#if i go out at all i purposefully stay out late to avoid seeing them when i get back

[paintalyx]

i don't talk about this all that often, but it's damn miserable having to live with a special needs kid who isn't getting the necessary means of support knowing damn well that you can't do anything about it. it's frustrating, it's hard, it's messing up the entire family, and you have to suck it up if you want to do anything in life

i mean, i was forced to be a third parent since i was like ten, and i don't mind it as much as some people in my place would, but i can't replace that kid's deadbeat father or neurotic mother.

how many times have i bent over backwards trying to help or introduce new hobbies only to get left midway through without even an acknowledgement that we did something fun and meaningful together? it pains me because i do love spending time with kids but i have to constantly flipflop between being a cool older brother that i want to be and an authority figure that i have to be when push comes to shove (which is almost daily at this point). and god, i don't even want to think about how often i'm forced to mediate between family members screaming and hurling insults at each other

this has no great grandiose point. there is likely an ideal world in which my father stops beeing an asshole, my youngest sibling receives the necessary professional help, my mother stops trying to compete for having the world's biggest martyr complex and my sister stops wailing about being neglected to me every single day, but this isn't that kind of a world. i'm probably an asshole for thinking like this, but frankly, everyone in the house is always taking everything too personally, and always reacting too emotionally, and it's only getting worse with years

[khattikeri]

i actually admire lan wangji's character development a lot more when i acknowledge that prior to wei wuxian's death, he isn't actually as "righteous".

teenage lan wangji is regarded highly because he is upper class, has strong cultivation, and obeys his family and society's strict expectations. his rigidity and responsibility are more guided by the idea that his duty (the "right thing") is rule-following rather than doing actual good, even against those rules.

he's not a perfect stickler for the rules. he can be stubborn and petty, but even the few times he does transgress (e.x. kneeling before the gentian house) he doesn't get very far.

anyway... even with all his manpain struggling-- maybe even because of it, and because of his own lack of political power compared to people like lan xichen or lan qiren-- young adult lan wangji was honestly pretty entitled, even with his genuinely good intentions towards wei wuxian.

instead of doing the more difficult (yet right) thing of speaking up against those persecuting wei wuxian-- calling out his elders and the other clans as wrong, unjust, unrighteous, and acting against them (see jiang clan motto "do the impossible", which wei wuxian embodied very well)-- lan wangji was constantly trying to get wei wuxian to change himself and fall in line with society's expectations to avoid dying.

true, he eventually fights 33 of his family members... but by the time nightless city even happens, once jiang yanli dies, it's far too late.

yes, resentful energy is dangerous, and yes guidao is deeply misunderstood, and yes lan wangji didn't know about the golden core transfer. but even without knowing wei wuxian has no alternative, lan wangji knew that others were incorrectly labeling wei wuxian as evil. he knew the major clans kept attacking and provoking him, and while harder to realize, he could've reasonably seen how wei wuxian's actions are always twisted to demean him as a servant's son.

lan wangji wanted wei wuxian to come back to gusu so he could keep him safe, lock him up. but what would that have even helped in the end? love is a sympathetic cause, but locking up the one you love and never truly addressing why they're in danger is a selfish sort of love that doesn't reach the heart of the issues at hand.

only after wei wuxian's death is lan wangji able to let go of that. wei wuxian owed him nothing, not even change. lan wangji intentionally, purposefully chose each and every single day for thirteen years to remember wei wuxian by embodying what the man stood for, and acting accordingly. despite his grief and pain, he truly does become a good and righteous person.

contrast that with jiang cheng's reaction after wei wuxian's death. of clinging to everything he felt wei wuxian owed him. of vocally, violently demanding retribution after wei wuxian comes back to life. how dare you, why did you, you should've, you must... cattily justifying his aggression with equal parts resentful indignation and unhealthy "love" of their imbalance, of what they used to be.

lan wangji does none of that. by the time we reach the present day storyline, lan wangji, like wei wuxian, lets the past stay past and chooses to do good. even if that means going against the grain of society and expectations. he's a phenomenal person and character. i love him so much

[candylix]

a functioning member of society | han jisung

Pairing • Jisung x GN!Reader

A/N • This takes place during the events of another series called one little lie. This can be read as a stand-alone fic, but some parts will make more sense with the context of one little lie. (The reader is not the same person as in oll!)

Summary • Jisung is sick at home... or at least, that's what he tells his boss. Really, he just wants to sleep in and hang out with his cute neighbor across the hall. However, less time working means more time fighting the thoughts in his brain.

Genre • smut (with feelings!)

WC • 3k

Content • no pronouns used but the reader does have a vagina, making out, fingering, oral (reader receiving), jisung has issues

Jisung shot up from his bed. He looked at the digital clock on his bedside table; it was 12:54.

He was late.

He had everything planned for today. He woke up early and called in sick to work, just so he could stay home. He was going to sleep in until 11, eat breakfast, make himself look good, and then pay his neighbor a visit across the hall. You invited him over to 'hang out' at noon, and he didn't want to miss it. Unfortunately, he forgot to set his alarm, and he hoped you wouldn't think he's the worst fling ever.

He scrambled to change out of his pajamas.

He might kill himself if he ruined this, like he'd done so many times with so many people in the past. There's only so much a dumb joke and a cute smile can resolve.

You moved in a few months ago, and ever since then, he'd been looking for excuses to see you more. You were gorgeous, fun, smart, and to be honest, way out of his league. He didn't know how he did it, but his boyish charm captivated you enough to have a one night stand. Which turned into a two night stand, and then you just started having casual sex every once in a while.

Maybe one day he'd want something more, and he could certainly see himself falling for you in the future. You were, quite honestly, a perfect match for him. You actually liked his personality instead of just tolerating it, and you were respectful of his boundaries when he avoided more personal questions. The sex was good, but your friendship was better, and for now, this was enough. Whether or not his feelings would grow, he liked to live in the moment- and in this particular moment, he was very late.

He knocked on your door, and when you didn't answer fast enough, he knocked again. Were you ignoring him? Did you get tired of waiting and leave?

He finally heard the door unlocking, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He stood leaning one hand against the door frame, trying his best to look cool, calm, and collected. Unbeknownst to him, his messy hair stood up on end and his shirt was half-buttoned and half-collared, and when you finally opened the door, he gave the impression that he just woke up.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you said, and your fingers combed through his hair, smoothing it down to look more presentable.

"I wasn't sleeping... I was just sick." He faked a cough, a purposefully unconvincing performance.

"Ew, go home then," you laughed. You lightly shoved him, and he dramatically staggered back.

"How dare you! Do you know how hard it was for me to get here?" he asked, knowing full well his door was three feet behind him. "I had to climb uphill, both ways, in the snow, barefoot, just to see you."

You looked down. He was wearing pink fuzzy slippers.

"Just get in here," you said, and opened the door wider to let him in.

You barely had time to close the door before he pulled your face towards his own. His lips met yours, and he pressed himself into your body. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, and you felt the ghost of his fingertips all over your back, until they finally found purchase in your hair. His tongue slipped over your soft lips, asking for entrance, and you gladly parted them for him.

Your back met the door as he pinned you against it. You cupped his cheeks, melting deeper into the kiss, and soft moans passed between his lips. He rolled his hips into yours, hungry for as much contact as possible.

Suddenly, you heard something. It sounded like... creepy carnival music.

He pulled away from the kiss.

"Sorry, that's my phone. My friend is calling me," he said, no attempt to turn it off or indication of how ridiculous this situation was. Knowing him, this was probably in his top 10 most normal things to happen while making out.

"What... why is that that ringtone?"

"One day he pissed me off and I changed his ringtone, and then I just never put it back," he explained. "He hates it, but I kind of find it endearing now, like my nightmare clown friend is calling."

The music continued to play, creepy music box melody haunting the room while sinister laughter faded in and out. You couldn't believe this is the man you invited over.

"Aren't you gonna pick up?"

He took his phone out of his pocket, and threw it across the room, landing on your couch and bouncing across the cushions.

"But it's so far..." he said, weakly raising his arm out towards the couch, as if the phone was barely out of reach.

He cupped your face, and went in for another kiss, but you struggled to kiss back. The music completely killed the vibe. You tried to get back into the mood, your hand finding its way into his hair, but his phone was too distracting.

It's only when his hand reached between your thighs that you're finally able to forget about it. You don't know when it stopped, because your mind was consumed with his tongue in your mouth and his hand on your cunt. It clouded over with thoughts of Jisung and his body, and it wasn't until he picked you up and carried you half way to your room that you came back to reality.

His mouth was still pressed against yours when he laid you down on your bed. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, not wanting him to go. You were too addicted to the taste of his tongue, and when he broke away for air, you chased his lips back onto your own. You could tell he felt it too, with the way the hard bulge in his pants pressed against you when he leaned further in.

He was finally able to part from you, and he peppered kisses over your nose, cheeks, chin, where ever he could reach. He lowered himself down your body, kissing you over your clothing, until his head reached your crotch. He wasted no time pulling down your pants. He licked your core over the wet spot in your underwear, savoring the taste of your arousal for him.

Maybe you would've been like this for just anybody, wet and excited for a touch, but he wanted to think this was especially for him. He didn't care if you fucked other people- that would be hypocritical, considering he'd fuck anyone that asked- but he did look forward to seeing you the most, and he hoped you at least felt that way too.

He nestled deeper into your clothed cunt, nose pressed into you, just to stall until you couldn't take it anymore. You whimpered his name, asking for him to do anything, to please touch you, and the sound of you begging for him was like a sweet melody that he never wanted to stop listening to. You liked him, you wanted him, you needed him.

"You're that desperate for me, huh?"

He finally gave in, and pulled your underwear down your legs, stuffing it into his pocket.

If there was one thing Jisung liked, it was the way you reacted when he licked up your folds, lapping up your juices and seeing you squirm. Both his heart and his dick throbbed seeing you get this worked up because of him.

Words could be deceitful. He was painfully aware of this. His thoughts haunted him when he was alone.

But when your fingers combed through his hair, pushing his face closer to your core, those thoughts vanished. He knew, at least right now, you wanted him here. Words could deceive, but actions under the influence of pure pleasure didn't lie.

He inserted one finger, slowly pumping in and out while his tongue flicked over your clit. He licked and sucked, tongue poking down into your hole, savoring the way his name spilled out of your lips. You rocked into his face, needing every inch of him on your pussy, and he happily obliged. He licked a long stripe up your cunt, making you gasp, and he pulled out his finger to tease your entrance. You were soaking wet, and by the way you clenched around the empty space where he once was, he could tell you were desperate for more.

He pushed his finger back into you, a second finger joining this time. His thrusts were faster, and he loved the way you moaned in pleasure when he curled his fingers. Your bucking became more frantic, and he met your desire by sucking on your clit.

You could feel your orgasm building up as his fingers rubbed into you harder. He forced them into you, completely filling you up until he reached his knuckles, before pulling them out and pushing them back in again. You twitched wildly in pleasure, and he had to hold you down with his free arm just to keep licking your folds and circling your clit.

You were trapped under him, unable to grind into his face at the extreme pleasure you were feeling, and he gave you no respite either. He inserted a third finger into you, stretching your walls while he kept pumping into you, and when he pressed a sensitive bundle of nerves, you could feel your climax coming quicker. You barely had time to think before it came gushing out of you, a loud moan of Jisung's name being the only warning he got before his fingers were drenched in your cum.

He pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, lapping up your juices from inside and out. Not a single drop went to waste.

All he wanted was to pleasure you. Maybe if he made you feel good every time he came over, you'd keep calling him. Maybe you wouldn't get tired of him, like so many others did when they stopped finding his jokes charming for seemingly no reason at all. At least with you, he knew how you liked to be touched.

He didn't want to feel like his friendship was transactional, but how could he not. Everyone found him annoying eventually. It was inevitable.

He didn't want this to end. He was scared. When you caught your breath, would you expect him to go?

"Jisung," you called, snapping him out of a spiral you didn't know he was having. You patted the bed next to you, and he hesitantly climbed in.

Why was it that the more time he spent with you, the worse his thoughts became? It was like his brain couldn't accept a reality where you enjoyed his company, even though you were the one that invited him over in the first place. It made up excuses to explain how this could be happening; you probably just liked sex and he was the only one available, or you just felt sorry for him and somehow this was all you could think of.

You cupped his cheek, looking into his eyes to bring him back to earth. He pushed those thoughts aside as best as he could, and snuggled into your arms.

"Are you alright?" you asked. "You looked a bit distracted right now."

"Oh, uh, just thinking about how sexy you are.

He wanted you to smile, forget about your concern, but a look he can't quite place flashed across your face. It went away just as quickly, but he can't help but read into it.

Was that pity? Disappointment? Worry?

Was there a difference?

He wished he could open up to you, especially after something as vulnerable as sex, but he didn't know how to break down that barrier that kept his anxieties to himself.

"How was I?" he asked softly, and as if he was afraid of being genuine, he added "Was that the best sex you've ever had or what?"

"You were amazing," you said, and a bit of tension eased up in Jisung's body.

"Avoiding the second question, I see."

"Maybe if you used this," you said, and your fingers move to trace the bulge in his pants.

A sudden rush of nerves washed over his body, and he realized just how hard he was. He was so distracted by his own turmoil that he didn't even notice the way his cock throbbed in his boxers.

"I will if you promise to invite me over again," he said, winking at you.

"Of course I will, you don't even have ask," you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious to him.

His heart beat in his chest. Maybe, just this once, he'd believe it.

His body reacts on its own, leaning in to kiss you. It was soft and sweet, an unspoken 'thank you' that he wasn't prepared for.

It's over just as quickly as it began, breaking away to snuggle into your chest.

And then his stomach growled. He didn't eat breakfast because he slept in, and he didn't eat lunch because he was late. He hoped you didn't hear it, but he knew you had to have. Maybe you had some granola bars he could snack on. He could check in the fridge, maybe you could eat together in the living room, make a fun moment out of it...

The living room. Where his phone was. Because he threw it there when he got a call.

He should probably see what Minho needed... but he was so warm and cozy. He didn't want to leave the bed, and he definitely didn't want to leave you. But he really should.

"Hey, remember when my clown friend called?"

You winced, remembering the creepy music that almost completely ruined the mood.

"No, I don't remember. I'm choosing not to."

"You don't remember this?" he asked, before singing the ringtone, followed by menacing laughter, cut off when you covered his mouth to get him to stop.

His creepy laughter turned into giggles as he tried to pry your hands off his face.

He finally did, holding both your wrists in his hands.

"Should I go call him back? The circus might be in trouble..." he said, and then sunk his head deeper into the mattress, "but it's so nice here..."

"You probably should," you replied, and Jisung groaned.

"Ugh, fine."

He pushed himself up, leaving the comfort of your bed and the warmth of your body. He walked out of your room, turning his head repeatedly to give you his sad puppy dog eyes. You shooed him away, and he finally left for the living room. His phone was still on the couch, face down and waiting for him to rescue it.

One new voicemail. Press 1 to play.

"Jisung, call me back ASAP. It's an emergency."

"Oh, shit."

He called Minho back, and he immediately picked up.

"Oh thank god," Minho sighed.

"What happened!?"

"Ok... don't laugh."

Of course, as soon as he heard what Minho had done, Jisung erupted into a full body laugh.

He hadn't noticed you enter the living room, but you couldn't help but be curious after what you heard.

"Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can," Jisung said, and he heard Minho sigh in relief. "But I wouldn't worry about her. Trust me, I've known her waaaaay longer than you. She'll be fine."

The conversation didn't last much longer, Jisung promising to be there 'as soon as he finished some important documents', and hanging up.

"Are you leaving?" you ask. "I was going to get you some food."

The way you looked at him, sad to see him possibly go... maybe he should've felt his heart break seeing you like that, but instead his heart swelled. You didn't want him to leave, you didn't just want him for sex and nothing else.

"Well... if you're offering food..." he said, and your face lit up. You body language was expressive, and he noticed it every time.

He knew words could be deceiving, but your actions always told the truth. He would always have thoughts about how people perceive him, if they really liked him or not, if they would leave if he became 'too much'... but with you, he wanted to trust you. He chose to trust you, even if his brain screamed the opposite.

"Nah, I'd stay regardless," he said, "he thinks I'm at work anyway, so I can spend more time here, if you want."

"That's why I invited you over, isn't it?"

If only he could express the warm tingly sensation that ran through his body when he heard those words. He felt butterflies in his stomach, something he hadn't experienced since high school.

He was going to ignore what that could possibly mean for him.

Time passed, you enjoyed your time together, but he thought it was finally time to go rescue his friends. You walked him to the door, and hugged him goodbye.

You pulled away, and that's when you see it.

"Is that my underwear in your pocket?"

"Huh?" he looked to his pocket, and sure enough, white fabric was spilling out. "Oh... whoops! How did that get there? Must've crawled in when I wasn't looking." He pulled it out and shoved it into your hand.

"You know what? Keep it. You obviously want it more than me," you said, stuffing it right back into his pocket.

He was definitely going to use that later.

"If you say so," he said. He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm to say one more thing.

"Just... when you're done, please wash it and give it back."

He gasped, and his hand clasped his chest in mock offense.

"I would never do something so uncouth-"

"Jisung. Wash it. It was expensive and I want it back."

"Ok, ok, I will," he said, and smirked. "You want me back here that bad, huh?"

You roll your eyes.

"You're lucky you're cute."

He finally left your apartment, and when the door closed behind him, he felt twice as light as when he came in.

taglist: (using the same taglist as one little lie since it's a spinoff, hope you all don't mind!)

@loeyscock @0325tiny @5starlee @miupow @mapofthemazeinthemirror @sadrosessing @luminouskalopsia @minghaosimp @curiousgworge @azuna-sz @piscesrising01 @g-bbzz @extrhotjne @nabi-tokoshi@kpopsstuffs

@weareapackofstrays @jabmastersupriseee @neko-squidblog @lurking-coconut @kiaralynn3838

@chanssmiles @linos-kitten @jehhskz @stanskzot8 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ell0thebell

@hinalara @kaicreech @lazybean246 @idoughnutreadsmut @aeliuss

@the-ninth-moon @poody1608

[7-wonders]

Wishful Drinking

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

Summary: After Morpheus cruelly dismisses you, you decide that you'll get back at him by staying out of the Dreaming one night for as long as you can. What you don't anticipate is letting your feelings get the best of you and getting very drunk instead.

Or, drunk shenanigans galore!

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: I don't know what this is, y'all. I haven't written anything in more than a month, and it was so tough to even write this, but I wanted to write SOMETHING. As always, hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts, and likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

ALSO! Dream logic applies here, in that you're still drunk when you reach the Dreaming.

Listen.

You know that certain coping mechanisms, like, say, going out clubbing with your friends and getting crazy drunk for the first time in a long time, aren’t exactly healthy. But things have been difficult for you lately! You’ve been struggling a lot, in both your professional and personal life. These hardships are only compounded by the fact that the one person (or person-shaped being) in your life that you thought you could count on, your Morpheus, has been too busy to have time for you.

Literally. He said those exact words to you a mere three days ago, when you had found him in his personal study (a study that he almost never used) after what felt like a day spent chasing him around the Dreaming. You meant for it to come out as teasing when you took note of the fact that you hardly saw him around lately and that it felt like he was purposefully avoiding you, but he had sighed and glared at you before saying, “I have much to do, and I am far too busy to entertain you right now.”

You glowered, but, as he said, he was too busy to see it. Fine, you thought as you turned around and stalked out of his study. Leave him to his business. 

Cut to today. When your friends asked if you wanted to go out with them, you almost said no, having gotten accustomed in the past couple of months to the routine of going to bed by nine o’clock in order to maximize time spent in your lover’s realm. But then, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t want to just continue sitting around in the Dreaming and hoping that Morphues would come out of whatever funk he was in. After all, why should you make an effort when he won’t? You’re not about to beg for his attention.

With that in mind, you texted back that you very much wanted to go out with them and proceeded to get ready for a fun night out.

The plan was to have a couple of drinks, dance for a bit, and stay out of the Dreaming just long enough to make Morpheus sweat a bit.

But then shots had been ordered.

And your friend bought you a drink because they knew you had had a tough week.

And you bought yourself two drinks.

And a group of guys bought you another round of shots, and though you all laughed at the fact that they were not getting anything out of this, you still took them because you weren’t about to turn down free alcohol.

This leads to you and your friends stumbling out of a bar at two in the morning, holding each other up as you do. Definitely not the plan, but what’s that one quote about plans and mice and men?

“What about a mouse?” your friend asks from beside you, making you realize that you said that out loud.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” you say.

Somehow, you make it into a Lyft (thank the gods for friends who don’t get carried away), and somehow, you make it into your home. Not without its difficulties–you dropped your keys multiple times on the walk to your front door, and there might be a you-shaped indent in the entryway wall from where you fell into it when trying to kick your shoes off. 

When you reach your bedroom, you decide that actually, the floor looks comfier than your bed does. You’re so drunk that the room feels like it’s spinning when you lay down, and you close your eyes to enjoy the ride.

“Fuck, I’m so drunk right now,” you say out loud, laughing at the sound of your slurred words.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, really. You know that you need to crawl to the bathroom to wash your face and find enough dexterity to change clothes before hopefully sobering up just enough that you can make it to the kitchen to grab painkillers and water for the inevitable killer hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. The floor is just so soft, though, and you work yourself into a trance-like state by staring up at the ceiling fan and watching it go around and around and around. On one blink, you’re staring at your ceiling.

And on the next, you’re staring at another ceiling, one that’s not really a ceiling at all, but an entire galaxy above your head.

It’s easy to get lost in the magnificent colors swirling above you (especially in your current state), and you do, until you hear someone calling your name. When you look away from the universe, you see the love of your life looking at you, though at present, he is not reciprocating the heart eyes that you are always looking at him with.

“Where have you been?” Morpheus demands.

“Morpheus, my love!” You throw your arms out and grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I sent Matthew to find you hours ago when first you were late, only for him to report that he could not find you at your home.” You’re a little surprised that Matthew hadn’t managed to track you down; your little raven friend was almost scarily good at finding people/places/things.

“Aw, you’ve missed me?” It makes sense, of course; after all, you’ve missed him, so it’s only natural that he would miss you in return. Still, the sentiment makes you feel all warm and melty on the inside.

 It’s obvious to anybody who actually takes the time to know Morpheus—a tiny list of people and beings, two of whom are in the room with him right now—that he’s fighting a war between wanting to scold you and wanting to hold you and check you up and down for wounds. Morpheus crosses the room towards you, and you ready yourself for the inevitable lecture you’re about to get, about how you’re just a fragile little human and he worries every moment that you’re away from him (y’know, now that you have the clarity of a drunk person, you’re actually annoyed that this is constantly coming from the being that’s meant to be your lover).

But that’s not what happens.

Instead, you find his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck. He’s hugging you, not the other way around. He’s never done such a thing before, and you don’t know how to react. What you do know is that any of the residual anger you had been feeling drains out of you like water from an unstoppered bathtub. You really didn’t think that being away for—the math isn’t mathing for you currently, and you don’t actually know how long it’s been—a couple of hours would affect him this much.

“You are the one most dear to my heart,” he mutters into your ear, cognizant of the fact that you are not alone in this throne room. “Of course, I missed you.”

“Oh. When you said you were ‘too busy to entertain’ me, I just kinda assumed you wouldn’t notice I was gone.” Though you don’t mean to weaponize your words, the poison darts make contact with their target anyway, and Morpheus stiffens in your hold.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead, choosing to wait until a later time to have this particular conversation.

“Aw, dream boy” you coo, snaking a hand up to clumsily run it through his hair. “I’m okay baby, swear it! Like, absolutely, one hundred percent fine.”

Morpheus pulls away from you so that he can look you up and down to confirm that you really are okay. “You smell like a pub,” he notes. 

“How can you tell that in the Dreaming?”

He ignores your question when a realization seems to hit him. “Are you inebriated?”

“No, I’m drunk,” you correct very matter-of-factly.

“That is–” he stops, choosing instead to just shake his head.

“Oh, dear,” Lucienne mutters from behind Morpheus, reminding you of her presence in the first place.

“Lucienne! Hi! How have you been!” 

You crane around Morpheus to be able to see your favorite librarian, but you almost fall over in the process. Before you can tip too far over, Morpheus is there to right you again. When he does, he looks down at you with quite the serious expression on his perfect face.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, ready to punish whoever put you in such a state.

“Vodka. Rum, maybe?” You think back on your drinks for the evening, though it’s hard to think back that far. “Yeah, the second round of shots was definitely rum.”

“You put yourself in this state?”

“Yes?” Has Morpheus never heard of the concept of going out and getting shitfaced with your pals? “To be fair, I didn’t think that my drunkenness would…” You search for the word that you want to use, but it’s just not coming to you! “Uh, carry over?”

“Please tell me you managed to make it home safely?”

You nod. “Sure did! Pretty sure I fell asleep on the floor, though.”

Lucienne slowly begins to back up towards the door, and Morpheus stares at you for a long moment before sighing heavily.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask nervously, starting to get upset the longer the silence drags on. Did you say something that you shouldn’t have? Is there a rule you don’t know about against sleeping on floors?

Instead of answering you, Morpheus waves a hand in the air and says, “This dream is over.” 

You’re awake and once again staring up at your ceiling fan, only this time, Morpheus is also in your line of sight. It’s impossible to stop yourself from touching him when you’re sober, so it’s not at all surprising that your hands go up to caress his face now when you’re drunk.

“Hi cutie,” you greet, laughing in delight when he flushes just the slightest amount.

He grabs your hands and kisses the back of both before setting them against your chest. “Why are you sleeping on your floor?”

“Because,” is your simple, childish reply.

“That is not a good answer.”

“It’s the one you get because it’s the one I have.” You throw in a peace sign to be extra spicy, but Morpheus, unfortunately, doesn’t comprehend your 21st-century humor, and instead just segues into the next order of business.

“Might I help you up, so that we can get you properly ready for bed?”

“But I’m comfy,” you groan. Morpheus is not buying what you’re selling, unfortunately, so you sigh. “Fine.”

Morpheus holds his hands out for you to take and helps you to your feet. Too fast, apparently, because the room begins to spin and your stomach tilts dangerously, making you clap a hand over your mouth.

“Oh no. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,” you chant, squeezing your eyes shut and laying your head against Morpheus’s shoulder while you try to breathe through sudden nausea. You will not throw up on your super hot eldritch nightmare king boyfriend, you command yourself. Not tonight, and not ever.

“What is wrong?” Morpheus sounds panicked, and you want to reassure him, but you hold up a finger in the meantime.

When the nausea finally passes, you take a deep breath and slowly look up. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Sometimes drinking too much combined with moving too fast makes people feel sick. It’s my fault, but I’ll be okay.”

“Are you well enough to move?”

“Yes, I promise.” 

To prove your point, you let go of his hand and start walking heel to toe as the police require during field sobriety tests (honestly, you’re a little surprised that you can actually do this right now). You can practically feel your lover's amusement behind you, but it proves to him that you are capable. Morpheus lets you walk to the bathroom on your own power, and you think the only reason he doesn’t sweep you off your feet is because he’s worried you’ll throw up if he does. He watches you intently the entire time, though. 

You sit on the lip of the bathtub, watching Morpheus move about your bathroom as though he knows where everything is; he probably does, you realize, whether it be from that endless wealth of knowledge about everyone and everything that he possesses, or just his familiarity with your home. After rummaging around for a few moments, he comes back with a washcloth and your favorite pajamas. The sight of the familiar material makes you tear up, and you sniffle loudly.

Morpheus looks up in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“You remembered my favorite pajamas,” you say, trying to not start crying. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s come directly to see you off to his realm, and you’ve probably worn those pajamas twice. Yet he remembered the one-off comment you had made about how they were your favorite because of course he did.

His face softens. “Of course I did.”

You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. “Sorry. I’m okay! Just drunk.”

Morpheus hands you said pajamas before turning the faucet on and letting the water run. He seems to realize something after a moment and looks at you helplessly. “I do not feel temperature as you do. Is the water alright?” 

You grin and stick your hand under the faucet, moving the tap just a smidge hotter before nodding at him. “It’s good now. Thank you for asking.”

He begins to run the damp washcloth gently over your face, a barely-there smile appearing on his own when you wrinkle your nose at the cool sensations. Where this situation would be awkward with anybody else, it feels entirely natural with Morpheus. You’ll take these little moments of domesticity with him whenever you can get them, even when you’re still half drunk.

Even if you wanted to, you can’t hold yourself back from saying, “You’re so beautiful, do you know that? Seriously, you’re the prettiest man-slash-anthropomorphic-personification I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” The words are heavy on your tongue, but you’re pretty proud of the way you only barely stumble through ‘anthropomorphic’.

“You are still under the influence,” he notes.

“So? Drunk words equal sober thoughts, right?”

“‘A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.’ Jean-Jacques Rosseau,” he supplies.

“Sure, that. I’d tell you how pretty you are even if I was sober, and you know that.”

“Perhaps.” He says it in that infuriatingly sexy way of his, the one that makes you want to tear his clothes off.

Instead, you’re the one taking your own clothes off, though not for any fun reason. Getting changed is not as difficult a task as it would have been when you first arrived home, with the benefit of time naturally sobering one up on your side. Morpheus still keeps a hand held out, just in case you lose your balance and need something to grab onto, but after you’ve finished changing, that hand slips under your shirt and caresses your side.

“Thought you were supposed to be helping me keep my clothes on,” you say with a shiver, grabbing his wrist and pulling the offending extremity out from under your shirt.

“Apologies.” His tone implies that he’s not sorry at all, not that you would want him to be. “I simply couldn’t resist.”

He looks down at you with so much love in those blue eyes of his that you feel like you don’t think your mortal mind could ever truly comprehend it. Nobody has ever loved you the way that Morpheus has—all-consuming and passionate. He told you once that many of his relationships had ended because he had been seen as too intense, too obsessive in his love. Bring it on, you had told him when he expected you to back down. To date, you haven’t regretted that.

You don’t think you ever will.

Now that you can see the end of your night in sight, tiredness begins to seep into your bones. Though your bed is just right through the bathroom door, it feels miles away. With that in mind, you ask,  “Will you carry me?” 

“Were you not worried that you would feel sick?”

“Yeah, but I’m tired.” You pout (on purpose because you know what it does to him), and you can practically see his resolve break. “Just be careful?”

“Always,” he promises.

And careful he is, slowly picking you up and waiting until you nod to carry you to your bed. He sets you down gently, You’re thrilled to see a glass of water already waiting for you on your bedside table, Morpheus anticipating your needs before you’ve even realized you have them in the first place.

Crawling under the covers after finishing your water, you motion for Morpheus to sit next to you on the bed. He does as you ask, and you move your pillows so that you can sit up and lean on him. When you’re comfortable, you say, “Thank you for everything tonight. I know taking care of me wasn’t what you had planned.”

“You need not thank me. I enjoy caring for you, no matter the situation.” 

Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his hand carding through your hair, and you start to feel yourself inching closer to the Dreaming. Something keeps you from truly falling asleep, though, and when Morpheus shifts next to you, you realize what it is: the conversation’s not over. Morpheus is trying to figure out how to say what it is he wants to say.

Finally, he figures it out. “Might I ask you something?”

You open your eyes to give him your full attention and nod.

“Earlier, when you seemed surprised that I had noticed your absence. Did you do this,” ‘this’ being getting very drunk, “because of what I said?”

“No. I mean, I went out because I was mad at you, and I figured that me being a couple of hours late would make you learn your lesson, but I got drunk because I wanted to have fun with my friends and let loose.”

“And did you?”

“Maybe a little too much,” you admit cheekily.

“I apologize for my harsh words the other day. I have been…feeling burdened under the weight of my realm, and I took it out on you for no reason.”

“It’s okay, Morpheus. You’re busy running an entire realm and overseeing the collective unconscious. I shouldn’t be so needy.”

He shakes his head. “It is not okay. I should never talk to you in such a way, and you should never feel as though I do not want you around. I do want you around, always.”

“People say things that they don’t mean. That doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of forgiveness. But you gotta talk to me, okay? When you’re feeling stressed, or when things get to be too much. I’m here for you, and I want to support you however I can.”

“I love you,” he says. The fact that he’s being so open with his emotions is a pleasant surprise; it took him so long to be the first to say it, and even longer to be comfortable with it. You smile up at him.

“I love you, too. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

Morpheus turns your bedroom light off without you needing to ask (seriously, you love him so much), and you close your eyes. Then, a thought hits you.

“Hey,” you say, staring up at him in the dark and waiting until he looks at you to continue. “Can you get drunk?”

“No.”

“Why not? I mean, isn’t there special alcohol for preternatural beings? You’d think gods and goddesses would’ve figured out a way to get turnt by now.”

Though he doesn’t want to give in to your rambling when you’re meant to be trying to fall asleep, he can’t help but indulge you. “Gods and goddesses can. We, the Endless, cannot.”

“What? That’s so fucking lame. No. That’s–that’s an injustice! I’m so sorry.

“I promise, it is okay. Now, please go to sleep.”

You nod, but close your eyes for maybe thirty seconds before they snap open again with a realization. “Wait.”

“What?”

“You mentioned other gods and goddesses. How many are there? Are they all real? Is actual God real? I mean, I know the devil is real, you kicked their ass for your helm, but for some reason that’s more believable than–”

“Go. To. Sleep,” Morpheus commands.

“Ugh, you’re no fun!”

“I am not afraid to use my sand if need be.”

“You wouldn’t.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and he raises one right back. After a brief stalemate, you’re the first to give in. “You have to understand how world-altering this information is to a regular human like me, I mean–”

You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.

[archangeldyke-all]

amab ceo sevika getting possessive and jealous when someone in her company has a crush on reader? 👀

hehehehe, i'm gonna combine this with another request:

Amab/ceo Sev cumming in her pants while she give head to her gf?

men and minors dni

your phone buzzes in your back pocket-- you quickly look away from your coworker's screen to check it.

get away from them. her text reads. you roll your eyes at your possessive girlfriend and turn your attention back to raphael's screen.

they're a new hire, still figuring out the ropes at the office, and their computer has been giving them trouble. for the past week, you've had to help them reboot their computer about three times a day.

tonight, it's just you, raphael, and sevika staying late to finish up their training.

they're sweet-- a good hire who's already showing promise. they apologize profusely each time they track you down for help or with a question, and they're always making you laugh as the two of you wait for their computer to re-start.

sevika's convinced they're in love with you.

you don't think it's love... just a little crush. raphael hasn't yet learned that you and sevika are a couple, you're sure once they realize they'll back off.

but you're kinda enjoying the attention, because sevika's been jealous.

and she's so much easier to tease when she's jealous.

you quickly glance over your shoulder toward her office, where you can see her peeking out of the slats of the blinds on her glass walls, glaring at you where you stand by raphael's computer.

her eyes catch on yours and soften, and you roll your eyes lovingly at her. she looks away, the blinds falling back in place, and two seconds later, you get another text.

don't roll your eyes at me. wtf.

you quickly type back a response. you're cute when you're jealous.

raphael clears their throat. "any plans this weekend?" they ask. you bite back your smile, knowing sevika's watching from her office as you shrug.

"probably just laze around the house. you?"

"me and a few friends are gonna go to a music festival."

"oooh, fun!" you exclaim.

"you're welcome to join us if you'd li--"

"i need you in my office." a voice growls out from behind you, sevika's hand wrapping around your bicep and her chest pressing against your back.

raphael jumps in their seat, and you bite your lip to keep from grinning.

"you need something, boss?" you ask, purposefully avoiding calling her the more familiar 'sev' or 'babe' she's insisted you call her at all times now that you guys are together.

sevika's eyes dart from raphael to glare at you. you smile sweetly at her.

"excuse us." sevika grunts, before turning on her heel and dragging you into her office. you giggle quietly the entire way.

when the door shuts behind her, the blinds shaking as the glass doors vibrate with the slam, she shoves you against it, blinds crushing against your back as she swoops in and presses her mouth against yours. you moan happily against her.

sevika pulls away to start biting at your neck, sucking a line of hickeys down your throat that will be impossible to hide beneath your collar. you gasp. "oh, fuck, you're so needy when you're jealous."

sevika sinks her teeth into your shoulder and you squeak, smacking her shoulder until she lets your flesh go.

"ow!" you whine. she licks at the indents her teeth left behind as her hands start to strip you of your shirt and bra.

"i'm gonna make you scream my fuckin' name." she growls. your knees go weak and you gasp, your hands shooting out to grab her shoulders. she chuckles darkly. "you're mine."

you whimper and wobble again, and sevika laughs. "f-fuck, sev."

"c'mon." she says, pulling you toward her desk.

you watch her reach out to swipe all her papers and desk decorations onto the floor and you gasp. "don't you dare!"

sevika freezes and looks at you. "why not? it's hot!"

"i'm the one who's gonna have to clean it though!" you laugh as you start pulling your pants off.

sevika pouts, then rolls her eyes, huffing as she carefully stacks her papers up and gently slides her items and pen-cups to the side of the desks. you smile as you watch your girlfriend carefully swipe the desk free of any crumbs-- making sure your seat is comfortable for you.

when she turns back around, she waves at the desk. "there, is that good enough, princess?" she asks. you grin, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her in for a sweet kiss.

"thank you, love." you whisper. sevika sighs, bumping her forehead against yours, her hands fiddling with the waistband of your underwear as she bites her lip, lost in thought.

"...can i please just fire them?" she whispers eventually. you burst into laughter, and sevika's pout melts into a smile as she watches you try to catch your breath.

"baby... you'd just have to go through more interviews if you did. you hate interviews. raphael's good at their job-- i think you'd like 'em if you gave 'em a chance." you duck forward to kiss her lips, then continue. "and you know i'm yours-- right?" you ask. sevika sighs.

"...yeah." she mumbles. you smile, kissing her again. "'m still gonna make sure they know you're mine." she growls, digging her nails into your hips. you grin.

"yeah?"

sevika doesn't answer, instead, she picks you up and throws you onto the desk. you gasp, and sevika tears your legs apart, shoving her body between them while she descends onto your body, nipping and kissing the flesh of your tits and rips and stomach.

"oh, fuck." you whimper. sevika hums, grinding her hips against your cunt.

"your panties are soaked." sevika teases. you whimper, one of your hands flying up to cover your lips. sevika scoffs, reaches up with one hand and grabs your wrist, pinning it by your hips.

with her free hand, she tears your underwear off, throwing them across the room. you suddenly realize the office door is unlocked, and you gasp-- but before you can worry about it, sevika's sinking two fingers inside you to the hilt.

you squeal at the sudden stretch-- then you freeze, eyes widening as you realize how loud you'd just been. sevika grins down at you, then starts pumping her fingers in and out of your cunt, rubbing against your g-spot on each thrust. you let out a half-moan-- covering the tail end of it by smacking your free hand over your mouth again. sevika growls from where she towers above you, sneering at you as your cunt starts to fill the room with squelching sounds.

"move your fucking hand." she growls. you just whimper a muffled sound into your palm. sevika glares at you, then pulls her fingers out of your cunt, a wet pop! punctuating the rough way she withdrew. you whine against your hand-- only for it too to be grabbed by her free hand and pinned by your ass where it sits on the table.

you're about to tease her about being out of hands to fuck you with when she drops to her knees in between your spread legs, her fingers still pinning your wrists to her desk, her eyes sparkling as she licks her lips. you whimper instead.

"s-sev-- we're gonna get in trouble!" you scold, struggling against her hold on your hands. she just chuckles.

"i'm the boss."

"the door's still unlocked!"

"hm, good thing i'm still dressed." she teases as she starts nipping your thighs. despite your protests, your legs spread subconsciously at the feeling of sevika's mouth.

"sev--"

"do you want me to stop?" she asks, a breath away from your cunt. you lick your lips, your eyes darting from your girlfriend, to the door, to the blinds covering the glass-wall, and back to sevika again.

"no." you admit. sevika grins.

"then just be quiet, and there won't be a problem." she says, shrugging. with that, she leans forward and licks a long stripe up your cunt.

you groan, struggling against her hands on your wrists to try to cover your mouth again. sevika just chuckles-- the vibrations only make you moan louder.

she's pulling out all the stops to get you to be loud-- nipping your clit with her front teeth, spitting on your cunt, fucking you with her tongue as her nose grinds into your clit-- and you draw blood from biting your lip to keep quiet.

you're pathetic, whimpering and whining and squirming on sevika's desk as she devours you, her eyes closed in pleasure, little moans escaping her throat as she eats.

"oh fuck, sevika." you rush out in a faux-whisper. she hums against your clit and your thighs shake. "oh my god, you're so good baby." you groan. sevika's grip on your wrists goes week as she whimpers, and you use her temporary distraction to pull your hands free, sinking them both in her hair. sevika's hands scramble to hold your hips.

you start grinding your hips in small circles against her face, holding her against your cunt just like you need her, relishing in the sweet, wide-eyed way she blinks up at you while you fuck her face.

"god you're so good, baby." you whisper. she growls against you. "perfect-- so pretty on your knees for me, so good with that tongue, oh, fuck!" you cry.

sevika starts mindlessly humming against you, moaning and grunting as she tries to bury her face further against you.

"there, there, oh, sevika, just like that, baby, there!" you cry, suddenly cumming against her face. you gasp, your gaze locked on sevika's fucked out glazed over eyes and shiny cheeks and nose-- coated in your arousal. she's so pretty, so sweet and jealous and perfect, and you're high off sex and cumming, so you decide to do something special for her.

"sevikaaaa!" you scream as you reach your peak, the sound echoing through the small office and most certainly reaching raphael at their cubicle.

sevika's eyes go wide, her rhythm faltering as she gasps and shivers between your legs, resting her forehead against your thigh as she tries to catch her breath.

she's so fucking cute. you let go of your grip on her hair, gently petting and tucking her fly-aways behind her ears. "you okay?" you ask, giggling. sevika shudders against you, then peeks up from where she was hiding her face on your thigh.

"you made me cum in my fucking pants." she grunts. you gasp, grinning as you shakily push at your girlfriend and wobbly jump to your feet to see for yourself. sevika groans at your glee, and you ignore her, gawking at the wet patch of fabric against her crotch, her cum staining the lovely lilac dress-pants she's wearing.

you giggle. sevika huffs and rolls her eyes. "that's so hot." you say as you start helping her stand. sevika buries her face against your shoulder in embarrassment, and you laugh as you stroke up and down her back, soothing her.

"you're hot. and a bit of a slut." she says. you laugh.

"you're the one who had to have me the second she saw me talking to my co-worker!"

sevika grins. "well, at least raphael knows you're mine now." she says. you cringe as you think about the new-hire waiting outside of sevika's office for you.

"we're gonna get sued." you groan. sevika snorts.

"we're gonna get a thank you card and an invite to a swingers party in the mail." she says. you giggle.

when you finally dress and leave sevika's office, you're relieved to see raphael's desk is empty-- apparently they decided to flee.

on monday, raphael avoids looking at you, blushing each time they accidentally catch your eye.

it's awkward for a few weeks-- but sevika bumps their pay as an apology, and eventually, they manage to look you in the eye again.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved

[afirewiel]

I've been seeing a lot of discourse about Rose and Tentoo on my dash lately and I thought I'd add my two cents. I have never been a fan of that ending for Rose. "He's Ten but human! He has Ten's memories!" That argument would hold a lot more weight if it weren't for the fact that earlier in the same season there was a clone of Martha who had Martha's memories and yet acted completely differently than Martha, showing that she was in fact not Martha but her own person. In the "Almost People" arc in season 6, we get a copy of Eleven with his memories, who again acts unlike Eleven and is his own person. In one of the new specials, we get copies of Fourteen and Donna, who also have their memories but are not them. So this whole "memories are what make the person" argument in Tentoo's favor just falls flat.

He had Ten's memories and yet still committed genocide. An act Ten was enraged at him for. So clearly they are in disagreement here, so Ten's memories didn't seem to do him any good as he still chose to do something Ten did not approve of. And why would anyone, least of all the Doctor, leave the woman he loves with a man who had just committed genocide!? It makes no sense to me for him to do that. If anything, one would have thought the Doctor would want to keep Rose as far away from Tentoo as possible after that.

"You changed me. You made me better. Now you can change him." Excuse me, Doctor, but it is not Rose's job to change him! She doesn't owe it to you, to him, or to anyone else to make make him better. She made you better by influence, not because she actively went "I can fix him." And expecting her to, is just wrong and that is not the healthy basis for a relationship.

The biggest reason, however, that I don't like this ending is that Rose wasn't given a choice. Ten didn't let her choose between him and Tentoo. He didn't tell her that Tentoo was human and then asked her if she wanted to stay and live her life with Tentoo. Nope. He told she was going to. "But she kissed Tentoo!" Only because he was the one who told her how he felt about her. Ten purposefully avoided answering her. And even after she kissed Tentoo and realized that Tardis was leaving with Ten and Donna in tow, she chased after them and looked heartbroken when she realized they were gone. Even RTD and Billie Piper have said that the ending was a cope out and that Rose wasn't given a choice. That if she had been, she would have chosen to return to the Tardis with Ten and Donna.

Perhaps if we had gotten a spin-off show about Rose and Tentoo's life, I could have warmed up to this ending, but we didn't. Instead all we got was Ten losing her again (this time of his own choosing) and then immediately losing Donna afterward and him being all alone. So yeah, not a happy ending in my book. If you like it, that's fine. I for one just cannot.

[candy-red-river]

WARNING!! ATTENTION TO ALL RANFREN FANS.

RECENTLY THERE HAVE BEEN 3 INDIVIDUALS IN THE COMMUNITY THAT HAVE BEEN CAUSING SEVERE DISTRESS TO THOSE AROUND THEM. WHEN YOU SEE THESE INDIVIDUALS BLOCK, REPORT, OR AVOID THEM.

I REPEAT DO NOT GO AFTER THEM OR HARASS THEM FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYONE INVOLVED.

BELOW ARE SEVERAL COPIED TESTIMONIALS FROM DIFFERENT PEOPLE WHO USED TO INTERACT WITH THESE THREE PROVIDED WITH SCREENSHOTS.

THE DIFFERENT INDIVIDUALS WILL REMAIN ANONYMOUS AND DIFFERENT PEOPLE WILL BE REFERRED TO AS DIFFERENT COLORS FOR THEIR OWN SAKE. TAKE THIS AS YOU WILL.

🚨🚨 IMPORTANT ALARM 🚨🚨

ATTENTION, RANFREN COMMUNITY ON TUMBLR! PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THESE IMPORTANT ALERTS ABOUT INDIVIDUALS TO AVOID:

KITTYGIRLCARPET (carpetkittie) RATMISCHEFINPROCESS SEBASTIANTHEHUMAN.

FOR THE SAFETY OF OUR COMMUNITY, PLEASE BE VIGILANT AND TAKE CARE IN WHO YOU INTERACT WITH ONLINE. STAY SAFE AND PROTECT YOURSELVES! ⚠️📢

I will add the reasons why in the following…

First and foremost, I want you to be aware that several individuals have been persistently targeting me for absolutely ridiculous reasons!!!! Despite not doing anything to provoke them, they've been quite unkind and even extend their hostility to others within the fandom. This is why I've been noticeably inactive lately, as a result of their relentless attacks!!!

Starting off with Sebastian, during our former friendship he would often purposeful endanger himself even when his friends would tell him not to. For hours. He'd say he wouldn't do it but would go claim to do that thing anyway. He would also talk heavily sexually when I and him were with other friends despite being 14 (he told me and someone else he was 15) his made me, as an older teen and new adult, VERY uncomfortable. I tried to ignore it and laugh it off.

He would repeatedly lie to us about everything, and played coy whenever we were suspicious. Recently he admitted to harrassing us in private via tumblrs anonymous asks. After we realised what he'd done he had threatened suicide on his instagram, and would immediately go back to using discord the next day.

Sebastian has been spreading lies abt his ex under the age of 13, while he is 14, calling them a groomer and such, a manipulator, spreading their personal vents/rants without permission, etc. Those were all lies, his ex was doing nothing he said. Even when his ex’s status on disc had nothing to do with love or relationships, Sebastian would change his status to pretend he had a boyfriend, to quote on quote, ‘make them jealous’. Sebastian has been obsessing over (censored), going as far to harass his friends, carve his name into his chest and show him, lie abt his age to get closer, then play the victim once confronted. Randal would give Sebastian compliments, which Sebastian would take way out of context, often making lewd and inappropriate comments in response unprompted. He exaggerates Randal’s words, making it seem that they were genuinely flirting or in love. While joking flirting was not unheard of, they were not genuine feelings. Randal had stated several times that he had no romantic/sexual/etc feelings towards Sebastian in any way. When Randal confronted Sebastian, mainly his only responses were “I don’t know what you’re talking about”, no apology, nothing, just feigning innocence. Along with those two things, Sebastian has been sharing his friends personal info, as well as publicly suicide baiting on Instagram stories. He has been saying multiple times that he has “been shoved into a hospital” and/or “actually killing himself tonight”. A final thing he did quite often was make many comments about how “Incel’s are hot” or that he was purposefully going to get groomed, most definitely for sympathy and attention. Also for attention, he would act overly sexual, making random sexual comments unprompted. He is a manipulative liar, he never defends himself, because he can't.

Before reading this, please know I have really bad memory, so I might have skipped over or watered down things Sebastian did, so please bare with me,

Back when I was 12, Sebastian had groomed me for months when him and I dated (and he now refuses it despite me having proof), he also was racist and tries to defend himself over it by saying "it was a dream" which doesnt make things any better. He also frequently spoke about sexual topics and even sent me a list of things he was into despite me telling him I didn't like talking about that stuff considering my age, also considering the fact I was recovering from something disgusting my stepdad did to me a few days prior, which I told him about. He also had shared stuff about my personal life (my hypersexuality, intrusive thoughts, vents, and probably more things I'm not aware of.)

When I broke up with him for the first time because our age gap made me slightly uncomfortable considering I wasn't considered a teen, also because he made me feel like shit and he was already a horrible person for things he did that I explaiend above. Afterwards he made hints that he would be killing himself, he also obsessed HEAVILY over me and manipulated me until we dated again. This time, he treated me as if I was some sort of secret which made me feel horrible because he KNEW our relationship would be heavily frowned upon for two reasons, one being that hes 14, i was 12. and two, people hated his guts and i promised those people I wouldn't go back to him.

He did a lot of things on calls that I can't provide proof for because I'm 99% sure he was taking precautions just in case I left him again. I WILL be mentioning it but they'll just be considered allegations as I can't provide proper proof. We broke up a final time after a month because he kept ignoring me for hours and made me feel like shit because he met new people and I suddenly became irrelevant.

He also liked to make fun of my overuse on painkillers, and constantly called me a "druggie" which only made things worse on my end. He also never shut up about me claiming I ruined his life, I manipulated him, and he was the victim despite me getting groomed by him.

He made me isolate myself from all my friends (irl and online) so he could be the only one in my life, he did this subtly by saying "I don't like your friends blah blah blah" and gaslighted me into believing I hate them. He also liked to flaunt what he did to me because he got away with it, he also admitted he didnt feel sorry for a single thing he did to me. For whatever reason he also faked having a boyfriend to try and make me jealous (which never worked.)

I'm sure theres a lot more things he did, but I'm having a hard time remembering

I have things about Sebastian and it’s just him sending me a mean anonymous question + him telling me about how Randal thinks that he’s the one sending mean anonymous questions so I can write a message about that ? But I’d also like to stay anonymous because I don’t want to be associated with that,, ( ;´ - `;)

The next person to be spoken of is kitty carpet.

The person who kins kitty carpet has been an on and off bother for me and my friends for months now. She would occasionally come up again to insinuate drama, going after my friend and people adjacent to him online. She has also been dating and interacting with people way too young for those such as cherrycon. She gets angry at proshippers but is a self proclaimed "necrophile", who loves talking about how writing dark content is ok while being against it making her morals unclear.

Kitty has a contentious reputation. She inserted herself into a drama not involving her aggressively harassed someone for no reason, causing them to delete their Tumblr account. She's dated a younger person, age 14 while being 17, and spreads malicious rumors about those who reject her advances. Not only did she label a 13 year old as her “master,” but she also resorted to misogynistic name calling a friend of mine.

My experience with Kitty is pretty limited because when I was active in the Ranfren fandom she had me blocked. Not exactly sure why since I had never interacted with her once. Her ex-boyfriend (I forgot his name but his URL was 'Rabiesivory' I think at the time) and I were mutuals. When he had first followed me, I had "MINORS DNI" in both my bio and pinned post. Since he followed me and was reblogging content marked with the "18+ content filter" I had assumed he was of age (he probably lied about his age while registering so he could have access to 18+ posts). I later found out that he was a minor (14 years old), and I ended up blocking him due to this. I was unaware that he was a child because he was not forthcoming with his age. Later on, someone had informed me that Kitty had just turned 17/18 (I forget which one it was but IIRC she is actually 18 IRL) and was still dating this 14 year old boy. My main issue with Kitty is that she is a massive hypocrite and tries to constantly manufacture drama. She has accused me of things I did not do, and has tried to send her friends and followers to harass me. She also is a self-identified necrophile, and has posted about supporting illegal/immoral paraphilias & being a proshipper while simultaneously saying she "hates proshippers" and "doesn't want them to interact with [her]". She has also repeatedly made romantic advances towards non-consenting people. Kitty is a very dangerous person in the fandom, mostly because of her hypocritical nature & her insatiable thirst for drama. I would recommend avoiding her and people she associates with, because from my own experiences she will try to start drama with anyone and everyone over small, irrelevant things. She is also not above lying about things to make others look bad. I especially want to warn any minors in the fandom of her behavior since she is a known groomer and potential abuser.

This section was short, however most of the people above have the same problem with her.

Final one is Michael, this is the shortest section as most people don't know him very well.

My experience with Michael

Michael who was once a friend of my friend or is still a friend, I’m not sure…consistently harassed me and spoke poorly about me. He repeatedly called me a derogatory term because I wasn't online for a day. Even after my friend forgave me he refused to move past the situation, even though it wasn't a serious issue. He has connections with a lot of problematic individuals involved in the entire situation.

Well for starters He seems to enjoy mentioning how my parents like him better than me a lot, for no reason either, its something he likes to brag about a lot which has always annoyed me. In his pinned post where it says he has untreated bpd is a lie, he’s never gotten a diagnosis with bpd, he also shares things that no one needs to know, for example he’s stomped out a little toad before and wouldnt stop talking about it for a week like if it was the best thing he’s ever done.

Warning for transphobia below.

Green has informed me that minors can not be diagnosed with bpd due to puberty and hormonal changes.

I tried to get all of the relevant screenshots down, to avoid stress and harassment I will not be responding to any questions (maybe).

Please do not harass or go after anyone meantioned. Block and report.

[cantdothis-nomore]

Robin, Starfire, Beast Boy, Cyborg, Raven with a cold and distant reader with the others more affectionate and kind to them

Robin

Honestly he'd probably be the same

Wouldn't have a problem with it although it might be a problem sometimes with the others if they thought you were doing it to just be mean to them

Robin would probably actually appreciate that you're like that cuz he likes his privacy so it's probably a good thing

He loves watching you just cuddle up to him after a long day and it honestly probably serves as a source of comfort for him

He'd make up excuse after excuse after excuse of why you acted differently towards the others then you did to him just to see the other side of you when you two were alone

Wouldn't judge you for being like that tho he probably would ask you about it a few times gathering you had an idea about it

Wouldn't mind at all as it's more of you for him in the end lmao

Starfire

Wouldn't understand and would try and get you to be nicer to others for the first few times until she basically realised she couldn't do anything about it

She wouldn't judge you for how you were but would be more confused than anything

She'd love seeing the more affectionate and clingy side of you when you two were alone but would wish you were just a tad bit friendlier to the others

Just like robin she'd make up excuses for you endlessly out of pure love of seeing the other side of you

Wouldn't have a problem of getting people away from you if she could see you were uncomfortable around them

She'd try and introduce you to others thinking thst maybe it's just the people your around and yeah you'd try your best for her but mostly it just wouldn't work out

But all would be forgiven when you two were cuddled up to each other late at night forgetting the day and leaving everything else behind you

Beast boy

Again would be confused about why you acted like you did

But wouldn't try and force you into doing anything you didn't want to with others

He'd shout at anyone who made fun of you because of how you were and took you away to his room so it was just you two

After he realised thst you were only nice and affectionate towards him and even more when you two were alone he'd try and be alone with you more than he did before to make you more comfortable and happy with your surroundings instead of being uncomfortable and uptight around others

Your #1 supporter til the end istg

He'd never have a problem about how you were and would state that to anyone who asked about you to him

He loved you more than you eould ever know and would never hesitate to drop anything for you ♡

Cyborg

This one's rather short cuz I couldn't really think anything up lmao

He wouldn't care or mind at all how you were to others unless you were purposefully unkind

It's your decision how you are not his and so he'd support you however you wanted to be

He'd have a go at anyone who dared to come at you for how you acted and protected you to the best of his abilities

He wasn't really the biggest fan of people either so it didn't really make a difference

Loved that you were affectionate to him though

Adored being around you alone because both of you could be how you wanted to be alone and also have some privacy without someone poking their head in constantly

Loved u no matter what you were like ♡

Raven

Wouldn't care

She would probably appreciate you being how you were because neither of you put up with anyone's shit

The rest of the team tended to stay away from you two to avoid any issues

You were both completely different whilst alone and preferred to be snuggled up into each other instead of talking with people who made you feel like your braincells were dropping out your head at an alarming rate

If you had to be around the others you tended to stay close to each other and limit speech towards the others

I feel like you'd have a resting bitch face and she'd probably have the thing of asking you if you were angry at her every two minutes just incase

Even though you didn't seem it around others you two were closer than everyone thought and adored being in each others company instead of having to struggle in others

[cowboybarzy]

see it with the lights out — mat barzal

SORRY!!! a bit late but it’s out!! I’m also not very proud of this but I wanted to publish it for you and didn’t really see myself write it any better lol I hope you still like it. but this part was just to get ready for the big finale!!!!!!!!!!

word count: 2.3k

masterlist read part 1 & 2 first

debate: are landos eyes blue or green? I definitely think they're green but sometimes appear blue so for the sake of this story they are green lol

THREE — you can see it with the lights out

October 19th

"Because he doesn't fucking love you like I do."

The harder you tried to push those words out of your brain, the more they repeated, reminding you that your best and longest friendship just imploded.

It had been five days since that night and all you had done was sit in your apartment going over and over every single moment you shared with Mat. You hadn't spoken to him since that night and don't know how to face him. After he said those words, you stared at each other in stunned silence until one of Mat's friends came over to talk to him, breaking up your discussion. Not soon after you left the bar, retreating to your apartment to wallow in peace.

Lando was supposed to come to New York a couple days ago to see you, before you both traveled to Texas for his race this weekend, but after what happened with Mat and now your feelings being all messed up, you felt guilty and told him you were sick. You felt guilty for rejecting him, but you needed a few days alone to collect yourself.

Having Mat's sister stay with you didn't make this situation any better, but she had friends in the city and you just pretended you had work to do so you could avoid the topic of her brother. She finally left yesterday and now you were on the elevator up to go see your boyfriend.

"Hi! Finally," Lando greeted you when he opened his hotel room door, pulling you into him immediately. "How are you?"

"Good," you answered, kissing him.

"Yeah? Not sick anymore?" He pulled you into the room, dragging your suitcase in and closing the door.

"No. Had some turbulences on the flight that made me feel nauseous, but all good now." His smile widened and his hands grabbed you by your hips. You immediately figured out what his face was saying and let him push you onto the bed.

"Good," he whispered and slowly leaned over you showing you just how much he missed you these past two weeks. Unfortunately, another brown haired boy was on your mind.

***

"You okay?," Lando asked, pulling you out of your deep thoughts. He ever so slightly brushed his finger against your cheek, gaining your full attention.

"Mhm." A certain pair of green eyes were haunting you and unfortunately they weren't your boyfriends. You pulled the bed sheet up, nodding, pushing the guilt away.

"Maybe not fully recovered then, huh?" He pressed his lips against your forehead. "So, how was New York? We've barely talked since the weekend."

"I know, I'm sorry. Just had a lot of things to do and people to see and obviously didn't feel great." You told him about your time at home, what you did and saw. About the hockey game – but purposefully left out the party after.

Talking to him got easier as time went on and he caught you up on his last few days as well. "Wait, I got something for you." Lando stood up, not caring about walking around the hotel suit naked. He came back with a little jewelry box. "This was a lot harder to find than I thought it would be."

You opened the box to find a dainty charm bracelet, a singular charm hanging from it – a little formula one car. "Aw. I love it. Thank you." You kissed him gently, before he placed the bracelet on your wrist. "And I love you." While those words rolled easily off your tongue, your heart didn't mean them and your stomach turned at the realization.

"Room service?"

November 13th

For Lando's birthday, he had spent a few days in England with his family which you couldn't make due to having to work. But you joined him and his friends for the real celebrations in Mexico.

Except for those few mandatory office days, you hadn't been back in New York since that weekend. You were too scared to bring up any of the emotions you were trying so hard to push away. And it was working great so far. At least until you opened Instagram and saw all of the New York Islanders posts that often included pictures of Mat. You avoided those posts, but every once in a while, you broke down and fell down the stalking rabbit hole. But you told yourself you just missed your friendship.

He still hadn't reached out and neither had you. You were too scared to hear what he had to say that would ruin your friendship and felt like you were cheating on Lando if you let yourself think and feel about the situation too long.

In front of Lando, you pretended everything was fine – that you didn't just lose your best friend. Not that he asked much about him, but you pretended to watch his games and still be in contact with him – but you weren't.

And while you thought you were doing a good job about hiding your feelings, there had been a few tense and awkward moments between the two of you. You had never really fought before, but in the last month your quarrels increased not only in frequency but intensity.

But today of all day, it had to be all about Lando. You started with a morning swim, just the two of you, and then a huge breakfast that you got catered to the villa you were renting. You spent the rest of the day on a boat, celebrating and trying to revive the connection you had with Lando just a couple months ago.

During dinner, your phone reminded you that the Islanders had game that night. The notification however shocked you a bit when you read the full title: 'Barzal doesn't return to ice after brutal hit from Nurse'

Your heart sunk and your first instinct was to excuse yourself and move to a private room to figure out what happened to him. No matter how many times you watched the replay and saw his face in terrible pain – and blood – it didn't make you feel any better seeing him leaning on Lee as he was skating off the ice.

"What happened?" You jumped at Lando's voice as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. It's Mat. He had a game tonight and got injured." He nodded, but you could see the twitch of jealousy flash across his face.

"Is he okay?"

"Not sure, there hasn't been an update yet." Lando sat beside you, wrapping his arm around you to comfort you.

"I'm sure he'll let you know soon."

"Mhm." You nodded as your eyes flooded with tears. He wouldn't, though. Not after you ignored him after that bombshell of a confession.

"What's wrong?," Lando asked immediately when he noticed your demeanor change. He grabbed your face with concern, but you just shook your head not daring to speak. His face changed from concern to a much more serious. "Did something happen between the two of you?"

His hands dropped from your face. "What? No. Why?"

"You've been acting weird since Texas. You didn't let me come take care of you when you were sick and you've been distant ever since."

"No, Lando. We're fine, it was a stupid little fight but it's all good." You weren't very convincing.

"Are you sure? You usually talk about him more, or his hockey, which I haven't seen you watch in a long time. And every time I touch you, I feel like you flinch and I can't shake the feeling it's got to do with him."

"No." That's all you could say. No. Nothing happened between you. You stood up, forcing a smile. This day was about Lando. Whom you loved. Right? "I promise."

You distracted him with a kiss and another assurance that everything was fine. He believed you, but you could tell you were nearing your breaking point. Just not yet.

November 25th

And that that came sooner than you'd hoped. You'd been having a great time in Abu Dhabi, celebrating and partying g with the other girls until you slept in Saturday and you were reminded of one of your favorite days.

In your first year of university, you had caught your then boyfriend making out with another girl at a party. After that, you might have gone a little hard on the alcohol and ended up calling Mat to come pick you up. However, he was in Seattle and you in Vancouver. That didn't stop him from showing up outside the club at 2am. He picked you up from the side of the road – a low point in your life that you thankfully never repeated – and drove you to your apartment. He gently helped you change into pjs and held your hair when you threw up in the toilet. Then he let you cry into his chest until you fell asleep.

You almost called him remembering that moment, but couldn't figure out what to say so you put your phone back down.

'I got you. I always will.'

Mat's voice hit you like a bullet. It was clear as if he was just next to you and you felt his fingertips stroking the side of your face like it was yesterday. But you were still back in your freshman year apartment, cuddled up in bed with Mat. He thought you were asleep when he whispered those things to you and until this day you thought you'd dreamt him saying it.

Something in you broke and all your feelings finally came crashing in. All those years he made you laugh and stood by your side you had mistaken it for friendship. You thought you were in love before, that's why you didn't recognize what you were feeling for Mat, but turns out no one ever made you as happy as Mat did. He'd always been your person and one day just turned into something even more.

You had no idea how long you laid in bed, thinking everything over and finally admitting to yourself that Mat may be more than a friend.

Eventually, you had to get ready. Lando was due to return from the qualifying race anytime soon, which you were actually supposed to attend, and you needed enough time to pull yourself together. You couldn't dump your newfound revelation on him the night before his last race.

"Lando." You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face. "I'm sorry."

"I know," he said, nodding, trying to mask his pain. He turned away from you and started packing his bag.

"No, I'll go. I'm so sorry." He shook his head, denying you and you could just stand there and watch him throw his suitcase together.

"Lando," you called, before he reached the hotel door. "You really were so good to me. And I'm so grateful to you. For everything you did to me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He nodded, avoiding your gaze though. "I'm just sorry he got you first."

You took the few steps you needed to reach him. "I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me one day. And I hope we can still stay friends."

"Kinda hard to forget you." He let you pull him into a hug and it felt like goodbye. It was hard for you to let him go. He did play a huge role in your life and had shown you so much. He was a genuine friend and you did love him, but enough to stay with him. Lando smiled, pain still in his eyes, and pressed his soft lips on your forehead. "One day."

December 29th

It was almost midnight when your phone rang, the screen lighting up the darkness of your bedroom. You reached for it, sitting up when you saw the name and picture flash across the screen. It was Mat. The first sign of him since that night in October you regretted so much. Carefully, you pressed the green button and held the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi." His voice was rough and from that small word you could tell he was in pain. And after the game he had you couldn't blame him. He was more aggressive than he usually was – even counting the last few weeks – and got punished by it, not only with penalty box minutes but also with brutal fights on the ice. On top of that, they lost the game with a pretty rough score.

The line was silent for a while, neither of you daring to speak. You could feel your eyes tearing up. You missed him so much. And that's when he finally broke the silence with the exact same thought. "I miss you." Still so much pain in his voice. "I miss you. And I'm sorry for what I said that night. You were right. I hope that you are happy. And I do support you, no matter what. Just putting it out there that I miss you while you're out there exploring the world."

And in the darkness of your room, you suddenly could not see any clearer. You heart ached for him. For him to hold you and kiss you for the rest of your life. You wanted him. To explore the world with, yes, but also to do the mundane things with. You still had a lot to figure out about yourself, but one thing you were sure about was him. That you needed him by your side just as much as he needed you. It had always been like this. He was your person. And you wanted him to be that for the rest of your life.

"Mat," you took a deep breath, mustering up all your courage. "Lando and I broke up."

The line went dead.

[nicohischierz]

https://www.tumblr.com/nicohischierz/731303303596703744/anyone-have-ideas-for-nico-x-devs-reader-against

Maybe something about Devs player starting to feel left out because she’s out for the season and like Nico and the boys are purposefully leaving her out of team things. Nico’s also focused on getting the team aligned for the start of the season and so he’s starting to spend a lot more time at the rink/ with the team. She feels like Nico doesn’t understand all that she’s had to “give up” because of the pregnancy and it turns into a fight between the two of them.

at the start, you knew they didn't mean to do it intentionally. they didn't mean to leave you out of things.

it started off with nico not wanting to upset you by inviting the team over to talk about the games.

but after a while, it became him just flat-out avoiding you and the topic of hockey. whenever he came back late he'd say he was at the rink or with the guys.

the only person who came around from the team was luke. otherwise, mat would come for a visit and take you to long island whenever the devils were on a road trip.

amanda had come over to visit with lucas but hearing the boy talk about how much he looked up to you, made you break down even more.

your feelings towards being left out didn't help the fact that the team had lost on their last road trip. which meant that nico was even more agitated.

"where are you going?" you asked him.

"training." he replied curtly.

you just nodded.

he'd only been home for less than an hour and he was already trying to leave the house.

"is it because of me?" you whispered.

nico stopped in his tracks and looked at you briefly before shaking his head.

"look, i'm just stressed with the team's performance. we can talk about this when I come back," he hummed, giving you a kiss on your forehead.

"you're stressed?"

you laughed at him.

"i am fucking stressed nico. i gave up everything i've worked for to have this child! you don't even want to talk about potential names or anything,"

nico tried to speak but you shut him up.

"ever since the season has started you haven't as much as spoken to me about the baby or how I'm feeling. i am done nico," you ranted.

"i'm done staying in this house alone wondering if I'm enough for you to come back home," you whispered.

nico tried coming to give you a hug but you shoved him off.

"y/n/n, look i have to go for practice but we will talk about this when I come back," he promised.

you scoffed and picked up a pillow, throwing it at him as he left your apartment.

"fuck you nico hischier!" you yelled.

nico stopped at the door and turned to you.

"god damn it y/n. i don't need your shit on top of everything else i have to deal with. why don't you just fucking calm down and leave me alone then," he spat.

"are you kicking me out? you're pregnant girlfriend, you're going to kick her out?" you asked rhetorically.

"then fucking have the apartment y/n. honestly, I'll just stay with one of the guys fucking hell," he cursed.

you started crying and threw another pillow at him.

"i fucking hate you and i never want to see you again!" you yelled one last time.

"i hate you too!" nico yelled back.

jack was sent to retrieve nico's things after practice but instead of the sounds of you moving around the apartment he was left with silence and a note saying that you were gone

[allthingsfangirl101]

TOS Chapter 8: Late Night Talks

Masterlist

Normally, walking through the woods at 2 am would be dangerous. Not to someone like Alice.

The cold air helped Alice calm down. Soon, she got close to Hawkins. She wasn't sure exactly where she was but she knew she was somewhere outside of town. She walked around a tree, instantly bumping into someone.

"Alice?"

She looked up to see a clearly sleep-deprived Steve. She smirked, wrapping her arms around herself. As she watched Steve slightly look her over, she felt herself finally calm down.

"We've gotta stop running into each other like this," Steve smirked. "What are you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep," she shrugged. "Thought going for a walk would help. What about you?"

"I haven't slept in years," Steve scoffed. "Not since I found out about the UpsideDown."

"UpsideDown?" Alice asked. "That's what you call it?"

"Does it have a different name?" Steve asked, genuinely curious.

"Not that I know of," Alice shrugged. "Brenner didn't really call it anything. Just, The Place."

"What did you call it?"

Alice's memories flashed before her. She turned toward Steve, not bothering to hide the pain and grief in her eyes.

"Hell."

Steve looked at Alice, instantly seeing how tired she was but there was something else in her eyes; avoidance. The look of waking up from a nightmare and not wanting to think about it. The look of purposefully forcing yourself to stay awake by doing whatever it takes to busy yourself.

He knew that look and that feeling all too well. He also knew what helped him after a nightmare.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

                                * * * * *

The two didn't say anything as they walked through the woods behind Steve's house. Alice wrapped her arms around herself, her thoughts jumping back to her nightmare.

"You want to tell me the real reason you were walking in the woods at 2 am?" Steve asked.

"It's nothing," she shook off.

"Come on, Alice," he chuckled. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I had a small nightmare, okay?" She sighed. "Nothing serious. I get them all the time."

"You do?"

Alice looked over when she heard Steve's voice change. His eyes were soft and he was studying her.

"Yeah," she stuttered. "It's not a big deal though. It's nothing. A side effect, I guess."

"That's not normal, Alice," he said grabbing her hand and making her stop. "Have you talked to someone about this?"

"Who am I supposed to talk about this with?" She scoffed. "People think I'm dead, Steve. Besides, it's not something I can talk about. What am I supposed to say? Hey, guess what! I was kidnapped, tortured, and locked up by a madman who thought he could give me magic powers. By the way, he was right! Come on."

Alice rolled her eyes as she turned on her heels and kept walking. Steve tried to ignore his sinking heart as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He walked up and fell in sync with her.

"You could always," he started.

He was cut off by the ruffling of leaves. He froze when he heard growling. Steve's heart jumped into his throat when he recognizes where he'd heard that before.

"Alice," he said softly. "We need to get out of here."

She turned around and this time, the growl was louder. "Did you hear that?" Alice stuttered.

"I did," Steve said slowly. He looked around, subconsciously taking a protective step toward Alice. She jumped, closing the gap between the two of them when the sounds they were hearing got closer.

"It went that way," he mumbled. "I'm gonna check it out."

"What?" She gasped. She grabbed his hand before he could walk away. "Steve, don't be stupid."

"I'll be fine," he comforted her. "Stay here."

"Wait. . ."

Suddenly, the demodog jumped out of the bushes, instantly tackling Steve to the ground. Alice stood frozen as she watched him wrestle the thing. Memories of the last time she fought one of these things flashed through her brain.

"Alice!" Steve yelled. "Run!"

She finally snapped out of her frozen state when she heard Steve let out a scream of pain. The demodog had bitten his ankle.

"No!" Alice yelled as the thing started dragging Steve further into the woods. She chased after him and saw the tree that the thing was about to drag him through.

She reached forward and use her abilities to grab the demodog, freezing it to the spot where it stood. She let out a sigh of relief when it let go of Steve. Alice took this chance to use her other hand to gently pull Steve out of the way.

When holding the creature got too much, Alice fell to her knees. As soon as she lost her hold on it, it started coming toward her.

"Run, Alice," Steve groaned in pain. She used what little strength she had left to shakily stand up.

"No," she said, still trying to regain her strength. "Something you should know about me, Steve," she said, still trying to regain her strength. "I don't run."

She formed a fireball and instantly threw it at the thing. It dodged it. She smirked as she dug deeper into her abilities. This time, Alice used both hands and accessed the ability she usually tries to avoid.

She reached through the space between her and that thing. She felt the energy of everything between them. She felt the cold morning breeze, the trees, the dirt, and Steve's nervousness. Then she got to it.

Alice slowly tightened her fist, watching as the creature slowly writhed in pain as it tried to move. A loud snapping sound echoed off the woods.

Breathing heavily, she looked over her shoulder. She saw Steve struggling to move to a nearby fallen tree. Alice ran to his side, kneeling next to him. She looked down at his ankle, using the adrenaline to figure out what to do.

"I'm fine," he said through his pain.

"We need to get you out of here," Alice said as she took off her jacket and wrapped it around his ankle. "The motel isn't far."

[mukamibabe]

Do you think Karl will force his wife into pregnancy as she won't give up on avoiding and running away from him?He wants her to be with him for the rest of the eternity.So, would he do it?Maybe a oneshot/scenario?

so, this is dark. please be careful reading if darker subjects and topics are triggering for you,,

alright, without further ado, i honestly.. don't know if karl would do so, but at the same time, i can imagine it, as twisted as it is. while karl might not have any more plans for having children, i think he could easily figure out a use for future offspring. plus, this is karlheinz, a man who can sort of do whatever he wants, so getting his s/o knocked up just for fun? just for his own pleasure? sure. it might just end up becoming a christa 2.0 situation though, where karl will convince his s/o that he's in love with them and would probably just gaslight them the entire relationship. i'm not going to say if karl was to get his s/o pregnant it would be with their consent, because it probably wouldn't be 100% consensual but rather with dubious consent? like, again, in christa's case, i may be wrong, but christa was, even before having subaru, was convinced by karl that he was infatuated with her and whatnot. then, one thing led to another and everything escalated. now, whether or not karl would do that just to ensure that his s/o stays with him.. well, he knows he can get them to be with him forever even without getting them pregnant,, . also, the chances of them miraculously loving karl after he’s gotten them pregnant sounds unrealistic to him but either way. karl does what he wants. and if he wants his s/o to have a child for whatever reason, perhaps because he’s actually in love with them (which. not something i see possible because it’s karlheinz) or because he’s got future plans. idk,,!! i’ll write a tiny little drabble for you, though. nothing really graphic at all. also hehe with scenarios i tend to get a bit serious except;.. i hate writing scenarios bc i criticize myself too much 😔 

also i know this is already under a cut, but i think the only trigger warning i can think of (other than karl being a monster) is implied drugging? and restraints? idk i still don’t know how to use tw’s properly but.. 

~~~~~~~

Icy cold fingers startled the vampire lord’s tired, restrained little wife, making her jolt from her temporary somber, the only escape Karlheinz was willing to allow her. 

She had done this to herself, the vampire believed.

They could’ve been happy. She could be living comfortably, sitting right next to Karlheinz on his throne, but she all she chooses is to deny. 

It was entertaining at first, is what Karlheinz would say, had he been asked. It was amusing, chasing after someone who, for once in his many years, did not return his affections. 

While the man has had plenty of years practicing his patience, he can only handle so much. 

Brushing away a strand of hair, Karlheinz purposefully stroked his wife before him gently. If it weren’t for the fact that she looked at him with disgust in her eyes, or the fact that she was literally bound together at her legs and arms, it would come off as endearing. But both Karlheinz and his beloved knew it was otherwise.

“Good morning, love. You’ve slept in quite a bit.” Karl stated, ignoring her scowl, completely unbothered, as he usually was. Honestly, if the vampire king wasn’t as old as he was, his wife would’ve given him a challenge, considering how defiant they were. It was admirable, really. The way they still held on to the idea that they could possibly leave him. 

As expected, Karlheinz got no response. That seemed to be the case as of late, aside from a few snarky retorts here and there. Removing his pale hand away from the woman’s face, he raised it up to run through his own white locks. Exhaling, Karlheinz once again, killed the silence that lingered throughout their bedroom.

“Little wife.. I have a proposition for you.” 

No response. 

“Won’t you hear me out, my love?” 

A frown started to just barely form upon his lips, but was gone with a blink. Shifting closer to her, he used his hand to lift the woman’s chin up, making her face him. To his surprise, she didn’t fight it. Perhaps the drink she had hours ago still had an effect on her. Interesting, but right now, Karl wasn’t trying to test out any of his other experiments. Not at this hour, at least. Although, it did give him an idea for future uses. 

Piercing golden eyes gazed into his wife’s, who stared back at him expectantly- not like he left her room to look elsewhere.

“I love you. Don’t you believe me? Do you not believe that we are fated to be?” Karlheinz spoke seriously, despite the fact that he was completely improvising. Women liked to hear that, didn’t they? Karl could almost laugh at the way it sounded like something straight from his brother’s mouth. What a sap, he was. So unlike the man who was seen as a king and even worshipped like a god. 

Eventually, Karl thought, things will work the way he wanted. He felt no pressure to force things along, but the endless game of cat and mouse had grown tiresome. 

Karl shifted once again, moving his hand towards the back of his wife’s neck, intertwining his fingers in his hair before pulling her into a careful kiss. It was short and sweet, just another lie fed to the woman he was able to call his wife. 

“Just what exactly, my dear, would you do in order to get what you desire?”

~~~~~~~

little note: i left this ambiguous on purpose because honestly i feel like it fits karl as a character but also i just. wasn’t sure where exactly to go lol. at the very end though, when karl asks what she’d be willing to do in order to break away from him, i had the idea that what he would’ve had in mind would have been to carry his child. anyways, let me know how this was. like i said, i get really self conscious when it comes to scenarios and like.. actual writing so djhfd rip

[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump]

!!!!!!!!

-Sebastian continuing to be both the best doctor in the world and the best human in Jaime’s life <33333

-he called Ezra his friend 🥹 Sebastian has friends!!

“I thought he was starting to trust me.” It sounds as pathetic as he feels.

I can hear him say this and it’s so sad it makes me want to cry

-when the whumpee makes a mistake and is sure there’s going to be drastic consequences and in their mind it does make perfect sense but they’re so sad and try to resign themselves to the inevitable punishment they’ve earned themselves anyway??? It gets me every time AND THIS TIME ITS GETTING ME THE ABSOLUTE MOST JAIMEEEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭

-and the fact that even as afraid as he was of Sebastian, he still is hyper aware of his kindness and the fact that this is the best he’s ever had and maybe ever will??? MY HEART I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!

-oh my GOD his imagining of what it would be like to be returned?!?? Still having to see Sebastian in the facility but with none of the kindness!!?!?! Ohhhh my god ?!?? 😭😭😭

He has no right to cry about it now. There is no one to blame but himself.

Oh n-JAIME

until suddenly the breaths are controlling him and not the other way around

I really love this line

-HE KNOWS WHAT HIS FAVORITE BREAKFAST IS AND HE MADE IT FOR HIM 😭😭😭😭 it’s only been a few weeks and omg I’m realizing he probably knows more about Jaime than almost anyone else alive OW MY HEART oh I’m so glad he has Sebastian 🥲

-also butter honey toast is DIVINE Jaime has great taste

Jaime blurts “I’m sorry I kissed you,” at the exact moment Sebastian says, “We should really talk about what happened.”

EEEEEEEEEAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

-and he wants to apologize and really convey his regret not because he wants to avoid punishment but bc he knows the importance of consent and is genuinely remorseful about disrespecting Sebastian’s, and Sebastian has someone that cares about him and his autonomy and just !!!!

because even now, of course his first instinct is to meet Jaime with undue kindness

😭😭😭 and the fact that these are Jaime’s thoughts AHHHHHHH

“It’s o—I mean, no, it’s not okay. But I don’t think you have a selfish bone in your body. I know you didn’t do it to hurt me.”

I really really love this response. I really really love Sebastian

“I’m no stranger to late nights. I know they can get pretty lonely sometimes. I won’t ever be mad at you for waking me up.”

Oh 😭 (if we ever see Jaime take him up on this I might collapse)

“You’ve been… you’ve been so nice to me.”

😭😭😭

It doesn’t earn the smile he hoped for.

😭!!!!!!!

At the time, in the clinic, it was humiliating to have all his secrets bared to Sebastian as his doctor. Now, he is grateful he doesn’t need to say the words aloud.

🥺

Still, something about hearing the words out loud soothes some broken, desperate part of him that aches to believe it’s true. The part of him that’s been aching to believe it since he stepped through the door.

YES YES YES THE TRUST IS BUILDING ITS BEGINNING ITS BEGINNING!!!!!!

I get to stay. I get to stay. I get to stay.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-HE WANTS TO STAYYYYYYYY

what it might feel like to share that weight with someone who cares about him

🚨🚨WHAT IT MIGHT FEEL LIKE TO SHARE THAT WEIGHT WITH SOMEONE WHO CARES ABOUT HIM ‼️‼️ SOMEONEWHOCARESVJXIEUDHFHRHD

Jaime tries his hand at trusting him.

!!!!!!!!!!!

“No, he isn’t,” Sebastian says, and there is the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth. “But he used to be.”

WAIT NO YOURE ENDING IT THERE OH MY GOD?!?!?? AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Omg omg I am SO excited for this and for this realization for Jaime - for the thought that he has never even allowed himself to entertain to be able to crystallize into hope for Sebastian to continue to provide hope in a world where that has been purposefully exterminated for them to continue to build that bridge toward freedom together for Ezra to have his moment !!!!!!!! I’m so excited!!!!!

I Want To Stay

DO NO HARM. Followup to The Incident last chapter. Sebastian and Jaime have some shit to work out. 

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-adjacent, discussion of past sexual assault/abuse, self-victim-blaming thoughts, panic attack, some dehumanizing thoughts

Ezra is quiet for several long moments after Sebastian stops talking, the line crackling with static.

God, it’s even worse when he recounts the story out loud.

Part of him wonders if he made the right call, suggesting he and Jaime wait until the morning to talk. But after Jaime got dressed last night, Sebastian took one look at him perched on the edge of his bed, puffy eyes fighting to stay open, and he knew that the kid needed sleep more than he needed whatever weak reassurances Sebastian could offer him in the moment. Neither one of them were in the right headspace for the kind of talk they needed to have.

Not that Sebastian got much sleep in the end. A couple of broken hours at best. But that, at least, gave him the advantage of being awake before Jaime. He needed a window of time to get his head together, and the best way to find some clarity in this tangle was to dial Ezra’s number. And of course, despite the early hour, his call was answered.

“I recognize,” Ezra finally says slowly, “that this is not a comfortable subject, but I think it’s best if I speak freely now.”

Keep reading

[rachaeljurassic]

OK folks, within the next 24 hours my video box is erasing two more episodes so I guess I'm watching them both today

🥳

I'm just really hoping this isn't me by the end of the day

Some brief thoughts though.

I REALLY hope that Phryne seeing Jack with somebody else has finally helped her sort out the emotions she's so obviously been avoiding thinking about or even acknowledging - it's funny how jealousy and devastation will do that.

AND my thoughts about Jack purposefully deciding to be with somebody else because of, well, I've decided he felt very guilty for not finding Concetta's husband's killer, and then they became close, and he kinda thought he really cared for her and it was his duty to make her happy because he had failed to solve the case and jeez Jack THAT IS NOT A REASON TO GET HITCHED 😡🤦‍♀️

Anyway, I am SO over that episode, obviously

😟

I don't think they CAN do such an emotionally charged episode again so soon. I mean, they wanted their audience actually ALIVE I assume!

But, onwards...

Is that Phryne coming in VERY late???

And looking a little unsteady on her legs

😆

OK, I'm sure she wasn't out with Jack because that would be WAY TOO SIMPLE AND NON TRAUMATISING

😣

Oooooo, I saw 'Collingwood' in the title, is this going to be about Phryne's past? Cool.

And mentions of the war, so maybe a whole past catching up with people episode. Still I am, as usual, getting ahead of myself

😂

Macccccccc

😍

Is Phryne going to be adopting another small child?

Oh Jack noticed the evening wear

🤨

And poor Paddy, jeez

😢

No Mac, don't go, you need to stay and roll your eyes at the Phrack nonsense

🥺

Oh Jack is getting NOWHERE, he is REALLY going to need Phryne on this one.

😁

Oh great, backstory for Phryne

🥳

"I thought you were cooperating with ME"

😂

As did we all, Phryne

[mc-lukanette]

Hear me out... Scarlet Lady AU, but it’s Lukanette

(takes place after “Captain Hardrock”)

Luka hunched over his guitar, only for another sting of pain to hit his back. He groaned, straightening up instead, but that somehow made the soreness even worse. Juleka chuckled at him from her place on her bed, having long since given up on moving her muscles at all and preferring to laze around.

He shot her a glare, but didn't comment so as to not encourage her. As he'd predicted, they were indeed sore from trying to stop the Liberty yesterday, his arms wordlessly complaining whenever he tried to do anything with them. He didn't regret it, but it'd also made making new songs a hassle, worsened by the fact that he'd very much gotten inspiration courtesy of Marinette.

After trying to ignore the soreness for around ten minutes, he heard a set of footsteps from above deck, from someone who was clearly heading down below. He knew they couldn't have been his mother - the signature "clack" of her boots sounded much different - but it also seemed somewhat familiar.

He realized it a bit too late, just in time for Marinette to get downstairs and pop her head into the room. "Hi!"

He sucked in a breath as subtly as possible, maintaining his poker face as he replied, "Hey."

"Hey," Juleka greeted, rotating her arm just enough to wave and clearly not wanting to put in more effort than that. She didn't even turn her head.

Luka chuckled. "Jule's busy today if you needed her for something."

"Shut up," she hissed. "It was your idea."

"Huh?" Marinette asked, looking back and forth between the two. "Oh! No, I was here to see Luka, actually—not that I'm not happy to see you too, Juleka! Just..." She grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of her head.

Marinette was there... to see him? Not his sister?

Luka glanced down, confirming that he was still wearing pants and therefore this wasn't a dream about to go horribly wrong.

Juleka's eyes flicked over to the two of them, her head having to actually move to do so. She squinted, like she was analyzing something, then groaned and slammed her hands down on the bed. She pushed herself up, clearly ignoring the way her body protested, then began her walk across the room.

Just before she reached the doorway, she leaned back to make eye contact with Marinette, warning her, "Careful with him. He's creaking like the floorboards."

Luka shot Juleka a glare, but she'd already zipped out of the room before he could blindly grab his pillow to throw at her.

For being so sore, you sure got away quickly, he thought, very much aware that she left because him being mushy with Marinette (also known as "normal and understandable because look at her") was "gross."

Marinette's eyes followed Juleka until the retreating footsteps could be heard moving up deck, then turned back to Luka. "Creaking?"

"Ah—" Well, there went any hope of avoiding that topic. "We used Chat's baton yesterday to stall the ship, but it was hard even with all seven of us. We're all still a little sore from it."

She furrowed a brow, like something had confused her, but then shook her head and replied, "Oh, that really does sound tough! I'm sorry I couldn't be there!"

"It's okay." He smiled reassuringly, remembering what he'd been told before. "You were the one who got Marigold there. She saved us."

Her cheeks turned pink and he vaguely wondered if it was obvious how cute he thought - knew - she was. She ducked her head, then did a small wiggle of her hips before abruptly looking back up at him. "Um—! That's actually what I came to talk you about? I mean—not Marigold—or her saving you—or me and Marigold—but—"

Luka snorted, lightly patting the spot on his bed next to him instead of replying. The familiar gesture caught her attention, her voice trailing off as she slowly made her way over to sit next to him. She toyed with her fringe, seeming to get her words in order, then turned to look at him.

"I never got to thank you," she said. When he tilted his head in confusion, she clarified, "I wouldn't have been able to call Marigold if you hadn't saved me."

He smiled warmly at her. "It was nothing, Marinette."

"No, really, you thought so quick!" she insisted, leaning towards him with her hands flat on the mattress to support herself. "And you stayed behind too to make sure Captain Hardrock was fooled! That was brave of you."

He leaned away, face flushing red as he tried to control the stupid grin on his face. "Thanks. You were really brave too, finding a way out to get Marigold's attention."

He didn't tell her that he purposefully didn't hide with her because the sound of his heartbeat would've given their hiding spot away.

Marinette beamed at him, but seemed to realize how close she'd been leaning and pulled back with a sheepish grin. Luka returned to his original position too, but flinched when his spine rejected the movement with a spike of pain. He let out a mix of a groan and a sigh, Marinette's brows raising in concern.

"I could give you a massage...?"

The headstock of Luka's guitar hit the bed as he jerked his head up, the instrument in his lap forgotten as he stared ahead at Marinette, eyes wide. She was looking back at him with a blank expression, like she hadn't fully realized what she'd said.

Then, it hit her, and he swore he saw her pigtails bounce up in shock as her face shifted to realization.

"I-I just—I mean—!" She flailed her arms at him. "See, my papa always does it for my maman and—when you groaned like that it reminded me of it—so—"

The fact that she'd compared his bones to those of an aging adult went ignored in favor of noticing that she hadn't even tried to take the offer back. His heart pounded like the inside of his body was a brand new drumset, and he could only utter a weak, "Okay," in reply.

She'd still been rambling at the time, but somehow his voice managed to break through. She paused mid-sentence, her mouth still open as she processed his answer. "...Really?"

He merely nodded, not trusting his voice to avoid cracking if he tried to respond.

"Oh. Um, alright, oh..." she mumbled to herself, clearly having not expected to get this far.

Luka felt the bed shift underneath him as Marinette maneuvered herself behind him, at which point it really hit him that she was seriously about to massage him. He leaned forward, mentally preparing himself, though was quickly reminded of the guitar still resting in his lap. He pulled it off and set it where Marinette had originally been sitting, resting his hands in front of himself afterward.

The silence dragged for a moment, and he could sense Marinette's eyes on him, as if she were debating with herself on how to go about massaging him. He opened his mouth to give her an out, but all manner of coherent speech left him as her hands pressed into his back, thin fingers sliding along his shoulders and squeezing. He sucked in a breath, oxygen having a hard time getting into a body already stuffed full of feelings.

It was heaven, and added several sheets worth of music that he desperately needed to write.

"I-is this alright?" she asked. "Am I doing well?"

He tried to reply, but all that left his mouth was a sound that was both inhuman and embarrassing. Pressing one hand into the mattress, he covered his mouth with the other, his face turning red as he briefly debated on living in the drawer underneath his bed in lieu of having a hole to crawl into.

He changed his mind. It was hell. She was doing amazing but that was the problem and it was hell.

Marinette giggled, the sound he made apparently being answer enough for her as she continued massaging him. Her embarrassment had left by that point and he couldn't help being jealous of it, as his own had doubled.

After a few seconds had passed, Marinette spoke up again, "So, ah..."

He wasn't sure if she genuinely had a question or was trying to spare him, but he'd take it either way. "Mm?"

"I was wondering. Since Jagged's your favorite singer, what do you think of XY?"

He let out another sound, less involuntary than the last at least, though it was still too high-pitched to make anyone believe that he wasn't affected by Marinette's motions. He cleared his throat, making sure he sounded as normal as possible before answering, "The flaws in his music stick out like his hair."

The hands on his back froze, Marinette snickering and then full-on laughing. "Oh, you think so too?"

He grinned like the fool he was, tempted to look back at her but feeling like it'd be rude. "Yeah. I can't stand his music."

"Me neither. It's so... bland and uninspired."

The mental image of them drop-kicking XY into the Seine together entered his mind, a blissful sigh escaping him just in time for Marinette to restart her massage.

"You're really passionate about music," she observed, almost sounding as if she'd been talking to herself. "It almost makes me wish I played an instrument."

"I can give you lessons," he blurted out, then immediately backpedaled with an, "if you want, anyway."

Her tone lightened. "Thanks. I might have to take you up on that. Just... not when I'm so busy."

He shrugged his shoulders, both of which already felt infinitely better under her touch. He could tell she wasn't lying, so he wasn't offended by the hesitance.

As her hands trailed down his back and he tried not to look as if every touch was sending his heart on tour, she hummed thoughtfully, like her body was there but her mind was elsewhere.

"...Hey," she called. He waited, knowing that there was something else, and she continued, "Have you ever... been stuck between songs?"

"Stuck between songs?" he echoed, trying to piece together what she meant.

"Yeah, like—" She made an unsure sound - unfortunately not an embarrassing one like his when she pressed into his lower back - then clarified, "—maybe there are a few songs you like, and it's hard picking your favorite? Or you have some songs you want to write, but don't know which one to go with?"

He got the distinct feeling that she wasn't talking about music, but it was adorable how she worded it in a way relating to his specialty so he could help her. He mulled over the question seriously, the most difficult task just being drawing enough focus away from her movements so he could answer her.

"A few times," he replied. "It all comes down to feeling then. My favorite song or the one I want to write could just be which one I'm curious about."

"What do you mean?"

"Well—" He blushed faintly, completely unaware that his metaphors were syncing with hers. "—a song that I want to know more about; to listen to over and over until I know it intro to outro. A song that makes me want to keep writing." He glanced over his shoulder at her, hoping the eye contact might help carry the meaning along. "I think those are the best kinds."

Her brows were furrowed in thought, as if he'd given her a hard equation that she was struggling to solve. He faced forward again to hide his smile when he noticed the spark of recognition in her eyes, like the metaphor had stuck and he'd actually helped her.

"I think I get it," she confirmed, the massage briefly stopping as she made idle circles on his back; still equally as distracting if he were honest. Even though he couldn't see her face, he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "I like this one."

"What one?" he asked obliviously, though she didn't answer the question and pressed into his back again, making him squeak and forget his curiosity altogether.

The conversation ended there, lulling into something peaceful and comfortable. Luka actually found himself relaxing without much embarrassment, though there was still some pink to his face from his newfound crush giving him a massage. He just hoped he could make it through the rest of their time together without her realizing what a mess he was.

Then, as if something had occurred to her, Marinette noted casually, "Oh, I should do your arms next."

Luka's face burned. This girl was going to kill him.