips barely brushing the tip of his nose before you pull back with a satisfied grin.

Rollo’s eyes snap open, fully awake now. His brow furrows, but there's no real anger in his expression—just mild bewilderment. “That was completely unnecessary.”

“Maybe, but it was cute,” you reply, sitting back down.

He mutters something under his breath, probably about you being insufferable, but the faint pink hue on his face betrays how flustered he really is.

Rollo has always had a certain grace about him, the way he carries himself—upright, composed, like someone who constantly bears the weight of responsibility. So, when you’re walking together through the quiet streets, his hand in yours, you can’t help but admire how steady and firm his grip is.

Out of nowhere, you stop walking, causing him to pause and turn towards you. Before he can ask what’s wrong, you lift his hand to your lips and place a delicate kiss on the back of it.

He looks at you in surprise, eyes wide, and for a moment, he’s completely speechless.

“I just… wanted to thank you,” you say softly, smiling up at him.

His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but no words come out. Instead, he simply nods, his face turning redder by the second. “There’s no need to… for such gestures…” he mumbles, but his fingers curl around yours a little tighter, holding onto that moment.

This one catches even you by surprise.

It’s late, and you’re both sitting in the library, working on something that requires more focus than usual. The room is quiet, save for the soft rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of a quill on parchment. You’re tired, and you can see Rollo is too, the way his posture has slumped slightly, and the tired look in his eyes.

Without thinking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the side of his neck, just below his ear. It’s an intimate gesture, far more than any of the other kisses you’ve given him, and you can feel him tense beneath you.

He turns to look at you, wide-eyed, clearly at a loss for words. “That… was quite unexpected.”

You shrug, suddenly feeling a bit bashful but refusing to show it. “I thought you could use some encouragement.”

His face flushes, but there’s something different in the way he looks at you now. His usual calm demeanor falters, just for a moment, and in that instant, you can see the conflict behind his eyes—the way he fights to maintain his composure, even though he’s clearly affected.

It's late, and the soft glow of candlelight bathes the room in a warm, golden hue. The sound of the crackling fire fills the space as you sit beside Rollo on the edge of the bed, the evening having lulled both of you into a comfortable silence. It’s one of those nights where words seem unnecessary, the unspoken connection between you enough to fill the room.

Rollo, ever composed and controlled, sits next to you, his posture just as proper as always. But there’s something different in the air tonight—a tension that’s been building between you both, thick and palpable. His usual calm gaze lingers on you longer than usual, his eyes darkening with something unspoken.

You lean in, instinctively closing the distance, expecting to offer another soft, teasing kiss on his forehead or cheek, but this time, before you can act, Rollo moves first.

He grabs your wrist, gently but firmly, and pulls you toward him, his breath warm against your skin. His lips crash against yours, and the kiss is anything but hesitant. It’s deep, commanding, as if he’s been holding back for far too long and can’t any longer. His hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer still, the intensity of it making your heart race.

The kiss is slow but purposeful, full of heat and desire, and when he tilts his head to deepen it, you feel a shiver run down your spine. His lips part slightly, allowing him to tease you with the faintest brush of his tongue, testing, tempting. The taste of him is intoxicating, and you can't help but let out a quiet sigh against his mouth.

Rollo’s grip tightens, his usual restraint giving way to something more raw, more primal. His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, your bodies pressed together as the kiss becomes more fervent, more urgent. There's nothing of his usual formality now, only the need to feel you, to claim you in this moment.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, lips swollen and eyes locked. His gaze is darker than you’ve ever seen, filled with an unmistakable hunger. He leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, voice huskier than usual, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You smile, breathless but exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest as you tug him back in for more. "Then don’t stop now."

Masterlist

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

To Rate a Hug - part 1 of ?

Tags: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer Morningstar x Reader, Humor, Antics, Fluff, Hugs, Reader is cat-like, shenanigans, Lucifer is a dork, Alastor is a petty bitch

part 2

“Who, in this room, is the most huggable?” Charlie asked, grinning ear-to-ear.

Your ears twitched, tilting your head at the question. “What?”

The residents of the Hotel were playing Truth and Dare as one of the redemption activities. Something about it being a good thing to be true to yourself and others? It was originally ‘Truth or Truth’ but Angel Dust complained saying if they had to play this game at all there should be a dare option.

You, being the hotel’s very own scaredy cat, only went with the Truth option. Charlie grinned, vibrating in her seat.

“Who’s the most huggable person in the room?”

You blinked. “Specify.”

“Huh?” The princess said “Um. I. What?”

“Do you mean who do I think would physically give the best hugs, who do I want to hug personally, or like, who I think is most likely to give me a hug?” You said, rocking a bit in your seat.

“Oh! All three?”

“Ok. Um.”

You scanned the room. Charlie was vibrating with excitement, waiting for your answer. Vaggie was watching Charlie more than you, a soft smile on her face. Angel Dust struck a pose, kicking one leg up in the air and shooting you a wink. Husk was pretending he wasn’t there. Nifty wasn’t paying much attention either, flitting about dusting and the like. Alastor hadn’t bothered looking up from the book he was reading and Lucifer… was staring right at you, vibrating much the same way his daughter was.

The Morningstars were so cute.

“Um. Okay, no judgement, though?” You said, grinning sheepishly.

“Of course, of course!” Charlie said with a smile, waving away your concerns.

“Wouldn’t be judgin’ ya unless ya told us who you wanted to f-“

Vaggie whapped Angel Dust over the head with a rolled up newpaper before he could finish that sentence. She sat back down and smiled.

“Go ahead, hun.”

“Okay…” you hummed, pretending you never thought about this before in your entire after life. You had. But that’s an embarrassing thing to mention so you pretended you didn’t.

“I’d say who seemed the best at hugs, physically, would be Husk.”

The cat’s ears twitched.

“Who I’d want to hug personally would be Alastor.”

One ear flicked to point in your direction.

“And I think Charlie’s most likely to hug me.”

“You’re right!” Charlie grinned, squishing you into a hug immediately and just as quickly letting you go. “I do love to give hugs!”

You chuckled, ears laying down bashfully. “Yeah, um, okay. Who’s next?

“You spin it, toots.” Angel said, shoving the bottle from Charlie to you. The group was using an empty wine bottle as the decider, and now it was your turn. You spun it and it landed on Lucifer.

“All right, Luci. Truth or dare?”

He jumped a bit like he forgot he was participating. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked to the side and thought the floor was a lot more interesting. “Er. Truth?”

You hummed, tapping your claw against your chin. “Ooookaayyyy… Um. What’s your favorite color of the alphabet?”

“Well-“ He stopped mid-word, blinking one eye at a time. “….What.”

You cackled, unable to help yourself. “Well?”

“Answer the question, yer majesty!” Angel chimed in.

“Yeah, Dad!” Charlie said.

“But- What- how do I- I dunno, the number 5???”

You nodded sagely. “Good answer.”

“’Eh, I prefer-“

“Angel, I swear to heaven and back if you say 69 I’m going to rip your limbs off.” Vaggie growled.

The spider shrugged “I was gonna say 420, actually.”

“Ha! Weed.” You grinned. You’ve never actually touched the stuff because it smelled gross but it was fun to joke about.

Lucifer sighed and gave the bottle a spin. It landed on Husk.

“Right, Bar Cat, Truth or Dare?”

“I have a name, your majesty.” Husk snorted. “And. Dare.”

Lucifer grinned “Hee hee hee, okay. I dare you to… make me a drink!”

Husk rolled his eyes. “Coming right up.” He got up and left, then returned with a drink he passed to the king and sat himself back down, giving the bottle a lazy spin.

The old cat was really good at the art of misdirection. So if he carefully stopped the bottle with the very edge of his tail no one would notice. Except Alastor. But he didn’t mention anything because he wanted to see where this would go.

After all, he had it land on you.

You sighed, rocking a bit in your seat. “Truth.”

“Not even gonna consider a dare?” Angel said with a huff. “Kinda boring.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. He flipped you off. Life continued.

Husk sighed, leaning against his hand and humming as though he didn’t already know his question. “Ok. I guess… Why would I be the ‘best at hugs’?”

You sunk a bit in your seat. “Um. Well. Your fur looks soft…”

Alastor’s ear twitched again.

“…and you got those big ol’ wings.”

Lucifer found the wall interesting all of a sudden.

“…and you just kind of look like a care bear.”

Angel Dust burst out laughing. Husk’s ears went back, eye twitching. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

You ducked your head “I didn’t- I’m sorry I didn’t mean anything bad- I-“

Husk deflated, rubbing his face. “Right, right, m’bad.” He still looked irritated but managed to get his voice to sound indifferent. “…Why do I look like a care bear?”

“The hearts.” You said meekly, pointing a claw at him. “You have hearts in your ears, little hearts for your eyebrows, and your nose is shaped like a heart, and you have hearts on your hands.”

“…You know, they’re right.” Vaggie said, glancing over at the old cat. Charlie cooed.

“I never noticed that before!”

“I did!” Nifty chirped, scuttling on top of the table. “I did I did I did!” Her eye narrowed, pointing her feather dust threateningly at all those in attendance “But no one listened to Nifty.”

“Who’s Nifty?” You said with a shit-eating grin. The small little goober’s eye widened, surprise and wonder crossing her face.

“I’M Nifty….” She hummed, tapping at her chin.

You nodded sagely. “You are Nifty.”

…

“All right I’m done.” Husk said, pushing out of his seat and leaving. Charlie sighed. She thanked everyone for showing up and participating and the various people in attendance left for their own rooms.

You scurried off as soon as Charlie said you were done for the day and curled into your bed happily. Sweet, sweet privacy. Away from prying eyes-

“Hello there!”

You screeched, fur floofing up to the point you just looked like a puffball with eyes.

Alastor cackled. You crawled under the blankets to hide from him. Alastor was under the blankets with you, grinning. You flailed again, scrambling off the bed and darting underneath it. Guess where the fuck Alastor was.

Several more repeats of that later and you were laying face-down into your pillows with the Radio Demon standing over you.

“Well, that was amusing!” He said.

“I’m glad you had fun.” You muttered.

“I did, I did! Now, a question.”

“And now, an answer.”

“Very good. So. Earlier you had said that you wanted to hug me?” He leaned further towards you, quirking an eyebrow. “Why?”

“To annoy you, mainly.” You said flatly. Static surged. You flinched, ducking back under the blankets. There he was again, sitting on your bed with his legs crossed, eyes glowing brighter in the makeshift blanket fort. He had his hand on your back before you could dart again, keeping you in place.

It wasn’t forceful, though. You could sliver around if you wanted. What was awkward was how close he was to you now. Eyes shining in the dark, breath warm against your face, the smell of his cologne in your nose. And those fluffy ears squished slightly by the blanket.

The Radio Demon had no business looking so huggable.

“Now was that really the reason?” He said, eyes lidded. “From your reaction to our close proximity, I feel as though you were simply teasing me.”

“Partially.” You said. “I mean, yeah, it’d be partially to annoy you. But overall you just kind of seem really…huggable.”

He rose an eyebrow “Huggable?”

“Yeah?” You snorted “That’s what the question was about?”

Alastor leaned closer, voice dropping an octave as he purred “Absolutely nothing else you were thinking about?”

“Well now I’m thinking you need a lozenge.” You said, pushing him back “Voice sounded a bit hoarse there. And before you ask, no, I’m not that stupid and I know what you’re implying. But really that’s it.  You just seem really huggable.”

“How so?” He asked, voice thankfully back to normal.

Alastor had just been messing with you the moment prior. Usually those kinds of comments lead to certain kind of things. Though he would never partake in those ‘things’, the reactions of those who found him attractive were very entertaining. This just confused him.

You shrugged. “I dunno? I just look at you and go ‘mmm yep that’s a huggable person alright’. I mean. Assuming you didn’t hurt or kill me.”

“Oh, I might.” Alastor grinned. Your flight-or-flight instincts kicked in and you jerked back, being stopped again by Alastor’s hand. The instinct kicked in a second time when your face was suddenly pressed against his chest, a deep chuckle reverberating through him. “I jest, my dear.”

“You’re the deer.” You said. He chuckled again. “So. Uh. Is this permission to hug you…?”

“Ha! No.” He shadow-traveled out from the blanket fort and the thing crashed down on you. You reacted to this startling by running straight off the bed into the wall. Alastor’s cackle echoed in your ears as you de-tangled yourself from your blankets. You shot him a peeved look before gathering up your bedding and making yourself comfortable again. Alastor was gone by the time you were settled and you rolled your eyes and decided to forget about that encounter.

However life decided you weren’t done with the day yet. Someone knocked on the door. You groaned, melodramatically opening the door up.

“Uh? Bad time?” Lucifer said with a lopsided grin.

“Oh? Nah, I’m just being silly.” You said with a shrug. “What’ s up?”

“Uh. Well.” Lucifer said, rubbing at the back of his neck “You know, earlier, when you were saying Husk was the most huggable person ‘cause of the wings and stuff? I mean. I have wings.” He materialized his wings and spread them for emphasis. “And. Uh. So. I guess I’m wondering why I‘m not huggable….?” He ducked his head down, grin wobbly as more of his face turned red.

You blinked.

“Um. Sorry?”

Lucifer’s grin dropped entirely and he started flailing his arm around “No no no! You don’t have anything to apologize for! I’m sorry- I! Fuck I’m bad at this.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. You tilted your head, confusion beginning to cross into concern territory.

“Um-“

Lucifer disappeared into a cloud of sparkles only to immediately reappear right next to you.

“My apologies for my silly doppleganger.” He said, checking his nails nonchalantly. “In anycase, I have an important question for you.”

You snorted, crossing your arms “Ah, yes. Your doppleganger. Who is not you.”

Lucifer waved you off “Most certainly not, I am a superb mentlegan- Ah, FUCK!”

Lucifer poofed into sparkles again and reappeared on your opposite side. He dusted his shirt off “Whoops, there was another one of those imposters of mine. Sorry about that.”

You covered your mouth, trying to hide your laugh. “Yeah. There seems to be a lot of those right now.”

“Indeed.” He said, checking his nails. “Can’t blame them for wanting to pretend to be the King of Hell.”

“I dunno.” You said with a hum “I’ve heard rumors the King of Hell is kind of a huge dork.”

“Ah, yes- wait really?”

You laughed. He chuckled a bit, fidgeting with his sleeves. “Uh, yeah. My antics aside. Uh. Can I ask a question?”

“Sure. I see no reason why not.” You said with a shrug.

“Um. So. How would you rate my huggable-ness?” He said, grin snaking back up on his face. You smiled at him.

“May I get a sample for study?”

Lucifer’s wings twitched “Oh-Oh! Yeah! Sure!”

You chuckled and hugged him. He went tense for a moment, stock-still. Then the King of all of Hell practically melted into you, arms wrapping around you and squeezing tightly. Wings gently curled around you both. Soft and warm.

Overall, very solid hug. Only issue is you had to lean down a bit to do so.

[goldfades]

Can we get a blurb into the burrow family ten years later (5 kids 😮‍💨🤓)

i forgot that the ask said 5 kids so just... pretend LMAO

the house is full of life on a crisp autumn morning, the kind of chaotic warmth that feels like a hug. sunlight streams through the windows, catching the dust motes in the air as jj barrels down the hallway, still in his pajamas, clutching a football. “dad! let’s go! you promised you’d show me the new play!”

joe leans back in his chair at the breakfast table, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, the other resting casually on the arm of rosie’s chair. “slow down, buddy,” he chuckles, watching as jj skids to a stop in socked feet. “i haven’t even finished my coffee yet.”

“you said after breakfast!” jj insists, the determination in his voice unmistakably burrow-like.

across the table, gigi is meticulously slicing her waffle into tiny, perfect squares, completely unfazed by her brother’s energy. “maybe you should finish your math homework first,” she says with the air of an older sibling who knows how to push just the right buttons.

jj scowls, clutching the football tighter. “maybe you should—”

“enough,” you cut in, sliding a plate of toast in front of joe before smoothing a hand over jj’s messy hair. “dad’s not going anywhere, jj. let him finish his coffee, and then you two can go outside.”

jj groans but relents, plopping into his seat with a dramatic sigh.

rosie, ever the peacemaker, looks up from her art project at the end of the table. “maybe you can help me pick the colors for the sunset, jj. you’re good at that.”

joe exchanges a glance with you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that way that says he’s savoring the moment. this is your life now—kids with strong opinions, a kitchen table full of crumbs and crayons, and a husband who somehow still looks at you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.

“okay,” joe says finally, setting his coffee down and pushing back from the table. “let’s see this new play, jj. but only if you promise to run it right this time.”

jj is out of his chair before joe even finishes the sentence, his excitement palpable. you watch as they head toward the backyard, jj talking a mile a minute, joe nodding along like he’s absorbing every word.

rosie sets down her paintbrush, a thoughtful look on her face. “do you think dad will ever let me tackle him?”

“not a chance,” gigi says dryly, not even looking up from her waffles.

and just like that, the morning continues, a blur of small moments that add up to something much bigger—a life, a family, a kind of love that fills every corner of the house.

later that night, the living room is bathed in the soft glow of the tv, the familiar theme song of modern family playing over the hum of quiet chatter. it’s your usual spot on the couch—joe stretched out at one end, jj perched on the floor by his feet, and you sitting cross-legged with rosie between your knees as you carefully braid her hair. gigi’s sprawled out next to you, legs draped over joe’s lap, mid-sentence about some friend-group drama that seems, to her, like the end of the world.

“...and then she uninvited me from the sleepover because she thought i was talking about her behind her back. but i wasn’t—it was all kayla, and kayla knows it, but she’s just letting me take the blame because she doesn’t want to deal with it,” gigi finishes in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

“sounds like kayla’s got you all figured out,” jj pipes up, grinning from ear to ear. “i mean, who wouldn’t blame you? you’ve got that guilty face.”

gigi glares at him, throwing a pillow in his direction. “oh, please. like you’d even understand. you don’t have friends, jj. just teammates.”

“and they’re all drama-free,” jj retorts, dodging the pillow easily. “unlike you, miss ‘kayla said this, and emily said that.’”

“boys are so annoying,” gigi mutters, turning to you with an exaggerated eye roll. “right, mom?”

you suppress a laugh, securing the last strand of rosie’s braid before leaning back. “maybe, sometimes. but, gigi, what exactly did kayla say? like, word for word?”

joe chuckles softly, shaking his head. “let her breathe, baby. she’s already giving you a full debrief.”

“i need the full context,” you reply with mock seriousness, glancing at gigi. “it’s important.”

rosie, ever the observer, lets out a dramatic sigh, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “you’re both wasting your time. kayla’s clearly not a good friend, and gigi should just find new ones.”

“thank you, rosie,” jj says, raising a hand for a high-five. she doesn’t even look at him, just shakes her head with the exasperation of someone much older than her eleven years.

joe leans forward slightly, his voice calm and steady as he addresses gigi. “look, if kayla’s blaming you for something you didn’t do, you’ve got to talk to her. be honest, but don’t go in ready to fight. people are a lot more likely to listen if you stay calm, even when they’re not.”

gigi considers this for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “yeah, maybe. but what if she doesn’t believe me?”

“then it’s on her,” joe says simply, leaning back again. “you can’t control how she reacts, but you can control how you handle it. and honestly? you’ve got nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.”

you reach over, brushing a strand of hair behind gigi’s ear. “your dad’s right. and if all else fails, remember—your family’s always on your side. even jj, as annoying as he is.”

jj groans in mock protest, throwing his hands up. “hey, i was being helpful.”

rosie raises an eyebrow. “if by ‘helpful,’ you mean ‘a pain,’ then sure.”

the room dissolves into laughter, gigi nudging jj’s shoulder while rosie shakes her head like she’s too mature for all of this. joe catches your eye, a soft smile tugging at his lips, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist—just your family, this house, and these little pockets of chaos that make it all worth it.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[commsroom]

circumstances surrounding the “leaked” documents about eiffel’s sentencing in need to know, as i understand them:

one of the very first things kepler does is offer eiffel, minkowski, and lovelace a drink. in true “at any given moment, kepler has about eighteen ulterior motives” spirit, it is, among other things, “hospitality”, sure, a test for eiffel, definitely, but… i think the main reaction he was checking for was minkowski’s. will she look at eiffel, or react to his reaction? how much does she know? how much does he trust her?

in don’t poke the bear, jacobi and maxwell stop lovelace from breaking into kepler’s server by pretending to be in on it with her: “she’s very good. it might turn into a problem.” / “i’ll run it by kepler.” two episodes later, files from kepler’s very secure server are “leaked.”

(the words "need to know" are spoken offhandedly by eiffel in the episode itself, but it also calls back to the excuse maxwell gives lovelace: "colonel kepler practically lives by the words 'need to know.' and, apparently, nothing i can say will ever convince him that i 'need to know' everything that's in our databanks.")

need to know opens with minkowski finishing an eleven hour shift, and then finding out kepler moved that shift to, well. now. she’s already frustrated and sleep deprived.

minkowski complains to kepler. jacobi and maxwell, on cue, barge in and complain to kepler. kepler assigns minkowski, jacobi, maxwell, and lovelace to punishment detail, taking eiffel out of the group because “you’re the only one who hasn’t wasted my time with pointless whining.” lovelace says: “um, i don’t think that i did any complaining either, so…” but that doesn’t matter. it’s just an excuse to remove eiffel from the group; he could just as easily have been singled out for special punishment. either way, it was going to happen.

hilbert isn’t there. not the most significant factor, since he’s already been effectively sidelined by kepler, but remember he already knows about eiffel’s sentencing, doesn’t care (about eiffel’s history OR about anyone else’s personal drama), and will later respond to minkowski asking by telling her to grow up and get back to work. it simplifies things to not factor him in.

consider the files themselves: we know from happy holidays that maxwell not talking to her family is common knowledge, but jacobi reacts like it’s news. we know from hera’s performance review flashback in memoria that kepler and jacobi were aware of “multiple attempted crew member homicides” in her record. the file about hera’s bentham directory was on kepler’s server. if there’s one person who would’ve been briefed on everything there was to know about hera, it would’ve been maxwell; her shock is entirely feigned. in fact, almost every reaction from jacobi and maxwell here is feigned. they’re black ops specialists who arrived prepared with divide-and-conquer tactics. there’s no reason they wouldn’t know these things. also note that none of the “leaks” reveal anything about the mission they didn’t already know, and that nothing about the si-5 is incriminating - if anything, it’s mostly silly and even humanizing. and, yes, all of that contextualizes maxwell’s reaction to “skiing?!”

eiffel’s file comes through last, once they’re already worn out. kepler sends eiffel to check on them at the same time so that he’ll walk in. jacobi shows minkowski the file. he lurks around waiting to see how her not-confrontation with eiffel goes, and then cements the thought in her head: what about you? are you going to care?

it’s true that there are aspects of the mission only kepler knows, but as far as information on the hephaestus crew goes (barring one very particular detail about lovelace)? that’s part of the job they were chosen for. when they kill the plant monster, kepler says: “you think we didn’t know about that thing? please. we listened to every log that you beamed down to canaveral.” kepler’s entire foundation is shaken when jacobi turns on him because this is how they operate: “have one person take the blame, say the mean things. meanwhile, the poor, betrayed little guy gets a bit more leeway - just enough to sneak up and hit you from behind.” the show is not subtle about any of this. you can pick apart any early-s3 interaction between two hephaestus crew members and an si-5 agent and see the same divide-and-conquer tactics at play. jacobi and maxwell are always - in morals, loyalty, job description - closer to kepler than they are to the hephaestus crew, and to even sort of believe otherwise is falling for that facade. it’s worth remembering that the hephaestus crew are prisoners. some of them were aware of it from the start, and some of them were lied to, but none of them were meant to leave. the si-5, on the other hand, went up there with a unified goal, and the knowing intention they would be, among other things, prison guards.

[pemiski]

tags Spider-Man! Chigiri x fem! reader, college au, completely self-indulgent

author's note yes this is a repost TT Also yes I'm aware the spider-man trope had been done and redone but for the record I don't care. Happy reading as always

Spider-Man! Chigiri’s never really been one for romance.

It’s not that he hates it or anything; it just doesn’t work. The last time he tried flirting, he accidentally set a girl’s hair on fire. Real flames, with a whole lot of real screaming, resulting in very real trauma. His first instinct was to panic (step one), flinging water into her face like he was trying to baptize her out of the seventh circle of hell (step two), and then panicking again (step three). It didn’t help. It never helps.

The next time, he almost revealed his entire identity as the amazing Spider-Man. Some woman tripped on the sidewalk, and his first instinct was to shoot a web. Mid-air, he realized. No mask, civilian clothes. And so, before he could even think, he yanked it right back. Unfortunately, he did it right as she faceplanted into the pavement, which meant he was now standing there with an outstretched hand, looking less like a superhero, and more like someone who just casually shoved a stranger into concrete.

But that was fine. Romance had never been at the top of his to-do list anyway— not when “stop armed robbery” and “finish the essay due at midnight” are constantly fighting for top priority. Maybe that’s why, at almost 12PM on a Friday, he’s curled up in the library with headphones in and papers spread out like battlefield debris, while everyone else his age is out drinking or dancing or god knows what. Whatever it is, Spider-Man! Chigiri doesn’t want to dwell on it.

And, all things considered, he really doesn’t mind. He likes his version of fun much better. What with occasional roundhouse kicks, busted ribs (not always his), near-death experiences, and the occasional existential crisis at the top of a skyscraper, it’s not as if he was ever bored.

“You don’t seem like you’re getting much done.”

He hears your voice before he sees you: soft, mostly curious, a little teasing— and when he finally looks up, it’s over the rim of his hoodie, eyes widening just slightly at the sight of you leaning over his desk. Shit. Another pretty girl. Just what his social battery needed on a Friday night.

“Yeah, no— I mean. No. I am. Getting stuff done.”

His voice trips over itself like it’s trying to outrun embarrassment, and his hand flies to the back of his neck, rubbing at the skin there like maybe, if he presses hard enough, he can disappear. Or reboot. Anything to erase those last 5 minutes.

He glances back at the mess in front of him, trying to pretend he didn’t just flinch at your smile. There’s one page that looks sort of impressive— highlighter everywhere, neat annotations in the margins, the kind of thing that screams I tried really really hard, please give me a sticker. The rest was, for a lack of a better word, tragic. Abandoned midway through a sentence. One of the pages still has a coffee stain in the shape of his elbow.

Honestly, he should be proud of the annotated one. He was, for a while. But then the clock kept ticking, and he realized he’d been here for hours, and the rest of his work still looked painstakingly empty.

So, no. Not a feat. Not even close.

And yet here you are, looking at him like he might actually be worth talking to anyway.

“It’s about to close. The library, I mean.”

Your voice is easy as you nod towards the mostly empty library, save for you, him, and some guy who’s definitely going to find himself locked up in here if he doesn’t wake up soon. It’s casual, as if it’s not slowly derailing every single one of his thoughts. He blinks up at you, still halfway stuck in the mental purgatory between should I respond? and is this a trap?

“So, if you want to,” you continue, “I know a spot that doesn’t close until much later. Y’know, so you can… get your stuff done?”

You giggle as you recall his little white lie from earlier, and Spider-Man! Chigiri can’t help but feel like it’s unfair. Like the universe handed him the definition of pretty and then asked him to form coherent sentences.

Oh, good lord. Please. Please, for once in his miserable little romance-free life, don’t let him screw this up.

“Are you gonna be there?”

It comes out a little too fast and a little too eager for it to be considered like genuine flirting.

And then, the regret. It’s immerdiate. His neck heats up like he just ran a mile and his ears are definitely red; almost the same shade as his hair. And here you are, still across from him, and you just smile. Sweet and unbothered, like this is the most natural conversation in the world.

“I don’t know,” you tease, head tilting slightly. “Do you want me to be?”

Oh. Oh.

He stares. You’re flirting with him. And it’s not sarcastic or cruel or accidental. You’re actually doing it, on purpose. That realization alone is enough to set his brain into full lockdown.

Now or never, his inner voice whispers. This is his chance.

“I, um. I— yes. You, um. Are—”

He gives up halfway through. The words tangle like shoelaces, and he swears he can feel the embarrassment rippling through him.

”I’ll take it as a yes?”

“Yes,” Spider-Man! Chigiri finally says, albeit a little breathless.

God. Fighting crime is so much easier than talking to girls.

I am fighting this shadowban with my heart and soul. If reposting a thousand times is what I have to do I WILL DO IT

@pemiski 2025 - all rights reserved. I do not authorize any reposting translating or modifying of my content on any platform

[sinsandsweetness]

Please can u do a rickyl breeding kink. Like they see how she looks after Judith and it makes them want to take turns filling her up ❤️❤️

TAKING TURNS

(Rick & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+ content, breeding kink obv, smut, creampies, FMM threesome, taking turns, mentions of getting reader pregnant, pregnancy and unprotected p in v. kinda fluffy and not rlly proofread…

notes- first time writing a breeding kink so… let me know how it is:) reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

Daryl nudges his friend, taking a sip of the bottle of water in front of him. “Quit starin’ .” He hisses, breaking Rick’s gaze away from you. Sitting all pretty, on a rug in his cell. Judith sitting right in front of you, a little, blue rattle keeping her attention as you talk to her. Your sweet, soft voice, mumbling quiet little praises at her. And she won’t stop grabbing for your hand or your hair or the rattle as she babbles away.

“M’not… staring…” Rick mumbles.

“I can practically see your dick getting hard. Pick your jaw up off the floor, yeah?” Daryl says, pretending that he’s not just as guilty. They both glance back over and rake their eyes over the shape of your body. The way your tank top cups your breasts, and your shorts hug your hips. And most importantly, how fucking attractive you are, smiling and blowing kisses at the 5 month old in front of you. How… maternal. It was driving both the boys a little crazy.

Daryl can’t help but imagine you holding his own mini me. A little boy with his eyes and your hair. And definitely Daryl’s attitude.

For Rick, seeing how good you are with his baby girl, it made his heart swell. Feeding her and playing with her, always being the one to know exactly what she needs. Seeing just how natural it comes to you. How he knows you’d be a good mom one day. How he wants to be the one to make you a mom one day.

“Like you’re any better.” Rick shoots back, his voice tearing Daryl out of his daydream. Both men still staring. And as you look over, they both straighten up. You wave the rattle at them and give a sweet smile, returning your attention to a talkative Judith quickly after.

“Fuck.” They both mumble in unison.

“It’s hard enough having no condoms around here. And then she’s gotta go ahead n’…”

“Make you actually wanna put a baby in her?” Daryl finishes Rick’s sentence for him. Whether it was what he was going to say, or just what he’s really thinking, it didn’t matter. It was true.

Ricks jaw clenches at the thought and he actually has to look away. The front of his jeans are all tight and his cheeks turn warm.

“She’s gettin’ a little fussy,” Both boys turn around to you walking over, holding a crying Judith. “Think she might need daddy to put her to bed.”

Rick has to bite his tongue at that comment. Taking his baby girl from your arms, and she seems to calm down fairly quick in his arms.

“Thanks,” he shifts Judith onto his hip and leans down to your ear to whisper, “You, uh… you stayin’ up or headin’ to bed?”

You smile at him all knowingly. “I could stay up if it means I get to see you a little longer…”

Rick nervously chews his lip and gives you a weak smile as he heads off to his cell, to calm Judith down and put her in her crib.

Daryl clears his throat and you turn to face him.

“What?” You kind of half laugh, as his hand starts playing with the hem of your shorts. “Nothin.” He bites back a smile. “Wanna get outta here?” He jokes, hand making it’s way up your waist, thumb brushing your nipple through the thin fabric of your tank.

“Um…” you look over, distracted by the curtain closing in the doorway of Rick’s cell.

“Hey, look.” Daryl grabs your attention and your hand, starting off towards your own cell. “He’s gonna be a minute. We’ll just get started without him. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

And he didn’t. Didn’t mind at all. Walking in on the two of you. Laying on your back, shorts already gone, with your legs wrapped around Daryl’s waist. An elbow by your face, propping him up so he could kiss you all slow and sloppy. Little grunts and moans falling from the two of you as he ground against you, nice and gently. The lace of your panties rubbing so deliciously in between your clit and his crotch.

“M- more-” you stutter, not realizing that you have extra company.

“Think that can be arranged, don’t you Daryl?” Ricks voice startles the both of you, turning to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt, knee dipping into the mattress, dangerously close. You swallow hard, lips all wet and swollen. Daryl’s shirt already peeled off and on the ground.

“One’s not enough for you is it, baby? Gotta have two cocks filling you right up. Ain’t that right?” Rick asks, leaning in for a hot, open mouthed kiss that you accept so graciously, hands going to the back of his neck and pulling him into the tangle of limbs on the squeaky bunk bed.

“Mhm.” You agree against his tongue, Daryl pulling at your panties and the two men take their turns. One kissing you, lips trailing down your neck and nipping little marks on to your breasts as the other fucks you so good and hard. And your begging for them as quietly as you can, hoping not to wake anyone up.

“What’s that? Gotta speak up, sweetheart.” Daryl tells you as Ricks dick pumps in to you at a harsh pace, a little whimper leaving your mouth before you can even answer.

“Want you- wanna cum.”

“I didn’t get quite that, did you?” Rick turns to Daryl, who’s biting his lip, trying not to laugh, “You wanna cum, sweetie? Or you want us to?”

“B-both please. Please.” You whine, grabbing onto both of their arms, grip tightening as you feel your orgasm begin to approach.

“Gonna fill you up nice and good, baby. Get you so full of cum, you won’t even know which one of us got you pregnant.”

And your eyes widen at Ricks words. Starting to shake your head ‘no’ but Daryl interrupts you with a kiss.

“Don’t you want it? Tell us how bad you want it, princess.” He orders against your lips. Demanding a price for your orgasm.

“Yes… I want it, Dare,” you whine, arching your back as Ricks tip continues to abuse your g-spot.

“You can do better then that.” He says, leaning back and admiring the sight of you getting absolutely railed. Legs folded to your chest, and your pearly, white juices dripping onto the sheets.

The sight makes his cock twitch and he thinks he could cum right there.

“Want it so bad. Want your cum, Dare. Want- uh- want you to fill me up, please.”

“Mmm, that’s better.” Daryl says, grabbing you by the foot and kissing the inside of your calf. Spreading you open to watch you get cream-pied by his best friend.

“Put- put a baby in me, Rick.” You whimper, eyes rolling back and you reach your climax. Feeling his own hips stuttering immediately, the comment clearly sending him over the edge. Burying himself deep in your cunt as he cums with a groan. Pulling out and switching positions with Daryl. A little grumble of, “I’m going first next time, asshole.” Coming from his lips, before he slides right into you. Giving you zero recovery time before he starts fucking you, the sound of your juices and Ricks cum, squelching and mixing, fills the air. And you can’t help but moan. Ricks thumb makes its way to your clit, rubbing from side to side as Daryl whispers filthy praises, telling you how pretty you’d look carrying his baby. How nice and pregnant you’ll be as soon as their done with you. And you go along with it, too fucked out to argue. Reaching another quick and shaky orgasm. Daryl following immediately after, plunging his own seed into you.

A sticky mess coats your thighs as the two start to get all dressed. A slight flash of worry on their faces in realizing what they actually did. Having come down from their highs, and thinking a little clearer.

You try not to laugh as the two of them chew their lips, grabbing a blanket and cleaning their dirty, little mess up from your thighs.

“What?” Daryl asks, noticing your shit eating grin.

“You guys know that I’m on the pill right…?” And you can’t help but giggle at their reaction.

As much as the the thought of getting you pregnant got the two men going, relief flooded their faces as they both leaned in to attack your cheeks with kisses.

“Some day though, right?” Daryl asks, hoping that your words earlier, weren’t just for show.

“Of course.” You peck both men’s lips, and pull on their arms, forcing them to snuggle up on the tiny mattress. They chat among themselves and trace little patterns onto your back as you try and fall asleep. Dreaming of someday, when a little Rick and Daryl will be running around and causing chaos in your future home.

taglist- @rickswh0r3 , @elnyrae , @catt-leya

(message or comment to be added💗)

[finniestoncrane]

Arkhamverse!Two Face + “We want to have our way with you.”

(every time you reblog prompt lists I have to physically refrain from sending you 50+ requests lol)

Arkham!Two Face x GN!Reader, word count: 650 i accidentally went like. waaaaaay yandere with this so apologies if that was not how this was supposed to come out but the demons got me!! it's just harvey and harv being so desperate to have their little victim hehe (also my beloved you could request 5 million things from me and i'd smile like a lil idiot)💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: kidnapping, yandere themes, rough physical affection, discussion of sexual acts but no actual sex, could read as noncon so just be wary

One hand lifted your chin softly, the skin strangely smooth as though a skin care routine might be followed by whoever would also kidnap you. The other, however, followed the first in a far more violent and possessive manner. It gripped at your face, fingers digging into your skin, the texture of the scar tissue intriguing as it lingered there.

You couldn't fight back, not that you would have. If anything, you were grateful to have your hands tied behind your back. It prevented you from having to pretend that you were brave enough to try and take him on. Harvey Dent. Two Face. Notorious in criminality and cruelty. It would be a death sentence to make any kind of move, so your restraints saved you from having to try.

But, rather than make it obvious that you were the perfect victim, you made it clear that you weren't going to go easily. With someone like Two Face, even questioning his motives was an act of irredeemable insolence. So you asked.

"Why me?"

He turned at the sound of your voice, clearly unexpected, but strangely enough it seemed welcome. On the right hand side of his face, his lip curled up into a gentle smile, one far less intimidating than you might have expected.

"Why?"

You nodded in response, making sure to keep your eyes trained on his, noting how the right one seemed far softer than the left, which was blood shot and darker, brow bone desperate to furrow at the sight of you.

"Isn't that obvious?"

He squatted in front of you, lingering at eye level, as his voice changed quickly to one much darker in tone, the gravelly rasping almost painful sounding.

"We want to have you way with you."

Harv lifted his left hand, cupping at your cheek in a rough movement that felt almost like a slap.

"Couldn't just ask, after all. Pretty boy here might have won you over, but I'm not interested in winning. Call it... conquering."

His voice softened, his right hand soothing over your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and lowering his eyelid flirtatiously.

"Besides, it's far less risky to have you in here with me. I know where you are then, I can keep my eye on you."

Harvey stood up, monologuing, in two parts, to the presumably disused warehouse you found yourself in.

"Safe. Enclosed. No one can get to you but us. Out there? In this city? Who can tell what horrible fate might take you."

As he flicked his coin into the air it glinted, catching the dim light on the ceiling and sparkling as it fell back down, caught expertly in his palm.

"But in here? We can keep you safe. Keep you to ourself."

His pacing made him seem frantic, but the way he spoke was calm, collected, almost practiced. As though he'd been considering this, thinking about it, for a considerable amount of time.

"This way, we can do what we want. For as long as we want. I can show you how precious you are. How badly I want you. And this way, no one else can have you. Because it's bad enough we have to share with each other. This way, no one else can even look at you. No one."

He stopped his incessant marching, leaning over you where you sat, close enough that you could smell the cologne on the exposed skin of his chest peeking out from the buttons of his shirt. His hands reached for you. The right one settled against your neck, gentle fingers almost seeming to tremble at the touch of your warm skin against them. The left settled on your thigh, gripping it tight, moving slowly, but noticeably, higher and higher up towards your hips.

"So you'll stay here. Like our little secret. No sharing our toys. You're just for me. For us."

[fannedandflawless]

WHO LIT THE MATCH?

📌 Disclaimer: This post explores the consequences of overlooked cruelty and conditional loyalty in canon. It is not hate, but an analysis of what was always there—between the lines.

I've found myself wondering lately—not about the war, but about who is really to blame for Harry Potter's orphaning. Not the prophecy. Not Voldemort. But something far more human. Something that began years earlier, between school desks and shadowed corridors.

When I think back to how the Potters—James and Lily—treated Severus Snape, it becomes difficult to ignore the cracks in their legacy. Their actions may not have launched a war upon the wizarding world, but they set in motion the chain of consequences that ensured their own tragic deaths.

James Potter Dug His Own Grave, and Lily Helped Bury Him

A study in fatal choices, selective mercy, and the boy they all pushed too far

Let’s stop pretending that Voldemort was the true architect of James and Lily Potter’s deaths. He may have cast the spell, but he wasn’t the first hand that reached for ruin.

The match? The firestarter? James Potter.

You want to know when he truly began dying? Not in Godric’s Hollow. Not with the prophecy. It began in the Hogwarts courtyard, hexing Severus Snape upside down while his friends laughed—and Lily Evans stood by and watched.

That was the first domino. That was the beginning of the end.

1.) James Potter — Pride Before the Fall

He wasn’t just arrogant. He was adored. Brilliant. Entitled. And he obsessed over humiliating one boy: Severus Snape.

Daily bullying wasn’t incidental—it was a ritual. A show. A performance.

In front of Lily. In front of the school.

In front of a boy who already had nothing.

And boys like that? They remember. They carry pain like a second skin. One hex at a time.

Until eventually, they snap.

2.) The Prophecy Wasn’t the Catalyst — James Was

Let’s speak plainly:

If James hadn’t tormented Severus, Severus might never have lost Lily. If he hadn’t lost Lily, he may still have found himself drawn to the Death Eaters— that pull of power, belonging, and vengeance was strong, and the world offered him little else.

But had she stayed by his side, had she not married James— then even if Severus had strayed, he might have avoided joining altogether—or at the very least, he would have had a reason to come back sooner.

The prophecy wouldn’t have reached Voldemort. Godric’s Hollow would never have fallen.

James didn’t just "grow up." He matured far too late—when the boy he shattered had already become the man who would haunt his legacy.

3.) Lily Evans — Selective Loyalty Isn’t Loyalty

Let’s strip the sepia tones from her story.

Lily Evans is painted as kind. Bright. Morally upright. But when we examine her more closely, her halo slips.

She watched Severus be humiliated—repeatedly. She intervened once. With exasperation, not protection.

And then came the infamous "Mudblood" moment. Yes, it was cruel. But it came after years of torment. After public humiliation. After watching him suffer.

And she walked away. Not with heartbreak. Not with hesitation. With finality.

4.) Then She Married His Abuser

Let that sentence sit.

She didn’t just abandon Severus. She married the boy who hexed him for sport. The boy who made his life unbearable.

She chose the one who mocked his trauma. She built a home with him.

5.) Loyalty Worn Two Ways

There is a reason Lily Evans is remembered as a symbol of selfless love. She died for her son. She stood her ground. She shone brightly.

But when it comes to loyalty? The truth becomes far more complicated.

Her loyalty had limits. Conditions. She forgave James, the tormentor, with grace. Yet she could not forgive Severus, the boy she had known since childhood, for one moment of desperation.

Selective loyalty is not loyalty. It is a mask—polished, palatable, socially acceptable. It is protection offered only when it aligns with comfort.

You know who else had unwavering loyalty? Bellatrix. At least Bellatrix was honest about it.

She chose a side and stayed there. Her loyalty, though horrifying, was unshakeable.

I once stumbled across a poll—one of those blunt, brutal ones on Tumblr. It asked who the greatest "bitch" in the entire series was. Bellatrix took the lion’s share, of course—mad, murderous, monstrous. But Lily? Her name still surfaced—pulling nearly half the votes Bellatrix received. A reminder that not everyone forgot the cracks beneath her shine.

And maybe, just maybe, some of those voters saw the same thing I did. A woman praised for loyalty, but whose mercy had terms.

Let’s lay it bare, shall we? A portrait of loyalty—one side robed in virtue, the other in violence. But both telling the same story.

Here’s the comparison I made:

Looking at them side by side, it’s almost uncomfortable how close their behaviours align—yet one is vilified while the other is celebrated. Bellatrix was honest in her devotion. Lily was praised for hers. But in practice? Loyalty, when selective, stops being virtue and starts becoming a performance. That’s where the story fractures—and where I’ll begin next.

Some may call this harsh—but when I looked closer, Lily’s “loyalty” didn’t seem as universal as the narrative paints it. There’s more to say, and it deserves space.

I’ll explain why I stand by that observation in the next post.

6. ) The Real Tragedy?

Severus loved Lily more than she ever loved him. Not in the obsessive way fandom paints him. But in the quiet, unwavering, lifelong way.

He protected her even after she left him. He protected her son. He died with her name on his lips.

She gave him nothing back.

⸻

The Truth Buried Beneath the Wreckage

This war didn’t begin with a prophecy. It began when no one stood beside a boy who was bleeding in plain sight. When the only one who could’ve saved him—walked away.

James Potter died a hero. But he died the architect of his own ruin.

And Lily Evans? She abandoned the boy who loved her and built her life with the one who destroyed him.

Snily and Marauders fans, please don’t take offence—I merely pointed something out. This isn’t hate. It’s truth.

⸻

Related posts in the same series:

Selective Loyalty and the Lily Problem

The Devotion That Never Grew Up (Coming up next)

⸻

If you found this post stirring, you may also like… A collection of emotional deep-dives into Severus Snape—the man who endured, unravelled, and remained:

Severus Snape: Widower of the Living

The Virgin Theory: Severus Snape, and the Sanctity of Unlived Intimacy

The Dignity of Suffering in Silence: Snape as the Ghost of a Living Man

[hergrandplan]

Hi! I hope you're having a nice day!😊 Not sure if you're still taking the 5 sentence thingy but I was thinking of Wilmon💜 and "So you're saying we got lost and we don't know where we are?".

Hi! I'm so sorry that this is so late, but I couldn't figure it out until last night lol. Warning: angst ahead (disclaimer: this thing is inspired by a little AU I worked on a few months ago and is partially written on a train so please excuse any mistakes💜

“So, you’re saying we got lost and we don’t know where we are?” Simon stared aheaf of him, at the snow-covered road, the miles and miles of nothingness.

Beside him, Wille hit the navigation again, but it still wouldn’t come to life.

“Told you we should’ve taken a map.” Simon thumped his head against the headrest, closing his eyes. At least they were in a car, somewhat warm and shielded from the elements. “This wouldn’t have happened with a map.”

“I’m sorry,” Wille said. “I know this probably isn’t how you wanted to spend your Christmas.” He was silent for a moment, then Simon heard him let out a bitter chuckle. “Stuck in a car with your ex.”

Simon opened one eye, glancing at Wille next to him. “I’m not stuck in a car with my ex. I’m stuck in a car with my friend.”

Simon didn’t miss the quick grimace that came over Wille’s face, before he schooled it back in a more neutral look. “Right. Friends. Forgot we were that for a second.”

Simon turned his head to look at him, frowning. “I mean – we are. That’s why I invited you along to pick up my mom’s gift.”

“Don't lie to me. You called me ’cause you needed my car." Wille's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, even though they hadn't been driving for at least 15 minutes now.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I called you ‘cause I wanted to spend time with you, because you are my friend.”

“Because that’s the only reason you call me nowadays!” Wille snarled, whipping around to face Simon. “You only reach out when you need something from me, whether it’s picking up your mom’s Christmas gift or se—“

“Don’t,” Simon warned. “Don’t you dare go there.”

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” It was now that Simon saw the anger simmering in Wille’s eyes, and wondered how long it had been there. “I don’t hear anything from you all year," Wille continued, "while you’re living your fancy life in Los Angeles or New York or wherever the fuck you live now, god knows I don’t know ‘cause you don’t talk to me, and then the minute you get back here you just pretend like everything is just as you left it. Well guess what, Simon?" Wille's breathing had become shallow, consisting of quick, angry breaths. "Things change in your absence. You may think that the whole fucking world revolves around you now, and your tours and your albums, but that doesn’t mean that we stop living the second you leave. It doesn’t mean that we don’t go on.”

“I don’t think the world revolves around me!” Simon yelled back, the car suddenly feeling too small to be having this kind of conversation.

“Don’t you? You certainly expect me to still be the exact same, knocking on my door in the middle of the night because you feel lonely. As if loving you wasn’t already the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, there you go again messing with my head.”

Simon stilled, and he gazed up at Wille. “You once said loving me was as easy as breathing.”

He saw that bitter grimace cross Wille’s face again, but this time it didn’t disappear. “That was back when you still loved me too.”

Simon’s heart thumped in his throat and there were tears, threatening to spill down his cheeks. The words were soft, afraid that if he spoke them any louder his voice would crack. “Who says I ever stopped?”

Send me a sentence + wilmon and get 5 (or many) more!

[liubovricci]

Astarion. Undead weirdo.

I thought a lot about this post https://www.tumblr.com/preciouslittle-bhaalbabe/759003055035416576/is-it-bad-that-that-is-my-entire-headcanon-for?source=share after I first read it and realized that a lot of it is actually my headcanon. And a lot of weird stuff started coming into my head that could be done with this kind of Astarion. This text is split into two parts, because I went further, delving into the contrast between Spawn Astarion and AA. This part is about SPAWN, so it's still odd (I warned you!), but not as much as the next part about AA.

1. Breathless

Sometimes Astarion forgets to breathe until he starts talking, and then takes a sharp breath as if to gather air for a line. Sometimes he forgets to breathe mid-sentence, his words dissolving into raspy croaks. Yara mimics breathing for him, placing his hand on her diaphragm. He stares, fascinated, as her chest rises. But during sex and feeding, on the contrary, he starts breathing too much, panting deeply and loudly, so much that any mortal could get hyperventilation. Not because he needs it or is trying to imitate life, but in order to constantly smell the scent of his lover's blood and body.

2. Eyes and sounds

His pupils dilate enormously when he's excited, turning a metallic shade like quicksilver. When light hits them, they glow with a subtle red reflection, and when he drinks blood, they turn completely black, the irises disappearing almost entirely. Yara loves to watch in fascination as his pupils return to their normal size and dilate again at the same speed as a cat's.

He often makes inhuman sounds: a hoarse hiss when he's angry; a low rumble in his chest when he's happy; and a grinding of his teeth as if he's sharpening his fangs before a hunt. During intimacy, especially when he is sincerely lost in sensations and feelings, he can forget how to sound human, tempting, and sexy, and then his voice splits—one tone is gentle, high-pitched, and almost inaudible, the other is raspy, deep, as if from the depths of the earth.

3. Sleep

Astarion neither sleeps nor meditates but can fall into a motionless brooding state when he wants to rest mentally, or torpor, a complete trance-like oblivion, when he needs to restore his vitality. While resting, he can move, and his thoughts transform into dreams that he can't or doesn't want to control. In torpor, however, his body is completely motionless, his breathing stops, and he becomes even paler than usual. He doesn't just look dead; he is dead. At first, this scared Yara to shit. The first few times she shook him in tears, trying to wake him up. She had to sit next to him until he came out of the trance on his own and sat up in bed with his back straight as a stake, not taking a single breath, like a fucking Dracula. Over time, she got used to it and even began to lie on top of him on particularly hot nights, taking advantage of the fact that he is cold and feels nothing at all.

4. Blood and feeding.

When he drinks from her, he does so slowly, with aching self-control. His hands cradle the back of her head, his lips pressed to the wound as if he wants to seal it, not open. He purrs and sniffles into her neck, taking only a few sips, and then nuzzles his face to the bite for a long time, as if he's going to keep going, but he never does, just licks up new drops until the flow slows down completely. Perhaps he's training his willpower, or maybe he's really enjoying it. With his love, this act is never about hunger, always only about sacred pleasure. Afterward, he always makes Yara do something about the blood loss, and sometimes she thinks he feels just the slightest hint of guilt.

“My love... you shouldn't be so generous. One day I might be unable to hold back.”

5. Sex.

Over time, he realizes that he can stop pretending and playing roles in bed and do what he really likes, and Yara won't judge him. Sometimes he gets too chatty and mumbles something about her being a real witch, a plague, a disease that infected him; sometimes it's just loving, sweet nonsense, and sometimes he starts to speak Elvish, and Yara really doubts that it's something meant for her ears.

After sex, he often fascinatedly counts, touches, and kisses the bruises, hickeys, and teeth marks he left on her body this time. He licks the sweat off her body and likes to stay inside her for a while, until he starts to harden again.

6. During periods

Yara doesn't need to keep a calendar because Astarion can smell her period coming a few days in advance. When it begins, Astarion becomes extremely affectionate and clingy, both because he cares and wants to ease her pain and because the constant scent of blood beckons and doesn't let go. He heats the blankets for her and brings her the herbal tea that she always brews for herself according to her father's recipe. But he adds something of himself to this recipe, and then the spoon stands upright in the cup because it is no longer tea with honey, but honey with tea. He drapes her thighs over his shoulders and presses his cold cheek to her lower abdomen. His voice cracks—part concern, part hunger. “Gods, you're hot like a furnace. Does it hurt? Tell me how to fix it.” But she never has time to answer, and it ends up with his face buried between her thighs anyway.

7. Weird habits

He can sit for hours twirling a strand of her hair around his finger like a boy playing with thread. Sometimes he tears off a single hair and puts it in his pocket like a talisman. When Yara silently looks at him questioningly, he makes an indifferent face: “What? You don't mind, do you? It smells like you, darling.” He collects her hair/objects, but never admits how many he already has. This habit makes Yara really happy because it reminds her of the behavior of rats, which she adores, when they drag everything they think is treasure into their den. But I wouldn't be surprised if among these treasures there is something bizarre, like a piece of bandage from Yara's wound, which almost killed her once.

Sometimes he puts her on top of him in an uncomfortable position for both of them, her back to his chest, so that her heart is in the same spot where his should beat, but she never complains. They lie there for a long time, silently. And he imagines that her heartbeat is his own.

Astarion lays his head on her stomach and listens to her body work: her stomach rumbling, her intestines moving, her lungs filling with air, her blood rushing through her veins. He knows he once had the same thing, but he can't remember what it felt like. “Mortal temple,” he murmurs under his breath, thinking she can't hear. But of course she does, and she smiles sadly and caresses his hair with her fingers.

He doesn't feel cold and always wears clothes unsuitable for the weather. And when Yara starts to freeze, he tears his own clothes and wraps her in them, trying to “warm her up,” but instead freezes her even more. Does she complain? No, hardly.

He watches her sleep, perched at the foot of the bed like a gargoyle. When she wakes up, he's inches from her face, eyes wide and unblinking. “You twitched. Were you dreaming of me?” At such moments, in the absence of light, it seems that his smile doesn't reach his eyes, and he looks like a ghost.

8. Care and romance

He never says “be careful,” but every time Yara goes on a dangerous mission, he discreetly puts some nonsense in her pocket that he considers a talisman. Maybe a cinnamon stick dipped in sandalwood oil because he remembers that she loves that smell. Or a fang that looks suspiciously like a vampire's, and she doesn't even want to know from whose mouth he ripped it.

Yara has almost completely given up the sun to lead a nocturnal lifestyle with Astarion. And when she goes too long without seeing the sun's rays, he cups her face in both hands, examines her skin and the dark circles under her eyes. He frowns, makes a noise. “You're getting pale. You'll soon turn into a drow.” And he goes to build her a nest of pillows and blankets by the window so that she can bask in the rays. He hides behind a curtain in a dark corner, watching the light play on her skin. They talk for hours, until the sun goes down.

He memorizes her heartbeat. When she's stressed, he curls around her like a serpent, aligning his stillness with her pulse. His hands flutter, unsure where to touch without triggering her trauma, so he settles for tracing the scars on her forearms with a feather-light touch.

Sometimes he silently creeps up behind her and demands that Yara tell him she's alive with a blank expression. “You know I'm alive,” she replies with a sigh.

“No. Say it out loud.”

“Fine. I'm alive, love.”

“Say you'll still be alive the next time I wake up.”

“OF COURSE I—”

“Say it.”

“Uhhh... I'll still be alive the next time you wake up.”

“Good,” he replies, burying his face in her hair, and for a moment he looks like an ordinary elf again. But after such conversations, he follows her around like a shadow for a long time.

He gives her gifts that he considers romantic, not those that are acceptable to give to loved ones. A wilted rose that he picked up from who knows where (“She's as beautiful as you are, even when she's hurt.”); perfume that he made for her, which has a completely incompatible mixture of scents (“Smells like a disaster. Specially for you, darling.”); live rats that he hates and she adores (“If you smiled like that because of jewelry, I'd steal it for you every night.”).

He teaches her how to waltz in the silence and darkness of the abandoned estate hall, but his movements are mechanical, as if he were copying movements from a past life. Suddenly he stops:

“I... don't feel the music. Could you... speed the rhythm for me?”

“Speed... the rhythm?”

“Yes, darling. Your heartbeat.”

Astarion kisses her scars with aching compassion and draws out all the darkest details of her own slavery. Sometimes she thinks that he is too distant and indifferent, his eyes become glassy and void, as if he doesn't hear her at all, but in fact he is experiencing all these moments with her live and comparing them to his past. And when she weeps, he never tries to stop her tears. He just cradles her and whispers, “Give it to me. Give it all to me, my love.”

And I love him like that.

[rheas-chaos-anthology]

How to fight writer's block (45 ways)

If you are indecisive like me, use a 1-45 number generator and do that one

Listen to music that's the vibe of the scene you need to write.

Set small goals, like one sentence a day. Majority of the time that will make you want to write more

Get an accountability partner

Use writing sprints, write for 5 or 10 minutes without stopping. Then take a break and repeat.

STOP BEING SCARED TO WRITE BADLY

write something random, maybe just a paragraph to get in the flow

write while doing something else, like eating lunch or watching TV if you can focus

read a book you wouldn't normally read

do some physical activity

do writing games/writing prompts

imagine people making fanfiction about your work

watch a movie/show to inspire you

write the scene you've been wanting to write

do something else creative (doodle, paint, cook, etc)

edit a scene

rewrite a scene in a different setting

take a shower/bath or just wash your face

pick up a random book/remember a book you've read and "pick a fight" with the author. What did they do that you didn't like and why don't you?

listen to your favorite song (with lyrics) but imagine it in a different context. imagine it a scene from a show/a show.

make a list of things you want to include in your work, eventually you will come across an idea you will want to write.

use pen and paper

create a check list of things you have to do (make them small like open computer, open google docs, write one paragraph, etc.)

identify your strengths

identify your weaknesses

write from a different pov

remember why you started writing this project

remember why you started writing in general

dress up and pretend you are in a movie about a writer

reread your writing and find your favorite part

create a writing ritual, do two thing to get you in the mood of writing

take a break

write for one imaginary reader, what does that one reader want to see?

write some bad poetry (helps you "feel" your emotions)

use this game, you have to write an amount of words that you choose before the opponent knocks you out: Fighter's Block! (cerey.github.io)

write with a friend

write badly on purpose. And when i mean bad or cringe i mean commit. Write a dicord mod x discord kitten Wattpad fic (maybe dont post it though 😭). Just make yourself laugh

If you are stuck because you dont know what to do come up with something stupid that can be changed later (for this one scene the hero a has fourth leg that allows them to dig through the wall)

Figure out why you can't write and address that first.

imagine someone reading your story for the first time and it inspires them to do something they wouldn't have done otherwise (confess to their crush, start writing too, come out, etc)

GIVE YOURSELF DEADLINES AND STICK TO THEM

OR HAVE SOMEONE GIVE YOU DEADLINES

write about having writers block

write something that isn't yours (dont steal peoples work and try to publish it/pass it off as yours). Like a scene from a show or incorporate song lyrics into your scene.

create Pinterest boards based off your characters/plot/scenes

STOP BELEIVING IN WRITERS BLOCK AND WORK THOUGH IT. WRITE IT BADLY. WRITE IT BADLY. WRITE IT BADLY. WRITE WHEN YOU DONT FEEL LIKE IT. WRITE WHEN YOU THINK YOUR TERRIBLE. WRITE WHEN YOU ARE UPSET. WRITE IT BADLY.

[torialefay]

Hey!! Can I request prompt #5 with chan? Where he hates you for some reason but later find out he was just avoiding you because he actually likes you?? And fem!reader decides to tease him by riling him up and he tries to act like a dom but really he is just a subby puppy? Idk why I can definitely see Chris as someone who tries to act dominant but when it comes to actually doing the deed he gets so shy and can’t even say full sentences because of how intense the pleasure is 😩

didn't mean for it to get this long, but i present to you:

I Think You're Really Pretty Too 🤭

bangchan x reader (f); sub-ish!shy!chan SMUT

• knock. knock. knock. "chris? can I have a word with you?"

• you waited patiently outside of chris's studio door.

• it wasn't long before the heavy door opened up, a confused-looking chris on the other side.

• "oh... hey," he said, looking down awkwardly.

• "care if i come in?" you said, annoyed.

• he didn't say anything, just stepped back a bit, moving the door with him.

• you barged in, almost frantic. you were acting off of your adrenaline high, but still trying to calm yourself down.

• you paced to the other side of his body, waiting for the door to close behind you.

• as soon as the door shut, you came right in front of him, only inches from his chest.

• "listen," you started. "i get it that you don't like me or whatever- that's not a secret. but i'd really appreciate it if you could keep your eye rolling when i'm talking at a minimum," you huffed at him.

• he looked taken aback. like out of all things that could be happening, it couldn't be this.

• his eyes shot up, offering no verbal response.

• "really? i've been trying to be the mature one but i'm serious, you can't keep acting like this. i don't even know what i did to you in the first place." you sized him up and down.

• "y/n, i didn't mean it like that," he breathed out, looking off to the side. anywhere but at you.

• "oh yeah, then what did you mean it like? because the last time i checked, you're either always ignoring me, being mean to me, or making fun of me. at a certain point, there has to be a line."

• you were upset now. couldn't he see that you were trying to have an ACTUAL conversation about this? but nooo, he's just gonna put on a sad face and pretend like he doesn't know what's going on. but not this time.

• "what have i ever done to you? i've always tried to be nice to you! in the beginning i did everything right just to try to ammend whatever it was that was wrong. but nothing pleases you, does it? you just can't be happy or satisfied with anything i do? if you hated me so much, why didn't you just talk to jyp and get me kicked out?"

• you were heated at this point. and apparently so was chan. his cheeks were flustered and he was trying his best to make eye contact, but gave up after a half second.

• "i don't hate you, y/n," he let out in a small voice. it made you laugh.

• "you don't hate me? then what do you call it? because you sure as hell don't like me."

• again, no response. his ears were red now too as he stared at the floor. his mouth curled up into a tight half-grin, like he was trying to get something out, but couldn't. you could see his hands turn into fists, balling up the extra fabric at the ends of his hoodie sleeves, nervously wriggling.

• that's when it dawned on you. maybe chan didn't hate you at all. maybe it was quite the opposite. maybe that's why he never would leave you alone. never would stop taunting you. you had just chalked it up to him being an asshole, especially when he was around his friends. he just always had to be the "alpha male" in the room. not so alpha now though, is he?

• you took a slight step back, running your tongue across your teeth and rolling your mouth into a smile. you eyed him up and down. "christopher, do you have anything you'd like to tell me?" you teased.

• he knew he was in for it now. he couldn't escape.

• "no, i don't know what you're talking about," he tried to lie.

• "i think you know quite well what i'm talking about," you smirked and crossed your arms.

• he looked up at you with questioning eyes, but you stared right back with interrogating ones. you wouldn't let up.

• "fine, fine. maybe i don't dislike you. i guess i kind of like you..." he trailed off. you couldn't force his face to look up to you if you tried.

• he looked so cute like this, you thought. he's not the big bad chan everyone made him out to be. no... he was just a little channie with a big crush on you. you decided to see how far you could take it. how cute he could get with that blush over his face.

• "oh really?" you smiled at him, flirting. "tell me what you like about me." you were going to toy with him like a cat with a mouse.

• "oh my gosh..."

• "come on channie, use your words for me."

• he froze when he heard you call him by his nickname. it made him feel so tiny. but something in him also felt so seen.

• "i guess i like that you are..." he slowly brought his eyes back up to yours. "so pretty... and nice... and smart... and talented. and-" you cut him off.

• "you think i'm pretty, channie?" you batted your eyelashes.

• "well uhm- yeah- i mean i think you're... beautiful. but i know that's weird to say and i know you probably don't feel the same and that's okay, but that's just how i feel and i guess that's why i act the way that i do around you because i just dont know how to act normal and.. i'm sorry, this is really embarrassing," you let him ramble until he brought his hands up to hide his face. he smiled into them, squeezing his eyes shut like he could just squeeze away all of his discomfort.

• you took his hands off of his face and held them in your own.

• "i think you're really pretty too," you smiled at him, rubbing a small circle into his hand. he felt his heart leap out of his chest. you decided to push him further.

• "you know, i never really thought about it before, but maybe we could try this out? me and you?" you teased.

• you moved his hands that were still resting in yours to move along to your hips, when they were situated on you, you guided his hands down until they were resting over your ass.

• he couldn't even move, too flabbergasted at what you were doing to him. he felt himself instantly get hard in his shorts.

• "how does that feel, handsome?"

• "it feels good," he choked out.

• "yeah?" you moved your body until it was pressed up against his. you let one free hand walk its way up his chest until it reached the collar of his shirt. you gave a quick tug, pulling his face closer to yours.

• "and how do you think it would feel if i kissed you?"

• he let out a small moan, closing his eyes. that's all the confirmation you needed.

• you pressed your lips to his, wasting no time being gentle. your one goal was to show him what he'd been messing with this whole time.

• as you deepened the kiss, throwing your tongue into his mouth and biting at his lips, he finally got comfortable enough to run his hands along the outline of your ass. he gave a few good squeezes and let out another moan into the kiss.

• "feels good?" you asked as you pulled back. you could see the bliss in his eyes as you spoke.

• "mmm yes," he gave a half smile.

• "and what if i did this?" you kept the one hand pulling taut on his collar, while the other made it's way down his chest, to his abdomen, and finally down to rest right over his bulge.

• he gulped.

• "what? channie doesn't want it?" you almost giggled.

• "no, no! please. please do it."

• "please do what? remember how i said use your words?" you had the biggest bullying smirk on your face.

• "please touch me," he breathed out, closing his eyes.

• you let your hand grasp onto him, feeling how hard he already was under his shorts.

• he let out a soft hiss at your touch. it just made you smile bigger.

• "mmm so you do like it. what if i moved my fingers like this?" you made a grappling motion, putting fingers on each side of his dick and jerking slowly up and down, as much as the fabric would allow.

• he lost his breath for a moment. "mmm yes. more please."

• "more? you want me to go harder?" you flashed your teeth in a big smile and started quickening the pace of your hand. you watched as he whined and rutted against it, trying to get any friction he could.

• he suddenly pushed your hips down closer onto him to that his dick could make contact with the fabric of your skirt as he thrust.

• "you're gonna make me horny if you don't stop," you said, threateningly. it made him want to agg you on even more. he reached a hand down to start thumbing at your clit, getting a newfound confidence.

• "mmmm good boy," you cooed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "just like that."

• he kept rubbing up and down with just enough pressure until you started to not be able to handle it anymore.

• "keep going. harder," you instructed, now rutting your own hips into his hand.

• your clit was now engorged and hot. you could feel yourself seeping out of your underwear. you knew chan could feel it too.

• "ah fuckkkk, just like that," you instructed, as he followed your commands. "don't stop rutting up into me either. keep going as hard as you can."

• he kept moving his hips, but a few whimpers were coming out with each stroke. you didn't dare let the tension off of your hand around his dick as he moved.

• "y/n... i think i'm gonna cum. i think i'm gonna cum," he whined.

• "yeah? mmm look at you, gonna cum so hard for me in your own fucking pants." you teased.

• he could only cry out a small moan in response.

• "don't fucking stop. don't you dare stop until i cum. keep rubbing me. harder. make me fucking cum christopher."

• his eyes shut tight as he pressed his entire weight into his hand, making sure to keep the same steady rhythm onto you, but giving you the heavy amount of pressure you needed to feel every little movement. it all got overwhelming so quickly. in a matter of seconds, you felt it hit you. it rushed over your body like a wave.

• "fuck fuck fuck. keep going. keep going. you're doing so fucking good," you instructed him. you rode out your high, gripping onto his hand for dear life.

• chan thought he was going to burst. he couldn't help himself any longer.

• "please can i cum? i can't hold on-" he cried, the feeling of your hand and your hips getting too much for him.

• "you can cum now, channie," you said, panting. "be a good boy and cum all over your pants for me. show me what you were hiding this whole time."

[ineffablecabbage]

#10 Benton/Carter

(5 sentences WHOMST? I don't know her.)

(Trigger Warning: Season 3 spoilers for those of you watching the first time ;) , character death, nightmares, PTSD in general)

Teachers are supposed to remain impartial, but Peter won't pretend that there's anyone at County who thinks that he actually follows that ethical standard.

He is harder on some students. He … favors others more. It's possible, he will concede to a voice that sounds suspiciously like Mark Greene in his head, that he favors one more than others.

Still, he wants them all to succeed, and no matter what anyone might think, the death of Dennis Gant will never not affect him. So he expects nightmares. He could have handled nightmares.

What he can't handle is seeing Carter's broken body in the Gant's place. He can't handle night after night of Carter's voice in his dreams telling him that everything is his fault, right before he jumps in front of a train. He can't handle his hands inside Carter's chest, trying to bring him back only for Carter to die again and again. He can't handle Mark Greene insistently calling time of death just before Peter wakes up, covered in sweat.

On the first night of this, he goes to the hospital the next day, and prying eyes seem to know that he's half out of his mind. He is jumpy. Well, why shouldn't he be? One of his students jumped in front of a train, and he has nightmares of another doing the same.

And Carter… Carter who wants to fix everything won't stop trying to make everything better. He won't shut up about the memorial service. About what they could have done differently.

Peter isn't kind to him; it only makes the nightmares worse.

In these nightmares, Carter reaches out for him, begging for Peter to save him, and Peter tries, but it's not enough. He wakes up, unable to even gasp for breath, uncertain that the reality that he saw in his dreams wasn't true.

By the time he makes it to the hospital, to say that he is in a foul mood would be an understatement.

And then one of the medical students in the medical services makes everything worse because when Carter - dear, sweet Carter who wants to make everything better - tries to show them how to insert an IV, they end up tripping him.

It's enough that Carter needs sutures on his forehead.

It is possible that Peter loses temper. It's possible that he calls into question all of the teaching skills of the Emergency Department. It's possible that he gets into a shouting match with Kerry Weaver and Mark Greene before grabbing Carter by the arm and hauling him to the suture room.

"Hey!" Carter protests. "What has gotten into you?"

"You have to be more careful!" Peter says as he shuts the door and pulls the curtain shut. "You have to stop being so reckless and careless!"

Carter's brown eyes flash with barely contained fury. "Oh, really? Since when do you care?"

"Sit down, Carter. Let me take care of your head before you bleed to death."

"I'm not going to bleed to death," Carter protests. But he listens and takes his seat so that Peter can take care of the wound.

For several quiet moments, Peter focuses on his sutures. But in truth, it was minor wound, so the process doesn't take that long. Still, he is reluctant to let Carter go. This version of him, alive, angry at Peter, and flushed cheeks is so much better than the one that haunts Peter's nightmares every night.

"Are you done now? Can I go?" Carter asks.

And the answer should be yes.

Instead, Peter cups Carter's face and tilts his chin up so that Carter has to look at him. Surprise and confusion fills those dark eyes, instead of the defiance that had been there moments before.

"What - "

"You need to be more careful," Peter repeats. "Promise me."

"I promise?"

"I don't want to have to have my hands inside your chest, trying to bring you back to life, Carter. The thought of you lying on a gourney fighting for your life makes me forget how to breathe. Promise me."

Carter's gaze softens, and he takes pity on Peter. Now, Peter would like to argue that he doesn't need pity, but his sleep schedule over the past two nights would argue otherwise.

"Look at Peter Benton, having actual feelings for his intern," Carter says. The words are sarcastic, but the tone is one of confusion. This man is apparently the only one in the whole hospital who is unaware that Peter is incapable of being impartial when it comes to him.

The man is infuriating. So infuriating, when what Peter is trying to say is so important. He's stubborn and infuriating and he won't listen to anything Peter is trying to say, no matter how clearly Peter is saying it.

Which is why Peter leans forward and brushes his lips along Carter's.

Carter remains perfectly still for only a fraction of second, and then all of the pushy, needy enthusiasm that Carter has always displayed as his student - all of the desire to be wanted - is pushing back against his mouth, and Peter pushes back against those lips with all of the desperation that two nights full of dreams of a dying Carter have given him. It's not enough for Carter, of course; that neediness makes Carter run his tongue against Peter's lips hesitantly, as if he is afraid of asking a question that he's not even sure he has the right to yet. Peter responds by parting his lips, and the moan that Carter makes is loud enough that Peter worries it can be heard at the nurse's station.

He breaks the kiss, though it seems cruel to them both.

"Promise me," he repeats.

"I promise," Carter says, and he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, which looks appropriately bruised in the harsh lights of the suture room.

Peter has spent more than a little time thinking unkind thoughts about Abby Keaton and her extra cirricular activities with Carter; yet, here he is now, looking at that bruised lip and wondering how it would look in the softer lighting of Peter's bedroom.

There's a knock at the suture room door.

Peter lets go.

"Peter, there's a GSW, ten minutes out," Haleh says.

"Got it," he says.

And he gets up, and he leaves.

~*~

That night, his nightmares end.

But Carter still haunts his dreams.

[squarebracket-trickster]

Actually, you know what, fuck it, I do have some writing advice:

Some things to try when you are so stuck it's eating you alive:

The "Autofill" Warm-up

I don't actually know if this has a proper name, but this is what I call it:

pull up a blank page and just start typing the first words to pop into your head.

Don't care if it's coherent or in any way related to your WIP. Just type. Pretend you are pressing the autocomplete option on your phone over and over again just to see what it types out.

Do at least 200 words of this. Do it until you get "in the zone" and the words start coming without trying.

If your paragraph doesn't read like it was written by a rather incoherent autocomplete by the time you're done, keep going until it does.

You can use this "warm up" before you start a writing (drafting or revision) session, and/or any time your writing starts to feel stale, or you just can't think of what to say next.

This probably won't give you any ideas, per se, but it will get you thinking faster and outside the box. I find it helps my prose flow more naturally, and I think up more interesting ways to say things.

--

The "15 ways to say it" Strategy

Again, this one probably has a proper name, but I don't know it. I learned this in high school for coming up with good thesis statements for essays.

This one is for when you know what to say, but you have no idea how to phrase it, and you hate everything you've come up with:

Come up with A sentence (or two or three) that gets the idea across. Doesn't matter if it's the choppiest, jankiest, most awkward or dull, gramatically incorrect nonsense you've ever laid eyes on. Write it down.

Rewrite the damn thing 5, 10, or 15 ways, depending on what you have the patience for/how much you care.

Don't worry about making it sound nice or about grammar or anything. Just think of 5/10/15 ways to get the same idea across off the top of your head.

They don't even have to be full sentences, you can write more than one sentence, and if you start an iteration and hate where it's going you can leave it half done and start another.

DELETE NOTHING!!!! You may want to see that version again!!

Eventually, you will start seeing combinations of words you like.

If you suddenly come up with the perfect phrase. Great! You can stop. Otherwise, once you have enough fragments you like, try stringing them together.

If you still don't like it but feel you are getting close take the new strung-together sentence(s) and start again, rewriting it 5/10/15 times.

Keep repeating until either you are happy, or you've hit your goal (5, 10, or 15 iterations) and still don't see anything you can work with.

If you get stuck before you hit your goal, try any of these:

rearrange a few words or replace a word with a synonymm

reimagine it in the voice of Shakespeare, Dr. Doofenshmirtz, some condescending guy on Reddit, or whomever sounds fun

Get out your frustration. Write the damn thing in ALL CAPS. Swear. Sound condescending and angry. Don't censor yourself.

The "tell me without telling me / imagine it's illegal to say what you mean" method (i.e. write around the meaning). Also, the "how can I use setting/character description, actions, to show this without directly stating it" method.

--

The "Turn off your brain" Strategy

Another one of my names, and a distant cousin to the "Autofill Warm-up".

Stare blankly at your page. Let all thought leave you. You must not think. Thought is the inspiration killer. Thought is the little box full of nothing you haven't already tried.

Now, place your hands on the keyboard and press a key, or grab your pen and write a random letter.

Add another letter, mostly at random, but make sure there are actually words that start with those two letters together.

Let your brain autocomplete the rest of the word.

Repeat 2-4 with each subsequent word, but make sure they all make at least some attempt at gramatical sense when put together.

2-5 are more suggestions than hard rules. If your brain autocompletes a whole phrase use it if you like it. If you don't like the word your brain came up with, pick again.

Eventually a word or group of words may appear that might actually sort of fit in the place you are stuck, albeit with some major tweeking.

There. Now, you have a new idea you've never had before.

Sometimes I will write paragraphs expanding on an idea using this method, and then I will put those paragraphs through a few rounds of "5/10/15 ways to say it". These always end up being my best paragraphs for some reason.

[jkoo-njoo]

college crush - 5

summary: college au I when the frontier between a crush and an obsession blurs, how can you draw the line?

pairing: shy n clingy bf! jk × black fem! reader

genre: fluff, soft yandere | headcanons

word count: 4,300. on going story

warnings: physical violence ideation (Jungkook wants to slit someone’s throat), light mention of homophobia, description of comp-het, description of sexual violence because of acephobia (y/n is spiraling)

author's note: hi lovelies, it’s been a year since the last update, can you believe it ? I keep saying that there is only one last chapter left, but then I keep having more ideas and the story keeps expending ; so I’ll just stop saying that. ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა This chapter is a bit spicier than all the other ones, Jungkook is getting closer to his goal ! But is it really going to be as easy as he thinks it’ll be ? I truly hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it my loves. As always, I love reading your comments and I hope you know that it really hypes me up to beat writer’s block and finish this story ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

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5/ Wanting to fly the nest as far as he could, the bird aims for the sun, like Icarus, daring to rise to its death

— The bird, that just learned how to fly, soars with all his might

Its been two weeks now since you both started texting each other

At the beginning he was so nervous just thinking about directly speaking with you

He would overthink every single text he sent you for 20 minutes straight minimum

But the conversation started to flow very easily and chemistry began to develop between the two of you

It grew so much that you’ve been exchanging messages every single day with no fail, talking about any and every thing

On top of that, jungkook continued to send you gifts and come to your place while you’re not there

It added a special taste to know that whenever he would send you anything or clean your place or fill up your fridge

You would text him a few hours later to express gratitude and contentment

It filled his heart with pure joy and love for you even more now that he had your approval in real time

He didn’t need to constantly check your bins anymore

Jungkook felt his heartbeat rush and adrenaline spike up every single time you’d send him a message

It was truly heaven on earth

Now, for you… things were a bit different.

Sure, there was a cool situationship in the making

But it just wasn’t enough. you knew you needed more

You couldn’t just fall in love with a concept

You needed to put a face to it.

You decided to get bold today and proposed to arrange a date with your secret admirer

Yes this was a careless and rushed decision, whatever

But you were tired of playing it safe and decided to take matters into your own hands

Since your secret admirer wasn’t gonna be the one to do so

When jungkook received your advance he couldn’t believe his eyes and literally fell to his knees in the middle of the library

His ultimate crush was asking him out.

Asking him, out.

He knows that he’s been making a lot of efforts by talking directly to you everyday

(Even repeating that sentence in his head was making him feel dizzy)

But he couldn’t bring himself to actually reveal his whole identity to you just yet

So, he declines your offer by honestly revealing that he does not feel ready to face you at the moment

He wanted to pretend to be very sick and not wanting to contaminate you

But he absolutely loathed himself for even thinking about lying to you and betraying your trust in him

He still feels like shit because of his cowardliness

But he knows this is for the greater good of your relationship

Now, don’t get him wrong : he’s not near giving up.

The rest of his plan is waiting for the photography class partner project to unfold

But the thing is, their refusal disheartened you a bit

You thought everything was going so well between you ?

Why do they chicken out all of a sudden when it’s time to make things concrete between you ?

Are they very shy ?

Are they very ugly ?

Or are they an actual creepy serial killer that is not supposed to be on this campus ?

You tried to reassure them by stating that you’re sure that they’re a total hottie

And that there’s no reason for them to be shy with you anymore

However, your excitement started to wear off a bit, unbeknownst to Jungkook.

— The bird, finally resting for the first time in a while, inopportunely falls from a breaking branch

The following week on a tuesday, it finally arrives

The group project in photography class. the most crucial event for the rest of The Plan ™️

He tried hard to make a good first impression with his outfit

He wore a hoodie in your favorite color, slim jeans to reveal his thighs (because he overheard you talking about liking strong legs in guys) and black boots to appear more “hard” & “cool” (that’s also your type it seems)

You were wearing a very pretty light dress with some oversized pants and an oversized jacket to top it all

You were so outstandingly beautiful and cool, he just couldn’t compete with you even if he tried

The professor came in at the same time as you (you made it in time today he notes) and started the class directly by talking about the group project

But instead of a duo, like he imagined, the project will be in a quatuor with 2 boys and 2 girls

AND he already made the groups so no one could choose

The room audibly moaned and complained while he remained silent but his blood was boiling

He could not be more confused, angry and disappointed.

While the professor was calling the members of every groups out loud, he prayed to all the Gods and angels listening to please let him be with you

Even if there will be others he absolutely needed to be by your side.

He couldn’t bear leaving you all alone with two random men and no one to protect you

It seems one of the holy spirits heard his desperate pleading and answered immediately

Because the professor called his name right after yours

He doesn’t have the time to digest what just happened because the professor is already rushing everyone to gather in groups and introduce themselves

While everyone rearrange the tables and sit again, he succeeds in sitting in front of you

But he can hardly handle to look into your eyes from this close without fainting

This is the nearest he has ever been to you in real life and it truly feels like a dream come true

He can actually admire you from up close… he can smell you… he can almost touch your hand if he tries… and he wasn’t hiding from you anymore

It felt so right and natural to be in your space and bask in your presence

He was fully floating on a cloud focusing on nothing else but you and your voice

The rest of the class goes pretty smoothly with everyone introducing themselves and giving their inquiry about the project

Though he sat there in silence the entire time

While the only thing he mustered up enough courage to say was :

“Hi, my name is Jungkook. Nice to meet you all”

He was way too shy at the idea of talking to you viva voce in this context

He could try talking with you one-on-one if the project was a duo, like he planned.

But with two other strangers nearby watching and judging ?

Hell no, that was just too much all at once

Nevertheless, he does not regret witnessing you being the absolute brightest star right in front of him, even in silence

You were so full of life, energy and motivation for this project that it was actually hyping him up

Even though he really didn’t give a fuck about it in the first place

But it seems he wasn’t the only person entranced by you

Because why was this other guy clearly trying to flirt with you right in front of everyone ?

Thankfully it seems like you’ve got no clue and you’re not playing into his games at all

But Jungkook has to deal with him.

He wanted to just slit his throat so bad right then and there, without any hesitation.

But he knows he cannot show this side of himself to you just yet, and definitely not in the middle of this class

He’s gonna get rid of him definitely without scaring you off

No other boy has the right to have access to you other than him

You were his soulmate and his only.

He promised to himself to make this punk get it as soon as possible

At the end of the hour, this fucker has the audacity to ask for your number, and only yours

“it’s to talk about the project more in depth, you know !”

The holy spirits truly were by his sides today, because you suggested to have a group chat instead

“it’s to make the conversation about the project more efficient, you know !”

Everyone gives you their number and you create the groupchat right away before you all part ways

The walk home from this session at the photography class was the worst one he’s had in a while

He couldn’t even bask in the feelings of pure joy, love and excitement he has felt by being this close to you

He even gave you his real number for you to text the real him !

That was supposed to be one of the best moments of his life, right before :

your first kiss,

your marriage,

and your first child together.

But instead, he simply felt like absolute shit for witnessing a man blatantly flirting with his promised partner right in front of his face

And not doing anything to stop it and protect you.

He knows he can always count on you to preserve yourself for him and him only

But it certainly won’t last long if he doesn’t do anything

He feels really powerless and he does not like it one bit

He has to reverse the situation to promptly get rid of this parasite and secure his place in your heart

— The heavily weakened bird serendipitously finds some food on the ground

The thing is, he was so focused on his feelings for you and that other douchebag that he did not even notice everything else that happened outside of that

Like the fact that the other girl of the group was clearly trying to hit on him too

but he was so oblivious he only responded to her with vague hmms indicating yes or no

Or the fact that his charm and his silence intrigued you the most and you definitely wanted to spend more time with him to break his shell

Like, he was seriously one of the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen.

The way his long hair and square glasses perfectly framed his angelic face

The way he was not able to say a single word during the entire hour

And the way he blushed + looked away shyly any time anyone glanced for a little too long at him……

His cuteness already caught your eye before but this meeting solidified your crush for him even more

He was effortlessly checking every box of your ideal type one by one, it was not even funny

So much so that you started to wonder if it was worth entertaining a situationship with a potentially dangerous secret admirer

That is not even bold enough to show their face despite claiming to be deeply in love with you

Rather than shooting your shot with the cute nerdy guy from photography class

That is a very real person within reach, even if there is no certitude that he’s interested in you in the slightest

It was starting to hurt your head to think this much about all this

so you decided to open up to your secret admirer

Hoping to wake them up, for good.

After closing the door to his room, Jungkook received a very lengthy message from you where you disclosed all your doubts about him and your relationship

That’s when he truly lost it and started to sob uncontrollably

He realized that he was seriously on the verge of actually losing you for good

After all the hard work he has done to get to this point

He was inconsolable and cried in a ball on the ground for a good ten minutes

After calming down a bit, he realized that you were giving him the opportunity to officially deepen the connection between you

This was his last chance to truly secure his way to your heart, and you were the one giving it to him

He simply did not deserve the pure kindness of your soul and you still gave it to him

He made the very important decision on the spot to bend The Plan™️

You wanted to know more of his identity ? so be it.

He answered :

“My sweetest love. Thank you for trusting me and pushing for me to still be in your life after I’ve been such a coward. I do not deserve your grace, but I will prove to you by all means that my love for you is infaillible. From now on, you will receive pictures from me about myself and my daily life, and even audios of me directly reading my poems to you, if you feel comfortable with that. I will do my best to get you to know me on a more personal level, so you can realize that I am the perfect pretender to be your lifelong partner and that we are meant to be together forever. But know that at the moment, I still can’t reveal my whole identity to you, whether it be my face or my name, because of personal reasons you will soon understand. Please tell me if this satisfies your needs for now, and I will begin immediately.”

He knew he would have to push through a lot of boundaries within himself to uphold these promises

But he was willing to do absolutely anything for you, your love and your happiness

And to be by your sides

When you received their answer, you got reminded why you loved talking to your secret admirer so much

They were so dramatic sometimes, it was really funny and relieved your stress more often than not

You couldn’t do anything but accept their request without a second thought when it was presented in such a classy and solemn way

It was not exactly what you asked for, but you respected their decision and noted their efforts to try and meet your request still

You did not really pay more attention to it and move on with your life

Until you almost choked to death on your tea 10 minutes later

Since they said that they will not be showing their face, you thought they would exclusively send you innocent pictures of their daily life and stuff

How naive of you to think that.

After opening your phone notification you couldn’t help but stare at your screen, eyes wide open, with your eyebrows touching the ceiling

Instead of a candid still of some food on a plate like you expected

You were met with the mirror picture of a literal greek god with a full sleeve of tattoos, right out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel on their head and another one hanging low on their waist

They followed up on the pic with the wittiest text you’ve ever read from them

“You’re such a lucky princess because I just started my night routine. I’ve been itching to send you pictures like these for so long but I had to make sure the timing was right. I cannot wait to include you in my daily life. Do you want me to do a tour of all the skin care products I use to take care of the body you’re looking at ?”

“Oh, and my pronouns are he/him by the way ;)”

There is no way he’s not fucking with you right now. Absolutely no way.

You’ve been gawking at your phone with your mouth agape for so long, you did not notice the trail of saliva connecting your lips to your thighs.

He even has the time to send you another message apologizing if he made you uncomfortable with his naked body and promising to never cross your boundaries ever again

And that from now on he’ll only send you pictures of him fully clothed, even if it might compromise his anonymity

You collect yourself just enough to send :

“Please send me a real picture of yourself. I cannot believe you’re trying to catfish me after we’ve been talking together for so long.”

It was a bit harsh you admit, but you had to make sure that this wasn’t just some enormous prank

And that you’ve been made fun of this entire time

At first, he got hurt that you actually thought that he was a catfish and that he couldn’t possibly be this good looking

But he remembered that he was still an anonymous stalker in your eyes and that you were a very intelligent woman

It was totally understandable that you’d still be on your guard

Jungkook simply answers back :

“I would absolutely never play in your face and break your trust like that my love. You can make a reverse search on this picture. I took it right now and you’re the only person besides me that has ever laid eyes on it on this earth. All of this is reserved just for you.”

You do as he told and… you simply can’t believe it.

He is right : the picture is nowhere to be found on the internet

That’s when it really kicked in

You actually bagged the literal finest man in campus without doing anything

And he is the one that’s absolutely obsessed with you ??

He is the one who spoils you and showers you with love at any occasion without any inquiry on you part ??

You must have saved the entire human civilization in another life, because there was simply no way in hell this was real

You had to apologize. You were truly not familiar with his game.

You answer back :

“Look, I’m sorry to have doubted you but you’ve always been anonymous this entire time and we haven’t really gotten to know each other on a deeper level just yet. You know what ? You can send me all the pictures you’d like, but no dick pic please, I’m truly not into that.”

“Thank you again for accepting to reveal more of yourself to me, I’m really enjoying this ! You look very good…”

When he finished reading your message he was smiling from ear to ear

Oh, he knew he won.

— Against all odds, the bird perks up and flaps his wings again

Following this event, you started sending pictures of each other on the regular

You were sending him selfies mostly, not comfortable enough to reveal your body like he does

Jungkook did not mind one bit

He worshipped every single picture you sent to him regardless, going as far as printing and framing them all

His room was starting to fill up with all the pictures of you that you sent him, along side the stolen cliches he took of you

He was literally living his dream life.

He couldn’t believe how far he’d gone in the pursuit of his love, and how far it led him

On the flip side, you were absolutely flabbergasted.

He was sending you very cute pictures of his daily life like him cooking, gaming, painting and all that

But when it came to the pictures of himself…

He was always half naked or wearing very tight fitting clothes like a tank top and a sport crewneck

He explained that he couldn’t send you pictures of him wearing his daily clothes because he didn’t want you to recognize him in the street

That was only half of the truth tho

He also wanted to impress you with the work he’s been putting in the gym during all this time, just for you

But he truly hoped that you didn’t see him as some sort of fuckboy only interested in having sex with you

Showing you his body was just another way to draw you in. Like the final nail in the coffin

In his opinion, he made enough efforts these past few months to give you a glimpse of the overflowing feelings he had for you

He is absolutely head over heels for you but not in a carnal way if that made sense

And he knows very well that you’re not into that either

He has had crushes and stuff but he used to be a complete loser so no one would give him even a crumb of attention

Of course he very occasionally had some peaks of libido and he always took care of his needs by himself

But he quickly realized that he has honestly never felt sexual attention to anyone

When he compared his experience to the way other boys around him where going crazy about sex in his teenage years…

It was alienating to say the least.

He clearly remembers an instance when he tried talking about it to one of his friends at the time

And they bluntly answered :

“You don’t feel attracted to girls ? Are you gay or something ?”

Yes, he later discovered that he was indeed bi, but that was besides the point

The only thing he wanted more than anything was to develop the deepest and closest platonic & romantic relationship he could with anyone

And have them by his side as a friend and a lover, forever

He could not bring himself to perform as a person he was not just to uphold the expectations about what it meant to be a man

It felt like deep betrayal toward himself and the perfect recipe to be miserable forever in order to have company and be accepted by society

He always thought he was weird and doomed to be alone

Until you came into his life and outwardly expressed your need to have someone exactly like him into your life

You were literally the bright and warm light guiding him out of the dark and cold tunnel of loneliness

A dream of his that was once too good to be true

Was now a reality within reach

He could finally let hope fill his heart to the brim, like he always wanted to.

— the bird keeps gliding, with hope being the sole compass of his unpredictable voyage

The thing is, his plan was working on you

You really enjoyed the glimpses into his life and the occasional thirst traps

It kind of felt like texting a very sweet OF model

So you didn’t know why you still felt somewhat… empty

Like, he did answer your request to see more of him.

Of course it’s reassuring and rewarding to know that your secret admirer (and obsessive stalker) is literally eye candy

But you started to get scared about his true intentions

You knew he loved you for you

At least that’s what the countless love letters, acts of services and gifts he was constantly showering you with lead you to believe

And he has never been sexually suggestive in any way

But you still held back in your feelings in some way

You’ve always craved a special type of romantic connection to someone that was rooted in nothing but pure feelings of love and trust, not lust

And he was clearly giving that to you, at the moment

But.. he’s a drop dead gorgeous college boy in his early twenties

He statistically could not possibly be on the same page as you.

What will happen when he’ll start wanting more from you and you’re not gonna be able to give it to him ?

What will happen when on your first night together he’ll try to make a move on you and you’ll have to reject him ?

What will happen when you’ll be forced to open up about your lack of sexual attraction ?

Will he abandon you on the spot, like all these other guys ?

Or is he too far gone in his obsession with you, that he won’t be able to accept your rejection and his knee jerk reaction will be to be outright violent with you ?

Or worse : what if he’ll pretend to understand that “you need time” to get comfortable with him

Only to try to coerce his way into making you do something you simply don’t want to do ?

You want to enjoy this with him as much as possible, you really do

But these thoughts have always plagued your mind

And you had to share them with him to make sure that he stops getting attached to you before it’s too late.

You just couldn’t let hope fill your heart to the brim, even if you wanted to.