#about things that are fact-based statements and not matters of feeling

[hunter470]

Here’s my imagination having fun.

TM: Let’s break up Buck and Tommy and make it really hurt. It’s gonna be great.

Writers: But, Tim, this doesn’t make sense. We’ve been laying the foundation for a long-term healthy relationship for Buck. You even brought Tommy back because of all the connections he had with the 118. You wanted Buck’s love interest to be connected so they wouldn’t be off on an island. This just feels like it’s coming out of left field.

TM: True, but I keep getting texts from Oliver and he wants “Buck to f**k” and I think that would be fun. I mean, he’s newly bi so he should sleep around with a bunch of people before finding the one. We can have a lot of fun with that. Just think of the possibilities.

Writers: But that goes against all the character development we’ve done for Buck over the last seven seasons. We wanted him off the hamster wheel and to get into a long term relationship. Plus, aren’t you being a bit biphobic with your statement?

TM: Nope, I like Oliver’s idea so let’s do that. Oh, and make Tommy the bad guy and don’t let any of the other characters encourage him to talk to Tommy. We can have fun with that…maybe have Buck baking to get over him or he wants to call Tommy and Eddie steals his phone. Yeah, I like that. Use it.

Writers: Are you sure? We’re gonna get a lot of pushback from the audience. We’ve all seen the overwhelmingly positive response the Buck and Tommy relationship has gotten online.

TM: That may be true, but because the audience is so invested in the relationship, it just makes it more fun when we break them up. Remember, based on our ratings, the audience will watch whatever we put out there. Besides, Tommy’s just a side character so they won’t care. They only care about Buck. Oh, and I wrote a whole scene about Tommy being engaged to Abby. Make sure to work it in. It’s genius.

Writers: Abby? As in the Abby Buck dated? That doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit the timeline or the previous episodes’ narrative. So, Abby was engaged to a firefighter from the 118 and then dates another firefighter from the 118 and what, it just slipped her mind? Seems like a bit of a stretch. Also, why didn’t Tommy tell anyone he worked with at the 118 that he was engaged? Wouldn’t that have helped him stay hidden from his team? Kept his secret safe?

TM: It doesn’t matter. Just retcon the timeline or ignore the timeline altogether. It’s not like anyone will notice. The audience doesn’t pay that close attention. Plus, they’ll be too upset over the breakup to care. It’s just such a great idea that I got from the fans who sent me that red string theory video. They’ll love the fact that I used it.

Writers: We’ve seen the video but that was to show how Buck and Tommy are meant to be together and not to cause problems. Won’t that upset people?

TM: I doubt it. They’ll just feel acknowledged that I used it and be grateful. The audience loves everything I do. Remember, these are the viewers who loved a bee-nado and my obvious ripoff on a 1975 airplane disaster movie. They even bought a 66 year old police sergeant and a 10 year old boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA. So, it’s not like they expect reality in our stories.

One day after episode 6 airs…

ABC Executive: Tim, have you seen the number of saddened and upset viewers commenting on social media about last night’s episode?

TM: It’s amazing, right? I knew people would love it! We’re doing great things over there. You can expect this level of storytelling for the spinoff. You’re gonna love it!

Executive: I’m afraid you didn’t hear me. People are upset and saying they’ll stop watching the show. We’re even getting hundreds of feedback messages on the ABC site. People are not happy. How are you going to fix this?

TM: Don’t worry. People won’t stop watching. They’re all lemmings and love everything I write. Anyway, it will all blow over after the next episode. I threw in some Tommy crumbs that will make viewers think he’s coming back, which they’ll live off of and keep watching. Oh, and if that’s not enough, we have a scene with Buck and Jee baking that is so cute they’ll forget all about being upset over the breakup. Cute kids are the answer to everything.

Executive: 🤦🏻‍♂️

[genderqueerdykes]

i've seen too many trans people get comfortable stating that they're uncomfortable around "all strangers who are cishet men." The problem with this statement is you literally cannot discern whether or not they're a cishet man just by looking at that person. you have no clue if that person is a cishet man- the way they dress, act, talk or present themselves does not matter or make a difference.

many, many, MANY transfems do not feel safe dressing or looking feminine and choose to stay in boy mode when in public. that stranger could be gay, bisexual, polyamorous, a closeted trans woman, that stranger could be a trans man, that stranger could be a nonbinary person, a crossdresser, a transsexual, an intersex person, a genderfluid person, a drag performer in or out of drag, or anyone else on the planet. remember that there are in fact trans men who pass so effortlessly that they have a hard time getting people to believe they're trans. just because that person is very masculine does not guarantee that they're AMAB and cis (or het), not that any of these things are inherently bad.

you cannot tell how a stranger identifies just by looking at them, and it is in fact transphobic, transmisogynistic, transandrophobic, and queerphobic in general to assume that every masc person you meet is a cishet man. if we don't like it when strangers make unfair assumptions about our genders, we shouldn't do it to other strangers, either. it will never be okay to make assumptions about strangers based off of their bodies, and it will never be okay to imply that people with certain body types are inherently dangerous or unsafe to be around, or "couldn't possibly be queer."

[murdrdocs]

every passing moment

description. sitting in the front seat of patrick zweig’s car, it’s nearly impossible to pretend like you don’t want him. it's impossible to pretend you didn't come for this.

includes. SMUT 18+, car sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected p n v, lots of denial from reader, some manhandling, sort of mean patrick, also mean reader, hooking up w a friends ex (but consensually!), takes place in the 2000s

wc. 3.6k+

a/n: cannot be bothered to edit sawrryy. based on a req i got forever ago. art creds unknown. title from so into you by tamia

“You can stop pretending.” 

You pause your insistent flipping through radio stations to glare in Patrick’s direction. His eyes are straight ahead, staring at the red streetlight through the rain still pattering down onto the windshield. You narrow your eyes in distaste, trying not to notice the way the light illuminates the shape of his face. 

“Pretending?” 

Patrick shrugs, glancing at you for a moment before the light is green and he’s facing the road again. 

“Yeah. Pretending that you’re not into me.” He says it with such assurance as if his statement is a fact of matter and not just an arrogant assumption. 

You scoff and decide on a station playing the final bits of a Katy Perry song. Maybe you would have been able to distinguish the song if it weren’t for the volume of the blood pumping through your body. You’ve been attempting to ignore it the entire time, ever since you and Patrick dropped Art off at a friend's place.

But there was something about being alone with Patrick and sitting in the front of his car. It affects you. When you were sitting in the back of the car and looking out of the window, you weren’t focused on anything other than how long it would take to get back to your dorm. Patrick and Art were as they usually were—Patrick and Art, extensions of the other. They joked, laughed, and included you for a bit before Patrick wrongfully proclaimed that you were asleep. You were in your world and they were in theirs. But now you’re part of Patrick’s world, forced to listen to him scoff at the song playing and click to another station. Forced to kick away an empty Monster can that rolls back and hits the toe of your sneakers. Forced to smell his cologne, previously too strong but now worn off to a more pleasant intensity, carry towards your nose with the cold AC. 

Before, you were able to pretend that you didn’t want Patrick. Now, you’re right next to him, bumping your elbow with his as they both rest on the center console. Mumbling the same lyrics—although Patrick gets the words slightly wrong—to the same song. There is a certain harmony that exists in this space, shining a light on your true desires, the ones you pushed down with eye rolls and groans whenever Art insinuated that you had feelings for his best friend. The desires you pushed away even whenever Tashi exclaimed that what she and Patrick had was nothing but a thing that they had, and you were free to swoop in if you pleased. 

Now, sitting in the front seat of Patrick Zweig’s car, it’s nearly impossible to pretend like you don’t want him. It’s impossible to pretend like you didn’t come dressed for this. 

Your meticulously crafted outfit screams in your face. Your best pair of jeans, the ones that hugged your ass just right and had gotten you laid twice this semester already. A tiny enough top to warrant attention without being obvious that that’s what you wanted—it ended right above your navel and was thin enough for your tits, unrestrained by a bra, to press against the fabric. In certain lighting, like the lighting coming from the stoplight, for example, you could see your nipples poking through. 

When you glance over at Patrick again, you catch him glancing down at your tits. You scoff like it’s not what you wanted, but you cross your arms under your bust and enhance the pair anyway. 

The car ride is going fine. Patrick’s chosen station plays hit after hit to fill the silence as he steadily heads toward your dorm. You’re only a few minutes away, no more than 7 if the stoplights weren’t taking too long, and then Patrick pulls into a gas station. 

You look over at him, your eyes squinted and your eyebrows furrowed. 

“What’re you doing?” 

He puts the car in park next to a pump. “Getting gas,” he tells you factually as if you’re the outrageous one. 

He closes the door before you can argue with him but you reach over and press the button to roll down the window before the battery completely turns off. 

“My dorm is literally right down the street. You couldn’t wait?” You hiss at him through the open window, watching him insert his card and put his PIN in. Unsurprisingly, his PIN is his birth year. 

“It’s easier this way,” he takes his card out of the reader and opens the tank. “Otherwise I would’ve had to double back. Too much work. Waste of gas.” 

You huff and fall back into your seat, just a tad bit upset that Patrick would’ve had the perfect view of your tits if he looked away from the dirtied gas pump for just a second. 

You sit for a moment, tapping your finger against the plastic door handle. You pull a stick of gum out of your purse. 

“Pass me one,” Patrick demands, doesn’t ask. 

You make a point of smacking on your piece as you tell him, “It’s the last one.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls the corner of his lips into his cheek and glances back at the screen steadily counting up. 

He looks back at you. His eyes scan your frame and you can’t help but feel a little satisfied. 

“You look really pretty right now.” He tells you. His compliment should flatter you, and it mostly does, but he gave you those eyes. The ones you’ve seen him throw at multiple women, hoping it would get him what he wants. 

You’re sure that you and him currently share the same wants, but you want him to be a little shameless about it. For the sake of your pride, you can’t give it away this easily. So you retort. 

“Oh my God, Patrick. Fuck off!” Petulantly, you cross your arms over your chest and focus your attention on the mostly empty building in front of you. 

“I’m serious.” And he sounds serious. He sounds earnest. It’s the softest you’ve ever heard Patrick speak and you don’t know if he’s doing it to get in your pants, or if he has no ulterior motives. 

You don’t know which one you prefer more. 

You don’t know how to respond. Silence seems to be the best answer for you. 

It’s not satisfactory for Patrick. “This is usually the part where you’ll accept my compliment. Maybe give one back.”

“That would be the part if I were another one of your conquests. Which I’m not.”

“You wouldn’t be another one of my conquests.”

“You tell everyone that? Or just girls that you think ‘look really pretty’.”

“Alright, whatever. Will thinking that you’re another one of my conquests help you? Would it take some pressure away from all of this?” He gestures wildly between the two of you. The tank reaches its limit behind him and he places the nozzle back in its home. 

He’s back in the car with the engine turned on and his seatbelt on when you respond. 

“It doesn’t matter, Patrick. Because I’m not sleeping with you.”

He laughs. The sound is irritating. It makes your nostrils flare and your skin burn. 

“What’s funny? I didn’t think someone finally not wanting you would be so entertaining.”

“Oh, people don’t want me all the time. You’re just not one of them.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Look,” he puts the car into drive and starts off towards your dorm. “I know you wanna sleep with me. It’s fine if you don’t admit it to me, maybe even yourself, but it’s obvious. You’re just too egotistical. You think you’re superior to me because—what? You chose a ‘real job’ over tennis? That doesn’t make you superior, it makes you scared. And that’s okay. You’re scared of your own potential and you’re scared of how bad you want me. That’s fine,” he spits your name out with a natural ease that used to flatter you. Now it pisses you off. “Just don’t walk around like that’s not the truth.” 

You have the urge to tell him to pull the car over. You have the urge to spew out every nasty insult you’ve ever thought about him, some of them even Tashi’s own t words that she’d shared with you after the breakup. But you’re only a block away from your dorm and you refuse to waste your energy on Patrick. That and you know if you try, your voice will crack and you’ll embarrass yourself. 

Instead, you turn the radio up and sit with your anger until Patrick pulls up to your dorm. 

Your seatbelt clicks to free you, the door is unlocked, opened, and closed, and you’re turned to face the entrance when the sound of the window unrolling stops you. 

“Call me when you’re done lying to yourself.”

He doesn’t leave until you’re inside the building. 

Even then, he isn’t gone for long. 

You’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting for the familiar ding! so you can crawl upstairs to your room, call Tashi, and tell her about this horrible night. 

But you knew you wouldn’t be satisfied. You knew the night couldn’t end like this. 

So just when the elevator reaches you and opens its doors, you have your phone pressed to your ear and Patrick’s number ringing. 

He picks up on the second ring and he just laughs. Big and boisterous like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world. 

You huff, considering hanging up and going upstairs. But you shift your stance and the seam of your jeans presses right into the center of your cunt and you know you couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

“Don’t be an ass. Just come back.” 

When you walk out the door, he’s back in the same spot. 

The car door is opened, the yellow light turning on and illuminating Patrick’s sick fucking smirk, and you don’t say anything as you sit in the passenger seat. You don’t bother clicking your seatbelt on. 

“Why don’t we just go upstairs?” he suggests. 

“I’m not checking you in.” I don’t want proof of this ever happening, is what you don’t say to him. Even without the fine print being verbalized, Patrick knows what you mean. 

He hums, a sound that infuriates you just as much as his laugh, but then he puts the car into gear and starts off towards wherever he’s taking you. 

You end up in the parking lot behind one of the science buildings. It’s empty, completely desolate besides a half-drunken bottle of blue Gatorade and a campus security pole that shines a deep blue. The light isn’t bright enough to penetrate the foggy windows of Patrick’s Honda, but the streetlights that keep the parking lot lit are. 

The white light sits along Patrick’s cheekbones. It’s flat against the straight line of his nose. It’s barely there, right along his prominent cupid bow. 

You can’t help but sit and admire his face. You can’t help but admire the way sweat has started to coat his hairline, threatening to drip down over his thick eyebrows and fall onto his cheek. You can feel your own sweat coming through your pores, but you can’t feel that more than you can feel Patrick’s fingers fucking up into you, two thick digits plunging into your walls over and over again. 

You can’t believe you’re actually doing it, following up on the encouragement from both Tashi and Art. You’re finally giving in to all of those dreams that you pushed out of your mind as soon as you could, or those brief pictures of Patrick’s face in your head whenever you were trying to picture your latest celebrity crush instead. 

Now, Patrick is all you see. 

When you’re verbally asking him to use his mouth on you, you only see Patrick’s smirk. It’s real and raw and right in front of you. And you can’t stop staring. 

Even when he contorts his large body to bring his face right between your legs, and you can only really see from the tip of his nose up, you don’t stop staring. When the pleasure mounts and climbs up your spine, you don’t stop staring, even when your eyes beg to flutter closed just to focus on the pleasure. 

You’re zoned out and you know it. You’re staring at Patrick’s eyes, even when he’s watching your cunt and you can only see his eyelids. Your own eyes have glazed over from refusing to blink, and when you do blink—an action that’s pulled from you when Patrick flicks his tongue over your clit just right—a twin set of tears glide down your cheeks. 

It’s then that Patrick decides to look at you again and you can feel his smile. 

Thinner than usual and more pursed as it’s the position of his lips, but the expression is pressed right up against you and you can feel it so intimately. It’s really a shame that the thing you hate most is the thing that gets you right to the edge. 

Patrick baring his teeth and gently nipping on your clit as he twists his fingers inside of you is the thing that makes you throw your hand out to grip the back of the passenger seat, your back arching as your mouth throws out moans that you don’t mean to be as loud as they are. 

And Patrick just helps you ride through it. Even when you hook your legs around his head and twist your fingers into his hair, keeping his face dangerously close to your cunt, he helps you out. He’s more generous than you would’ve thought, and you don’t want to think about how many orgasms Patrick Zweig would be willing to give you before asking for one of his own. So you don’t. 

Instead, you think about the way you’re grinding your cunt against Patrick’s face. As soon as you realize you’re doing it, you stop. You unhook your legs and let his hair go and when he comes up for air, you refuse to meet his eye. 

After all of that staring, you suddenly are completely uninterested in Patrick’s blue eyes, including the little speck of blood-orange he has in them. 

Patrick snickers and with him being this close to you, you can smell yourself on his breath. Why does that make you want to kiss him more?

“Come on. After I just made you cum you won’t even look at me?”

You reach above you to click the car light on and immediate regret finds you. Because now that there’s a substantial amount of light in the car, you can see the way Patrick’s clean-shaven chin, plump lips, and perky nose shine. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where all of the shimmer has come from, especially not when the evidence is still smeared all over your pussy and inner thighs. 

You dart your eyes to the side, looking at Patrick’s floor in search of the firetruck red pair of panties you were wearing. You look, and look, pushing away bottles and plastic bags and a pair of sneakers, and when you don’t find them, you huff and try to reach around Patrick to grab your jeans that have landed on the center console. 

He bends out of the way, letting you grab the jeans, waiting for your next move. 

“You can take me back to my dorm now.”

He hesitates. He doesn’t say anything. And then, “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” he asks it as if he knows the answer. 

You know the answer. Still, you look at him, feigning unimpressed with your jeans hanging limply in your hands. You should put them back on. You’ve got what you came here for, a really good orgasm, and now it’s time you start working on the paper you’ve been putting off. A paper you absolutely despised. A paper that you would do anything to escape, or at least put off a bit. 

Anything including letting Patrick Zweig fuck you. 

Yeah, that’s not the only reason why you let Patrick fuck you. You’ve wanted him for a while and you’ve been fairly obvious about it. The classic childhood approach to your attraction wasn’t fooling anyone. Masking your attraction with annoyance didn’t do anything but make you want him more. 

In the end, it wasn’t effective, as it still brought you here:

On your hands and knees in the back of Patrick’s car, letting him defile you from the back, remaining completely uncaring of the heat and the volume of your moans. 

You’ll admit, this isn’t how you imagined fucking Patrick. You imagined it being somewhere more appropriate, for starters. In a bed or on a couch perhaps. But everything else about it, you’ve imagined. 

The way he fucks you, rough and without abandon, is how you imagined it. The way he just takes and takes is how you imagined it. Late at night when you would slip your hands between your thighs, hoping to provide even a bit of reprieve, you imagined it like this. 

You imagined his grunts right in your ear. You imagined the feeling of his balls slapping against your cunt. You imagined the feeling of his hands on your hips. But now you don’t have to imagine, it’s all real. 

“Good?” Patrick asks from behind you. 

Your lips move on their own accord. “‘s so good. Just like I imagined.” 

You regret the admission as soon as it’s in the stiff air. You regret even thinking about it whenever Patrick snickers, curt and confident. 

“Just like you imagined, huh? Knew you—fuck, you feel good—I knew you wanted me.” 

His words are redundant at this point. It’s obvious that you’ve wanted Patrick the entire time. Now, he just wants to rub it in your face. He’s treating you like a pet, a big hand on the back of your head and rubbing your face in the mess you’ve made. Quite literally, as he palms the back of your head and pushes your face down into the seat at one point, smearing your nose in the sweat and arousal left over from your first orgasm. 

But he’s not reprimanding you. He’s encouraging you. 

He’s hooking a hand over your shoulder and pulling you back onto each of his thrusts. He’s hunching over your body as best as he can in the tight space and resting his head against your spine. 

When you feel a glob of drool meets the center of your back, it suddenly occurs to you that Patrick has wanted this as much as you have. He’s been chasing after you the entire time, apparently, if you could trust the words of Art and Tashi. 

You tune in, allowing yourself to hear him, to be with him in this brief moment. You’re made aware of his groans, how deep and throaty they are, how sincere they are. You notice how the drag of his cock out of you is slower than the push back in. It’s almost as if he’s savoring the time that he’s in you, prolonging it as long as possible. Yet, he slides out nearly all the way, only stopping when his mushroom tip is settled within you, your cunt clasped around it like a vice. And then he glides back in, swift and gentle. 

Over and over again. And no matter how much he’s trying to prolong it, no matter how much he’s trying to prevent the inevitable, it approaches steadily. You’re close before you notice it, hands gripping the door handle and the leather seats. 

You don’t warn him. If you feared he was going to stop or change something, maybe you would have told him that you were close. But Patrick isn’t one to change something that’s working well so you really had nothing to worry about. 

Soon enough, when your orgasm is at its peak and you’re letting noise after noise spill past your lips, Patrick joins you. His forehead resting against your shoulder, his hips sloppily knocking into yours. 

It’s harmonious. Possibly the most (willingly) in tune you and Patrick Zweig have ever been. Likely the most willingly in tune the two of you will ever be. 

When it’s over, it’s over. There’s no more harmony. You nudge yourself back, getting Patrick off of you. You abandon the search for your panties and just settle with slipping your jeans back on, doing the same for your bra and shirt. You climb into the front seat, leaving Patrick in the back to catch his breath and redress. 

He leaves the car to walk around to the driver's side and you use that one moment where he isn’t there to ask yourself what the fuck?

The drive back is silent. No music, no conversation, just the sound of rubber against asphalt. Patrick asks you one thing. 

“Do you wanna go anywhere else?”

“I’m fine.”

And then you’re back at your dorm. You take a moment, mulling over your possibilities. You could have Patrick park in a visitor's spot, come up to your dorm, and spend time with you. You could resort back to your usual banter, maybe throw in an insult that doesn’t have to do with the way he defiled you just a few minutes ago (because there really isn’t anything negative you could say about that). 

Instead, you open the door and step out. 

“Thanks,” is all you tell him. 

When you get upstairs, you consider the possibility of telling Tashi or Art. Instead, you take a shower and go to sleep. 

[killerlookz]

She Makes Dirty Words Sound Pretty | Joost Klein

description: joost klein x f! reader You and Joost manage to find a moment of intimacy over the phone amidst a time of hardship in your relationship. (very much based on of this song <33 so lyrics are scattered throughout!)

content 18+ NSFW, MDNI- phone sex, mutual masturbation, relationship issues, angst/comfort, lots of comfort (if you catch my drift), this fic contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable, and please block the rpf tag

word count: 2425

I'm only trying to work this out / So if you call me at all don't tell me that I'm ordinary / because I won't be passing you, please don't leave

Your stomach churns at the sound of your phone buzzing, over the last week you had associated the sound of your phone buzzing with nothing but tears and heartache.

You roll over, letting the thick comforter that covers you slip down your shoulders as you reach for your phone from the nightstand. Just as you expected. An anxious hand hesitates to pick up the phone, not in the mood to engage in conversation with who you were sure within the coming days would be your ex-boyfriend.

A sharp pang vibrates throughout your chest looking at the screen that shines at you.

Joost <3

Rather hurtfully paired with a picture of the two of you together, his arms wrapped around you, lips pressed against your cheek in a soft kiss.

You roll your eyes, he was going to keep calling if you didn't pick up. You huff, giving in, ripping your phone from where it sat next to your bed. Reluctantly you answer, your chest tightening waiting to hear the voice on the other end.

"Y/n?" The trepidation in Joost's voice was apparent, "Are you there, schatje?" The inclusion of the pet name made you wince, sounding all too sweet for your displeasure with him at the moment. Usually, you'd revel in his compliments and sweet nothings- but not now, you couldn't.

Things had been unusually hard lately, only exacerbated by the fact that Joost had been away on tour. It seemed like all the two of you had done in the last few weeks was fight. Usually about petty, little things- things that didn't even really matter but in the moment they seemed like everything. Half the time you couldn't even remember what the arguments were about, all that remained were bitter feelings and tear stains that lingered on your cheeks.

It had all culminated last night- a screaming match unparalleled to any other petty argument the two of you shared in recent weeks. You knew deep down that neither of you had meant any of the horrible, venom-dripped words you had spit at each other. But right now it felt impossible to ever forgive, much less forget.

"I'm here." You respond, short, monotone- trying not to give too much away about how you were feeling.

"Oh, y/n," He breathes, "I've been worried, I've been trying to talk to you since last night."

"I saw." You answer, just as short and uninterested as your last statement. Joost had been blowing up your phone for the last 24 hours- so terribly you had considered blocking his number at least for a little while.

"I know you're mad at me, y/n, but I still worry about you, you can't just ignore me like that." His voice is firm like he's scolding you- but you can sense a pain behind your voice, and if you hadn't been so fed up at the moment, you'd almost feel sorry for ignoring him.

"Oh," You snap, "So you're going to tell me what I can and cannot do now?"

"Why are you looking for a fight, y/n?" He sighs, "I'm just saying I was worried about you, how was I supposed to know what happened?"

"I'm not looking for a fight."

"You're always looking for a fight," Frustration is heavy in Joost's words.

"Is that really what you think of me?" You scoff, covering the ache you feel in your heart with anger.

You hear Joost let out a breath on the other end, "No," You note how tired he sounds as he continues, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that."

"I don't know that. It sounds like you did." You're having none of his apology, weeks of growing resentment were not going to be fixed by one simple apology.

"Mijn lieve meisje" (My sweet girl) He coos, "I don't mean to make you so angry." His voice has softened, a stark contrast to the harsh tone of your own voice, "You know I hate to hear you sound like this- even worse to know I did it."

Something about the gentleness of his voice, and the way he seems so aware of his own role in all of this makes your heart thump- and you almost want to forgive him altogether. But you can't, not right now- not yet.

I hear you breathing on the line... / I leave you hurting every night

"Het spijt me (I am sorry), I want to make things better between us."

"I don't know," You mumble, unsure of if there is even anything that could make things better.

"You don't know how badly I wish I was with you," His voice rich with longing, "I need to make these last few weeks up to you. I miss you liefje, I miss us."

You can't lie, you want that too, wishing so badly just for everything to go back to normal, to no longer have this hole in your chest, for your body to no longer ache with this profound sadness.

"It's just going to be so hard to forget last ni-"

"I know, schatje." He cuts you off, "You have every reason in the world to be angry with me."

"Are you angry with me?" You ask, wondering if he mirrored your own upset feelings towards

"Angry isn't the right word, no." And suddenly your stomach churns with guilt, "I'm just tired of how things have been."

You're tired too, tired of dreading his calls, tired of the tears, tired of the sleepless nights regretting every awful word you've said.

"Me too," You murmur

"I won't force you to forgive me," Joost sighs, "Not until you're ready. But I know you're upset, and I want you to feel better."

His words are so soft, so gentle, melting away your anger with each. careful syllable.

"Can you talk to me, please?" He's practically pleading.

"What do you want to talk about?" You're unsure of what conversation could fill this dead air, how you could possibly talk and things feel okay.

"Tell me what you're doing now," He requests, his words quick.

"I'm just in bed," You shrug nothing special.

"Breaks my heart to think about you all alone in that big bed." You can't tell if the pity in his voice is mocking or genuine.

"I guess it's okay," You had gotten used to the loneliness, it was worse in the first few days he had been gone.

"Mh-mh," he mumbles in disagreement, "Hate thinking about how my pretty girl has to sleep alone every night."

There's a sensuality in his tone that makes you clench your jaw, and your breathing deepen. His pretty girl. His.

"In my bed, at that." He adds.

You supposed he was technically right- you had been the one to move into his apartment.

You hum softly into the phone, not able to come up with many words to say, he seemed more like was simply just thinking out loud than having a conversation.

"I miss you," He says again, "Tell me you miss me too, schatje, I know you do."

There's something about the way he speaks that makes you oblige so easily,

"Miss you too," You mumble, head falling to the side as your eyes close.

"Mmm good," He's practically purring to you, "You're so good."

The praise was simple, you hadn't done much past admitting something the two both knew was true, but it felt like it had been so long since the two of you had spoken so gently to one another, and so you absolutely drank it up.

"You're saying so little, what is on your mind?" He pries like he's looking for something specific.

"Nothing, really." You're entirely self-aware of how boring you must sound to him, but it's the truth- sort of.

He hums in response, "Can I tell you what I'm thinking about?" He asks, his voice oozing with anticipation

"I won't stop you,"

"I'm thinking about you, thinking about how beautiful you must look right now, about holding you, how your body feels against mine, about-" He stops short,

"About..?" You trail off, wanting him to continue his pretty praises. A delightful tingle was beginning to spread through your body, his kind words making you weak.

"More of the same," He says quickly, "Just thinking about being with you now."

A soft smile sweeps over your face at the thought, though you assumed your thoughts now had to be a lot less innocent than his. You couldn't help yourself, you'd been so pent up since he left that the smallest words of adoration were setting you off.

Your hands trail down under the covers, rubbing at your inner thigh, before softly grazing over your panties. You let out a sigh, rubbing soft circles over your clit through the thin lacey fabric.

Your breathing quickens as you deepen your movements, rubbing with more intention now. You arch your back, thinking about how this would be going down if Joost was here, the two of you had never needed to have makeup sex before- but you supposed now was as good of a time as ever to imagine it.

You think about how Joost said he needed to make it up to you, about how the last few weeks had been- at this moment you couldn't have thought of a better way for him to make things up to you than with his tongue, or his fingers, or his cock.

Your pussy ached at the thought of him- the thought of you stretching around him as he mumbles sweet words in your ears about how sorry he is.

You slip your panties to the side, a finger sliding down your now-soaked folds, the contact making you gasp, "Fuck,"

You can hear Joost clicking his tongue on the other end of the line- and suddenly you realize what you had just done, your body growing with an uncomfortable and shameful heat.

"So dirty," He chastizes

"W-what?" You sputter, attempting to feign innocence about what you had been doing.

Who wouldn't let you scream 'oh' into a soft pillow / I'm such an animal, and baby honestly these teeth won't let you go

"It's okay, schatje, you don't have to act stupid," His smirk is audible through the phone, "Don't be embarrassed, keep going, let me talk you through it."

Your body relaxes and your embarrassment subsides.

"Now, will you tell me what you're thinking about?" He asks sweetly

"Thinking," A soft sigh falls from your lips, "About you," Your hand slowly crossing your thighs to return to your throbbing cunt, "About how bad I want you." The words are a struggle to get out as you resume drawing circles around your swollen clit.

"Yeah?" He encourages, and you hear some shifting on the phone, "What do you want?"

"I want," You breathe out, "You," Another breath, "Inside of me."

"Fuck," He groans, his breathing becoming louder, "Want this cock, pretty?"

"Y-yes- ah!" You can't suppress your high-pitched yelp as you slip a finger into your leaking entrance.

"Say it, tell me how much you want me to fuck you." He begs, his voice low and gritty.

"So bad, Joost, need to be fucked so bad" Your words are breathless as you pump your fingers in and out, making your eyes screw shut tight. "Fuck, I haven't had you inside of me in so long, I need it." You feel your lower stomach tightening, pleasure taking hold of you.

"How about my tongue, hm? I'd love to taste you right now, always so sweet for me," Joost sounds just about as breathless as you do right now, and the thought of him on the other end only makes you want to work your fingers harder.

"Uh-huh," You whine, thinking about his tongue lapping at your arousal, his tongue trailing from your swollen clit to your quiver entrance, teasing, before taking a dip inside. "Anything- just need you."

"Oh, you have me, you'll always have me." His words are hungry, and you can tell he's speaking through a clenched jaw, "Fuck, liefje, you have me so worked up like this and you're not even here, love hearing that pretty voice of yours."

You're almost positive you're certainly in an even more worked-up state than he is.

"Mmmneed you to fuck me until I can't walk," You sigh, unable to help but think about him absolutely ruining you, his hands groping your flesh as he pounds into you, unrelenting. "My fingers can't reach as good as you do," You can't help but stroke his ego a little, he deserved it after the hell you had been putting him through.

"Oh," He whines, "arme schatje, (poor baby) I know, I know, just keep working those fingers for me though, okay?"

Despite your fingers not being able to hit all the same places Joost can, the pressure in your body is still building, and you can tell you're losing control, especially as a long string of groaned expletives falls from Joost's mouth, his obvious pleasure only working further to push you to the edge.

"I'm c-close," You stutter, your legs starting to shake.

"Speak up, baby- want to hear how you cum for me."

The pace at which your fingers pulse in and out of you increases, working to bring yourself over the edge. You imagine Joost inside you, imagine him bringing you to an orgasm and cumming all over the length of his cock.

You can't talk now, your words are simply replaced by loud moans and gasps as you hope to god you don't wake up the neighbors.

In the throughs of your orgasm now, your back arched- near screaming, "I-I'm cumming, fuck, Joost," You can't finish the rest of your sentence, all you can focus on is the wave of pleasure that overtakes you, the way the tightness in your body is shattering.

"Hold on," Joost grunts, "I'm almost there- hold on,"

You lay on your back, legs shaking, out of breath, listening to Joost on the other end.

He finishes with one final strained "Fuck"

Neither of you speak for a few minutes,- your mind is racing, your thoughts absolutely dizzying as the silence is only filled by the two of you attempting to catch your breaths.

"Still angry now?" Joost asks, finally breaking the tension.

"I don't think so," You're not, you were way too blissed out to feel anything but complete, overwhelming love.

"So you love me again?" He jokes, chuckling to himself.

"I never stopped."

a/n: i added a pt. II to this, find it here

[gldnstrngs]

i respect people who don’t ship merthur but i feel like it cant be denied that, no matter who you ship, merlin was very clearly in love with arthur.

there are so many scenes in the entire show that indicate how merlin feels— even if he doesn’t explicitly say it, he doesn’t have to because his actions show it. plus he says things that either mean “i love you” or more than that.

at first, merlin didn’t like arthur (but also wanted arthur to trust him) and initially followed the prophecy in order to allow magic in camelot again. it’s pretty soon after that, no matter how much they fight, merlin didn’t just want arthur alive because of the prophecy, but also because he cared for him.

that’s shown when merlin and arthur are fighting over who will drink the poisoned cup; one could argue that merlin only did it because of arthur’s fate, but the way he’s absolutely heartbroken when he thought arthur was dead says way more than that. it was never really about the prophecy at that point.

but what solidifies it is the last episode of season one. the scene where merlin goes to check on arthur before he goes to see nimueh will ALWAYS be on my mind because it’s so obviously a love confession.

“i’m happy to be your servant, till the day i die.”

like. bro. the way they stare at each other after that too. and when he sees nimueh and says about arthur— “his life is worth a hundred of mine.” i don’t think merlin was just saying that because of arthur’s destiny, but because he truly genuinely loved arthur so much that he couldn’t stand to see him die.

and this is all in the span of a few months. my boy fell hard fr.

there are so many other scenes i can think of like in season two when arthur and merlin are trying to find balinor and they’re at the inn and in their room. the way merlin was doing a double take when arthur took off his shirt (there’s actually no heterosexual explanation for that💀) was CRAZY (someone pls link fics that are based on that scene bc that was so insane).

or in season 4 when arthur thinks gaius is a traitor (which i also refer to as Merlin’s Tolerate It era) and merlin is so distraught. obviously losing gaius was on his mind but the thought that arthur, the person he had complete and utter fate in and loved, could ever think that gaius would betray him absolutely destroyed him. or when merlin tells arthur that gaius would never betray him… like that’s such a clearly loaded statement where he’s saying “i would never betray you.”

there’s also the fact that in the season four finale merlin makes up all of this lore just so arthur could believe in himself. merlin’s face the entire time is just so telling like that is the face of someone who is so devoted to their lover.

there are so many hints that indicate merlin being in love with arthur like i don’t think it needed to be said outright for the audience to know. i think the both of them being men makes it easier to try to depict their relationship as solely platonic or brotherly, but merlin’s words and actions say otherwise.

i mean, merlin himself says “i use it [magic] for you, arthur. only for you.”

if that isn’t gay, then i don’t know what is.

[sweetbans29]

Flight - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You hate flying (based on THIS request)

Warnings: Soft CC, also kinda sorta cliche

Word Count: 2.9k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Our girls smile is everything.

Since meeting Caitlin, she has gotten you to do a lot of things that were out of your comfort zone. Most of the time it was willing. It was only on a select few times that it was unwilling. This was one of them.

Your leg is going a mile a minute bouncing up and down, as you wait for what is going to be the last few hours of you on earth.

"Calm down," Caitlin says as she hits your leg. Your leg tapping doesn't waiver as you just stare at your best friend.

Leading up to this moment has been you trying everything in your power to get out of this trip. The only issue with that was there is only one person on this planet that was more persistent than you and that was Caitlin. That is how you ended up waiting to board a plane to Cancun.

In your mind, you were still trying to find a way out. It didn't matter than you were already at the airport or through TSA, you had not gotten on the plane therefore could still go home. Forget the fact that Caitlin paid for literally everything on this trip to get you to go, including first class seats. Forget the fact that half of her team was already there awaiting your arrival. Forget the fact that you would literally have to fight her to leave the airport any other way than on the plane heading to Cancun.

The wait was even longer as Caitlin is always one of the last to board to avoid slowing down the boarding process.

When one of the flight attendants comes in to the lounge to get the two of you, you don't move an inch. Caitlin stands and slings her backpack and begins walking out when she sees aren't by her. She turns around and sees you sitting still.

"I'm not going," you say, not looking at her in the eye.

"Come on," Caitlin says ignoring your statement.

"I can't," you say.

Caitlin circles back, trying with every fiber in her being to not be annoyed with you. She got you this far, she is getting you on this plane.

"You can and you will," Caitlin says while grabbing your bag and waiting for you to get up.

You look up at her and she sees the pure fear in your eyes - she immediately softens. She puts the bags down and crouches in front of you, almost as if you were a child.

"You can do this," she says softly.

Caitlin knew exactly how much to push you, she knew what you could and couldn't take. It came with the 10 year friendship that the two of you held. This though, she knew this would be borderline.

"I can't," you say as your leg finally stops tapping. "I'm sorry."

Your eyes fall to the floor and Caitlin pulls your arm to stand up. You feel defeated. There was no real reason you should be this afraid of flying considering nor you or anyone you know has ever gotten in a plane accident. You fear came from a stupid documentary of a plane crash that happened in the late 50's that wasn't found until decades later.

Caitlin pulls you into a hug and you sigh into her shoulder.

"I will be right next to you the whole time okay?" Caitlin says and you give a small nod. She quickly grabs the two of your bags and grabs your hand. Partly for comfort, partly to make sure you don't run away from her.

The two of you board the plane. You initially sitting next to the window but then have Caitlin sit next to the window so you could be in the aisle. You then remember that if you hit any turbulence and there are carts in the aisle, they could hit you so you have Caitlin sit in the aisle seat while you take the window. After switching 2 more times you finally settle in the window seat.

"Thank you for not getting annoyed with the switching," you say as you buckle your seatbelt and make sure you are securely strapped in. You tighten it more than you should and Caitlin notices. She leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt. You are about to say something but she shushes you and loosens your seatbelt to it is not cutting off your circulation but still tight.

"You made it on, I am proud of you," she says as she removes her hand from your lap and sits back to look at you.

The captain tells the flight attendants to take then seats for take off and your eyes shut. You grip the armrests and try to control your breathing. Your nails are digging into the leather of the seat when you feel a force trying to get you to release it.

Caitlin takes your hand in hers and you bring to grip the life out of it.

"Dang, you might break my hand," Caitlin jokes. She tries to get you out of your head but it doesn't work.

"Should have just let me gripped the armrest," you say. Your eyes are still tightly shut but you can feel Caitlin sigh.

Caitlin begins to use her free hand to rub up and down your forearm, hoping it will calm your nerves. You would do that for her whenever she was nervous and it always worked.

You finally begin to ease on Caitlin's hand but then the plane begins to speed up. Your grip tightens again as you mutter affirmations to yourself. You feel Caitlin's fingers run along your forearm and you have to tell yourself to not break her hand which takes your mind off the fact that you are about to go 10000 feet up in the air.

Once the plane comes to consistent speed and altitude, people start moving around. Your hand stays firmly planted in Caitlin's, not that it bothers her at all.

The thing is, yes, you and Caitlin have been friends for a decade at this point and Caitlin would be lying if she said that she wasn't in love with you. She would be lying if she were to say she hadn't been in love with you for the past 10 years but that didn't matter because she has never had the courage to say anything. She has been there with you through so many things that your friendship became more valuable than her feelings.

"C?" You ask, pulling Caitlin out from her thoughts.

"Hmmm," she hums as she looks at you.

"I need to pee," you say and Caitlin can see you are scared to get up.

She unbuckles her seatbelt, her hand never leaving yours as she does. She looks at you waiting for you to undo yours and you do extremely slowly. Caitlin stands and guides you to the restroom.

"You are going to have to let go of my hand," Cait says with a small smile. You nod but don't let it go immediately. You stand in the doorway as you take several deep breaths before finally releasing her hand.

"I will be right here," she says as you close the door. You are back out in record time and slam the door open causing Caitlin to laugh. Your hands were still wet and there was a slight panic on your face.

Caitlin laughs at you and you shoot her a glare. The two of you head back to your seats and you let Caitlin do your seatbelt again.

"Want to watch a movie?" Caitlin asks and you nod. She puts on a movie and you lean your head on her shoulder. She sighs and offers her hand for you to hold. You take it but instead of intertwining your fingers with hers, you take her hand in both of yours and begin to play with her fingers.

Caitlin can feel her heart flutter and butterflies soar in her stomach. She was wrapped completely around your finger and you had absolutely no idea.

A ding sounds in the cabin and the captain tells the cabin that they would be experiencing some turbulence and asks the flight attendants to sit down again.

Your heart rate picks up.

You try to keep your focus on the movie but it seems to be a challenge as the plane begins to shake. You sit straight up and and your hands grip the arm rests. Caitlin tries to pry your hand off the armrest again but you don't budge this time.

The turbulence picks up and the bumps and drops grow. Caitlin can tell you are in a full blown panic and she feels helpless. It is when the turbulence gets really bad that she realizes you might have a heart attack.

At this point, it is the worst turbulence that Caitlin has been in. There are others in the plane who are screaming when a drop comes and you can all hear the luggage move around.

"We are going to die," you say on repeat and Caitlin is saying your name, trying to get you out of your own mind. You don't hear her.

"We are going to die. We are going to die. We are going to die," you say.

Before you know it, you feel yourself being pulled out of your chant to Caitlin's hands on your face. You don't have enough time to think before you feel Caitlin's lips on yours.

The second you feel her lips, you relax into her. Your hands release the armrests as they come up to hold your wrists. Her lips move slowly against yours and you feel her smile into you. You move your lips and realize how perfectly the two of you move together. It is the first time since leaving the house that morning that you have felt peace.

She begins to part from you and you immediately pull her back in. The two of you get lost in each other that you don't realize the turbulence calm until the captain comes back onto the speaker letting everyone know they would be landing soon.

You finally let Caitlin part from you and her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen.

The two of you just look at each other and smile. Caitlin dips her head and hides it in your shoulder.

"You should have just done that from the start," you joke.

She groans into you. There are so many thoughts going through Caitlin's head she as she has just revealed the one secret she had been keeping from you for so long. It doesn't help that if you didn't feel the same way the two of you were stuck together for the next week as you are rooming together in Cancun.

Meanwhile, there is one thought going through your head and you make it know.

"About damn time," you say and Caitlin's head shoots up to look at you.

Her eyes meet yours and you smile at her. She squints at you.

"What do you mean, 'about damn time'?" Caitlin asks.

"Caitlin, I have known you for too long," you say and Caitlin starts to piece it together. "I know your are in love with me."

Caitlin looks at you with wide eyes as she feels a blush wash over her face. She opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. There have only been a few times when you left Caitlin speechless.

"Caitlin, have you ever slowed down to think about if the feelings were reciprocated?" You ask with a little laugh. "Think back."

Caitlin sits there, thinking back on all the years of your friendship. You hand comes to play with one of hers again.

"High school graduation, we were invited to Maggie's graduation bash which was going to be the biggest party of the year but your parents made you stay home to hang out with family - who stayed with you?" You ask.

"Well you were by best friend," Caitlin says remembering the night. You laugh as Caitlin's eyebrows began to furrow.

"Ever wonder why in college I wouldn't go on more than 2 dates with someone?" You ask. You would go on a max of two dates before realizing they weren't Caitlin.

Caitlin remembers waiting up for you to come back and tell her all about the dates, waiting for you to say why you weren't interested in them. She would hold her breath until you would tell her it wasn't going to work out with whoever it was.

Caitlin smiles.

"Or what about when I helped you when you were dying of food poisoning and..." you begin but Caitlin stops you not wanting to relive that ungodly time.

"Okay okay, you don't need to bring that up," Caitlin says meeting your gaze.

"Not only have I known, but I have reciprocated your feelings for quite awhile now," you say.

"Why haven't you said anything?" She asks.

"I didn't want to rush you," you say shyly.

"Rush me? It's been ten years," Cait practically yells.

You laugh at her being too distracted in the conversation to realize the plane was landing. You only realize when the wheels of the plane hit the ground and you look out to see you were back on solid ground.

"So what does this mean?" Caitlin asks.

"Nothing," you say and Caitlin is confused.

"Nothing?" She says immediately feeling defeated.

"Well nothing since you haven't asked me out yet," you say and Caitlin's defeat is immediately washed away.

"So that is all I have to do? Is ask you out?" Cait asks. You shrug.

"Okay, will you go out with me?" Caitlin asks.

"No," you say as you stand to de-board the plane.

"No? You just said all I have to do is ask," Cait says as the two of you walk off.

"That was lame C, if I were to ask you like that would you have said yes?" You ask.

"Yes! I would have said yes because I have been waiting for this for so long," she says in shock. You laugh.

"It's not funny," she says with a little pout.

You look around and see a hallway, you grab her hand pull her to it. Once you are out of public eye, you capture her between you and the wall and she looks at you in surprise.

"See if I were to ask you, I would ask you like this," you say. Your hand comes to cup her face.

"Caitlin Elizabeth Clark," you say, swiping your thumb across her cheek. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Caitlin melts. She is a puddle in front of you. She has been dreaming of this moment for as long as she can remember.

You look at her expecting an answer. Caitlin clears her throat.

"Yes, Absolutely yes," she says with a smile.

"Too bad that was only an example," you say stepping away from her, leaving her speechless yet again.

Before you can get too from her, she grabs your hand pulling you back, now capturing you between her and the wall. You are now the speechless one.

"See if we were in high school or even college, I would ask like you just did. But since we are adults now, this is how it is going to go," Caitlin says looking in your eyes. You can't look away from her eyes.

"You are mine, end of story," Caitlin says as your eyebrow quirks. "You are mine and I am yours and I will be taking you out on our official first date while we are here in Cancun."

Caitlin has a sense of pride that creeps onto her face. You love confident Caitlin.

"Okay Clark, deal," you say and she rolls her eyes.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," she says and you laugh. The two of you leave the hallway hand in hand.

"I don't get why, everyone else calls you that," you say.

"You aren't everyone else," Caitlin mutters.

"Okay C, I won't call you Clark anymore," you say.

The two of you walk hand in hand out of the airport. When you get to the airbnb that everyone was staying at everyone can instantly see a change in the two of you. Caitlin takes your hand in hers and it causes a whole commotion.

"Aliyah you owe me $20!" Nalyssa yells running to find Aliyah.

Both you and Caitlin look after her confused. Katie Lou comes up.

"Nalyssa bet Aliyah that Caitlin getting you on the plane here would reveal her feelings for you," Katie Lou says and Caitlin blushes.

"You guys bet on us?" You say. "On if we would would hook up?"

"Not hook up, but finally admit feelings," Lexie says.

Lexie hands Katie Lou a $10 bill. and you raise your eyebrow at them.

"I thought it would happen on the trip but Katie Lou thought it would happen on the plane ride since you were so scared of flying." Lexie says.

"You are all unbelievable," Caitlin says hiding her face in your shoulder.

"That's cute" you said. "Should have brought me in on the action."

Caitlin's head shoots up as she slaps your shoulder.

"I can't believe you," she says to you.

The three of you laugh at Caitlin but you pull her in for a hug.

"I'm just messing with you," you say. "Let's go see out room."

Caitlin nods as she begins dragging you in a direction away from Lexie and Katie Lou. You wave to Caitlin's teammates as Caitlin is eager to have all of your attention back on her.

AN: I would really like to play with Caitlin's hands - as innocently as possible. Let me know what you think about this one! And as always, thank you for your love and support

[loveindefinitely]

03 — 𝘎𝘖𝘛 𝘔𝘌 𝘋𝘖𝘞𝘕 𝘖𝘕 𝘔𝘠 𝘒𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘚

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

When you wake up in the morning -- or, you suppose, what you can only guess is the morning -- you're not in the same position you fell asleep in.

No.

When you wake up, it's to free hands. No handcuffs, and no ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable position. There's a dull throb, but that's more likely from the events that had transpired long before being cuffed to a bed.

What you wouldn't do for some painkillers. Both for your sore muscles, and the impending headache that you have no doubt will appear within the next couple hours, if not minutes.

It's dark. The same pure black that you'd fallen asleep to last night.

Sitting up, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve, you stretch out your back with an elongated sigh, yawning not too shortly after.

Wiping at dreary eyes with the heel of your palm, you think.

Properly, fully, allow yourself to think over the past twenty-four hours. Process it, if not fully, then enough for you to get some sort of hold on your emotions. And, if not those, then at least enough to grapple a sort of understanding with your current predicament.

You were... compromised.

That was putting it lightly, sure, but it was also the truest statement to come out of all of this. You were compromised, at a military base, one which you'd previously never been to before.

The same military base that your father worked at, apparently. One that he served for.

The one that would now be reporting him as KIA. Or, whatever other term they used for murdering their own squad member.

"He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

That's what Price had said before you'd succumbed to less tangible nightmares than the ones you were currently living in. Your father -- he was awful to you, you were nothing if not aware of that fact, but --

He'd killed people, if Price was to be trusted. And, considering your predicament, he really shouldn't be.

But...

Intel was intel. You'd learnt that through years of living that truth, in circles of gossip and whispering schoolgirls on the playground. Information was, at its core, one of the most sought-after weapons for any army, no matter the size.

Whether that army be a high-school debate team, or one that aimed to create bloodshed at its own hands.

You'd been kidnapped. Fact. You assaulted two very dangerous men. Fact. ...Your father was dead.

Fact.

The door to your -- room? Cell? Death chamber? -- creaks open, light flooding through the opening it's created. When you look up, you swallow down your anxiety as you see the silhouetted frame of Gaz, large hand wrapped around the door handle.

Silence, your most familiar of friends, welcomes you both once more as he shuts the door closed behind himself. Feeling over the wall to his left, he finds the light, turning it on and effectively blinding you.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into your legs as spots dance in your vision.

"Shit, my bad," Gaz hisses, sounding appropriately genuine. There's something about the insultingly-handsome man that makes your posture soften, your heartbeat slowing in the most comforting of ways.

It's annoying.

He's annoying.

You lift your head from where it rests, but only enough to reveal your unamused glare and cold-bitten nose.

He stands, almost awkward in the small space, looking around it like it will reveal all the secrets he could ever wish to discover. All that they tell him is that Price needs to hire an interior designer.

"How'd you sleep?" The man settles on, a hesitant smile on his face as he meets your glacial eyes.

Those same eyes shift into ones of saccharine falsehoods as you shoot him the fakest smile you've ever had to construct. "Splendid, thank you! Y'know, the handcuffs really are great for comfort, and so is the smell of bleach and... yes, don't worry, the memories of seeing you guys kill my dad is a great feature to have in my dreams."

Watching Gaz's smile slip more and more with every word out of your mouth feels a little like a reward, and you accept it as such.

By the time you've finished, his expression is one displaying full distraught, as though your presence has caused him grey hairs within seconds.

Serves him right, you think triumphantly.

"Look... I dunno what I'm allowed to say," Gaz drags his hand down his face, before leaving it to rest at his chin, as if in thought. "But... you're not a prisoner here."

You scoff a mock of a laugh, no humour in its delivery. "Oh, how could I ever think as much?"

"Come have breakfast." The words -- they spill out, as if crashing into one another like a train wreck. Gaz, for his part, doesn't take his request back. Refuses to go back on his word -- a trait belonging to a seasoned operative.

Men who'd worked on the field were all too aware of their vows' weight in gold.

"With us. Price is 'n meetings and shit, but... join us. Ghost'll cook," Gaz insists, and --

"And I'm supposed to trust the man who shot my father dead to cook for me?" You ask, incredulous as you sit up straighter, gaze zoned in on the man standing before you, like a bomb aiming for its target.

Deadly precision. Deadly consequences.

His dark brows pinch together, and his hand falls from his handsome features reluctantly. "I can cook for you, if you'd prefer."

And maybe you're playing with fire. Being entirely, wholly too trusting, too hopeful that some kindness will be shown to you after the wretched experiences you've had to endure.

Or...

Maybe you just like the feeling of being burnt by the flames.

"Fine," the word comes out as a breath, but it's as loud as a scream when spoken within these four white walls. "I don't want to see Ghost."

Gaz, albeit apprehensively, nods. "That's... alright, love. He'll eat in 'is room."

"Use that pet name for people who reciprocate the feeling," you clip, standing on shaky legs. The mess that was yesterday seems to be affecting you on all fronts, which is nothing if not disappointing.

With a sharp intake of a breath, Gaz sharply nods, before gesturing towards the door with an open palm.

When you leave your, what you've decided to refer to as a cell, Gaz keeps as close to you as possible without your skin brushing. It's oddly thoughtful, considering that your current relationship stood somewhere closer to captor and captee, not cherry-popper and virgin.

...Although, that comparison was still accurate.

Sadly.

Kinda sadly?

Look, they were hot, but in the same way that the Nephilim were deemed to be dangerously attractive. Ruthless, murderous -- and heartachingly beautiful.

The problem came when weighing the value of such characteristics. Shame that you cared about their personality and morals, really.

Looking around, you try and register your surroundings as best as possible.

The hallway is empty. No armed guards, no military personnel -- just paved concrete walls, and a turnoff or door every few paces.

It's not at all what you'd expected of a SAS base, but then again, you didn't exactly have specific blueprints in mind. Kind of hard to research when, not even thirty hours ago, you had thought that your dad was a business man.

...And the fact that you had no clue where in the country you actually were.

"Where are we?" You ask, in a whisper -- although there's no reason for the low tone -- and he responds with a raised brow.

"That's classified information, I'm afraid."

"How do I become classifiable?"

He huffs a laugh, and those dimples of his come out to play once more.

They're as annoying as the rest of him, you think, snapping your head to your left to avoid so much as breathing too close to him.

You stop walking when Gaz does, his footsteps going silent as he levels a knowing look to his right.

It's then that you hear an American, strict voice from the other side of the door Gaz has stopped at. When you shoot him a questioning look, he simply brings his pointer finger to his mouth, tipping his head towards the shut oak door.

Shut up. Got it.

"He's good," that unfamiliar, unnerving -- your mind unhelpfully supplies -- voice says. "And he knows too much. Price, neutralising him is our only bet -- find him, and take him out."

"Didn't realise being a hitman was part of the job requirements," Price snips back. You think that you can hear the puff of a cigar after he speaks those words, but it's difficult to hear with the solidity of the wall between you both.

Your eyes go wide, and when they meet Gaz's own serious ones, he shakes his head so subtly you almost think you've imagined it.

"Son, your 'job requirements' require you to protect the damn state. Killing Andromeda is vital to that end goal."

"I hardly think so. A hacker with no affiliations? Hell, General, you're pulling at straws here." His accent's thicker, more pronounced, when he's pissed off. Not in the way he'd been with you -- this was more raw, more... genuine, in a way.

You don't get long to revel in this discovery, before new ones take the forefront.

The other man in the room's voice is sterner, louder than it had been before when he speaks next. "Andromeda is a threat to humanity. What we do is secret for a reason, soldier. This information gets out, and millions are in danger."

"Andromeda has yet to make a single threat, General."

"And we'd best make sure that he never does."

"I --"

"That's an order, Captain."

Silence remains for a heavy beat after that final command, before Gaz gently grasps your wrist, pulling you to walk swiftly through the hallway by his side.

It isn't until you both meet what you assume to be the mess hall that you finally breathe. You aren't sure when exactly you'd forgotten to perform that basic function, but now that air fills your lungs, it burns.

"What --" You begin, but forcibly halt the word-vomit that was about to explode from your mouth.

Gaz looks tense, uncharacteristically so. His grip hasn't removed from your wrist, so you tug your limb free forcefully. That seems to snap him out of whatever daze he's in, as thoughtful brown eyes meet yours in question.

You swallow, once, before continuing at a much safer speed. "Why did you want to eavesdrop?" You ask at a low tone, and you realise that he's moved you both to the corner of the kitchen, away from prying eyes. He's willing to talk, if that decision means anything.

You hope that it does.

He looks away, for a moment, going to pace nervously on the tiled floor of the cooking area.

There's a few seconds that pass before he answers.

"Needed to hear it for myself," is all he supplies. As if those words are supposed to make any sense to you --

But they do. It's the first thing to make sense in hours.

"So... you lot have to kill this guy?" You ask, voice not wavering once. It's a feat in and of itself.

Gaz halts his pacing abruptly, thumb pulling at his lower lip in an anxious movement. It's a startling thought when you remember how those very lips had been pressed against your own not too long ago.

Now, you could happily die without having to see them again.

...Go figure.

"We have to find him. That's the hard part -- fucker's great at what he does," Gaz grits out the compliment like it's a physical pain, a blow to his side. Dramatic, but effective.

You raise a brow. "And... this is your job... why, exactly? Are you all tech-pros or some shit?"

He makes a grumbling sort of sound, like a petulant child. "...No. We're stuck. And, hell, the guy's done jackshit except bypass all of our servers' firewalls just to prove that he can. No violence. No threats. Nothing."

"Why're you telling me this?" It's not at all the question that needs answering, in fact, it's so far down your importance ranking that it's truly a mystery why you ask it.

He doesn't miss a beat. "I trust you. Trust my gut. Never failed me before, and -- I saw. In your room. You have a setup, yeah?"

The confession startles you, and you nod along with his words, completely hiding your inner shock. Shock that he'd paid close enough attention. "Yeah, I do. Play games and stuff. Why?"

"You can --" His words are disjointed, a myriad of thoughts forming a mess of a sentence, "Need family, yeah? Place to stay? Help us with -- Yeah."

Your eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you on about? I'm not helping a bunch of murderers, just to be charitable."

It's laughable when you put it plain as day, and Gaz groans, realising his absolute disaster of a proposal.

"Fuck. I mean -- if you're good with code. You could help us find him -- you'd be a great asset, you know? And... it'd help you too. We could hire you --"

"Dinnae realise ye were holdin' an interview without us."

You turn, the action instinctual, before your eyes land on Soap, leaning against the bit of wall behind you and Gaz that hides you from sight.

He's got a plaster over his nose, but the swelling and bruising has calmed down a surprising amount considering the time frame.

"How the fuck did that heal so quick? Not a good enough throw, military man?" You goad, as if to catch up for the time you'd spent being civil with Gaz. Needed to keep up your quota somehow.

Soap's smirk deepens, becomes more akin to the one of a devil holding the forbidden fruit in front of your nose. "Quick? Ken a week 'nd a bit is solid."

It takes a moment for those words to hit you properly, and when they do, you take an unsure step back. "What...?"

"Jesus christ, Johnny," Gaz mutters, and you store that little name slip for later. He pulls you back around to face him, face unreadable for once. "You were... out for a ten days."

Ten. Days.

Wincing, you look to the roof for an answer. It doesn't respond, but you reach the conclusion yourself.

....You were so dead.

a/n. thank u all SO MUCH for the love on this fic!! it means so much to me. im gonna be honest. ive planned MULTIPLE plot twists, and i really really really hope that i can pull them off. if u guys have any theories for ANYTHING pls comment them!! tell me all about ur thoughts!! im curious to see if anyone catches anything that will be important later on. also! i made a spotify playlist for this fic!! i highly recommend listening to it while reading -- it's the general vibes i've gone for! again, all comments, reblogs and follows mean the worldddd to me!! mwah mwah

taglist. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll @elijahssuit @character---obsessed @ilove-masked-men @arithestrawberry @undercover-smutlover @sugarystuff @khodarling @the-hotsibling @kkaaaagt @sleepyoriana @jalepp @yannauauau @thriving-n-jiving @catmouseggy @jng-yuan @cacacattz @yaebaal @hayleybarnesx @squidalapobre @selcouthsky @ash-tarte @head-slut-in-charge @giannags-billetdoux @creamwhxre @moonlightflorence @maliagurl @airyonna15

[t3a-tan]

Romantic and Hopeless (1/?)

First / Previous / Next

Based on @tinyundercover's soulmate AU mechanics! Kind of heavy... I want to continue it though! To have Oscar and Sammy meet at least. Enjoy ^^

---

“Hello?”

Sammy's breathing hitched as she heard the voice suddenly echo in her head, her attempt at sleeping being ruined immediately. She managed to avoid jolting from surprise, and glanced down at Tanner's sleeping form to ensure he wasn't stirring. The boy continued to snore softly curled into her body heat.

“Hello? Are you there? Oh, um… put your hands together to respond! Like praying. And then just think. I know some people don't really know about soulmates.”

It sounded like a boy around her own age, and he was very excited. Sammy hesitantly shifted her hands away from where she had been cradling Tanner, and interlocked her fingers. She tilted her head, brows furrowed. Soulmate? I think I remember something about that...

“Hi?” Her mental voice was confused and unsure.

“Oh my gosh. Hey! You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to meeting my soulmate..! Let me know if I'm being too much, okay? Hm… what are you up to right now? Am I interrupting anything?”

Sammy glanced out of the glass enclosure she and her brother were being contained in, barely able to see anything as the only things illuminating the room were a few alarms and other random lights. Ryker had left the lab at the same time as usual, so they were trying to sleep as much as possible until he was back.

“I'm trying to sleep.” She responded simply. There was very little point in communicating with her soulmate considering the situation Sammy was in, but she had to admit that it was nice to hear a new voice. A friendly voice.

“Oh. Just going to bed early, or are you in a different time zone?” The voice replied and Sammy blinked with confusion.

“Time zone?”

“Yeah! It's like um… uh… wow. I guess I don't know what a time zone is. Here— What time is it for you?” A small smile of amusement managed to break out on Sammy's tired expression. She had to admit that whoever this guy was he sounded like someone she would get along with. Too bad I'll never meet him.

“I don't know what time it is. There are no windows down here.” Hopefully that would clue him in on her situation a bit. Borrowers usually kept track of the time consistently, but Sammy had no idea what time it was, what day it was, what month it was, or even the year. She was probably close to 18 though if her soulmate was speaking to her.

“What do you mean? Can't you check outside if you don't have a clock?” Came the answer, and Sammy couldn't help but sigh. She really didn't feel like telling this stranger her sob story, no matter how nice his voice sounded.

“I just go to sleep when I'm tired. I could stay awake a bit longer though… Tell me about yourself.” She casually changed the subject, with enough force that it would be hard to go back but not too much that it was obvious she didn't want to discuss it. It seemed to work because she heard his voice chime in reply.

“Well— we can't tell each other our names, but just imagine my name is super cool, yeah? Uhh… let's start with basic basics I guess. My favourite colour is red, my favourite food is…pasta. And. Hm. Well, I just turned 18, so it's my birthday.” He responded, clearly sheepish about being put on the spot.

“Happy birthday to you then. What's the date again?” She asked, unsure of how old she was at this point, but guessing she was almost 18. She knew for a fact that it had been around 3 years so far because Ryker would occasionally make mentions of the passing time.

“It’s July 17th. How old are you by the way?”

“17. Hopefully 18 in January.” The ‘hopefully’ slipped out instinctively; Sammy wasn't under any delusion that she had no chance of dying before reaching her next birthday, and she didn't feel sad about it necessarily. She had already spent so long in this kind of mindset that it was more of a statement of fact than anything else.

She looked down at Tanner again. So he'll be 14 in October then. Time flies. If I count the days I might be able to wish him a happy birthday on the actual day.

“Hey, don't talk like that. Maybe I'll even get to wish you a happy birthday in person..!” Her soulmate responded positively, and Sammy smiled sadly, looking down at her scuffed knees and bruised legs, pulling the hem of her gown down a bit more.

“Maybe.” No. There was no chance she was getting out of here. Ryker was watching things much too closely, and Sammy knew she was getting more and more exhausted by the week. It was hard to keep fighting when it was easier to give in.

It didn't take long for Sammy to realise something was off about her soulmate. He never spoke about typical borrower things— he talked almost like a human most of the time, mentioning friends coming over as if it was like popping from burrow to burrow. He said he liked video games, and at first Sammy assumed he liked watching humans play video games but then he had also mentioned playing them himself.

The most damning thing to convince her though was the food. Even if he ate the same thing most days, that thing was certainly nothing a borrower would have access to so regularly. Sammy's parents had always tried to keep a variety of food whilst she and Tanner were growing up, but they couldn't have regular meals, especially not more than once a week.

When he mentioned skipping school that's what 100% solidified it for her. Her soulmate was a human. Somehow. And that thought scared her.

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You've not been responding much recently… If I can do anything to help, let me know.” Sammy was once again presented with a dilemma at the sound of her soulmate’s soothing voice. He sounded genuine, but Sammy knew humans weren't capable of that. They were monsters, plain and simple. If they are nice one moment they'll be terrible the next.

She glanced in Ryker's direction, confirming that he was distracted writing on his stupid notebook before clasping her hands together and closing her eyes.

“Sorry. I'm just feeling a bit tired lately. I—”

“What are you doing?” Sammy jolted in surprise, her hands immediately unclasping as the rumbling of Ryker's voice fell over her. His grey eyes bore down on her and a shiver ran up her spine from the contact, only keeping her sense enough to not backpedal away. Her mouth opened but an explanation wouldn't come to her lips; what could she really say she was doing instead?

“You what?”

“I must say, you don't seem the religious type, Sammy. This isn't the first time I've seen you put your hands together like that after all.” He gestured over his shoulder towards one of the cameras that were pointing towards the glass enclosure, his eyes never leaving Sammy's form.

She cursed internally. Since Ryker hadn't mentioned it up until now she figured it had either not been visible to the cameras or that he wasn't checking them regularly. Turns out, like the snake he was, he had just been waiting to catch her off guard in the act.

“Lost your train of thought? I get that. I forget what I’m saying half the time too.”

“I…got a soulmate…” She responded, brows furrowing with frustration and gaze pointed away from the doctor. She figured he would already know what that was— it wasn't like it was uncommon for humans after all— but his expression didn't change. He only dragged his notebook over to sit in front of him again, clicking his pen.

“And what does that entail? I presume it's some sort of link between you and a partner. Probably telepathic. How interesting…” Sammy could spy what seemed to be a genuinely curious look in his eyes and the hint of a smile playing at his lips. She had never seen him express much of any emotion besides anger before, and the fact that she didn't know what his smile meant frightened her.

As she was internally panicking over what that smile might mean for her, she snapped out of it when he spoke again.

“Well? Is it?” Sammy nodded, shrinking back when Ryker's excitement seemed to increase at her confirmation. “How intriguing. I noticed there was something a bit different about… hm.. but…���

He trailed off, just leaving Sammy with questions and no answers. She was nervous about putting her hands together again, unsure if that would get her in trouble. Ryker had gone through great lengths to completely shut her and Tanner off from any hope after all…

What if he tied my arms down? Or cut them off…or tied my arms to my torso… or…

“Go ahead and speak to them, her, him again. I want to watch more closely.” It wasn't a request. Sammy knew that much by now. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she shakily clasped her hands together, closing her eyes.

“H-hey. Sorry, I'm really fucking scared right now. I don't know if we'll be able to talk after this.” The words came from her faster than she could think them through, and she couldn't help but curse again at her panicked apology. “Shit.”

“Woah woah— what's wrong? Are you in danger?”

Sammy's eyes opened briefly, watching Ryker scribble away in his notebook again, recognizing that he was writing at the same pace that words were being shared. That's impossible. She closed her eyes, shoulders bunching up.

“No. Yes. Maybe. All of the above? I can't tell you. I don't know how, but I think he's listening.” The scribbling stopped abruptly for a couple seconds, before slowly starting up again. Sammy took a breath to calm her racing heart, angry tears pricking at the corners of her eyes at the fact that Ryker was once again taking something from her.

“Fuck you, this is private.” She flinched instinctively, waiting for a retaliation. When she didn't receive one she tried to sit up straight again, and noticed that her soulmate had gone quiet. “If I could explain, I would. But it's better if you forget me since I'm probably gonna die anyway.”

“I-I don't understand. I'm sure you're not gonna die, right? Just… it's gonna be okay, yeah? It will.” Sammy nearly groaned. She could tell that he probably thought she was just having a psychotic break or something, which as understandable as that was it was still incredibly frustrating.

“The bad man's name is Dr. Zorro Ryk—”

“That's enough of that.” Sammy cried out as she felt oversized fingers easily pry her hands apart, pinching onto her arm. Ryker was looking down at her with a cold gaze, his shadow enveloping her from above. “You are such an enigma, Sammy... I know you're a child, but sometimes you are so very intelligent and then you can be so incredibly stupid.”

“Let go!” She shouted, trying and failing to pull her arm away, staring at the fingers pinching it with a panicked gaze. Although the grip wasn't painful, it was still terrifying to feel something so large clamped around her limb. She knew that at any moment if Ryker decided to press down her arm would not work again.

“You— you got cut off again. I'm worried. Fuck, if I knew your name this would be much easier… Can you just tell me if you're okay? Please.” Sammy shut her eyes and shook her head— that soothing voice she had grown to enjoy now just tormenting her. Teasing her with what she knew she couldn't have.

It's always too good to be true.

“If you knew I was listening, why would you say that? Do you not have a brain in that tiny little body, hm? Because someone with a brain would not throw away their chances of communication so readily..!” He snapped, tone scolding and yet it still frightened Sammy enough to make her tremble.

“People who do not think are just corpses walking. Get that through your skull… What were you expecting to happen? No one is going to help you. Do you understand that? It doesn't matter if they know that name or not.” He growled. “Not only that, but you didn't even consider your soulmate's safety. You don't know the nature of how I'm listening. What if I knew who he was and killed him because of what you said?”

Sammy's face paled at that, tears welling in her eyes and blurring her vision.

“Don’t!”

His eyes narrowed at her, and although his frustration grew his fingers never once changed the amount of pressure on her arm. Sammy was too distressed to really notice that though, just trying to pull away again. The finger then moved, forcing her to stumble forwards with a yelp.

“Or what? You know you cannot stop me. How many times do I have to tell you not to make demands of people you can't handle yourself.” Sammy felt herself getting tugged forwards again, and her breathing quickened, really believing he was going to crush her hand or arm to prevent her from speaking to her soulmate again. She shut her eyes tightly.

“M-mum…” She whimpered under her breath as some tears spilled over. At the end of the day, it didn't matter how many years passed or how tough she liked to act or how many injuries she had acquired… She was still scared.

The grip on her arm suddenly disappeared and she lost her balance, immediately crumbling to the ground and burying her face into her arms, facing away from the doctor as she hiccuped. The silence only lasted a few seconds but it felt like minutes to Sammy…

Ryker cleared his throat.

“If you speak to him again, you will wish you never had. Understood?”

[shuenkio]

Kissing I hope they catch us | 💋

Paring: Whipped!Sunghoon x m!reader

Genre: fluffy, very fluffy?

Cw: just a pure hidden feeling.

Summary: He wants to brag about you to the whole campus.

Non proof read.

Words: 1.2k

English is not my first language!

Being friends with Sunghoon was not an easy move, since he's quite popular because of his charm, especially his face. You'll also find him very attractive as a boy yourself; he looks cold on the outside, but all his friends have said otherwise. He's actually timid, which gives you another reason to get close to him even more; curiosity could kill the cat, they say. 

 

He's the heartthrob of the campus; whenever he walks, he can grab all the attention with his presence. Why would he be a college student when he could make millions of bucks by posing in front of the camera? 

 

Later on, as the times passed, you decided to experience new things by joining a club, and it's a music club. You've always been passionate about it; you love singing and playing instruments such as the piano, electric guitar, and violin. Not only that, you're also fond of dancing, based on the club's requirements. 

 

You're thinking students would choose other clubs besides music because it's less popular. And there's more thrilling, excited, and amazing clubs out there than just playing an instrument while singing. 

 

You open the music club room to fill out your application, but not until your gaze lands on someone you've always wanted to say hi to, Sunghoon Park. 

 

Despite being stunned on the spot at the doorway, you, yourself, have already grabbed everyone's eyes toward you. In return, Sunghoon moved his lip muscle, smiling softly at you. 

 

You snap out before dragging your feet to the leader, known as Jungwon. He was a friendly student, though; you know him since he's the same year as you. He will take your paper and inspect your answers. While he's busy, he then introduces you to the other members who are standing there doing nothing.

 

You move shyly, greeting them by asking for a handshake. It was normal with the other; nevertheless, when your hand lands on Sunghoon's palm, you find yourself on the edge of exploding. Why is his hand so cold yet so calm? A red blurry blush spread across your face; you couldn't help it at the moment; you've met the campus's celebrity. They wouldn't lie when they said Sunghoon is an iceman on the outside, because in reality, he's friendly and talkative to those who approach him first. 

 

And since then, the music club has been completed with you. The name of the group is "ENH." Connection and passion mixed together created a temporary group of artists. 

 

Hanging out was not enough; Jungwon wanted everyone to stick together always, so he asked us to move into his mansion that his grandparents left just for him. 

Your mind was blown to the fact, surprised at his statement, but you wouldn't mind making music together without leaving anyone. 

 

To do that, you have to get close with them first, get more comfortable with them, and have a conversation with them in order to grow closer so you won't be awkward with your surroundings. It's also beneficial for the charming guy since he's timid. 

 

Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. By breathing in the same air, you regret your decision to befriend Sunghoon, whom you thought was an angel on the inside. As a matter of fact, once he got comfortable with you, he began to show his true color. Not only is he wild, but he's also a really loud introvert you've never seen in your entire life. 

 

He said, "I don't like skin ships, eh?" That was back in the day, as you asked him, and in reality, he's super duper clingy like Golden Retriever, but in a calmer version.

He only acts crazy when you're alone with him. He would randomly hug you back, cuddle in the same bed, take care of you secretly, and give you cheeks a kiss out of the blue with his non-sense mumble, "Just because.". 

 

You're also finding those very weird; you don't go and question him about whether he likes you by making sweet gestures like friends would; however, his signals and behavior speak a different language as he keeps getting more and more suspicious. 

 

You gather the courage to speak to him personally, somewhere private, one day. Randomly, you asked him to meet you at the music club room since all the other members were already running for their schedules, leaving only him and you on campus, having a free period, coincidentally. 

 

While waiting for him, you take a seat as you move your fingertip, tapping the piano note as far as you remember, and playing an elegant song by" by ENH.

 

As you trace down your palm, still focus on playing until you finish with the last final note. When you heard a clapping sound behind your back, You turn your head to the sauce, revealing Sunghoon, who was standing with a bubbly grin on his handsome face. 

 

"Bravo teddy bear, that was incredible."

He moved his feet to your place, and he then pressed a big hug as a greeting. 

 

"You said you wanted to ask me something private?" He said, pulling out of the embrace slowly, looking at you with his lovely eyes, as if you were the most precious thing ever. 

You take a deep breath and assemble your strength to ask him about your soaking thought that had no answer.

 

"Would you be mad if I went straight to the point?" You spoke, throwing your hands together at the back. He raised one of his eyebrows in return, oblivious to your question.

 

"Why would I be mad at someone as cute as you, Mn? Go on, hit me  up." He replies without any awkwardness, giggling under his throat at what will come at him as you have a flashback to the time when he couldn't even ask you to pass the water. 

 

"Did you like me or not? I don't care what you would think of me as gay or whatever, but I want a real answer." You stated that you were seeking his answer to your unanswered. 

Sunghoon was rubbing his chin and pouting his lip before he unexpectedly took a quick peek at your lip. 

 

"This should be enough for you; don't be afraid to tell me if you want more. Details." He folded his hand after he left, and you zipped your mouth. He careless his lip, still having those quick kisses against your pretty kissable lip. 

 

You're standing there, unable to move an inch; not only has he left you shocked, he's also left you hanging still. Is he playing with you or is this for real? 

 

"Y-you... Hmm... So you like me? How much? Don't tell me you are playing with my feelings!" Concerned about your own feelings, his quick kiss is still fresh on your lips, but you brush it off as you mumble again. This feels untrue in no way.

 

"If I say I'm actually obsessed with you, would you believe it?" 

 

"...hell nah" 

 

"Exactly. You won't believe it, although I want to shout at the whole school that you're my boyfriend."

 

"What are you saying, Hyung? Don't joke with me!!" Your face was catching fire at the moment, processing the words that left his mouth. There's no way he likes you, yet his gesture already proves it. 

 

"Whenever they like it or not, I want to show you off that I want you to be my boyfriend!! I want to brag to everyone about you, Teddy Bear." 

 

"Please accept my love, I—like—you, and I'm sorry~ ijbol." 

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥🗣️ bare with me with this one 😔👊 I suddenly write this when I heard Agora hill, no plan. Fluffy Sunghoon fic let's go 🫨

🗣️ crd to all pic&dividers especially anitalenia for dividers!

[monsterlets]

conversation tip for autistic people, from an autistic linguist

if you've ever run into this dilemma:

you are telling someone a story or informing them about something. there is a piece of information that you are not sure if they already know or not, but they need to know it in order for the rest of what you're saying to make sense. you are now trying to guess based on nothing. if you tell them and they already knew, they might think you're insulting their intelligence (or just that it was weird that you thought they wouldn't know). if you don't tell them and they didn't already know, then they'll feel lost

you can get around this with presuppositions

a presupposition is a piece of information in a sentence that is not the main point of the sentence, but that must be true in order for the sentence as a whole to be true. this is very dependent on where in the sentence the information is

for example:

you're telling someone a story about a mutual friend. the only way this story makes sense is if the listener knows that the friend's dad used to be a doctor. you don't know if they know that

this is a direct statement: "her dad used to be a doctor"

the main point of this sentence is "her dad used to be a doctor", but more importantly it's obviously the main point of the sentence. if they think you should assume they already knew that, that is now at the front of their mind. and they might think you're implying that they're not close to your mutual friend

here is a sentence with a presupposition: "when her dad was a doctor, he saw this really weird thing"

the main point of this sentence is "he saw this really weird thing". "her dad was a doctor" is just background information. not only that, but including information as a presupposition implies that you thought they already knew it

if they did in fact already know, they might not even register the fact that you mentioned it again, or if they do it wouldn't seem out of place. they just breeze right past it and on to the rest of the sentence

if they didn't know, they likely won't think that much about it since you didn't call much attention to it, and even if they take note of it they'll at least think you assumed the best of them. at this point one of three things is likely to happen (from most to least likely):

they just quickly assimilate the information into their worldview and move on to interpreting the rest of the sentence

it blows their mind so much that they ask you to explain. which is a great outcome imo

it threatens their worldview so strongly that they cannot move past it. at this point they may get mad at you, but it's not because of what you implied they knew or didn't know - it's because they just strongly disagree with you, and they were gonna get mad regardless of how you said it. this will rarely come up unless you're talking about a particularly polarizing/emotionally charged topic

note: as I said, where you put the information in the sentence matters a lot. coordinating conjunctions connect two main ideas. the sentence "her dad used to be a doctor, and he saw this really weird thing" has two main ideas. and one of them is the one that you wanted to not be a main idea

if you want more examples of the forms presuppositions can take with more technical descriptions, wikipedia has a pretty good list

also note, this is a guideline, not a rule. it's hard to go wrong with it, but if you know what you're doing you can break it

for instance, if I am not talking about anything personal, just telling someone about a special interest, I'll do different things depending on how niche the information is

if I know something is common knowledge (ex: t rex was a predator) then I'll either not mention it, or if I think it's something they need to not only know but be actively thinking about for the rest of it to make sense, then I will remind them with a presupposition

if I know something is not entirely common knowledge, but I have at some point seen people who are not deep into the topic talking about it ("dimetrodon was more closely related to mammals than dinosaurs") then I might just straight up ask them if they know that, since it doesn't say anything about them as a person other than what random information they happened to come across

if it's something you almost certainly wouldn't know about without being deep into the topic, I just say it. if they do happen to know about it it's because they randomly heard it and they probably wouldn't think it's weird that I assumed they didn't know (note: in this situation do not say anything along the lines of "you probably wouldn't know this" "this is so niche". just say the information)

you might have noticed that I haven't been following the guideline in this post either. this is for a couple reasons

I'm not talking to specific people, I'm writing for a broad audience. generally when you say things people already knew in that context they're like "well I didn't need that spelled out for me, but I guess somebody does"

I am not aiming this at neurotypicals, and I assume that you'll appreciate me being as explicit as I can regardless of how much you already knew

[thewertsearch]

This is a particularly great visual. It really sells the importance of what we’re trying to do here.

TT: Then the Scratch will be implemented later, by either John or Dave I presume? TT: You used a male pronoun. Yes.

‘Yes, John or Dave will initiate the Scratch’, or ‘Yes, I used a male pronoun?’ Because if we hadn't already seen John here, I would have assumed Jade was our Scratcher. The needles come from her Denizen, after all.

I think John is a better narrative choice, in any case. He's our 'leader', after all - it makes symbolic sense that he'd be the one to scrub the session.

TT: I guess it makes sense that it would happen later. My understanding is that Jack will not be banished from this session until near the end of the reckoning. Yes, Jack will exit your session later, but this has nothing to do with the Scratch. […] TT: I thought that was the point of the Scratch, to open a rift in spacetime as it were, and banish him into the trolls' session. […] That is not the purpose of the Scratch at all. The Scratch does not open a rift in spacetime.

Hang on a second. Doesn’t that contradict an earlier statement from Aradia?

She described the spacetime rift Jack emerged from as a ‘catalogued’ game phenomenon – and that the game’s inhabitants directly refer to it as a Scratch. It certainly sounds like Sburb considers it to be a rift in spacetime.

Maybe Doc is using a semantic trick here. If the Scratch is a rift, it doesn't really make sense to say it 'opens' a rift. That's like saying a door works by 'opening' a hole in the wall.

TT: I think it's disingenuous for you to behave as if I have not been misled.

And I’m worried that this is the first time you’ve noticed this.

TT: You say you don't lie, but what about lies of omission? Lies of omission do not exist. The concept is a very human one. It is the product of your story writing again. You have written a story about the truth, making emotional demands of it, and in particular, of those in possession of it. Your demands are based on a feeling of entitlement to the facts, which is very childish. You can never know all of the facts. Only I can. And since it's impossible for me to reveal all facts to you, it is my discretion alone that decides which facts will be revealed in the finite time we have.

Lies of omission aren’t direct falsehoods, no – but they do exist, and they’re referred to as lies for a reason. If you present factual information in a matter that intentionally misleads people, you’re deliberately deceiving them. Sure, it’s not a lie, but it does the work of one.

On the other hand, this paragraph feels less like a point Scratch is making to Rose, and more like something Hussie's saying to us. This is apparently a problem of 'story writing', and feels like an extension of the Scratch-as-author stuff that I brought up yesterday.

As readers, we want to know everything that it’s possible to know about our favourite setting – but that’s always going to be impossible. All stories are bounded, even ones as long as Homestuck, as Hussie has only a finite amount of time to narrate the thing. Scratch simply can’t give Rose all the facts, the same way Hussie can’t exhaustively list all of Homestuck’s lore.

[warblogs17282]

Blitz and Stolas, and their coping mechanisms. A breakdown of the matter.

Just so we're clear, I am not saying who has the worst coping mechanisms out of the two in the post, I think they both have pretty bad coping mechanisms for different reasons.

Blitz - Present Day.

The ice cream binges:

I wasn't really going to think all that much about this, but this line from ghostfuckers caught my attention. I am willing to admit that Blitz is likely being hyperbolic here by a bit with this statement, but the fact he said this at all points to that it's starting to become an unhealthy coping mechanism for Blitz, and considering it's been a month since Apology Tour, just how much ice cream and cheese has Blitz consumed by this point? Relatively minor thing all things considered, but it's definitely something to keep in mind.

Plus, this isn't even the first time that Blitz has employed this coping mechanism, we see it in s1 e8, right after the disaster that was Ozzie's. I wouldn't call him doing this in s1 e8 'unhealthy' exactly, but I'm just showing this to show that this isn't a new thing for Blitz.

Buying expensive stuff/Poor financial decisions:

Well this purchase wasn't a coping mechanism and more so just Blitz making questionable financial decisions. "And he paid in advance, and I spent it all on this…", I don't know exactly how much an assassination costs exactly, but from the looks of things, it costed a pretty penny. With this giving us our first hint into Blitz likely impulse buying and making questionable financial decisions. (it does look cool af though)

And then ghostfuckers just amps that shit up to ten. Blitz is now 100% buying stuff as a coping mechanism, and it's 100% an unhealthy one as well at this point, because it's putting IMP in a bad spot financial wise.

But for a quick list of what Blitz has purchased since Apology Tour:

300 taxidermy owls.

However many horse plates there are in this box.

The ghostfucker ghostsucker device, costing a couple thousand.

The reason why I call all of this an unhealthy coping mechanism at this point is because Blitz straight up cannot afford to keep making purchases like these anymore, because there's multiple letters saying things like 'Final Notice', Blitz is now draining their pensions to buy things, IMP could be at risk of defaulting if Moxxie is to be believed at his word, and Millie hasn't been paid in a month.

Sex:

Just a brief one here as there's not really much for me to comment on regarding this, but ghostfuckers told us that one of the things Blitz does to cope when he feels unwanted/unloved, is look for sex or just consume sexual media.

And well, that's making me think back to his relationship with Stolas a little. Do you think that Blitz could've been using his nights with Stolas as a way to help himself cope a little? Because at minimum, Stolas unintentionally fed into this coping mechanism of Blitz's.

Blitz - The Past.

Drugs:

In Truth Seekers, Blitz admits to doing a fuck ton of tranquilizers in college, although this is never expanded upon, so this could potentially have been a coping mechanism for Blitz at one point in his life but we can't be sure of that.

Alcohol:

Blitz in the past has had quite the history of alcohol usage, and I mainly say this because of a few lines of dialogue in s1 e8, those being "He-hey, I knew it was you! Fuck, man, where you been? You here for the party?" and "Come in and show us all up again.", with both of these lines implying that Blitz used to be a regular at Beelzebub's parties, and that Blitz probably drank quite heavily at those parties as well, based off the 'show us all up again' line. Which could also potentially point us to Blitz using the parties and it's alcohol as a coping mechanism, but again, while it is very plausible, I cannot fully confirm this at this time.

Also, something else I want to mention is that addiction tends to run in the family, as we know, Cash was a likely alcoholic, considering we see him drink a bottle in some other tent before Stolas' butler walks in, and there's the line "Remember how you used to distract my dad so I could steal his booze?".

Barbie Wire used to be addicted to this drug named 'H-8' at some point, and also went to rehab over it at some point as well.

And it's also worth mentioning that Verosika is also an alcoholic, who also went to rehab over it, but eventually got let out because of her celebrity status or something like that.

Stolas.

Before I get started with this one I encourage you to read this post I made on this subject before, which goes into quite a lot of detail regarding it all.

The likely abuse of his happy pills:

The start of s2 e1 firmly establishes that Stolas' dosage of these pills are two pills.

But when we skip to when Stolas wakes up later in the episode, we see that Stolas has just haphazardly got the pills out of the bottle and he grabs three of the pills, which points to Stolas either intentionally taking more than the dosage he should be taking, or that he just grabs a random amount of the happy pills sometimes. Both of which could point to that Stolas is abusing the happy pills, and potentially that it's one of his coping mechanisms as well.

Plus, there's the fact that Stolas runs out of the happy pills in s2 e8, which again, could also potentially suggest that Stolas is abusing the happy pills as a coping mechanism, but at the same time he could've just forgotten to get a refill so.

Alcohol:

We know Stolas uses alcohol quite heavily to cope with difficult situations, and I'm pretty sure that Stolas is also an alcoholic, but we've seen three examples of Stolas relying on alcohol throughout the show so far:

Chugging a bottle of that strong shit at Stella's party,

Quite possibly getting blackout drunk at home after the mess that was Ozzie's, on the exact same strong shit,

and Stolas starts to chug yet another bottle of alcohol, very shortly after he got pressured to singing about Blitz, and that Blitz is right here at the party, talking with him, when Stolas' emotions are still very raw for Stolas.

Plus, I'm pretty sure that Bryce said something along the lines of this at a panel once, that Stolas does indeed have a problem with alcohol. (If someone has the exact quote please let me know.)

[tiredfox64]

Part three of Go for the Kill? But its based ok the ending where reason is with all three of the brothers? She soon gets knocked up and the threee fight over whose it is? >:3

The Soil was Tilled Enough

Prior notes: I knew somebody would ask for this. Had a That’s so Raven moment when I was writing that last part.

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: You’re gonna have a stroke with my reasoning.

You are faced with a light pink stick in your hands. You were growing tired and sick just days before which worried the brothers a lot. The last thing they want is for their vicious woman to grow horribly ill. Oh but this is no illness. This is the miracle of life.

Yeah this is a strange situation. Truly a spectacle that has some people, or more like someone, disappointed. Liu Kang ain’t too happy that his paid assassin would be out of commission for at least a year. What he also doesn’t like is hearing that the brothers are fighting over who is the father. The yelling is really getting annoying.

“It can’t possibly be your child! I slept with her first!” Bi-Han yelled directly in Tomas’ face.

“We all slept with her first! You are just jealous that the baby is possibly mine!” Tomas yelled right back.

The only one staying calm was Kuai Liang. He stayed right next to you, rubbing your belly as you contemplated the same thing. Who is the father?

Alright, so you put too much faith into Plan B. Guess it wasn’t made to handle loads upon loads of baby-making liquid from men who probably never allowed themselves to feel relief in quite a while. Plus the fact that they love you a lot made the chances of you getting pregnant much higher. I think they were aiming for that goal but I’m not a mind reader.

“What are we gonna do? Are we ready enough to handle having a baby and raising it?” You questioned, concerned about way too many things.

“Of course can handle it. The baby will be in safe hands. Even if the baby is not mine I promise to take care of them as if they were my own.” Kuai Liang made that promise to you.

Kuai Liang really loves you and just wants the best for you. He doesn’t want you to worry too much especially now that’s you are pregnant. His commitment to you made you feel a little better, knowing he won’t be mad about whose baby it is. The other two…yeah that’s gonna take some time.

At this point Bi-Han had Tomas in a headlock which made Tomas start punching Bi-Han’s arms in defense. Kuai Liang ran in to split the two apart.

“Enough of this! This fighting won’t solve anything.” He yelled at them both.

“I do not understand why you are not threatened by the fact that Tomas might have impregnated her. What good will that baby do coming from a man like him?” Bi-Han was being harsh again which made Tomas punch him.

“It does not matter. She is pregnant and she wants to keep it. We must support her no matter what.”

Kuai Liang was right and all the brothers had to agree with his statement. Though Bi-Han was still being as stubborn as ever. If he just keeps the mindset that it’s his baby in there he will be fine.

“Well, do you know how far along you are?” Tomas asked.

“Considering the last time we did it was a couple of weeks ago and I’m getting sick, it might be four to six weeks.”

Oof, if it’s six it can only get worse when it comes to the symptoms. Get ready to start taking bathroom breaks and getting sick from smells.

“It will still be a few weeks before we can get a paternity test done.” You added on.

“We should do that. Settle this debate early on whose child this is.” Bi-Han was on board with doing a paternity test even though he didn’t know you can test that while still pregnant. It’s that old mindset don’t worry.

“I want to the know the gender first. I wanna see if we are having a baby boy or a baby girl.” Tomas gushed at the idea.

“No you don’t, Tomas! We will not wait to find out the gender first.”

“Yes we will, brother. It will teach you to have some patience. It will also test if you still love her enough to take care of her while she is going through this.”

Kuai Liang was shutting Bi-Han down at every opportunity. How dare his little brother accuse him of not loving you. Fine, he’ll wait. They’ll all wait. And as that goes on they will start preparing things for you like a nursery. They gonna spoil the hell out of you.

A woman who is pregnant is a strong woman indeed. They will make sure to take good care of you. They will do their parts as the possible fathers.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Finally! Week thirteen! You can expect your results to be one hundred percent accurate when it comes to the gender. Now here’s the interesting part—

“WHAT!” You, Tomas, Bi-Han, and Kuai Liang all yelled at the doctor in shock.

…I didn’t get to finish. Let me speak up. Damn…

As I was saying the interesting part was that as time went on you noticed your belly was getting quite big. It was a little too early but you didn’t think it was anything much. This was your first time being pregnant so you thought it was normal.

Not necessarily.

“T-twins? We are having twins? And they are all ours?” Tomas was questioning the doctor on how accurate it was.

The ultrasounds did show two little babies. Two little nuggets growing inside you. And they are both boys, congratudolences!

“It’s called Heteropaternal superfecundation. It’s incredibly rare but it can happen. Especially to someone with three partners.” That doctor was throwing shade at you. She was just jealous.

“So one of those boys is definitely mine,” Tomas was all smiles, “But what about the other one?”

Yeah, what about the other one? Still got the other two. They are blood related so this might be harder.

If it’s Kuai Liang’s this might not end well for him since Bi-Han was staring him down with a death glare. Luckily the doctor had something to say about that.

“That’s the thing, we can’t tell. Because they are related there is some difficulties. So as far as any of you know, they are both the father of that other little boy.”

Kuai Liang is content with that. He is just happy to start a family and have a child with you. Bi-Han…ah he gives up. There is no point in being upset about this. There is nothing anyone can do. He’ll be happy to have a son of his own that he can train and possibly be the next grandmaster to the Lin Kuei.

All the brothers are happy to be fathers to a wonderful set of twins, dizygotic twins to be exact. Tomas is already imagining having the twins play together and teaching them to take care of one another. Kuai Liang is imagining caring for them both and teaching them to be good brother. Bi-Han already preparing in his mind a plan to train his son. That’s his responsibility.

The tension between the brothers dissipated. There was no reason to fight and stress you out even more. Looks like they better get more things ready for the babies. The nursery has to be big enough to accommodate two of them.

You have a good support system going on here. I hope you are happy with your multiple lovers and your set of twins.

…

Oh don’t tell me, you want to know who the father actually is. Alright so the clinic didn’t actually have the advanced technology to figure out who the father was when it came to Kuai Liang and Bi-Han. They were only certain on Tomas.

The true father is…I don’t know. What? Did you think I knew all? No! Even I don’t know. And do you even wanna know? Just let be happy that they are happy. Now get some rest, mama. You have a long journey ahead of you and it’s called motherhood.

After notes: Why do I keep doing twins? I’m scaring myself. Here’s a fact about me I have a high chance of having twins if I were to get pregnant. Yeah, I know, crazy. Please tell me I haven’t manifested this for myself my period still hasn’t come oh gosh 😭. I would have done triplets for this fic but nature doesn’t work like that. Well since I’m done I get to eat. Adiós! (Pls make my period show up y’all)

[aleksanderscult]

Analyzing Aleksander's reaction to Alina's loss of her power

(I'm so sick and tired of seeing people use his "You are nothing now" words as a way to justify how he didn't love her that I decided to create a whole ass post about it.)

First of all, let's see what the powers of a Grisha mean to a Grisha, shall we?

For a Grisha her powers is the same thing as the oxygen is for all humans. The constant beat of a person's heart.

Indispensable.

And in a way it's implied that a Grisha cannot live without it. Just like birds can naturally fly, just like a fish can naturally swim. It's part of their nature, part of their body and soul.

Now let's see Aleksander's reaction to Alina's loss of her power.

The moment he saw Alina being unable to summon, he froze. At first he's in denial of what he sees.

How can a Grisha not being able to use her power? A power that is always there no matter what? A power that "feeds" them and keeps them healthy and alive.

We see Aleksander being in a state of shock as he tries to comprehend what is happening with her:

He had never seen anything like that. A Grisha losing her powers is unheard of. Impossible.

He tries again and again to summon her light and bring it to the surface. The fact that he can't feel it causes him panic and pain. In a way, he can't find her soul.

And the very fact that she also lost her collar and feter is impossible too. When a Grisha claims an amplifier, a connection is made that can't be broken.

Another fatal loss for Alina and a disastrous blow for Aleksander and his knowledge, since he knows more than anyone else how amplifiers work and how a Grisha's power work. All the hundreds of years he had spent watching and studying the ways of the Small Science and of power, have gone to waste right now as he tries to understand what is going on with the woman he loves.

His near immortality and rare powers always made him seek someone else to connect with. Someone to understand him and be on the same level as him.

People say that he never actually wanted Alina to be his equal. Well, based on his words and reaction here, I would say he wanted to.

Right now there's no pretense, no tricks or a façade. We see him "naked" and exposed showing us his terror of Alina's loss and despair for his fate. Of being alone forever.

"You were meant to be like me."

Aleksander wanted her strong and confident. Unafraid to rise above the others and to stand right beside him.

"You're nothing now."

I know it sounds cruel but it is true.

If a bird lost its ability to fly or a fish its ability to swim, would you call that normal? If a person stopped breathing or her heart stopped beating, would you call her alive and whole?

Alina lost the very essence of her being, her soul and identity. What happened to her was something completely unnatural and just wrong. Aleksander has lived for centuries and knows more about the Grisha than anyone else (except of course his mother) so he knows that what happened to her, has crippled her. She's not the Alina she was. And she's never gonna be.

It's not a statement of disgust, apathy or scorn. They're words of pain and mourning. Shock and anger.

It's a complete ruin for Alina.

A devastation and tragedy for the unfortunate Grisha that experiences it for the first time in their history. And an equal devastation and sorrow for the Grisha that watched it happen to the person he cared most about.

And it's actually funny how Aleksander seems to be the only person that was devastated for what happened to her.

Everyone else was:

"Alina lost her powers"

"Okay cool".

In a way you can say that it was proof of how he was the one that truly cared about her fate while the rest of her friends didn't seem to give two flying fucks.

The Darkling just gave up.

All he had fought for, all the patience he had mastered for years waiting for his equal to come, went to dust right in front of him.

In a way he committed suicide and just let Alina kill him.

Now if he didn't love her as some people say, why did he do these things after she lost her powers?:

1) Called her to his side and searched for her hand to hold it.

2) Smiled at her and stroked her tears.

3) Entrusted her with his last wish because he'd seen her kindness and believed in it.

4) Asked her to say his name one more time so he could hear it from her one last time. A name that he had probably never said to anyone else for centuries.

5) Begged her to not leave him alone while he died because loneliness frightened him.

I'm sorry but if I was dying, I wouldn't want anyone at my side but the people that I loved the most. And Aleksander wanted the same too.

There's no way he felt disgust or anger towards Alina even after she stabbed him. Whatever she did, he forgave. And whatever happened to her in the end didn't stop him from loving her and wanting her presence at his side until his own end.

(didn't really love her, my ass)

[theoceansluvr]

Tim Drake x Cozy! Reader

warning; none ! author's notes; my favorite boy's birthday which means a work for him ! sorry for writing so many headcanons y'all, i have a lot to blabber about 😞 also idk if the title makes sense but i have was going for a very.. homebody, smells like coffee/hot chocolate, big sweaters coded reader if that makes any sense !

oh how he loves you...

he never gets a chance to relax because Gotham never rests

but with you it's so easy

he could come back from the worst fight in the world and be greeted with hazelnut creamer filled coffee and the sight of string lights everywhere

it might not be a lot, but it's everything to him.

reading dates are a very common thing !

you'll drag him to the local used bookstore any chance you get

it's usually followed up with a trip to the bakery or record shop too

super into crime books

(to nobody's surprise im sure)

he has a whole bookshelf dedicated to forensic books, even though he knows pretty much everything.

he likes to be sure, y'know ?

you guys have plants that are all names and their birthdays are on a calendar on the fridge

the oldest is named Robert ans he's a dragon's breath you two bought when you first moved in together

the name was merely based on you thinking it was funny to give a plant a people name..(me too)

steals your sweaters all the time and claims he doesn't know what happened to them

but you always catch him up in the middle of the night wearing them while he's doing his detective stuff

random but candle shopping is a MAJORRRRR part of y'all's budget planning..

i mean sure, overhead lighting can be nice, but candles just have a better feel !

which is exactly what you say to Tim every time

he groans and mumbles a soft "Whatever you want, rose.." and it's off to Bath and Body works or the local candle shop !

BAKING TOGETHER !!!!

i will give any excuse to talk about Tim and his baked goods, so you two bake together a ton !

not specifically from scratch, but it's usually better when it is.

"All that matters is it was made with love." is the common statement he uses when he burns something..

which is probably a common occurrence if im being completely honest

slow dancing to records might i add

not much to add about this, but something about him being a Wayne tells me he probably had to learn to slow dance for whatever reason

he'll gladly teach you if you don't know how :))

you guys are usually cuddled up drinking coffee/tea/hot chocolate(pick your preference loves !)

the Gotham rain adds to the ambience of it all

having someone as lad back as you are definitely helps with his whole "gotta prove my wort" mentality as well

if you ever got pets i think you'd have rabbits or maybe a ferret

not cats, don't ask me why i just have a weird headcanon about him being allergic.. so sorry to all my cat allergy havers

completely and utterly in love with the fact you're not out a lot because he likes knowing your safe at home !

playing stardew or animal crossing together to cool off ?

absolutely !

you have a shared island and farm bc he refuses to let you marry any of the characters(SAM I LOVE YOU !!!)

I COULD WRITE SOSOSOSOSOSO MUCH ABOUT HIM WITH A CALM, COZY PARTNER !!! but i want to get this done before the 20th so :((( but happy birthday again to my boyfriend in another universe 😞

[brabblesblog]

In recent weeks, I have been receiving hate anons on my ao3 fic. I have tweeted about it here and there, but have mostly ignored it. Unfortunately, today I received another, and due to the content, I feel like I have to respond. It’s been said before but it bears repeating: public accusations like these are damaging to creators, even when they are phrased passive aggressively rather than direct. 

I shall endeavor to answer these in full in this message and then I don’t plan to address this issue again. I would have preferred this to be resolved more maturely, through conversation, but as these remarks have been placed in the public sphere, and have been happening for weeks now, I am opting to reply openly. 

The concept of an A!A that could be softer was inspired by a number of A!A fanfics, particularly 'The Rogue You Were', and I have always been open about this. In fact, were you to look at chapter 1 of Whither, an acknowledgment exists. Whither’s foundation was built on this concept, and grew into 2 – going on 3 now – full longfics from there. I have never been shy about where my original inspiration came from. 

These tropes that I am now accused of copying (masquerades, Raphael-esque characters, Astarion being murderous, comic relief, and bats) are as we all know common tropes amongst the fandom and amongst vampire literature, and were not new concepts when they were used by the person claiming credit for them.

My favorite thing about fandom spaces is that they are a place to share ideas and collaborate. The person who made this accusation was someone I considered a friend: we had openly expressed to each other various instances where she and I were inspired by each other’s work. I have credited her influences; she has not credited mine. Dredging up screenshots to support this statement would be exhausting, and I hope it doesn’t become necessary. I’d much rather be working on my fic than dealing with this, and I hope this is the end of it so we can all get back to doing what we enjoy with our time.

I have as of late retreated from reading other fanfic within the fandom; mental health issues and intense impostor syndrome have rendered it impossible for me to engage in others’ writing, no matter how much I’d like to. Art, being something in the fandom that is removed from writing, is something I really enjoy seeing and delve headfirst into, but I am not at all up to date on the latest fic trends. These ideas (the masquerade, batstarion, and a more light-hearted tone) are things my editor and I have long wanted to add to the fic, but they did not fit into the plot right away. Presenting a cohesive, well-thought-out story has always been the most important thing to me, rather than chasing the latest trend. 

We are all playing the same game, writing from the same base material, often for the same characters with slightly different takes on those characters. There is no way to write for a fandom, particularly one like this, without a fair bit of overlap. I've worked hard this year to find my peace with that, and to not see others using similar plot points as copying. We are all appreciating the same masterpiece of a game, after all.

And lastly, I’d like to add that I don’t in any way condone harassing anyone, anonymously or otherwise, so please do not do so on my behalf.

Comment can be seen in this chapter, will post a screenshot if it's deleted: