#god i hate insomnia i hate knowing there's nothing i can do about it i hate knowing it makes going to work dangerous

[parnashiamparapio]

Forever theirs.

Pairing: vminkook x countryside reader.

Contains: psychotic behaviour, a lot of smut, possessiveness, obsession, yandere behaviour, gore, killing, oral sex, rough sex, threesome, three men sharing same woman. Rich vminkook, countryside girl.

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Summary: A young woman from the countryside, comes to the city of seoul for study - at her aunts and beckmes an obsession not only one but three deadly, insanely handsome and rich bachelors. They will do anything to make her theirs. Either With their wealth, charm, and determination. They will stop at nothing to bring her into their lives, even if it means shattering her innocence and leaving her forever changed. Forever their's even if it includes - killing people.

Tag list: @lilyalone @pjmxxjmdipity @supercoolchem

Chapter twelve.

I watched her sleep — looking all fucked, ruined, trembling even in her dreams.

We know she saw a part of us last night that’ll make her hate us even more. The part we usually keep hidden. Controlled.

But we lost it.

I’d wanted to kill Jungwoo for a long time. I stayed patient. Quiet. Waiting for the right moment.

But the second that bastard touched her…

I lost my goddamn mind.

I sighed softly, letting my head fall back against the couch’s headrest. My fingers pressed into my temples, making slow circles.

Only two hours of sleep.

Insomnia never really leaves me. It just lurks behind my eyes, waiting.

But right now?

I don’t want to sleep.

I’d rather watch her.

Jungkook got crazier. Full-on batshit crazy.

He wanted to kill Jungwoo himself — begged for it. Fought for it.

But Taehyung?

He went even darker.

Colder.

He didn’t just want to kill Jungwoo. He wanted to erase him.

Jungkook wasn’t waiting to fuck Cyra.

Taehyung wasn’t waiting to spill blood.

And me?

I wanted both.

I never once thought someone like her would keep me this sane.

She’s my sanity — but I’m still insane with her.

Worse, even.

I’d drop to my knees for her. Beg for a single glance, a single touch.

Pathetic, right?

I know it is.

But I yearn for her.

The need I have for her is straight up crazy. It's like she's my drug and I'm hopelessly addicted. She consumes me.

I stood up slowly, knees stiff from sitting too long. My legs carried me to the bed before I even thought about it.

She lay there, breathing softly. The sheets were tangled around her legs, barely covering anything. Bruises along her thighs, fresh finger marks on her hips. Faint bite marks on her shoulder.

A fucking masterpiece.

I bent down, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead.

She didn’t stir.

Good. Let her rest.

She deserved that, at least.

I slipped one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and lifted her off the bed. Her head fell softly against my chest.

She was weightless. Quiet. Warm.

I gently stroke her hair, kissing her forehead. It's almost 9:45 — she had university but I don't think she can even move. Good thing. "Angel," I murmured trying to wake her up.

She opened her eyes for a while. Heavy and tired. She closed them again. Snuggling more into my chest. My heart pounded. God, I can stay like this forever.

My heart was beating so loudly, I could hear it in my ears.

She has no idea how much she has affected me.

I slipped my hand under her knees, gently carrying her towards my washroom. I opened the door with my leg. I threw away the white sheets that were on her chest covering her body.

The bathroom was already warm from the water I’d run earlier. Steam clung to the mirror. The scent of lavender drifted up, mixing with her skin.

I set her down gently on the edge of the tub, pulling her back to consciousness with the softest touch I had left in me.

“Wake up, baby,” I murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

She stirred, lashes fluttering weakly. A whimper slipped from her throat, raw and hoarse.

I kissed her forehead.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re safe.”

A lie.

But a sweet one.

I slid her into the warm water, watching her body melt under the heat. She winced when the water hit the bruises — I reached for the washcloth and moved slowly, carefully, like she was made of glass.

She didn’t speak. Just let me do it.

I washed every inch of her — her neck, her arms, between her legs, around the bruises we’d left behind. My jaw clenched when I saw blood mixed with the water, even though I’d been the one who helped put it there.

I hated that part.

I loved that part.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said quietly. “Not right now.”

She looked at me finally — just for a second.

“I mean it,” I said, offering a small, broken smile. “You’re safe. With me.”

I would never hurt her. Well — not the way she thinks I will.

She breathes softly, almost in relief as the warm water laps her body. I kissed her shoulder grabbing the soap and loofah. I washed her hair gently.

She has long and pretty hair.

I love them.

I love everything about her.

“I want to cut my hair,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

I paused, hand mid-stroke as I gently ran the loofah across her back.

My gaze lifted to her.

She wasn’t looking at me — just staring ahead, unfocused, drained.

I stayed silent for a moment, then spoke, low and firm.

“Don’t you dare touch my things.”

That got her attention.

She turned her head slowly, looking over her shoulder. Her hazel-brown eyes met mine — tired, guarded, but still burning.

Even broken like this, she was breathtaking.

Her lips parted. “It’s mine.”

Then she looked away again, sulking, chin dipping just slightly like a pouting little brat.

God.

I shook my head, biting back a smirk.

Let her be bratty. Let her act like she had control. She needed to feel something.

She could sulk all she wanted.

But her hair? Her body? That wasn’t hers anymore.

It was mine.

She sulked.

Didn’t say another word. Just sat there in the tub, arms crossed gently over her chest, lips pressed into a pout like she wasn’t just being worshipped in the water.

Like she wasn’t mine.

I dipped the loofah again and let it slide down her spine, slower this time, pressing just enough to make her arch away. A soft whimper escaped her — more frustration than pain.

She hated how gentle I was being.

That was fine.

Let her hate it.

I leaned closer, lips brushing the back of her shoulder. “You think that little mouth makes decisions now?”

She didn’t answer.

Good girl.

I reached for a towel and lifted her out of the water, wrapping her carefully in it like she’d fall apart if I didn’t. Her legs were weak. I liked that.

In the bedroom, I sat her on the edge of the bed. She didn’t fight. Not even when I dragged a brush through her damp hair with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Your hair’s soft when you’re not screaming,” I murmured, brushing from root to end.

She shivered.

“You want to cut it off?” I asked, voice deceptively calm. “Why? So no one recognises the girl we ruined?”

I watched her from behind in the mirror. She wouldn’t look at me.

I set the brush down.

“You can pretend it’s yours all you want, angel,” I said, stepping in front of her. “But even if you cut every inch of it off—”

I grabbed a fistful gently, tugging her head back just enough for our eyes to meet.

“—You’ll still smell like me.”

She blinked up at me, wide and unsure, lips parting like she wanted to speak — wanted to fight.

But didn’t.

I let go of her hair, brushing it behind her ear with the same hand.

Then I kissed her forehead.

She sat up slowly and looked at me — jaw clenched tight, nostrils flaring, her nose tinged red. She blinked rapidly, but I knew that look too well.

She was about to break again.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead, exhaustion settling behind my eyes. “Aren’t you tired of crying all the time?”

She sniffled, wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, and spat out, “You all will go to hell.”

I smiled, eyes locked on her. “Angel eyes, we are in hell.”

I leaned in slightly.

“And we’ll drag you with us. Don’t worry about that.”

Her hazel eyes locked onto mine again — glistening, furious, teetering on the edge of complete collapse. God, Jungkook was right. She’s gorgeous when she cries.

“You—you think what you and your brothers did was right?” Her voice cracked, trembling. “You think this is okay? You’ll go to jail! I know about the stalking, the files, the cameras— I know everything!”

She was spiralling. Shaking. Breaking in real time.

Her little mini breakdown.

And me?

I just laughed. Soft, dry, amused.

“Jail?” I repeated, like she’d just told me the punchline to a bad joke. “Sweetheart… do you even know how many people are on our payroll?”

She blinked.

“You think the world gives a fuck what happens to a lonely girl like you?” I tilted my head. “You disappeared the moment we decided to keep you.”

He leaned in, reaching up slowly to tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, soft… almost affectionate.

“You know your grandma is still under our protection, right?” he murmured, voice calm — too calm.

Her entire expression changed.

The fight in her face shattered into panic. Her eyes widened — not with anger this time, but pure fear.

God, I loved that.

Jimin’s thumb brushed her cheekbone like she was fragile.

“We’re treating her. Paying for her care. Making sure she lives comfortably. And here you are…” He tilted his head, almost disappointed. “Being ungrateful.”

She shook her head instantly, eyes shimmering with tears again.

“You know Taehyung won’t think twice before stopping the surgery, don’t you?”

Her lips parted with a soft gasp. “No— please—”

Her small hand reached out, grabbing his.

Shaking.

Begging.

She shook her head again, harder this time. “Don’t do that, please— I’ll be good—”

He smiled, lacing his fingers through hers.

“There you go,” he whispered. “That’s my girl.”

I kissed her forehead again.

She clutched my hand like it was the only thing anchoring her to this world.

I let her.

Tears slid down her cheeks again, silent this time. Not rage. Not defiance.

Just fear.

I reached for her waist and gently pulled her into my lap, her towel still clinging to her skin. Her body trembled, so I wrapped my arms around her — slow, warm, protective.

Fake.

But real enough to her.

“Shh,” I whispered into her hair. “You don’t have to be scared.”

A lie.

“You just have to listen,” I murmured, kissing her temple. “Obey. Stay close. You’ll never have to worry about her again. About anything.”

She nodded softly, her face buried in my chest, breath catching.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

I smiled against her forehead.

“I know, baby. And yet here you are, curled up in my arms like you need me to breathe.”

I held her tighter.

“You just need us. That’s all.”

The door creaked open behind me.

My eyes didn’t leave hers.

Footsteps.

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

Jungkook.

His voice dropped, low and annoyed. “Tch. You got her crying again?”

I smirked.

“She’s not crying because of me,” I said, brushing her wet lashes with my thumb. “She’s crying because she finally understands."

Jungkook came closer. I could feel the weight of his stare.

“Move,” he said.

I looked up, still holding her close.

“She’s calm now,” I said, voice sharp. “You’ll fuck that up.”

“She’s mine, too.”

Her breath hitched in my arms.

Possessive silence swelled between us.

And for a moment, she was just… trapped. Between two wolves. One who held her gently. One who wanted to devour her.

"Shut up both of you." Taehyung came inside as well. She looked at him. "Change her something into decent. Maids are coming," his voice sharp.

Jungkook moved away, knowing well he shouldn't mess with the elder. Especially in the morning.

I placed her on the bed again and walked towards my closet. I opened the closet and grabbed a soft sweater. Big enough to swallow her whole figure.

Taehyung opened the door, letting the maids in — two of them wheeling a silver breakfast trolley, eyes low, trained not to see anything.

Jungkook snatched the shirt and a pair of panties from my hands.

I blinked once.

Shook my head, amused.

The maknae, after all.

Always impulsive. Always the first to grab, bite, fuck — like if he didn’t, she’d disappear.

I didn’t mind.

I let him have his tantrum.

Still, I looked at Taehyung, who gave a slow shake of his head at Jungkook’s behaviour — annoyed, but too tired to discipline him this early.

“Such a child,” I murmured under my breath with a soft smile.

Jungkook ignored us, crouching down beside her. “Arms up,” he ordered gently, voice lower now, eyes on her and only her.

She hesitated — torn between obedience and fear.

Jungkook helped her put on the shirt and helped her in panties. He kissed her collarbone. There was a hickey there. Probably given by one of us last night.

Her movements were still hazy and vulnerable. Still shaky.

Jungkook pecked her lips, and she flinched softly at that. He pecked her again not wanting her to flinch yet again.

Jungkook moved away, walking towards Taehyung watching him spread the butter on the toast for her. He grabbed the apple taking a chug for himself too.

I dried her hair off with a towel, slow and gentle, careful not to tug. She didn’t flinch this time — just let me move.

I combed through the strands, untangling her silently, like she was made of silk.

Then I leaned down and kissed her forehead.

She was my precious angel.

She looked up at me — softer this time. Still guarded, but not entirely afraid.

Progress.

I kept my eyes on her and murmured, just loud enough for the others to hear, “Our little angel says she wants to chop her hair.”

Taehyung, lounging with his coffee, looked over and raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

Before she could answer, Jungkook cut in.

“Why doesn’t she look at me like that,” he muttered under his breath, like that was the only part of the conversation that mattered.

I didn’t even dignify that with a response.

She shifted, biting her bottom lip.

Then, after a beat of silence, she whispered, “It’s… it’s been a week. Can I see grandma?”

Her voice was soft. Cautious. Like she was walking across cracked glass.

Taehyung set his mug down and finally turned his full attention toward her.

“Why do you need to see her?” he asked flatly. “She’s doing fine.”

She hesitated, then looked down. “I just… I miss her.”

Her voice cracked.

Jungkook scoffed. “Tch. You miss her? You think she’d even recognize you now?”

She flinched like he slapped her.

Taehyung moved. Slow, calculated. He stepped toward her, crouched in front of her knees.

“You want to see her?” he asked, eyes searching hers.

She nodded quickly.

“Yes. Please.”

He reached out and brushed his knuckles gently against her cheek.

His voice didn’t match the softness of his hand.

“Then be good. No more tears, no more back talk. You want rewards?” He tilted his head. “Earn them.”

She nodded again, swallowing down whatever pride she had left.

“I will,” she said quietly.

He stood and walked away like the matter was done.

Jungkook tossed a slice of apple into his mouth with a bitter shrug. “She’s lucky he didn’t say no.”

And me?

I just tucked her hair behind her ear again and whispered,

“See? All you have to do is behave, baby. And you can have whatever you want.”

I went to her again, standing beside her. She looks exhausted still. All fragile and vulnerable making me want to protect her. Melt her in my arms so no one. No one can hurt her, see her, touch her — except me.

I stayed beside her. Reached for her hand under the table.

She let me.

No resistance. No pulling back. Just… stillness.

It made something deep in my chest ache.

I brought her knuckles to my lips, kissed them gently.

“You want to lie down again?” I murmured.

She nodded once.

I stood up and scooped her into my arms without asking. She startled slightly, but didn’t fight it.

Good girl.

Jungkook moved to follow, but Taehyung raised a hand without even looking up.

“Let him take her.”

Jungkook huffed, but sat back down, his thigh bouncing.

Upstairs, I laid her in bed — clean clothes, warm blanket, fresh sheets. She looked like something carved from glass. Fragile, perfect, and still so hard to reach.

I brushed her damp hair away from her eyes.

“I know you’re scared,” I whispered.

She blinked up at me, her throat working like she wanted to deny it.

“I don’t blame you,” I said softly, stroking her cheek with the back of my fingers. “But you need to stop trying to escape us… even in your head.”

Her eyes welled again — not from fear this time.

Something else.

Worn-down confusion.

I leaned down, pressed a kiss to her lips. Slow. Tender. Real.

"What's with frown, angel." I murmured, kissing her cheeks. Her cheeks soft and puffed. Not so chubby anymore when she came here first time. I'll talk about her diet with the maids downstairs.

“Why did you kill him?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She suddenly said.

I looked down at her.

She was lying so still beneath the blanket, but her eyes were locked onto mine — not with anger. Not even fear.

Just quiet heartbreak.

“I… I thought you were different,” her voice cracked, raw and soft like she was still trying to believe I could prove her wrong.

And for a second… I didn’t know what to say.

It caught me off guard.

I sighed quietly and leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to her trembling lips.

Then I spoke against them.

“He tried to touch you forcefully,” I murmured. “That alone deserved punishment.”

Her breath hitched.

“You saw the ugly side of us last night. I know,” I whispered. “I get it.”

Another kiss — softer this time, like I was trying to kiss away what she remembered.

“But you’re not leaving me,” I said, voice firm now. “You’re not leaving us, Cyra.”

I brushed my thumb across her cheek, wiping a tear that slipped out.

“The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

She closed her eyes.

Didn’t argue.

Didn’t speak.

And that silence?

It was good enough for now.

[july-19th-club]

guess who's ~awake and hating it~ can someone please come to my house and smash me in the head with a comically large mallet knocking me unconscious instantly

[dykebehaviour]

cram session

cw: comfort, crying, finals week stress, oral (r!receiving), strapping (r!receiving), fluff, love, ellie being a soft dom, college au.

a/n: i wrote this while i was in the worsts of my final exams and completely forgot about it lol, so here it is !!

ellie didn’t panic until the third text went unanswered.

the first one:

you good, baby?

was sent casually around five, right as she left campus. the second:

you said you’d be done by six. want me to bring food?

followed by seven. then, by 7:47, she’s at your dorm building with a lukewarm burrito bowl, a hoodie in her backpack, and her heart hammering.

she knows you. and she knows finals week.

the stress. the tears. the insomnia. that one time last semester where you forgot how to spell the word “schedule” and cried about it for 30 minutes while clutching an iced coffee like it was morphine.

so yeah, she’s worried. not panicked… just worried enough to walk into your building without buzzing and knock on your door with the side of her fist.

nothing.

she tries the handle. unlocked. she sighs.

“babe?”

the moment she steps inside, her heart cracks a little.

you’re curled up at the edge of your bed, hoodie sleeves pulled down over your hands, eyes red and puffy. a half-finished paper glows from your laptop. a mug of untouched tea sits next to it, cold. your knees are hugged to your chest and your breath hitches when you look up at her.

“oh, baby,” ellie breathes. she drops the food immediately, crosses the room in two strides. “why didn’t you answer me?”

you open your mouth, but your chin wobbles, and instead of answering, you burst into tears.

ellie’s arms are around you in seconds. “hey-hey, hey, come here. it’s okay.”

you’re crying against her chest, full-body shaking, letting out the kind of broken gasps that make ellie’s stomach twist. she rubs your back, murmuring softly.

“i have three essays due and a final tomorrow,” you choke out, voice muffled by her sweatshirt. “and i missed a quiz this morning because i slept through my alarm, and i haven’t eaten anything except peanut butter crackers, and i hate everything, and i’m so tired.”

ellie hugs you tighter. “god, you are a disaster.”

you laugh through the tears, weakly punching her shoulder.

“i love you,” she adds, kissing the top of your head. “even when you smell like stress and sadness.”

“do i actually smell?”

“like a sleep-deprived angel. who hasn’t brushed her hair in three days.”

you sniffle, sit up a little. “you brought food?”

“of course. because i’m your sexy emotional support girlfriend.”

you laugh again, genuinely this time, and ellie beams.

thirty minutes later, you’re sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing ellie’s hoodie and finally eating the burrito bowl while she scrolls through your quizlet decks like she’s your chaotic little tutor.

“what’s the difference between classical and operant conditioning?” she asks.

you groan. “don’t quiz me while i’m chewing.”

ellie tosses her phone onto the desk and flops down beside you, draping an arm across your waist.

“alright, no more school talk,” she mumbles into your shoulder. “you’ve cried. you’ve eaten. you look like a real human again. which means i can say the thing i’ve wanted to say since i walked in.”

you raise an eyebrow. “what?”

“you’re hot when you’re a mess.”

you snort. “you’re so weird.”

ellie hums. “weird and in love with you. dangerous combo.”

her hand starts to slip under the hem of the hoodie you’re wearing - hers, soft and oversized and draped over your bare thighs like a blanket.

“you okay if i…?” she murmurs.

you nod instantly. “please. i need to not think for a while.”

ellie kisses you; slow, warm, coaxing. her hand traces down your stomach, over your waistband, and slides into your panties. you gasp when her fingers stroke through your wetness.

“fuck,” she mutters. “you’re already dripping.”

“finals are so sexy,” you whisper sarcastically.

ellie grins. “shut up and lie back.”

she kisses down your stomach, nudging your thighs apart, dragging your panties down slowly. and when she lays between your legs, her mouth is already open, her tongue soft and warm as she licks a slow stripe through your folds.

you moan softly, your hands moving to her hair.

she loves this. being between your legs. making you forget everything else - the papers, the deadlines, the chaos. her tongue circles your clit slowly, lovingly, then flicks against it in short, rhythmic strokes.

you grip her hair. “ellie…fuck-i needed this so bad.”

“i know, baby,” she murmurs, breath hot against you. “let me take care of you.”

she eats you like it’s the only thing she came here for. deep licks. gentle suck. she pushes a finger in, then two, curling just right as her tongue keeps flicking - building your orgasm slowly, letting it simmer until your thighs are trembling around her.

you come with a gasp, back arching, hips bucking as she holds you down.

ellie stays there, licking through it, humming like she’s proud of herself. which she is.

when she finally comes up, her mouth is shiny and her grin is cocky.

“i’m amazing,” she says.

you giggle, breathless. “you are.”

“you’re not done.”

your eyes widen. “oh?”

she gives you water first. kisses your forehead. strips off her clothes. then she pulls the harness from her backpack like it’s a damn prize.

you’re already on your hands and knees by the time she slides it on.

she kneels behind you, one hand on your hip, the other guiding the strap between your folds, sliding it through your wetness before easing it in slowly.

“fuck,” you gasp. “god, it’s so deep-“

ellie groans. “look at you. fucking taking it.”

she builds a rhythm, steady and deep, her hands gripping your hips, her strap hitting the perfect spot as she mutters behind you:

“you gonna think about this when you’re in your exam tomorrow?”

“gonna be dripping onto your seat, huh?”

“can’t focus ‘cause your brain’s still full of me?”

you come again embarrassingly fast, clenching around nothing, moaning into the mattress as ellie rocks you through it.

but she doesn’t stop.

she pulls out slowly, kisses your shoulder, and murmurs:

“wanna ride me, baby?”

you straddle her thighs, the strap pressed against you, and ellie holds it steady as you sink down.

you both moan at the same time.

you start to move - hips rolling, thighs trembling, hands braced on her chest. ellie groans and grips your waist, watching you with hungry, adoring eyes.

“that’s it, baby. just like that.”

you grind harder, chasing your own high, body already shaking from the earlier orgasm. ellie keeps praising you - soft, encouraging, hot as hell:

“look at you.”

“so pretty when you ride me.”

“my good girl.”

when you come for the third time, you collapse forward, forehead pressed to hers, your bodies tangled and sweat-slick.

ellie strokes your back gently. feel better?”

you let out a weak laugh. “finals who?”

she helps you clean up. wraps you in a blanket. you lie in bed, legs tangled, her hand stroking your thigh absentmindedly.

“can’t believe you carry that strap around like it’s your wallet,” you mumble.

ellie shrugs. “never know when my girl’s gonna have a breakdown and need a deep dicking.”

you laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

and for the first time all week, you feel okay again.

perm taglist: @yasmilks , @frosttbitten , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @pearlsiie , @aj0elap0l0gist , @sincerelyherz , @imsiriuslycool , @0phantom0 , @ggutpunch , @leeidk87 , @mikellie , @celiacallsitcasual , @gurlbownerr , @l0veylace , @bluminescent-moon , @oatmatchalatte , @hitmehardmommy , @iadorefineshyt , @jksevendays , @liztreez , @clemrules , @yourl0caltrash , @rootytootymeow , @thebadwritersposts , @vanillacigarettes777 <3

[charmnyu]

 ᘏᘏ seven times you and luke castellan almost kissed! (and the one time you actually did)

‿◞ ♡ word count — 6.0k i don’t have an explanation give it a chance bae 😞

‿◞ ♡ synopsis: you and luke castellan are enemies, (hence why you’re a child of athena an he’s the son of hermes)— but theres tension. heavy tension. thats why you almost kissed luke six times (and plus the one time you succeeded!)

lovequeue ୧ notes: fluff 2 angst again ?? kissing, blood, scars, injuries and thats all i know of 😞 lmk is theres more i’m so tired.. i love u lei be the mother 2 my kids u guys say ty to leilani for being a proofreader and the bringer of this idea 😛🤑 also u don’t know how many times i almsot got caught in my cabin writing ts i’m crying

the thing about being athena's kid is that you're supposed to be smart. strategic. you're supposed to see three moves ahead, anticipate every outcome, never get caught off guard. but luke castellan has this way of making all that wisdom feel useless, like he's playing a completely different game with rules you never learned.

you hate him with the kind of intensity that makes your siblings worry you're gonna to do something stupid. which, to be fair, you probably are. (can you blame them?)

— . INCIDENT #1

the first time it almost happens, it’s in the dead of knife, sharpening your knife because you can't sleep. again. insomnia runs in your family, along with the tendency to overthink everything until your brain feels like it's going to explode. you're sitting cross-legged on the floor, zoning out and letting your mind wander, when the door creaks open.

"figured i'd find you here," luke says, and you don't look up because you know that voice, know the way it sounds when he's tired and his guard is down just a little.

"go away, castellan."

but he doesn't. instead he settles down across from you, close enough that you can smell the shampoo and something else that's just him. and for a while you both just sit there in the dim light, taking care of your weapons in silence.

"you know," he says eventually, "most people would be asleep right now."

"most people aren't planning how to beat you in tomorrow's sparring match."

he laughs, soft and low. "is that what you're doing? because i hate to break it to you, but sharpening your knife isn't going to help when we're using practice swords."

you finally look up, ready to snap something back at him, but he's closer than you expected. close enough to see the scar that cuts through his eyebrow, close enough to count his eyelashes if you wanted to. which you don't. obviously.

"i have other plans," you say, but your voice comes out quieter than intended.

"yeah? like what?"

and suddenly you're leaning forward, drawn by something you can't name, and he's doing the same. the space between you shrinks to nothing, and you can feel his breath against your lips, warm and unsteady. your heart is doing something warm in your chest, and for a second you forget why you're supposed to hate him. (you can’t count how many times this has happened to you. gods, he’s so pretty it makes your brain all fuzzy and makes it feel like it’s going to explode…)

then the door slams open and clarisse walks in, looking for her spear, and you spring apart like you've been burned. luke clears his throat and goes back to polishing his sword, and you focus very hard on your knife, cheeks burning.

clarisse gives you both a weird look but doesn't say anything, just grabs her weapon and leaves. the moment is gone, shattered like glass, and you can't figure out if you're relieved or disappointed.

“y’guys are so weird,” she says without looking at the both of you. “too obvious.” and she slams the door, a hint of arrogance and bitterness in her tone of voice. embarrassing.

luke shifts awkwardly. "i should go," luke says after a minute, standing up and giving you a small, nervous smile.

you nod, not trusting yourself to say anything that would make him want to stay. it takes you another hour to finish with your knife, and you tell yourself it's because you want it perfect, not because your hands won't stop shaking and your mind keeps wandering, and you keep thinking what would’ve happened if clarisse didn’t walk in?

the second time is a couple of months later, during capture the flag. your team is currently winning, and you've been tracking luke through the woods for the better part of an hour. he's good – annoyingly good – but you're better at reading the signs. broken twigs, disturbed leaves— everything.

you find him by the creek, crouched behind a fallen log with the red team's flag in his hands. he hasn't seen you yet, too focused on the sounds of battle echoing through the trees, and you take a moment to study him. there's dirt smudged across his cheek and his hair is falling into his eyes, and something in your chest does this stupid fluttering thing that you absolutely refuse to acknowledge.

you step on a branch on purpose, loud enough to make him spin around, sword already in hand.

"hey there, castellan."

his face breaks into that grin that makes half the camp (specifically the aphrodite children) go weak in the knees. not you, though. definitely not you.

"should have known they'd send their best tracker after me."

"flattery won't save you." you draw your own sword, settling into a fighting stance. "drop the flag."

"come and take it."

the fight is brutal and beautiful, the kind of dance you've been perfecting for years. he's stronger but you're faster, and you know his tells – the way his left shoulder dips before he strikes, how he favors his right side when he's getting tired. you drive him back step by step, until he's pressed against a tree with nowhere to go.

your sword is at his throat, the flag forgotten on the ground between you, and you're both breathing hard. there's sweat beading on his forehead and his shirt is torn at the shoulder, and you realize with a start that you're standing between his legs, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"give me the flag," you say, but it comes out breathless.

his eyes drop to your mouth. "make me."

and god, you want to. you want to close the distance between you and find out if he tastes like the strawberries he's always stealing from the dining pavilion. want to run your fingers through his hair and see if it's as soft as it looks. the want is so strong it makes you dizzy, makes you forget why you're supposed to be enemies.

you lean in, just a fraction, and his breath hitches. his free hand comes up to rest on your hip, thumb brushing against the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up, and you're about to do something incredibly stupid when a horn blows in the distance.

game over. your team won.

you step back so fast you nearly trip, and luke's hand falls away from your hip like he's been burned. the flag is still on the ground between you, forgotten, and you can't quite meet his eyes.

"good game," he says finally, voice rough.

you nod and grab the flag, needing something to do with your hands. "yeah. good game."

you leave him there by the creek and try not to think about the way he said your name when you walked away, soft and wondering.

the third time happens during the summer solstice celebration. there's a bonfire and music and more alcohol than chiron would probably approve of if he knew about it. you're sitting on a log at the edge of the festivities, nursing a cup of something that burns going down and watching your siblings attempt to teach some of the younger campers new tricks and skills.

you're not much of a party person. too loud, too chaotic, too many variables you can't control. but annabeth had given you that look – the one that says she's worried about you spending too much time alone with your books – so here you are, making an appearance.

"not dancing?"

you don't have to look to know it's luke. he settles beside you on the log, close enough that his knee bumps against yours, and you take another sip of wine to steady yourself.

"not really my thing."

"come on, where's your camp spirit?"

you snort. "i think you've got enough for both of us."

he's quiet for a moment, watching the dancers spin around the fire. the light flickers across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. you force yourself to look away.

"you know," he says eventually, "we don't have to hate each other."

"says who?"

"says me. says the fact that we're both going to be here for— forever. it might be nice to not want to strangle each other every time we're in the same room." "but where's the fun in that?"

he laughs, and the sound does something warm and dangerous to your insides. "you're impossible."

"so i've been told."

the music changes to something slower, more melodic, and couples start pairing off around the fire. luke stands and extends a hand to you, and you stare at it like it might bite you. you cringe at it— it’s exactly like those high school romance movies you were forced to watch with your siblings.

"dance with me."

"i told you— i don't dance."

"i'll teach you."

and maybe it's the wine, or maybe it's the way the firelight makes his eyes look gold instead of brown, but you find yourself taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. he leads you away from the crowd, to a secluded area with a fewer amount of people and where the music is softer and the shadows deeper.

his hand settles on your waist and yours goes to his shoulder, and suddenly you're swaying together in the darkness. you've never been this close to him for this long, never noticed the way he smells like leather and something clean and sharp that might be vanilla.

"see?" he murmurs, breath warm against your ear. "not so bad."

you're about to make some sarcastic comment when he spins you out and back in, and you end up pressed against his chest with his arms around you. your faces are inches apart, and you can see every detail – the flecks of gold in his eyes, the small scar on his chin, the way his lips part slightly when he looks at you.

the world narrows to just this: his hands on your back, your heart hammering against your ribs, the space between you that's getting smaller by the second. you're going to kiss him. you're actually going to do it this time, consequences be damned.

"luke! there you are!"

chris appears out of nowhere, slightly drunk and completely oblivious to what he's just interrupted. "we need you for the sing-along. connor bet travis he couldn't remember all the words to those american girl songs, and now they're arguing about it."

luke's arms drop from around you, and you step back, trying to look like you weren't just about to kiss your supposed enemy in front of half the camp.

"i should..." luke starts, looking between you and chris.

"just go," you say, proud of how steady your voice sounds. "they’re waiting for you"

he hesitates for a moment, like he wants to say something else, but then chris is dragging him away and you're left standing alone in the shadows, heart still racing and lips tingling with anticipation for something that didn't happen.

you go back to your cabin early that night and lie awake staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about the way luke's hands felt on your waist or how right it felt to be in his arms.

— . INCIDENT #4

the fourth time is during a thunderstorm in late july. you're in the big house library, researching something for a project annabeth assigned, when the power goes out. (how amazingly cliche…) the old building groans and settles around you, and rain lashes against the windows hard enough to make them rattle.

you're not afraid of storms – athena kids don't really do irrational fears – but there's something unsettling about being alone in the dark with nothing but the sound of thunder and your own breathing.

“ugh,” you groan, letting out sigh of annoyance. “damn it.”

you get up and (terribly) try and navigate yourself out of the big house using the dark light from outside. terrible idea. which—! is very rare for you; your ideas are always well-thought and planned.

"hello?" luke's voice echos, and then he appears in the doorway with a battery-powered lantern in his hand. "saw the light go out from the hermes cabin. figured someone might be stuck in here."

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you nearly wince at the sight of luke’s face go from smug to a frown. “…well. thanks, i guess. i’m fine.” you say automatically, even though you're clearly not fine, considering you're still groping around in the dark like an idiot.

he sets the lantern on the table, casting everything in a warm yellow glow. "what are you working on?"

you gesture to the books scattered across the table. "research. annabeth wants a full report on pre-classical greek military tactics by tomorrow."

"of course she does." he settles into the chair across from you, making no move to leave. "mind if i wait out the storm here? hermes cabin is basically a wind tunnel right now."

you shrug, trying to look indifferent. "free country."

but you're hyperaware of his presence as you go back to your books, the way he drums his fingers against the table when he's thinking, the soft sound of his breathing. the storm rages outside, and the library feels smaller somehow, more intimate in the flickering light.

"you know," he says after a while, "you don't have to prove anything to her."

you look up from your notes. "excuse me?"

"annabeth. you don't have to be perfect all the time. she's not going to love you any less if you turn in a report that's only mostly comprehensive instead of completely exhaustive."

the observation hits closer to home than you'd like to admit. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"sure you don't." his voice is gentle, understanding in a way that makes your chest tight. "it's okay, you know. to want people to be proud of you."

"what’s are you—"

"i do it too," he continues, like you haven't spoken. "i’m guilty of it. unfortunately.” he looks away from you, a visible frown on his face.

“try to be what everyone needs me to be. the perfect counselor, reliable brother, the guy who always has his shit together. it's exhausting."

you stare at him, this boy you've spent two years thinking you understood, and realize you don't know him at all. there's something vulnerable in his expression, something raw and honest that makes you want to reach across the table and touch his hand.

"luke..."

thunder crashes overhead, loud enough to make you both jump, and the moment breaks. but then the lights flicker back on and immediately go out again, plunging you back into darkness. the lantern has died too, leaving you in complete blackness.

"shit," luke mutters, and you hear him moving around. "hang on, i think there are more batteries in—"

there's a crash as he runs into something, followed by a string of creative curses that would make mr. d proud. you can't help it – you start laughing.

"it's not funny," he says, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

he can’t help but admire and savor your laugh— from out of all your siblings, they’re pretty stoic. a cold and uncaring facade on most of them. (your a victim) he almost forget that their human, sometimes. hearing your laugh made his heart stop for a moment and made his stomach turn.

"it's a little funny."

you're both moving toward each other in the dark, hands outstretched, and you collide somewhere in the middle of the room. his hands land on your shoulders and yours end up pressed against his chest, and suddenly you're not laughing anymore.

"woah," he whispers with an amused tone. “miss me already?”

his thumb traces along your collarbone, and you shiver. you can't see him but you can feel him everywhere – the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart under your palms, the way his breathing has gone shallow and quick.

"we should find those batteries," you say, but you don't move away.

"probably."

neither of you moves. his hand slides up to cup your cheek, and you lean into the touch without thinking. this is dangerous territory, the kind of moment that changes everything, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"i can't see you," he murmurs, "but i bet you're beautiful right now."

your breath catches and you cover it up with a snarky remark. "your so corny."

he's leaning in, you can tell by the way his breath gets warmer against your lips, and you're tilting your face up to meet him when the lights suddenly blaze back to life. you spring apart, blinking in the harsh fluorescent glare, and the spell is broken.

luke runs a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you. "i should... the storm's probably passing."

"yeah," you agree, even though you can still hear rain against the windows. "probably."

he leaves without another word, and you sink back into your chair, touching your cheek where his hand had been and wondering what might have happened if the power had stayed out just a little bit longer.

the fifth time is the worst one, because it happens right before everything goes to hades.

it's late august, just a few days before luke's supposed to leave on his quest. the whole camp is buzzing with excitement and nervous energy, and you've been avoiding him like the plague because something about the way he's been looking at you lately makes your chest feel a little too tight.

you're in the strawberry fields, helping with the late harvest because physical labor is sometimes the only thing that shuts your brain up. the sun is setting, painting everything golden, and most of the other campers have gone to dinner. you're reaching for a particularly stubborn berry when you hear footsteps behind you.

"you're missing dinner."

you don't turn around. "so are you."

luke settles beside you in the dirt, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours when he reaches for the berries. you work in silence for a while, the only sounds the rustle of leaves and the distant laughter from the dining pavilion.

"i leave tomorrow," he says eventually.

"i know."

"aren't you going to wish me luck?"

you finally look at him, this boy who's been driving you crazy for two years, and something in your chest cracks open. he looks older somehow, more serious, and there's something in his eyes that you can't quite read.

"you don't need luck," you say. "you're luke castellan. you'll be fine."

he's quiet for a long moment, turning a strawberry over in his hands. "and if i wasn’t?”

the question catches you off guard. luke doesn't do vulnerability, doesn't show weakness or doubt. he's always so sure of himself, so confident, and hearing him sound uncertain makes something protective flare up in your chest.

"you’d be fine either way," you say firmly. "you're the best swordsman camp has ever seen. you're smart and brave and—"

"and what?"

you realize you've been staring at him, cataloging the details of his face like you're trying to memorize them. the way his hair falls across his forehead, the scar that cuts through his eyebrow, the exact shade of blue his eyes turn in the golden hour light.

"and you're going to come back," you finish quietly. "you have to."

something shifts in his expression, goes soft and wondering. "would you miss me if i didn't?"

the question hangs between you like a challenge, and you know this is your chance to deflect, to make some sarcastic comment that will restore the careful balance you've maintained for two years. but looking at him now, with the sunset painting him in shades of gold and amber, you can't bring yourself to lie.

"yes," you whisper. "i would."

he reaches out slowly, giving you time to pull away, and cups your face in his hands. his palms are warm and slightly rough from sword work, and you lean into the touch like a flower turning toward the sun.

"i've wanted to do this for so long," he murmurs, thumb brushing across your cheekbone.

"then why haven't you?"

"because you hate me."

you laugh, soft and breathless. "i don't hate you, luke. i never hated you."

"no?"

"no. i hate that you make me feel things i don't want to feel. i hate that you're always in my head, that i can't stop thinking about you even when i try. i hate that you're leaving tomorrow and i don't know when you're coming back."

his eyes search your face like he's looking for something, and whatever he finds there makes him smile – not his usual cocky grin, but something smaller and more real.

"i'm going to kiss you," he says, "unless you tell me not to."

you should tell him not to. you should remind him that you're supposed to be enemies, that this is complicated and messy and probably a terrible idea.

“tell me to stop and i will.” he’s breathless, almost panting.

instead, you close your eyes and whisper, "fine."

he leans in slowly, so slowly it's almost torture, and you can feel your heart hammering against your ribs. his breath is warm against your lips, and you're just about to close the distance between you when—

"luke! there you are!"

annabeth's voice cuts through the moment like a knife, and you spring apart so fast you nearly fall over. she's standing at the edge of the strawberry field with her hands on her hips, looking annoyed.

"chiron's been looking for you everywhere. you're supposed to be getting ready for tomorrow, not—" she stops, taking in the scene, and her expression shifts to something you can't quite read. "oh."

luke clears his throat and stands up, brushing dirt off his jeans. "right. sorry, i was just—"

"helping with the harvest," you finish, proud of how normal your voice sounds. "we lost track of time."

annabeth looks between you and luke, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head. she's too smart not to know what she interrupted, but she doesn't say anything about it.

"well, come on," she says to luke. "chiron wants to go over the quest details one more time."

luke nods and starts to follow her, but then he turns back to you. for a moment you think he's going to say something, but then he just nods once and walks away.

you sit in the strawberry field until full dark, touching your lips and wondering what might have been.

luke comes back from his quest three weeks later, and everything is different.

he's different – quieter, more serious, with shadows in his eyes that weren't there before. the scar on his face is new, a jagged line that runs from his eye to his jaw, and he won't talk about how he got it. won't talk about much of anything, actually.

you try to approach him a few times, but he deflects every attempt at conversation with jokes or excuses or simply walking away. it's like the boy who almost kissed you in the strawberry field never existed, replaced by this stranger who looks like luke but acts like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

the truth comes out two days later, when word gets out that he’s recruiting campers for kronos and betraying the gods.

he tries to burn down the camp.

you're in the big house when it happens, talking to chiron about some paperwork, when bloody and wounded kids come rushing into the place, babbling incoherent nonsense about ‘hermes kid tried to kill me!’

and you realize.

it’s luke they’re talking about.

you're already running, feet pounding against the wooden floors as you race outside. you're looking for annabeth, for your siblings, for anyone who can tell you what's happening, when you see him.

luke is standing at the edge of the woods, and even from a distance you can see that something is wrong. his posture is different, more rigid, and there's something in his hand that glints in the firelight. a sword, you realize. his sword.

you start toward him without thinking, pushing through the crowd of panicking campers. he sees you coming and his expression shifts, becomes something cold and unfamiliar.

"don't," he says when you're close enough to hear him over the chaos. "don't come any closer."

"luke, what did you do?”

he laughs, but there's no humor in it. "what happened? i'll tell you what happened. i went on a quest for my father, and you know what i found? nothing. absolutely nothing. the gods don't care about us. they never have."

"that's not true—"

"isn't it?" his eyes are wild, desperate. "when was the last time your mother talked to you, huh? when was the last time any of them bothered to acknowledge that we exist?"

you take a step closer, hands raised like you're approaching a wounded animal. "stop that— your talking stupid! what’s wrong with you?”

"i'm done pretending that this is okay, that we should be grateful for the scraps they throw us."

"what are you talking about?"

he's backing away from you now, toward the woods, and you realize with growing horror that he's leaving. actually leaving.

"i'm talking about revolution," he says. "i'm talking about making them pay for what they've done to us."

"luke, please—"

"come with me."

the words stop you cold. "what?"

"come with me," he repeats, and for a moment his mask slips and you can see the boy you almost kissed, desperate and pleading. "we could do this together. we could make them listen."

you stare at him, this person you thought you knew, and feel something breaking apart in your chest. "i can't."

"why not?"

"i… this isn’t you," your voice cracked, your hands slowly coming to rest at your sides sadly. “luke wouldn’t say that— he wouldn’t do this.”

his face hardens again. "you don't know who i am. you never did."

he's almost to the tree line now, and you know that if he disappears into those woods, you'll never see him again. not the real him, anyway.

"luke, wait—"

but he's already gone, swallowed up by the darkness between the trees. you stand there for a long moment, staring at the place where he disappeared, before turning back to help some of the injured people.

"are you okay?" she asks, and there's something in her voice that makes you look at her more closely.

"i'm fine. why?"

she hesitates, then pulls something out of her pocket. it's a piece of paper, folded small and slightly singed around the edges.

"i found this," she says quietly. "it has your name on it."

you take the paper with shaking hands and unfold it. luke's handwriting stares back at you, messy and hurried like he wrote it in a rush.

‘if only you knew, how much i really did love you deep down.’

it’s so vague, but you understand it completely. you knew deep down all those times he *did* want to kiss you— all the times the moment was stolen away and you’d ignore him for weeks— even months. you knew.

. — INCIDENT #7 (the time you did)

two years pass before you see luke again.

two years of nightmares and suffering in solitary, of jumping every time someone says his name, of wondering if you could have stopped him somehow. two years of telling yourself you hate him, that what you felt was just a stupid crush, that you're better off without him.

you hear someone call your name, and you turn to see luke standing twenty feet away with his sword drawn.

he looks older, harder, with new scars and a coldness in his eyes that makes your heart ache. but he's still luke, still the boy who taught you to dance and almost kissed you in a strawberry field, and seeing him again makes something in your chest flutter back to life.

"hey." he says, and his voice is different too – rougher, more controlled.

"luke." you raise your own sword, muscle memory taking over. "you shouldn't be here."

"probably not. but i needed to see you."

"why?"

he doesn't answer, just circles you slowly like a predator sizing up prey. but there's something else in his expression, something that looks almost like longing.

"you look good," he says finally. "older. stronger."

"you look like shit."

he laughs, and for a second he sounds like the old luke. "always so honest. i missed that about you."

"don't." the word comes out sharper than you intended. "you don't get to say things like that. not after what you did."

"what i did was necessary—"

"what you did was betray everyone who ever cared about you."

his jaw tightens. "they betrayed us first. all of us. you know that."

"that doesn't make this right."

you're still circling each other, swords raised but neither of you making a move to attack. around you the battle rages on, but it feels distant, unimportant compared to this moment.

"come with me," he says suddenly, echoing his words from two years ago. "it's not too late. you could still—"

"no."

"you don't even know what i'm offering."

"i don't care what you're offering—! the answer is no!”

something flickers across his face – hurt, maybe, or disappointment. "you always were stubborn."

"and you always were an idiot."

he suddenly stops, letting a deep breath out, one of realization yet stress.

"i dream about you," he says suddenly, voice rough with exertion. "every night. i dream about what might have happened if i'd stayed."

the confession hits you like a physical blow, and your grip on your sword wavers. he could take advantage, could end this right now, but he doesn't.

"luke..."

"i dream about kissing you in that strawberry field. about what would have happened if annabeth hadn't interrupted us."

"stop."

"i can't." his free hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing across your skin like he did all those years ago. "i've tried to forget you, tried to convince myself that what i felt wasn't real. but it was. it is."

you're staring at him, this boy who broke your heart and burned down your world, and you can feel yourself wavering. because underneath the coldness and the scars, he's still luke. still the person who danced with you in the firelight and made you laugh in the armory and looked at you like you were something precious.

"it doesn't matter," you whisper. "it's too late."

"is it?"

and then he's kissing you.

it's nothing like you imagined all those years ago. it's desperate and fierce and tastes like blood and regret, like all the words you never said and all the chances you never took. his hand tangles in your hair and you drop your sword, reaching up to grip his shirt like he might disappear if you let go.

for a moment – just a moment – you let yourself fall into it. let yourself remember what it felt like to want him, to believe that maybe you could have something good together. his lips are soft and warm and familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

but then reality crashes back in. the sounds of battle, the smell of smoke, the weight of everything that's happened between you. you push him away, hard enough that he stumbles backward.

"no," you say, and your voice is shaking. "you don't get to do this. you don't get to kiss me and expect it to fix everything."

he stares at you, chest heaving, and for a second he looks like the sixteen-year-old boy who used to sneak into the armory just to talk to you.

"i know i can't fix it," he says quietly. "i know i've ruined everything. but i needed you to know – i needed you to know that it was real. what we had, what we could have had. it was real."

tears are streaming down your face now, and you hate yourself for crying in front of him. "it doesn't matter anymore."

"it matters to me."

you pick up your sword with shaking hands. "you need to go. now. before i do something we'll both regret."

he nods slowly, like he expected this. "for what it's worth," he says, backing away, "i'm sorry. for all of it."

"so am i."

he disappears into the woods, and you sink to your knees in the dirt, touching your lips and tasting salt. the battle is winding down around you, but you can't bring yourself to move. you just kneel there in the aftermath, mourning the boy you loved and the future you'll never have.

later, when the monsters are gone and the wounded are being tended to, annabeth finds you still sitting in the woods.

"are you hurt?" she asks, settling beside you.

you shake your head, not trusting your voice.

"i saw him talking to you. what did he say?"

you're quiet for a long moment, trying to figure out how to explain. how do you tell someone that the person who betrayed everything you believe in just kissed you like his life depended on it? how do you explain that for one perfect, terrible moment, you kissed him back?

"he said goodbye," you finally manage.

annabeth nods like she understands, and maybe she does. maybe she knows what it's like to love someone who's chosen the wrong side, to have your heart broken by someone you trusted.

you sit together in the woods as the sun sets, and you try not to think about the way luke's lips felt against yours, or the look in his eyes when you pushed him away. try not to wonder if things could have been different, if you'd made different choices or said different words.

but deep down, you know the truth. you know that no matter how many times you almost kissed, no matter how real your feelings were, it was always going to end this way. because luke chose his path, and you chose yours, and sometimes love isn't enough to bridge that kind of divide.

the taste of him lingers on your lips for days afterward, a bittersweet reminder of what was and what might have been. and sometimes, late at night when you can't sleep, you let yourself remember the way he looked at you in that strawberry field, young and hopeful and full of possibility.

but then morning comes, and you get up and train and try to build something good from the ashes he left behind. because that's what you do. that's who you are.

and if sometimes you dream about a world where he stayed, where you got to find out what forever might have looked like with luke – well, that's between you and him, and no one else needs to know.

7/14 : did i cook with this chat

[greedygrotto]

INSOMNIA

Note: Couldn’t sleep so I wrote more self-indulgent fantasy.

We laid in silence as Jey fell asleep. Despite all he’d done to get me to sleep, playing my rain sounds and leaving the room cold (he preferred it warmer), I still couldn’t get to sleep. I wasn’t even thinking about much in particular, I just wasn’t able to get there. I twisted and turned in bed, trying not to wake him, but unable to find a comfortable position.

Not even ten minutes passed before I felt him stirring next to me. I groaned internally, hating that I’d let my difficulties bother him. I tried to remain still and quiet, holding a breath in the hopes he was just changing position and would fall back asleep.

“I know you’re still up, babe.” He said, voice textured with sleep. He pulled me closer to him, fingers splayed wide over my stomach.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Just trying to get comfortable.”

Jey’s hand snaked upwards, fingers forming a vice around the base of my throat as he pushed a knee in between my legs. “It’s ok, I got what you need.” He breathed hotly into my ear.

His knee pushing my thighs apart, his hands trailed down in between my legs, fingers slowly tracing the form of my pussy slowly. My breath caught in my throat as thick fingers pushed my lips apart, rubbing taut circles around my opening, flicking up to my clit rhythmically.

“You need Daddy to fuck you to sleep, don’t you?”

As he worked me carefully, slipping a finger in shallowly, teasing me, my mind became fuzzy. Thoughts extinguished the second they formed, pleasure taking over with no room for anything else. “Baby, I,” the sentence broke off as quickly as I opened my mouth, a gasp leaving my lips instead.

“I know what you need, baby. Know this body like the back of my hand, huh?”

The sounds of my wetness replaced any answers I could give him, arousal spilling out of me and onto my thighs.

“Good girl,” I felt him smile against my neck, where his lips left kisses. “That’s it, baby, give in, you don’t need to think about nothing else right now, just how good Daddy makes you feel.”

He’d started slowly, as though his body had formed the intention before his mind had fully woken. In a short few minutes, his thick fingers were thrusting into me at a punishing pace, pushing me to the brink before he pulled back, letting me catch my breath for a few seconds before starting back up again. Jey quietly shifted, pushing me onto my back before bringing his face down to my pussy, leaning down and suckling at my clit gently. He pushed my legs up towards my stomach, one large hand holding my ankles together as the other continued it’s unrelenting assault on my senses.

“Baby, it’s too much, I can’t,” I whined, feeling my heart beating hard.

“You can. Keep breathing for me.”

Slowly he dragged his fingers out, curling them in a ‘c’ as he did so. He replaced his fingers with his tongue, forming patterns I didn’t have the wherewithal to recognise. Flattening his tongue against me, he licked at me with light pressure before lifting up to suck my clit into his mouth.

Pressure built in my lower half as he worked me, all of me barrelling at speed towards my orgasm. I kept breathing through it, my body instinctively following his instruction. That only added to the pressure pooling in my stomach, threatening to burst.

“Easy, baby” he cooed, as moans escaped me, babbles of his name and ‘fuck’, and ‘oh God’ falling from my lips intermittently. “I want you to cum for me, can you do that, baby?”

I nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see me.

“Words, princess.” He ordered, pushing two fingers back into me. My hands dug into the sheets around me, gripping them tightly as stars began forming behind my eyes.

“Yes, Daddy, I’m so close, I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, feeling any semblance of control slip away from me. As he wrapped his wet lips around my clit once more, pressure released rapidly as I squirted, my climax dripping onto his face and then the bed. Jey didn’t let up with that, fingers and mouth working in tandem to prolong my orgasm. He moaned against me, vibrations setting me off into a sudden second climax, gushing into his mouth yet again.

“Good girl,” he praised.

My thighs fought against it, as the pleasure began to overwhelm me. I tried to close them and slide away from Jey, but he held me down by the tops of my thighs, pushing my hips down into the bed.

“No running, baby. Let me take care of you.”

I looked down now, our eyes meeting as he looked up at me, fingers still rubbing small circles at my entrance. Something about the way he looked at me set me off again, thighs quaking uncontrollably as he launched me into my third orgasm in half an hour.

“Jey, too much.” My heart beat rhythmically, threatening to beat right out of my chest. A certain pleasurable numbness took over, my body feeling weightless now, floating somewhere above the bed.

Pulling away from me and leaving me empty, he dropped a chaste kiss on my stomach before holding himself above me. “Feeling good, babe?”

I nodded, tongue too heavy in my mouth to form a ‘yes’. He leaned down to kiss me, letting me taste myself, beard wet with evidence of my climax. Legs still open, I felt his erection pressing against me. I reached down, pulling his pajama pants down so I could wrap my fingers around him.

He pushed my hand away, shaking his head. Slipping his tongue into my mouth, he took my wrists in one hand and held them above my head. He was in control tonight, I was to take what he gave me. Slowly, he turned me onto my side and laid behind me, pushing my top leg forward to give himself access.

He dragged his tip over my entrance, dipping into my wet opening teasingly before slipping right out. “Want to feel you come around me this time.”

“Oh, yes, please,” I moaned, still in a daze from the earlier repeated orgasms. Jey pushed into me slowly, savouring every second as my walls wrapped around him.

“Fuck, this pussy’s so good.” he grunted into my ear, dropping his head into the crook of my neck. Letting go of my wrists, he wrapped one arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him as he held my top leg in position. “Wrapped around me just perfect, ma, shit.”

Slipping one hand in between my legs, I rubbed at my clit, already on the edge of my fourth orgasm of the night. With each circle my cries grew louder, as Jey hit the perfect spot inside me with every thrust.

“I’m gonna cum again,” I keened, unable to hold it back.

“Yeah? You gonna give me one more, baby?” I nodded again as his hand pressed lightly on my lower stomach, adding to the pressure building inside me. “Come on then, let me feel you cum on this dick.”

At that, yet another dam burst within me as I squirted for the fourth time. Jey slowed, muscles taut against me as he climbed towards his own orgasm. My pussy clenched around him, body still reverberating with pleasure, gasps falling from my mouth.

“Fuck, I’m bout to cum,” Jey moaned, biting at my shoulder lightly.

“Yes, please, cum for me Daddy.” The thought of him spilling into me sent me into another, smaller orgasm, which only grew as his grip on me grew tighter.

“Yeah, you want this nut, bae?”

“Fuck, yea, Jey, please,” I begged, my cries pushing him over the edge.

I felt him shiver as his seed spilled into me, filling me to the brim. His hips stilled, chest rising and falling. We stayed there, still and silent, only our heavy breaths cutting through the rain sounds still playing. My eyes fluttered shut, breath slowing as I felt him pull out, cum dribbling out of me.

He shuffled us into a spoon, larger body wrapped protectively around mine as we both drifted off to sleep, the comfort of a dark room and spent bodies lulling us both into unconsciousness.

[mindless-existence1]

Jjk men headcannons- Sfw and Nsfw

Includes: Geto, Gojo, Toji, and Nanami

Authors note: This is probobly the last thing I'm going to be able to make before my broken arm gets put in a sling so enjoy it chat!

Sfw

Ive said this before but Gojo spoils tf out of his partner. He has money what is he using it for besides you? Really likes sweets so sometimes he buys candy for you just so he has an excuse to by some for himself. Same other snacks, he'll say they're for you but he's the one eating over half the bag.

Geto has some crazy Insomnia and the only way for him to sleep is if he's cuddling you. It makes him fall asleep so fast. Spooning turns off his brain like a lightswitch. Something about physical contact with his loved one makes him feel content.

Nanami is the definition of a gentleman. We know this already, but it's the little things. He pulls out your chairs, he opens your car door (going as far as pushing you back into the car so he can open it for you if you already did). He also will hold your waist so your close to him in crowded places.

Toji, tho he hates electronics, would answer you no matter what. In the middle of a mission? He's answering with a "Hey there doll" (he'd call you doll I've said it once I'll say it again). He'd never text or call you first during a mission but if you contact him he's picking up the phone and you wouldn't even be able to tell he was on call.

Gojo likes seeing yiu wear his glasses. He'll let you have them on when he's wearing his blindfold and he goes crazy. He'll say something like "they look better on me" but in reality he's using six eyes to get a veiw of you from other angels.

Geto is kinda like this but it's with shirts. He's a baggy shirt wearer trust so seeing you in one makes him border line feral. It's like your covered in him and that's qhat he wants. He likes the thought that when you wear them when he's not there it's kinda like he is.

Nanami is a listener so if you're yapper he's the one for you. He'll listen to anything and everything. He has some tough days at his job and hearing you randomly call him after a hard meeting just to tell him about the dog you saw on your walk today brightens his day.

Toji doesn't like seeing you work. And not in like any sort of sexist or "I'm better than you" way. Just a "I'm right her I should do it not my god/goddess of a partner". He just doesn't want to let you lift a finger when he's right there and able. You have pick up the table, he's got it. You spilled some water, pet him wipe it up. Anything.

Nsfw

Gojo is a FREAK he will try basically anything at least once. If you're into it or want to try it almost 100% of the time he's down. Especially if in involves you being dominated because despite what he says he's a switch that likes bottoming more.

Geto likes when you pull at his hair. I'm talking yanking it, his scalp is sensitive and it makes his head go all fuzzy. When he's giving you head/eating you out he gets off on you pulling his hair alone. He'd rut his hips intoanuthung he could when yiu tug a particularly sensitive spot.

Nanami lives to serve. Although most times he's on top he's doing what you tell him to do. Kinda vanilla but not in a bad way. He'd try stuff out if you asked but nothing too freaky. Likes missionary so he can see you perfectly.

Toji is a pain lover. Both giving and receiving. It's the way the pain mixes with pleasure that gets him going. But seeing you wither and shake from the intense mix of pleasure and pain makes him get dizzy with lust. This sight is so pretty and he can't help but tease you more at the veiw.

Gojo would use 6 eyes to see the two of you while you're fucking. Your ontop of him and he can't lift his head from the pleasure to see you so he uses the last of his strength to activate 6 eyes and get all the different angles.( I heard someone say his eyes glow bright blue when he's using his technique so imagine you look up at him and he barley opens his eyes and you just see the bright blue gleaming down at you.)

Geto is a bit of a risk taker. Nothing crazy but he'd be open for some different places to be added on the lists of places to get freaky. Maybe it's am old Jujustu Tech classroom. Maybe he fucks you there while people are still taking classes and he has to put a hand over your mother to keep you quiet.

Nanami would whisper sweet nothings in yiur ear. You can't even hear what he's saying over the intense shocks of pleasure but none the less his voice goes to your cloudy head and all you can do is moan in response to the praise.

Toji would fuck you infront of a mirror. He just loves doggy and want you to see how pretty you look. He'd also want to see you so it'd very self indulgent. He just really enjoys watching in live time how your face reacts to the intense pleasure.

[coff33andb00ks]

3am - LN & OP

lando norris x oscar piastri

summary: look at the stars, look how they shine for you warnings: angst, pining, not proofread songs: yellow and fix you by coldplay coldplay is landoscar coded wordcount: 1.3k a.n.: writing this in the hopes landoscar get out of my brain… shout out to the four moots that encouraged this. also not tagging anyone because it's 2:30am and I'm exhausted.

He can't sleep. It isn't unusual, his insomnia tend to rear its ugly head when he least needs it. He only wishes he could prepare in advance, that it was a cycle that he could predict and plan for, like his sisters with their apps that are set to warn the entire family when their PMS is approaching.

Dragging a hand over his face, he glares at the ceiling. Great. Now he's thinking about his sisters' cycles.

There's nothing for it but to just get up. No use fighting it and tossing and turning, that only leads to—

A husky moan. Teeth sinking into the lip he'd just sucked. Jaw carved from the gods' finest marble clenching.

"Lan…"

Cinnamon and mint.

Dreams that will never come true.

He presses his hands to his face, hunching over on the side of the bed. The hotel room is too small, too warm, too—

Lonely.

"Fuck this," he hisses, on his feet and snatching up his hoodie.

Torture. He willingly submits to it, knowing it will only leave him feeling hollow and alone when he returns to his room. But it's all he has. All he can cling to on a night like this, when the voices and thoughts won't stop, when the butterflies and bees are swarming inside him.

When the doubts and the worries rise over the shoddy façade of outgoing and joyful, there's only one thing that can quell them.

One person.

He's pinned his hopes all on someone who can never fully know the truth. The one person who understands him best, who knows him better than he does himself, whose name he proudly wears on his wrist.

The last person he wants to lie to, but shields the truth from.

The truth. The tiny, glowing ember of good sentiment that has somehow been crafted among the ruins of his fractured existence. He holds it closer to his heart than his very soul, fearful of it dying if revealed to a cruel world. Or, worse, an uninterested recipient.

He stares at the door. It's – he pulls his cracked phone from his pocket – almost three in the morning. Horrible friend, waking him this time of night.

A muffled sound. A footstep or a chair sliding under a table. His rounded shoulders straighten, his lowered head lifts.

He knocks. Just twice, like he always does when it's just him. If someone was with him it would be incessant. Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock— fucking hell, what?!

The door opens and he breathes in shampoo and lingering steam.

The universe hates him sometimes.

"Lando?"

One day, the sound of his name in that voice won't make his heart do that weird flippy thing. One day, it won't make his lip quirk up into a half smile. One day, he won't sigh.

Not today. Not tonight.

"Osco."

Osco. Osc. Os. Oscar looks at him with that confused pinched brow that immediately relaxes.

What's it like, to really be seen?

Heartbreaking.

Oscar steps back without a word and weak legs carry him into the mirror of his room. The bed is messy and it makes his stomach clench.

Dreams.

"Sor—"

He quiets with a look. He ducks his head, picking at his fingers. He wants to apologize again, for apologizing to begin with, and he wants to apologize once more for always needing to apologize, for being such a fucking mess that he is standing here in Oscar's hotel room at 3am instead of sleeping peacefully in his own.

"Tell me about it?"

Not what's wrong. Not why are you here. Never leave me alone.

Always tell me about it. Share your worries, lean on me, I'm your friend and your teammate, you're not doing this alone.

"I don't…" Wanna talk about it. Just let me stand here. Bask in the calming glow of your star until I can pretend to be a human again. "I don't… Why are you up?"

Oscar shrugs. His smile is faint. "Had a feeling."

"Oh." Oh. Because he hears the unspoken words, feels the unspoken sentiment.

Had a feeling you'd need me, so I waited up for you.

He wants to cry because no one else cares enough to wait up for him.

"Oh."

His face looks haunted, his eyes like they may produce tears at any second.

Heart in his throat, he sits on the bed. He knows better than to prod, knows all too well that the golden man standing by his suitcase will snarl and bite when provoked. So he waits.

Watching.

He's tense, his deceptively lean frame giving off waves of stress and worry and—

"Can't sleep," Lando whispers.

Exhaustion.

He nods, even though Lando isn't looking at him. Except he is, he can see his reflection in the mirror. Stormy green eyes are watching him, as though he holds all the answers to the world's problems.

Or, if not the world's, Lando's.

Same thing.

"I'm worried about tomorrow." A humorless, breathy exhalation that passes for a chuckle. "Today."

He's been worried since Austria. His insecurities are rising after simmering since Miami when the world's stage witnessed his greatness.

If I don't keep winning how can I prove I'm worthy?

If I don't glow for the world how can anyone love me?

"I hate Silverstone," he breathes.

Not the PR lie, about how special his home track is, the memories he has of it as a child, how the crowd gives him an indescribable energy. He hates it for the expectation. It's his home race so he has to perform well. His car has to be the fastest, the strats have to be impeccable, because he can't let the people that believe in him down.

Worse, he can't let himself down, as he's been doing for two months.

Oscar's heart splinters. No one will ever be as hard on Lando as Lando. No one takes on the blame for an entire team, an entire grid, like the man turning and sinking onto the bed.

Not the golden man the fans and media see, but the shy boy Oscar knows better than he knows himself. The perfectly imperfect extroverted introvert with a heart as pure as the twinkling stars in a night sky. The favorite child still terrified of disappointing his parents, the favorite brother that cries when has to miss an important milestone.

There's a space between them and before the billions of reasons he shouldn't come to mind Oscar closes it. The stars are there, twinkling still, shielded behind a cloud. Their arms touch and he wishes he could exhale and send the clouds away. He can't though, so he sits and waits, umbrella at the ready, an open ear and a sturdy shoulder.

It's a small percentage of what he's willing to give.

It's all that's wanted.

"Tell me I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid."

His shoulder's round and he's staring at his hands. Picking at his fingers. Knee bouncing.

Pure frenetic energy.

Oscar watches the knee and the fingers. Sees his own hand reach out.

Cool fingers, warm hand. Pale over gold.

Chins lift, heads swivel.

Mint eyes. Worry and heartbreak spill over and his own name is a whispered prayer.

Osco.

"You're not stupid," he says. The floodgate opens. "You don't have to believe that. I'll believe it for you until you're ready. I'll believe in you when you can't. I'll stay up 'til 3 so you can rest. And I'll provide the words you pretend to not remember."

That you started doing to make me feel needed. It worked. And now I know you do need me but more importantly I need you.

Golden fingers spread, slotting between his.

The clouds thin and the stars shine brighter than ever.

[hotchswifey]

insomnia - dean winchester x reader

(this is the first thing i have written in about 2 years 😭😭😭😭

it kinda sucks but i like it

warnings: insomnia (i am aware that any sleep disorders cannot be cured by another person and i do not mean to take away from people who suffer from these conditions, this was just a cute little idea i had), a little angst?? (just about how much deans life sucks.), fluff, cuddling, overthinking, thinking badly about yourself (ur thoughts can be mean but ur lovely and brilliant <3333)

also i have a hc that dean goes really silent when he's tired, except he can't go silent around most people bc then they start to think something is really wrong™, but actually he is just too exhausted to try to talk (self-projection? maybe.)

word count: 2373)

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

You rubbed at your tired eyes, walking into the bunker’s kitchen, your eyes adjusting to the light that definitely shouldn’t have been on - considering it was 3.32am. Your eyes fell on Dean, who was hunched over the island counter eating cereal. ‘Should’ve figured it was him who couldn’t sleep, too’, you thought. As bad as your sleeping habits had gotten, you always marvelled at Dean’s capability to be a functioning human with so little sleep.

He had noticed you as soon as you stepped foot in the room, but he did nothing to acknowledge your presence. Figures. You reasoned that the poor guy’s probably slept twice in the last week. You didn’t address him either; whether it was sleep deprivation or knowing he wanted to be left alone, you didn’t know. You just went to grab yourself a bowl of cereal. 

It was quiet (except for the sound of pouring milk and Dean’s chewing), but it was comfortable. It gave you some peace knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep - something so simple yet far out of your reach. You didn’t know when it happened (your inability to sleep), but ‘it comes with the life,’ you supposed. You grabbed your bowl and left Dean to ponder on his own.

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

You rubbed at your tired eyes again. The same routine - lay in bed for hours, eventually get up because you’re hungry, head to the kitchen and find the light on. Again and again, this happened - Dean always sat there. It had become a funny thing kind of (in an unhealthy, oh-my-god-i-just-want-to-sleep-but-i-guess-it’s-nice-to-see-dean type of way). 

He didn’t acknowledge you, you didn’t acknowledge him, you poured your cereal to the sound of Dean chewing and went back to your room to eat. You wished he would invite you to sit down, even if you both ate silently. It was nice not to be alone at night, overthinking every gruesome and terrible thing to come. But you knew it was Dean, and he definitely needed some peace, quiet, and alone time (and this was the most alone time he willingly gave himself). 

You ate back in your room, not sleeping for yet another night.

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

You and the boys had just got back from a vamp hunt. Sore, tired and, frankly, pissed off. The hunt was fine, you all supposed. But, god, it takes a lot to completely decapitate somebody. Your energy was all drained, and the only thing you wanted to do was sleep - but could you? No. Of course, you couldn’t. Why? A thunderstorm? Fireworks? Gunshots? No. Because your brain hates you. God forbid you get an ounce of sleep.

Your routine ensued again, more sluggish this time and certainly more pissed. All you wanted to do was behead a few vamps and sleep it off, but no. Of course not. Try to sleep, fail to sleep, get up and haul your ass to the kitchen, pour cereal, eat cereal. How did your life become so dull?

The lights are on again. You think, ‘There is no way in all hell Dean is awake. That boy put himself through more physical torment you could ever even dream of (not that you’d want to)’. You weren’t too shocked when, even after today, you saw Dean sitting there.

It wasn’t a surprise that Dean Winchester (saviour of the world, the perfect killer) was still awake, even after killing eight vamps single-handedly (but from how he was sitting, you were sure he’d hurt his back on the hunt). Dean. Again. In the kitchen. Not sleeping.

You didn’t know why, but it pissed you off more than it should have. 

“Why are you still up?” You asked, walking past the island to the cereal cupboard. No response. Of course. You rolled your eyes, fishing out the box of lucky charms you reserved for awful days. You caught Dean’s eye as you turned around to get a bowl. 

He might’ve been the strongest man you knew physically and mentally, but he looked so tired. More tired than you had ever seen him. More tired now than after ending the apocalypse or returning from purgatory. How could he look so exhausted after one vamp hunt? You thought about it for a second, only now realising how many times you had gotten up and he had been in the kitchen. Every time you got up, he was in the kitchen. What are the chances that when you can’t sleep, neither can he? Or was it more likely he wasn’t sleeping at all?

If you were being truthful, the strongest man you knew looked like hell. He looked like a little boy who couldn’t sleep because he had a nightmare and wanted his mom. Except he wasn’t a little boy, he was living through the nightmare and had no one to turn to when things got bad.

You had felt pity for Dean before (how could you not, the man has quite literally been to hell and back), but this was a different kind of pity. This was the kind of pity that only came when things were terrible. When you realise this was how it had to be, how it would be, forever. The kind of pity that came when you realised you couldn’t do anything about it. You felt useless looking at him in his dressing gown, hunched over the counter.

He was the world’s saviour, and you had to assume that came with consequences - like not sleeping.

You didn’t say anything. Your anger had dissipated into sadness - sadness for being unable to help your friend. There was nothing you could say or do. There was nothing at all. You stared at him, and he stared back, and that was it. You went about your night - pour the cereal, return to your room, and not sleep.

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

Another day. Another hunt. Another sleepless night.

You considered buying the strongest sleeping pills and calling it a day. But you knew you couldn’t. Dean would haul your ass out for another hunt tomorrow, and he’d be pissed if you were fast asleep.

‘He should take some sleeping pills’, you thought. Maybe he would actually be remotely okay then.

Not fall asleep, get up, walk to the kitchen, see Dean, not acknowledge each other, get your cereal and leave. Again and again. You may have liked it, though. Just that little bit of routine in your hectic lives. Even if it was a bad routine.

You poured your cereal, your back to Dean, in complete silence. It was nice. Comfortable.

You picked up your spoon, ready to head back to bed, and turned around to find Dean already looking at you. You paused on the spot, unsure as to why he was staring. He didn’t stop when you noticed him. He looked as tired as ever. The sight of him, looking exhausted, with a bowl of cereal and beer, was heartbreaking. It physically hurts to look at.

He looked at you, and you looked back. Silent. Again. You wish you knew what to say, but what could you say? ‘Hey, Dean. You look like shit.’ You were sure you looked just as bad.

The sudden eye contact didn’t end. You both are not blinking, not moving, simply just looking. It was like you were communicating telepathically, just understanding each other and the hell you were both going through. This life was bad enough with sleep.

He didn’t say anything when you moved to sit down next to him, he didn’t say anything when you began to eat your (soggy) cereal, and he didn’t say anything when you finished eating. He just drank his beer and ate his cereal wordlessly. He said nothing when you sat there for 5… 10… 15… 20 minutes. Not one word.

You wanted to know what was going on in his head so badly. You wanted to know how you could help if you could help. But Dean doesn’t share his problems. You knew that, Sam knew that Cas knew that- everybody in the damn world knew that.

You sat and sat and sat silently. Half an hour passed, then an hour, then two… before you knew it, Sam was walking in- tired and grumpy. The sun had risen (not that you could see it), and a new day had started.

“You look like shit, dude”, Dean said to Sam, who promptly rolled his eyes.

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

This time, when you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t go to the kitchen. You just laid there. Unmoving. You’re sleep-deprived mind was overthinking everything- what if you fucked up on that hunt 3 years ago, and Sam and Dean still hate you to this day? What if Sam hates you? What if Dean hates you? What if Dean is so fucking sick of you interrupting his nightly cereal time? You were a victim of your mind- your thoughts and inability to sleep. 

Ugh. You were so hungry. But, right now, your brain was convincing you you were single-handedly Dean’s biggest annoyance right now (if Dean could read your thoughts right now, he would be calling you his biggest idiot).

A knock on your door startled you more than it should’ve (considering you had been hunting for quite a while at this point).

A knock. At (you looked over to your alarm clock) 3:34am. ‘Why is Sam awake at this time? Why’s he knocking on my door?’ you thought. ‘It can’t be Dean. I’ve done nothing but piss him off for the last month. You squint your eyes preemptively as you reach over to turn on the lamp by your bed and get up. The floor was cold under your feet, and your body was exhausted from the lack of sleep. You reached towards the doorknob, preparing to see Sam. 

Sam. Who was definitely not at the door. Because Dean was standing there, in boxers and a white t-shirt, holding 2 bowls of cereal, looking as tired as you felt. Huh.

He looked at you silently, extending one bowl towards yourself. You took it hesitantly, staring at him, confused. He didn’t react. He didn’t say a word. Just lifted his bowl to eat his cereal. You moved to give Dean the option to come in. It was like a silent agreement had happened between you. Cereal and silence.

He walked in and sat on your bed; you closed your door and joined him. Wordless. Silent.

Maybe, you weren’t annoying him. Perhaps, he enjoyed this as much as you did. Maybe. Maybe.

Ten minutes passed, and you finished your cereal and leaned over to put it on the mahogany desk. ‘The Men of Letters enjoyed a frivolous life, huh. Who needs a mahogany desk?’ You thought, trying to distract yourself from your overactive mind. Dean moved over to do the same, leaning into you whilst he did. 

He didn’t seem to lean away from you after that. He didn’t seem to move at all. He just sat close as you both stared at the wall, unblinking. God, you were tired. You just wanted to sleep. You felt like your body was going to shut down any day now.

“You should get some sleep,” Dean’s groggy voice came out of nowhere. It surprised you, him actually talking. 

“Yeah, I’m trying,” you replied. Hell, you were trying. You were trying so hard, you just needed to-. Dean moved before you could finish your thought, standing up and moving to the top of the bed, pulling back the dishevelled sheets. He laid down in the bed, propping his head onto his hands.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

You moved to join him in the tiny twin bed. He pulled back the covers to let you in. You weren’t too sure what to do with yourself, then. You sat there with your knees to your chin, shoulders hunched. He had invited himself into your bed, and you felt like you were invading HIS space. Why were you still overthinking this? Why were you still thinking he didn’t want you here? Obviously, he did! 

His arm wrapped around your shoulders before you could think anymore. You looked over at him, his green eyes reflective in the lamplight, and he looked back at you. Wordless. You gave him a small smile and moved to lie down. He joined you, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder. You debated whether you should lean against his chest but decided not to overthink it and just do it. You were sick of overthinking every little thing.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, yours wrapped around his. This was good. He was good. Nothing was exchanged between you; there wasn’t a need for words. You both knew this was what you two needed- each other. Dean had never really been alone (whether it was Sam, Cas, or Benny), and he needed somebody there to remind him that everything was okay. You were okay- sleep-deprived and needing a new career, but okay. 

Your eyes were shutting before you could help it. Dean’s steady heartbeat in your ear and arms around your body calmed you. It was almost funny how quickly you were falling asleep now. Months and months of sleepless nights, and all it took was Dean to be here, holding you. You wished you could enjoy it more (not knowing if this would happen again), but you were so goddamn tired. 

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

You awoke the following day to repeated knocks on your door and Sam’s voice shouting your name. Damnit Sam. He opened your door before you even had the chance to fully wake up.

“Have you seen Dea- oh.”

The man in question was fast asleep, his arms still wrapped around you, your legs tangled together. You looked towards Sam as he mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ and left hurriedly. You were surprised it didn’t wake Dean. A pin drop could wake him up. You looked over at him, admiring how peaceful he looked. It was simple. Simple and nice and sort of domestic. Or as domestic as a hunter’s life can be.

You leaned against his chest, his arms tightening around you, falling back asleep.

You two had a different routine from then on- if either couldn’t sleep, you would find each other.

[shesgotthebeststories]

SHESGOTTHEBESTSTORIES MASTERLIST!!!!

ROSA DIAZ X OC STORYLINE (in order of events)

WELCOME TO NEW YORK! - a fic where the new detective in the 99 cannot seem to keep her eyes off her new partner.

I WAS SO COOL BUT THEN ALL THE SUDDEN, YOU SAW ME LOOK AT YOU - a fic where jake starts to notice his friends lingering gazes at their coworker

THERE’S NOTHING I HATE MORE THEN WHAT I CAN’T HAVE - a fic where maddy walks in on rosa and pimento and can’t help but wish she was in pimentos place

IT’S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND - a fic where maddy passed out at the precinct but will not let rosa take her home

BUT I CAN'T HELP IT, I'VE FALLEN FOR YOU - a fic where maddy gets drunk and can’t stop confessing to jake

SAID I'M NOT CATCHING FEELINGS - a fic where rosa can’t take her eyes off maddy

I PRETEND YOU’RE MINE ALL THE DAMN TIME - a fic where rosa and maddy go undercover...

PRETTY GIRLS - a fic where maddy and rosa go out for drinks after thier uncover mission…

FALSE GOD - a fic of what really happened that night after going undercover

DRUNK KISSES - a fic where rosa comes home a little drunk and gets way to excited to see her girlfriends cat.

IS IT COOL THAT I SAID ALL THAT? - a fic where rosa let’s go a little too much then she’s used too

WOULD YOU MIND CLOSING THE BEDROOM DOOR? - a fic where maddy is in a rush

I HOPE NOBODY CATCH US - a fic where Rosa and Maddy almost get caught

HER HANDS ARE IN MY HAIR, HER CLOTHES ARE IN MY ROOM - a fic where maddy and rosa go on the group trip to a beach house, but a roomed on opposite sides of the house to each other…

THE MARK THEY SAW ON MY COLLAR BONE - a fic where rosa has a little too much... fun

I MIGHT JUST BE IN LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LOVEEE - a fic of firsts...

TO BE YOUNG AND IN LOVE IN NEW YORK CITY - a fic where maddy and rosa have an... unexpected visitor

A GOLDEN TATTOO - a fic where rosa finds out about maddy’s tattoo

SHE’S DRIVING ME CRAZY (BUT I’M INTO IT) - a fic where maddy is trying to make a phone call, but rosa can’t seem to keep her hands off her

ALL THAT YOU EVER WANTED FROM ME WAS SWEET NOTHING - a fic where maddy and rosa go on a road trip with the squad

CAUSE YOU’RE MY PAINKILLER - a fic where maddy is sick

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER, I KNOW WHO MY FIRST CALL WILL BE TOO - a fic where Rosa is stuck in a shooting, and Maddy freaks out.

YOU WOULDN'T BE THE FIRST RENAGADE TO NEED SOMEBODY - a fic where rosa is not doing well after a case

I’M GONNA GET YOU BACK - a fic where rosa tries to do something nice for her girlfriend

IF I WAS THE MAN, THEN I’D BE THE MAN - a fic where maddy wins an award, but it goes…not so well

INSOMNIA COOKIES - a fic where rosa’s girlfriend has … unusual ways of falling back to sleep

I CAN SEE YOU - a fic where rosa decides something...pretty big

OH MY GOD YOU SHOULD SEE YOUR FACES! - a fic where rosa and maddy forgot they had plans

LIKE A TATTOOED GOLDEN RETRIVER - a fic where rosa can’t seem to figure out what she is feeling.

HOPE NOBODY KNOCKS - a fic where jake learns the importance of knocking

I WON'T LET NO ONE HURT YOU - a fic where Rosa and Maddy babysit Mac but as the night goes on, Rosa starts to reconsider her past beliefs.

AUs & ONE WORD PROMPTS

(these are just short fics that are just cutesy little stories that don't have specific places on the timeline)

CAUSE I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART - an au where maddy is a doctor at the local hospital, and the new patient coming through the ER doors looks a lot like her girlfriend.

SHE CAN JOIN THE HEIST THEN… - a fic where maddy and rosa team up for the yearly halloween heist…

A DELICATE, EMBROIDERED LACE BRALETTE - a fic based on a prompt from this list

MADDY AND ROSA | FLUFFY ALPHABET

5 times Amy noticed something between Maddy and Rosa but didn't say anything + 1 time she did

[itsallmouthwashing]

Tulpar- Band Au playlist expansions (27-37)

Obligatory playlist here, and master list here (when I upload that)

Im still working on the meat of the story, I'm just very stuck on where to start :) anyways- song explanations! weee!

I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead (Set It Off)- Curly writes this after a particularly hard night of insomnia. In an almost manic state he scribbles out the vague concept, bangs on the drums in an attempt to keep time (he can't find the metronome that's on the shelf literally right above him. Just look a little to the up, Curly). In his sleepless state he thinks he’s the first pioneer to find gold. In the morning when he’s finally slept, he almost throws the mess of whatever alphabet he must have chosen last night away. 

Daisuke finds it crumpled on the floor the next day when they show up for practice and asks about it. Curly gets embarrassed and says it's nothing. He couldn't sleep last night and he was just delirious. (YES he’s drinking coffee as he says this). Dai insists they develop this and they do! It goes on their first official album

Black in Every Color (Happy Hour)- Another one of Curly and Jimmy’s early songs. Writing this was how Jimmy found out that Curly has amazing vocal range, and how Curly found out Jimmy could scream. Curly hadn’t really heard Jimmy’s vocals until then as Jim had let Curly do all the singing when they sat down to write and practice. Jimmy has perfect pitch, so he knows exactly how he wants his songs to sound like. Curly has great training, so he could almost always deliver

Drugs (cheridomingo)- Curly writes this one during Jimmy’s disappearance. It becomes part of the album they release during this time. He knows that Jimmy is getting into trouble, doing drugs and god know what else to go out with a bang. 

He can't stand knowing Jimmy may be dying in someone’s coked-out arms. If it has to happen this way, why can't it be with him?

Left Behind (Slipknot)- It’s in Jimmy’s journal. What ELSE can I say fellers. It does carry into Tulpar’s professional career though!

Kill Rock And Roll (System of A Down)- part of Tulapr’s first concept album before Anya and Dai joined. One of the first Jimmy and Curly ever wrote together. When they were tired of working on Ængus they would turn to this one and hop between a few others when inspiration withheld them. Jimmy really wants to do harmonies and they look great on paper, but when the two try and execute it for the first time, they both get confused and try to match the other’s pitch. It takes many tries for them to get the first part, and many many tries after to maintain it. By the time they graduate and greet Dai and Anya into the fold, it becomes part of their practice rounds. 

Sugar (System Of  A Down)- Jimmy writes this one Senior year of high school. When he presents it to the band they are………. Only a little concerned. Curly reassures them that Jimmy is harmless and what he writes he doesn't really mean (He fully means it, but as long as it’s written down then those impulses aren’t acted on. Most of the time. Sometimes. Usually. Guys just trust him--)

He does talk to his friend about kicking loved ones afterward, though. Just to be on the safe side. (Anya hates this song on bass, so her and Daisuke switch up)

Fuck the System (System of a Down)- In Jimmy’s notebook when he and Curly first start Tulpar. Its really hard for Curly to get the drums down when he’s learning so they table it for a while until Curly gets his skill up. When Dai and Anya are around (before they officially join), this song somehow comes up in conversation. (“It is SUCH basic syncopation, Curly- How do you not get this?”) Curly says he could never get the timing down. He playfully states it's because of Jimmy’s handwriting- Jim actually gets defensive about it (who saw this coming? I’m taking bets)- but when Dai takes a single look and rocks the drums no problem, Jimmy is forced to face the fact that they need a drummer that isn’t Curly. (“Hey, maybe Dai could do drums for us!” “You’re doing just fine, Curls.” “Jimmy, I don't like playing drums.” “WHAT?”)

Delusions of Saviour (Slayer)- No lyrics, but this is here because the band loves to use it as a warm-up. Dai works on keeping the beat, while Jimmy, Curly, and Anya warm up their fingers. Curly hums along to the tune, sometimes will do full vocal runs if they’re pushing for time. Jimmy likes to make up lyrics on the spot and mumble them while they’re warming up. [[This is the ONLY song on this playlist that remains the original artists- in this AU the bands still for sure exist, but those songs in particular are written and sung by Tulpar instead of that bad (Sorry, SOAD, your songs are my barbie’s now)]]

Still Waiting (Sum 41)- Another :) early song of Jimmy’s. He writes this around middle school as he slowly opens his eyes to the state of the world. Aaaaaand he channels his frustration over school getting suspended again. 

The Good Life (Three Days Grace)- Another one of Jimmy’s early songs. Him and his parents are living in the shittiest apartment known to man since they had to move on such short notice if they wanted Jimmy to stay on track. One day when it was another ‘fend-for-yourself’ dinner night, Jimmy decided not to bother in finding anything and wrote this song instead. It makes its debut as Tulpar’s song a little later into their concert career when they’re making profit on their music. Jimmy finally shares it, and Curly is surprised he’d share anything from the more personal sections of his journal, especially from that early on. Jimmy would never let Dai or Anya look at his journal even after they joined (but Curly got to look right away. hmm) and from that song forward he tried to be more open with his bandmates. (that quickly ends when dai accuses Jimmy of sleeping with his girlfriend because one song is a little too horny and describes the events of that night almost perfectly)

Last Resort (Papa Roach)- The last song Jimmy writes in his notebook before he disappears. It essentially becomes his suicide note and it’s what throws Curly into a panic. Curly can never bring himself to sing/rap/say the lyrics, when it comes time to perform it, Daisuke takes the lead on vocals. They’re simple enough to keep time with as he stays on drums and Curly has to focus hard on keeping the rights notes to keep himself from hearing Jimmy through Daisuke. 

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 159 spoilers and thoughts below the cut yep just the usual

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JAVIERS FACE LMFAO "wow. these people are so weird. thank god im the only normal person here" jesus christ this entire estate is insane /aff

also i think im required to inform that i sent this panel to some of my irls because they're also civil engineers, and i asked if they recognized any of this and they said "oh god yeah"

so we can pleasantly confirm that the adaptor/artist are still referencing real civil engineering stuff!

while we're still here at the start of the ep/my thoughts i do wanna say, the whole "ugly" gag is getting. a little too well worn

it is really well drawn! the artist is very skilled at drawing exaggerated expressions and its always fun to see, but i think this is like the third or fourth time now that this has been used, and i think my brain is just tired of the repeated schtick. i dont hate it, but the funny has moved on for me

i really hope that in this next arc we see a return of a devilish or conniving lloyd, rather than silly "ugly" expressions; its funny when he looks stupid but id like a better balance, which means i want more instances of him looking cool and smart as hell!!!

of course these words will. probably fall on deaf ears its not like i can message the artist/adaptor directly lmfao but yknow its the thought that counts i guess. actually i might be using that phrase wrong not sure

ANYWAY ANYWAY verkis looks so pretty here,, i like that he confirmed lloyds intentions w the jewel of truth . truly a man who wants to do Nothing thats so real of him me too bud

AND THENNN my personal favorite peak of the episode THE SWORDMASTER SYNDROME KICKING IN AAAAAHHH AAAAHHHH

IT MAKES SENSE THAT LLOYD PUSHING HIS MANACIRCLES TO THE LIMIT WOULD BE THE LAST PUSH HE NEEDS TO BECOME A HIGH LEVEL SWORD EXPERT and now hes suffering the consequence of not dealing with this earlier </3 get overstim'd idiot shouldve taken a break before this happened bozo!!! /j

i really really REALLY love how the text and the effects were drawn in these panels and the following ones (thats three reallys!!!)!! the visual echo and then the sudden sharp jaggedness, it really shows how much OUCH and impact it has and i really really love it YEAHHHH PUT LLOYD THROUGH THE WRINGER YEAHHH YEAHHH

AND THEN JAVIER KEEPS LOOKING SO FUCKING HAPPY THROUGHOUT THIS EPISODE PLEASSEEJ LKAJDFLKSJDFLKJSDFLK JHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH he's having a grand ol time lmfao now his noble can experience what he had to go through!!!

ALSO ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW THE VERY FIRST THING THAT LLOYD LOOKS AT WITH HIS NEW HEIGHTENED VISION IS JAVIERS FACE AND HOW PERFECT IT IS HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO you could have looked at anything else and yet the first thing you narrow in on is javiers face IM SHAKING YOU LLOYD

no seriously wow he's so pretty ALSO THE FUCKING. HAND POSE IM CRYING

also its really really fluffy nice that javier helped lloyd with getting used to his senses! though they couldnt really do anything abt his insomnia

i had heard that some really cute moments got cut from the novel in this little timeskip here which is like awww i wish we got to see it like, that short bit with the "ugly" gag could have been replaced with the moments from the novel and itd still fit the episode length! at least i think

(like i was told that lloyd gets called "good boy" by javier. like. WHAT. WHAT. GOOD BOY??? GOOD BOY??? AND THAT GOT CUT?????? GOOD BOY!?!?!?!? i told my irls abt this and we collectively had a stroke i wish it made it in bc javiers face when saying that and lloyds reaction wouldve been PRICELESSSS)

oh but also back to talking about javier helping lloyd out, i think its really really cute,,, i know its not explicitly said or shown but i want to think that javier is able to repay the lullaby in a sense by doing this. i really like that javier not only depends on lloyd, but lloyd depends on javier too, and they can rely on each other. thinking about that makes my heart warm and my feet kick and then i start giggling like a maniac

anyway few month timeskip and lloyd u look tired as hell im so sorry buddy

though honestly i really like how he looks in this panel for some reason HAHAHAHA idk him just looking grumpy and tired is fun bc u dont really see it that often u usually see him being silly or evil more so this is a nice panel to have heehee

disgruntled tired sleep deprived engineer now aint that the realest STEM experience ever,,, shaking ur hand lloyd i get u i understand

AND THEN THE END OF THE EP HI RAPHAEL the angel arc!! i guess!! idk the names of these arcs

i wonder how he'll try to enforce this,,, and i wonder how lloyd will get out of it,,, like did tkobai ever go over the angels and what they do? does lloyd know about them?

i did see pics of what he looks like from the novel and we were SO robbed of very pretty long wavy hair, it seems the artist just chopped it all off,,, uueueueueuee

i posted abt this on twitter already but my singular cope is that we actually just havent seen the rest of his hair and its just in a ponytail and its like really really thin and we'll see the rest of his hair soon trust <- copium pumping

and a bonus little illustration, happy chuseok!!!

thats all from me!!!!!!! IM REALLY EXCITED TO SEE WHERE THIS ANGEL ARC GOES and whether or not lupellan and wrot,,,, whatever his name was are going to interfere also,,, triple clash!!! also if he'll ever overcome his insomnia,,,

see yall next week :3

[anarchyrpbook]

LIGHTS OUT a roleplay sentence meme with various quotes and sentences taken from navessa allen's lights out. feel free to tweak as needed. content warning: foul language

shit, i just accidentally deleted the text.

sir, i’m at work, how dare you?

i would like to thank the algorithm for bringing me here.

i’m on season six of this video.

well, this has me feeling feral far too early in the morning.

sorry if i fuck this up.

you’re looking pretty pasty lately.

quit now while you’re ahead.

how do i find someone from social media?

what would you do if i said yes?

i need so much more therapy than i’m currently getting.

i know you’re reading these messages, you bastard. i can see the read receipts.

who hurt you like this? give me a name and address, and i’ll take care of it.

when i say i would forgive this man for literally anything.

forgive him, you monster.

so this is what jealous rage feels like.

how’s it feel to be the most hated woman on the internet right now?

if you don’t want him, i’ll take him.

insomnia is kicking my ass this week.

no touchy. still angry.

don’t misconstrue this. this isn’t for you.

it feels a little like it’s for me.

aww, our first official fight.

bad boys don’t get rewarded.

gee, i wonder who could have done such a dastardly thing?

you do snore real cute - like a chipmunk with a cold. wheeze, wheeze, siiiigh.

you shouldn’t have. i mean that literally, but i’m grateful anyway.

it’s… i don’t know exactly how to describe it. good isn’t the right word. rewarding might be better.

i see you’ve been reading my comments.

what was it you said yesterday? this isn’t for you?

i brought it in here to eat in front of you while mocking your hunger.

our baby angel did absolutely nothing wrong, and i resent the insinuation that he ever could.

you are so presumptuous!

i noticed how you look at me and decided not to fight your inevitable claiming.

me? what the fuck did i do?

you better be joking, or we are about to have our second fight.

we are 100% about to have our second fight.

death is nothing new to me, i see it on a weekly basis.

i’m more fucked up over not being fucked up, if that makes sense.

pull over, we’re breaking up. let me out.

thank fucking god there’s someone in your life to take some of your weirdness off my hands.

finally, someone to take some of the burden of his love off my shoulders.

turn me towards him so i can kick him.

your face is about to have a misunderstanding with my fist.

bet you twenty bucks i can get one of them to laugh before the end of the night.

we are not going to tear out of anywhere. we’ll leave at a non-suspicious speed.

our fearless leader just face-planted into a rhododendron.

you should have gone with them, even if it put me at risk.

that isn’t how this works, you don’t get to sacrifice yourself for me.

i’ll find a place with low lighting and a table in the back where no one but our server will see us.

i knew i shouldn’t have said anything. you’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?

either way, get in. it’s as cold as a nun’s twat out here.

next time, try saying something about what a nice arse i have.

stop trying to infantilize him because he makes you feel weird in the tummy.

picture me holding a toddler in one arm, and a baby in the other.

[irondad-defensesquad]

A/N: touch starvation strikes again!!!!!! Blame my insomnia.

I'm so sorry for being unoriginal, lmao.

EDIT: now posted on AO3!

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

--

“H-Hey, Mr. Stark, what’s up?”

“Oh, hey, kid.”

Tony is working on Iron Man. He doesn’t completely ignore Peter, but the latter isn’t the focus right now, clearly.

Peter pretends his eyes aren’t tearing up.

He feels so childish or it.

What was he expecting? That Tony would hug him to welcome him back in the workshop? Or at least pat his shoulder? Anything physical?

They’re not there yet.

Peter rushes to the most distant counter in the lab, so Tony doesn’t realize how upset he is. Maybe Peter just needs to focus on homework right now.

His skin feels odd. It feels itchy. But not like mosquito bites or allergies. It’s asking for something, and he doesn’t know what it is. Peter has tried to hug himself several times lately and it never works. His shoulders and back are tense, and his leg is shaking but moving it or walking doesn’t make it stop.

Tony is still there working, apparently not noticing that Peter is far away.

And Peter hates that. Even though he wanted to sit there to avoid questions.

What does he want, then? For Tony to notice? Shouldn’t he just ask him? No, no that would be too obvious, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of his mentor’s work.

Peter just feels like weeping pathetically. He couldn’t sleep well last night, wanting someone there with him. Aunt May got home too late, and he knew she needed all the time to rest before starting another day.

Then Ned didn’t go to school today because he got sick. MJ wasn’t around either, but Peter has no idea why. She never talks to him.

The arachnid stares at the blank homework paper. Peter can’t think straight.

Gulping, he stands up and quickly tries to come up with an excuse.

“I’ll, uh… g-get something to drink…” Peter says it rather lowly. So, obviously, Tony doesn’t quite mind it. The man hums, but it could be at the Iron Man projection in front of him.

Peter tries to silence the childish urge to run away to his room to cry. He just walks away miserably to the kitchen.

He opens the huge fridge. There’s literally everything there. Water, juice, soda, wine (probably Pepper’s), and then in the freezer there’s ice cream. Tony mostly buys them for Peter, but the man might eat them every now and then.

Once again, he stands there frozen.

Staring at everything but seeing nothing that could soothe him.

Peter takes a can of soda, but once he opens it, it spills all over the floor because of the gas.

“No, no, NO- goddammit!” He curses. He has to clean that.

But he can’t, either.

Peter just starts crying because of some stupid soda. He tries holding it in, to no avail.

Come on, I have to clean this and go back to the lab, he thinks. But Mr. Stark is too busy for me. He doesn’t want to hug me. Why would he? He’s just my…

… What is Tony to him, really?

“Peter? Where are you—”

Someone freezes.

“Oh my god, Peter, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Tony rushes to him, expecting the worst.

“N-No, I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Tony reassures him, seeing that it’s just spilled drink on the floor that can easily be handled. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing.”

“Come on, get up, let’s sit for a bit.”

Peter might flinch at the hands rubbing his shoulders like it’s a small massage. Tony stops and Peter hates him for it.

Either way, he obeys Tony, and he sits on the nearest chair. The latter takes less than five minutes to clean the soda off the floor. Then, he sits in front of Peter.

“You can talk to me, bud. Is it school? Patrol? Something else?”

“N-No, you don’t have to worry about it…”

“Well, I do. I’m not gonna let you suffer like this.”

Peter clutches his own sleeves.

“… You didn’t even notice me when I arrived.”

“What?”

Oh, shit. Now what?

“Y-You didn’t even look at me or- or- I dunno!” Peter keeps talking without much filter. “Like me being there wouldn’t have made a difference. But like… y-you don’t have to pay attention to me 24/7, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry I got mad about that, it’s just, something is wrong with me, I didn’t sleep well last night, school has been bad but it was worse today, I haven’t actually talked to anyone in… days? I think? But not just that, I…”

Peter sheds tears again, the anger being more towards himself, not Tony.

“I thought you’d at least… welcome me.” Hug me. Hug me after a horrible day. After so many bad days. “B-But- it’s not your fault, I’m just being stupid.”

“Oh, kiddo… I’m so sorry.” Tony looks so guilty.

Peter regrets saying anything. “No, you don’t have to—”

“No, you’re right, I didn’t pay attention to you. I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, but dang it, I should’ve asked. I should’ve noticed something at least.”

“Maybe I should’ve said something, too. But I was scared you’d get annoyed.”

“See, I didn’t mean for you to think that way. You’re not going to annoy me. Sorry I didn’t make that clear to you.”

Peter would’ve protested, but they might be here forever, so he sighs in defeat. “Okay.”

He’s staring at his own lap, his jeans stained with several teardrops.

In the meantime, Tony looks at him. Maybe trying to figure out what Peter needs right now.

It doesn’t take long, really.

Tony stands up and offers a hand. Peter expects him to just help him get on his feet again.

Only for Tony to immediately pull him in his arms.

And he says nothing else.

Just breathes with Peter.

The boy is frozen for a good time before he returns the hug with some desperation. Please, don’t let go, don’t let go.

Tony automatically squeezes him in response. I’ve got you, you’re safe.

Yeah, Tony makes him feel safe. Whether in the armor or not… he’s a hero.

He keeps rubbing Peter’s back, trying to relax his tense muscles. It always makes Peter flinch inside, which is, weirdly… soothing. The itching is dispersing, calming down.

He might cry again, but it’s out of relief.

The teen pretty much lies down on the other. Tony might be smiling. Soon, he nuzzles Peter’s head.

“Kid?” He calls.

“Hmm?”

“You know you’re adorable, right?”

“Shhhut up…” Peter whines.

Tony snorts. He hasn’t released Peter even if he might have loosened his grip a bit.

“Come on,” the man instructs. Peter almost thinks they’re going back in the lab, but they’re going the other way.

At first, Peter thinks it’s his room. And he doesn’t want Tony to leave him alone in there. Not yet. But Tony knows, so they go to the latter’s room instead. To Tony’s huge bed.

“Wait… what about your work, Mr. Stark?” Peter remembers.

“It can wait. You’re my top priority right now.”

Peter blushes. “Oh.”

Tony’s bed feels like paradise. It’s so comfortable.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Of course, Peter.”

This last morning was so cold and lonely. The whole apartment was empty and depressing to be in. And now, Peter is warm again.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah?”

…

“I love you…”

Peter is rather sleepy, so he doesn’t have to worry about these words until later.

He does faintly get to hear the response.

“I love you too, buddy.”

And just that is enough for Peter to fall asleep in peace.

[pen136]

its been so long (like less than a week) since ive burger posted so here we go: headcanon list guys!

also cw - mentions of mental illness/trauma

bob : very much based off my own dad (one of my favorite people alive), bisexual, autistic depressed and clinically anxious, lies on the floor a lot because of back problems, works through injury and illness (the family's doing a bit better on money now but he's lived his whole life in fear of being unable to support the people he loves and their wellbeing), saw that tina aligned herself with femininity from when she was a really little kid (supports her endlessly, was the first one to buy her a dress), gives the kids his old records/cassettes/cds, quality time is his love language, loves crappy old movies from the 80s (like weird science), winona ryder was his childhood crush, tina shows him phoebe bridgers and he loves her (cries to kyoto bc dad issues), so desperately trying to not become his father, dreams about his mom a lot, has been getting gray hairs since he was 17 (purely from stress), bad episodes of insomnia, claims he doesn't mind being away from linda (if shes not in the same room as him for more than an hour he needs to cry, she is his absolute best friend), really adores teddy like a stupid younger brother, fucking hates mr frond with a burning passion

linda : truthfully i dont have much for her. i dont need to really give her any headcannons i worship her the way she is, but shes def adhd and autistic

gene : genderfluid (he/she), audhd, live laugh love fiona apple, bad sensory issues, cant wear pants unless theyre baggy, sisters buys him reusable earplugs, got linda's family's loudness, talks shit WAY too loud, jazz bitch, can surprisingly do a cartwheel really well, walks around belting 90s music (everyone hates it except lin), loves makeup and looks amazing in it (tina is secretly really pissed that he looks better in it than her), can fall asleep anywhere, will eat anything once, has bit alex/courtney as a form of affection (tina and louise too but theyre used to it), will sit on tinas floor and vent to her at any given moment, remembers nothing except for the most obscure random things about the people he loves, incorporates music in all of his school reports, loves salty food especially

louise : unlabeled (she/they), autistic, loves japanese candies and snacks, phone screen chronically cracked, permanently cold hands, tina does her hair, makes own jewelry and pins, loves broaches and mints but always forgets which is in which tin, has drank paint water by accident, very artistic, loves to draw in comic book/manga styles, secretly really enjoys being around jimmy jr (finds him really funny), loves a good ironic trucker hat, if you can read this the bitch fell off, needs glasses (ends up getting funky ones like lindas), short fingers that are always painted light green and pink, lots of scars on hands from skateboarding, learns bass later in life, starts saying "oh my god" like bob

tina : transfemme (she/her), autistic/has clinical anxiety and depression, speaks with the most subtle new york accent (residual from linda), multilingual (fluent in spanish, conversational in french, knows some korean, can say random words in various others), loves bad campy horror movies, incredibly soft but always sweaty hands, layers her hair (learns to cut her own), because of everything thats happened she is extremely paranoid about family dying, sensitive skin, has a bunch of digestive issues (throws up a lot), sometimes has violent tendencies (feels guilty for them always), sleep walking/chronic nightmares (wakes up screaming a lot), watches drag race with bob, #1 phoebe bridgers/lucy dacus/julien baker fan, adores sleater-kinney, loves riot grrl music, bites nails, extremely clumsy (scars), loves big jackets over dresses, takes naps because she cant sleep at night, truly is her fathers daughter

i do not think anyone will read this whole thing, but i hope you like it if you did

[bradley-depalmas-wife-4ever]

My Intro post:

DO NOT INTERACT:

- Haters. (Whatcha' expect huh?)

- Lolicons/shotacons. (Because these are fucking disgusting and if you're one of these, FUCK OFF.)

- Lolibaiters/shotabaiters. (Because these are fucking disgusting and if you're one of these, FUCK OFF.)

- Hypocrites. (Because you believe fake lies and just unwatch me and go to the bullies side instead of hearing my side.)

- People who harass me for no fucking reason and saying serious stuff about me that they took out of their ass just to bring me down. (If you're someone like that, just fuck off, you'll be blocked, reported and exposed, because these kind of accusations are SERIOUS.)

- Pedophiles/Zoophiles/Groomers. (If you're any kind of these people, fuck off.)

- Well poeple who are bastards, weirdos and morons in general.

RULES:

- Don't say "Happy Birthday" to me before the 4th September, it causes bad luck.

- Just be nice to me overall.

ABOUT ME:

I'm Karolane, a French/British 17 year-old girl who just draws for funsies. I like to do OCs, draw fanarts of any kind of media I like, and I do like drawing other people's OCs because I can. I'm also short for my age, I'm 4'11 tall. I went in a strict foster care that traumatized me for life due to the severe assault, bullying and neglect I went through.

I suffer from many diagnosed disorders including ADHD, PTSD, severe depression, athazagoraphobia, social anxiety, school phobia, obsessive love disorder, schizophrenia, autism, insomnia, dissociative syndrome, Peter Pan syndrome, RSD (Rejective Sensitive Dysphoria), Balint syndrome and eating disorders, meaning that I'M VERY VULNERABLE AND HYPERSENSITIVE, SO PLEASE BE CAREFUL WITH THE STUFF YOU SAY. I'm also very intolerant to fish and anything seafood related.

What I like/love: Animes, Mangas, Drawing, Dancing, Bradley Depalma, Kevin Spencer (the show and character overall), my friends, Cosplaying, Playing Video Games, my cats, Horror Movies, Cartoons, and Sewing.

What I dislike/hate: Lolicons/shotacons, Lolibaiters/shotabaiters, Hypocrites, being bullied/abandoned/left out/neglected/depressed, Dramas, Controversies, Haters, Pedophiles/Zoophiles/Groomers, Bradley Depalma fangirls.

I'm currently on a break right now, I don't know when I'll come back, but I felt good enough to remake this description of mine. Anyways, peace. 💖

Oh, before you jump to coclusions:

I'm NOT a lolibaiter AT ALL.

Do NOT jump to conclusions without reading my side of the story. And all of this is happening because OF AN OC. And seeing that people are siding on the bullies side without seeing my side is DISGUSTING. I'm not using my mental health as an excuse, I deleted my art just to avoid harassment, and still, they don’t stop. Why? Because their goal isn’t to “protect” anyone, it’s to push me off the Internet entirely.

I hate when people use that to justify harmful behavior. But the thing is…

There’s nothing to justify.

I didn't do anything wrong. Most of my drawings are either characters standing still doing nothing, or waist-up… also doing nothing. Why people think I'm a lolicon while I'm NOT?? Because God forbid a girl draws another girl with a girl’s body. Thinking that the female body is inheritly sexual is misogynistic and sexist, sorry.

If people are truly worried about protecting minors or fighting harmful content, then that energy should be directed toward those who are actually crossing lines, the ones producing or spreading truly inappropriate or illegal material, not a teenager drawing fictional characters in safe, non-sexual contexts.

Calling out real harm is important. But targeting someone who hasn’t done anything, just because you dislike my art or my OC, isn’t activism, it’s harassment.

[jodilin65]

If the Honker went straight home and didn't stop anywhere in the US to visit anyone along the way, he's just in time for a 36° snowstorm. LMAO.

I'm back to being psychic in a neutral or a bad way. Neutral: The mystery girl told me she hates the word fat and prefers other definitions to describe someone on the hefty side. I have no idea if this is really true or not, so who knows? Negative: I was correct in suspecting that this lying dumbass pulmonologist wouldn't make things easier for us by simply writing a prescription for a CPAP.

When we saw him, he specifically told us that for insurance purposes, I would need to have an in-lab sleep study done. So when Tom decided to call and see if I was right or not — and whether we could get a break for once or rule that possibility out while I was sleeping — he was told it had absolutely nothing to do with insurance but that the doctor simply wanted to see what was going on because he's under the false delusion that I have insomnia rather than N24 because I'm not blind.

Any idiot can research multiple credible online sources and find out that although rare, it is indeed truly possible to be sighted and have this sleep disorder. Furthermore, I have every single symptom of it! It is similar in some aspects to delayed sleep phase, but that's definitely not what I have otherwise I could have and would have corrected it years ago. Unfortunately, this is N24 and it's 100% incurable. I'll never be able to get medication for it because it's a rich person's drug. No insurance company is going to pay for something that costs thousands of dollars and isn't a matter of life or death. Still furthermore is the fact that two sleep specialists confirmed that I have N24. So what more does anyone need — unless you just want to be a stupid, arrogant little fuck?

Although it may or may not cost us a little more and may not be quite as accurate, we're almost certainly going to drop this idiot and the sleep lab and go with the online option. Tom did more research, and they have good reviews overall. I'm going to be dealing with primary care doctors who will refer my results to a specialist. I’m not going to deal with the specialist directly.

Sometimes it helps to write out the ups and downs of things and sit back and look at it, and this is what I've come up with

Pros of Sleep Lab Study:

More accurate results

Possibly cheaper

Cons of Sleep Lab Study:

Unfamiliar and uncomfortable setting

More equipment hooked up to me

Might not be able to fall asleep when expected

Pros of In-Home Study:

More comfortable

Can do it on my own time

Tests for more than just sleep apnea

Cons of In-Home Study:

Less accurate

Potentially more expensive

We discovered some hidden rooms in Walkabout, but you really couldn't interact with anything. It was still kind of cool. It was fun to fly through this wall, then down the stairs and into a maze of hallways. There were doors along the way that you could peek through the windows of, but again, there wasn’t much you could actually do.

I'm on the third ride of the challenge. I went from Washington to Canada and then to Indiana. Two days ago, I was way too exhausted to ride, but yesterday, I rode for about 20 minutes. Despite sleeping 8.5 hours and getting a good sleep score according to Fitbit, I don't know if I'll have the energy to do any riding tonight.

I no longer need anything for my pulled tooth, but damn is my TMJ acting up lately. I don't understand why it's so much worse. While I would love to get the fatigue resolved, I hope this isn't going to end up being my next long-term problem since I’ve noticed they tend to overlap each other. It was when the worst of the anxiety began to fizzle out that the heavy fatigue set in.

Again, it’ll be a great test of just how cursed my sleep really is because if I get the CPAP back and get used to it, but other things start waking me up, well, that’ll pretty much reinforce the suspicion even more. God, I hope not, though! If I really am truly not meant to sleep well or have energy most of the time, then it would be a waste of time and money to go through the steps of getting the CPAP back.

Instead, I'm going to try to be hopeful and think of all I'd like to do once my energy is restored. I want to get into more forms of exercise and back to my creative writing. It’s hard to focus even on blogging when you're so fatigued so much of the time.

I just hope this really is the sleep apnea I think it is and not chronic fatigue or chronic leukemia!

So NaNoWriMo is going away. I don’t miss it. As soon as they radically revamped their site, both Aly and I got sick of it. It just wasn’t the same. Such stupid controversy over AI is the reason. As Tom and I were talking and agreed on, what the hell is wrong with using AI to help you write a story? How is it much different than using a dictionary as long as it’s used for the proper reasons? As long as you don’t have it write your story for you, it’s a great learning tool and really helps improve spelling and grammar, just like dictionaries and programs like Grammarly.

Camp NaNoWriMo still exists, but I deleted my account. They changed both sites and they just weren’t what they used to be or what I signed up for (and worse with Aly gone). I hate it when apps and websites become something totally different.

Instead of arguing about whether trans athletes should compete on women’s or men’s teams, why not create teams specifically for trans athletes? While I fully support trans — expressing oneself is one thing — identifying as something you’re not is another. I believe that, scientifically, sex is binary. You can feel something, and you can want to be something, but it doesn’t mean you are that thing, whether you like it or not.

I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but I have a vibe about possibly moving in August of next year. I don’t see how we could get out that fast, but we’ll see. It’s just a feeling I’ve been having, even though it’s not overly strong. It will be interesting to see if it fades over time or gets stronger.

Later…

Started much of this entry before I crashed. So as I was saying, my TMJ had been acting up, but I’ve also been having sneezing fits, particularly in the bedroom. We suspected the sheets Tinkerbella plays in that are on the closet floor. Since rats do have dander, even if it’s not as much as cats, Tom washed them. Ironically, the sneezing fits seemed to help my TMJ, so I might have had congestion putting pressure on the eustachian tube.

The tomato plant has gotten so big and bushy that it literally tipped over the tube it's in, so Tom glued the tube down since tape wasn’t enough. He also planted some seeds in dirt and thanks to my fucked-up memory and being in a tiny house with so much stuff piled on top of each other, I can’t find the packet with the names of what they are. We just know they’re various kinds of berries. I should recognize any that make it.

Anyway, it's nice to have friends I chat with when I’m on days and then my nighttime buddy north of me when I’m on nights. I appreciate and value your friendship. 🙂