#no clue. no IDEA what i'm even supposed to do with this thing. no beginning of an idea

[front-facing-pokemon]

[oracle-of-dream]

Bad Habit

Summary: Jiwoong's your partner in class studying bad habits. You happen to chew on the inside of your mouth and bite your nails. It's not healthy! He feels compelled to find a new way to help you.

Warnings: Male Reader, Jiwoong is a caring man, Finger/Hand fetish, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Oral Fixation, Blowjob, Cum-swallowing

Wordcount: 2.5k

It's been a habit you've had for a long time. Maybe even since you were a kid. Any time you felt stressed out, you naturally started grinding your teeth. It felt like your brain was running out of air, your ears buzzed, and you couldn't think straight unless your mouth was occupied. After a while, it changed to chewing gum, sucking on lollipops, biting your nails... whatever you needed, to keep your brain running. It was just so relaxing.

The clouds looked so fluffy today. You chewed on your index finger while letting your mind wander.

"Y/n, your assigned partner is... Jiwoong." Your professor's voice snapped you back to reality.

Looking around the room for context clues on the topic, you noticed everyone was sitting in pairs. Talking to one another, and discussing plans.

A man by the window stared at you, his dark eyes locked with yours as he smiled. He waved you over and you took your bag to sit by him. "I'm Jiwoong. We'll be partners for a while for the project. Do you get everything that's happening?" He asked with a soft smirk.

You hated partner work. It complicated things, and you didn't even know the topic. And this Greek statue of a man was your partner–it smelled like you would be doing it all alone anyway. "No, I missed the explanation. I'll go and ask the teacher."

Jiwoong shook his head. "No need. I can explain it to you." Jiwoong explained the entire project idea with amazing clarity– as if he had written the assignment himself. It was a simple experiment to study bad habits. Each group was meant to learn about their partner and identify a bad habit and ways they can try to prevent it.

"Oh, that's super simple. What's your bad habit, Jiwoong?"

Jiwoong chuckled. "I thought we were supposed to learn about each other. Where's the fun if I just tell you the answer?"

"What do you suggest instead?"

"How about lunch? You can learn a lot about a person over a meal." Jiwoong started packing his bag. You followed him, packing your back, and walking to the campus cafeteria.

You tried to study him while walking, but he gave nothing to work with. It was time for a different approach. "Do you have any hobbies?"

"I work out," He said shortly.

"Favorite foods?"

"I like fruits, mostly the sour ones."

"Um... fears?"

"Next question."

You continued asking general questions until you sat at the table across from him. It was beginning to irritate you how nonchalant he was being. The static in your brain started taking over, the rising sound of ringing in your ears. Before you could enjoy your food, you started chewing on your chopsticks. The feeling of rolling your tongue over and around the cold metal soothed you in an instant.

"Y/n?" Jiwoong called.

"Mmh?" You mumbled as you looked over your food, deciding what to eat first.

"Actually, never mind." Jiwoong picked up his utensils and started eating with you.

You tried to study Jiwoong while he ate, but he was still perfect. An impeccable wall, with not a single crack. Meanwhile, Jiwoong studied you back with sharp eyes that occasionally met yours. Eventually, figuring out the other got boring and you let your mind wander again. Going over what else you had to do after lunch. Go to another class, study for a few hours, and then you have to stop at the store to get food for dinner.

Unconsciously, your hand scratched your chin. But instead of putting your hand back down, your thumb found its way to your lips. Your lips parted and you started chewing on your nail.

Jiwoong sucked on his teeth. "Don't bite your nails. It's not healthy for you."

You obediently put your hand down. "Whatever," you mumbled. You continued with your meal, occasionally glancing at Jiwoong and catching him closely watching your hands. You ate your meal but somehow you ended up biting your nail again.

Jiwoong stood and grabbed your hand, his eyes coated with a hint of irritation. "Don't bite them," He warned. "Or is this your bad habit?" Jiwoong smirked at you as he shook your hand in his.

"I guess it is."

"So, now we're supposed to find a way for you to break that habit." Jiwoong went through his bag and pulled out a lollipop. "Just suck this instead, okay? I read before that the best way to break that habit is to do something else."

You took the candy from him to see the flavor. "Is this butterscotch? Who eats this?" You tossed it back to him.

"It was just a random flavor, I didn't specifically pick that one. Just eat it." Jiwoong unwrapped it and pressed it to your lips, leaning over the table to reach you. You turned your head, which forced Jiwoong to hold you by your chin and guide the candy to your lips. He was soft when handling you. Holding your chin up so you were looking at him as his thumb brushed against your lips. Your lips parted for a moment and he seized the opportunity to slide into the opening. Just for a moment, Jiwoong's finger passed into your mouth and then left. His eyes were tender but piercing and you felt something inside you snap...

Jiwoong let you go and sat down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so pushy–I was just trying to–"

"It's fine... I have to go. I'll see you around." The words spilled out of your mouth quickly as you scooped your belongings and rushed out of the cafeteria, your mouth filling with saliva as you did.

You could only make it to the bathroom before spitting into the sink. Your skin ran hot in waves, almost pulsing. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see Jiwoong's face holding you as his hands slipped into your mouth. Locked in a stall, you tried to calm down but the candy wasn't helping. Even biting your nails wasn't good enough anymore. You sat on the toilet, closed your eyes, and put your fingers on your lips. You saw Jiwoong looking at you with so much care as his fingers pushed into your mouth, letting you suck on them. He moved his long fingers making you gag as he held you by your neck–he wouldn't let you back away from him. Your body twitched and squirmed as your brain went black. Softly, you started humming, then moaning as you felt pleasure from your mouth being occupied. Less than a minute of this made you finish in your pants, you breathed heavily as you returned to reality.

You were sitting in the bathroom. Fingers dripping, lips swollen, and a dark spot in your pants that couldn't show how messy it was in there.

You cleaned yourself up, had to use your bag to cover your crotch, and left the bathroom. After a few minutes, you could feel an itch at the back of your throat. No matter how many times you coughed or rubbed your throat, it wouldn't go away. By the time you got home, it was unbearable. Drinking something cold or hot and eating cough drops. Nothing was working... Until you had an idea. Slowly, you put your index finger in your mouth and started to suck on it. The itch stopped and your head was at peace again. But anytime you stopped, the itch wouldn't stay gone for long.

Were you really that much of a freak? You couldn't focus unless something was in your mouth. You had to buy more candy that night to try and calm yourself, but you barely slept. At all. And the next morning was even worse, even your fingers weren't doing the trick anymore. You needed something longer to touch the back of your throat, to itch it directly. But your gag reflex would stop you from pushing anything too far... You needed someone to scratch it for you.

You struggled through the school day. Every minute felt like an hour. But you just needed to see him again, to ask for help...

When your psychology class came, you booked it into the classroom. Jiwoong was there before you and smiled at you walking in. Your body's immediate reaction was to start salivating as if it knew what would come. You approached Jiwoong as calmly as you could, trying to drink down as much spit as you could before speaking.

"Jiwoong, about yesterday–"

"I really am sorry about that. I shouldn't have been so forceful with you."

"No! I'm really not offended."

Jiwoong chuckled. "Well if you're sure. Just let me know if I can do anything to make it up to you, I just feel bad."

Your brain rang in alarm. This was your chance. "I–uhm, actually do have something you can help me with."

His eyes brightened. "Sure, anything."

"Can you come with me for a bit? Now?" You tried to contain yourself but the way you said "now" was almost like a moan. Jiwoong nodded and followed you out of the classroom. You led him down a few hallways until you found a secluded spot.

"What's wrong? Is it bad?"

You nodded. Struggling to keep it together. You picked up Jiwoong's hand before speaking, "I-I need a serious favor."

"Say it."

Your face burned with embarrassment with the words that came out of your mouth, "Can I please suck on your fingers?"

The silence was deafening. You stood there, unable to look at his face, waiting for his eventual judgment. But it never came–Jiwoong moved his hand to your lips. "Do I need to do anything specific?"

"You'll let me!?"

Jiwoong nodded. "I said I'd make it up to you. So, sure."

You couldn't hold it back anymore. You didn't waste another moment as you closed your eyes and took two of Jiwoong's fingers into your mouth. You pushed as far down as possible, gagging immediately as your body shook. You felt Jiwoong pull his hand away, maybe out of fear for your safety, but you opened your eyes to look at him. You silently begged for more.

Jiwoong moved his fingers back into your mouth, making your eyes roll. It felt so much different when he moved on his own.

You pulled off completely, swallowing a deep breath first. "C-Can you... do it?"

"D-Do what?" Jiwoong's eyes were wide as he watched your every move.

"Please... can you help me?"

"Just tell me what to do."

"Can you take control a bit? You can stop, but I can't do it alone."

Jiwoong smiled, cupping your cheek. "Okay, I can. If that's what you need, I'll do it. My way." Jiwoong fixed his stance before you, his energy completely switching. "Kneel for me," He commanded.

Slowly you knelt and looked up at him.

"Oh, that's perfect." He stroked your cheek again before putting his two fingers on your lips. "Open." You shivered at receiving the order as your mouth wrapped around his fingers. Jiwoong held the back of your head with his other hand and pushed you forward. His fingers pushed into your mouth as your tongue wrapped around them. They tasted sweet, like sugar, and were so soft. Jiwoong played with your tongue, stroked the roof of your mouth, and looked deep into your eyes the whole time. His chest rose sharply as he gripped your head tighter, his breath loud and ragged. "Y/n, stop for a second," He pulled you off him, leaving you gasping for air.

"Why? Please, don't stop–I'm not finished." You begged, almost crying from the absence.

"I know... I need help too." Jiwoong pushed your head toward his crotch, gently asking. "Can you help me too? It'll be good for us both." Sucking his fingers was the only thing you'd thought about. But now Jiwoong was offering something else... From what you could see from the bulge in his pants–he's huge.

You nodded slowly. "Please, let me suck it."

Jiwoong unbuckled his pants and let his cock out of his underwear. It slapped against your face. It was heavy and warm. It smelled clean with a hint of sweat. He tapped it on your face a few times before he pulled on your hair. "Open... Please." You could hear Jiwoong straining, trying to keep himself from being too rough with you.

You gently opened your mouth and went to reach for his cock. Jiwoong swatted your hand away. “No hands, just–let me.” Jiwoong slapped his cock on your tongue. “You’re so cute… It’s almost bigger than your face. Lick it, baby.” Your tongue darted out, giving small kitten licks, precum salty and sticky on the stiff muscle. Jiwoong’s jaw clenched as you swirled your tongue around the tip, then licked along his shaft slowly. “Very good,” He mumbled. “Just like that, keep going.”

Your spit dripped down his cock as you licked, almost choking on your spit as you climbed up it.

“Can I fuck your mouth?” Jiwoong grunted. You nodded gently, eyes begging for more. Jiwoong pushed into your mouth, cock heavy on your tongue as the tip hit your throat. “So wet–” He started moving, listening for your moans as the vibrations traveled up his cock. Every touch of the back of your throat hit the spot perfectly. You gagged, but with Jiwoong holding you there was no way to pull away. “Brace yourself.” Jiwoong started speeding up, now both hands were holding your hand as he moved your head on his cock in time with his thrusts. Your throat bulged as his length dove down your throat. You twitched and shook at the sensation overload. Jiwoong didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

He grunted at every thrust, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry–” His next apology was cut off by his orgasm crashing over him. His cum spilled into your throat, while his cock was still deeply invested in you, forcing you to swallow. “Take it… Every drop,” Jiwoong grunted as he pulled his cock from between your lips and took a good look at you. Red, teary love-struck eyes, swollen lips, breathing heavily. You enjoyed every second of it and couldn’t feel the itch anymore. Finally, you could think soundly. Then the thought of what just happened crept into your mind.

“Jiwoong, I…”

Jiwoong looked around while slipping his cock back into his pants. “We should get out of here.”

“About that, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t get rid of that feeling and I needed something…”

Jiwoong helped you to your feet. “I needed you too,” He kissed you, tasting himself on your lips. “And if you need assistance regularly, I can do that.”

You nodded. “I’d like that… A lot.”

Jiwoong’s hand slid down your stomach, “And, I can even repay you for–” Jiwoong’s eyes widened as his hand reached your crotch. “Did you cum already?” You slowly nodded. “You need some extra pants? I have my gym pants in my bag.”

“Yeah… if you don’t mind.”

[sommerbueckers]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐞𝐝

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✰ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟐𝐤

✰ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭...𝐰𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

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EVERYTHING WAS EXACTLY HOW it was supposed to be. All the guests had arrived on time and were clad in an array of pastel colors, the menu had been carefully crafted to cater to everyone's dietary restrictions, and the weather was forecasted to be warm and sunny throughout the entirety of the day. You should've been ecstatic, and yet you could hardly breathe.

You sat hunched over in a chair, a worn bucket positioned in front of you in case you needed to vomit. Tears welled in your eyes, on the verge of spilling down your cheeks and ruining your meticulously applied makeup. The prospect of falling ill just moments before walking down the aisle was a dreadful scenario, yet you couldn't compose yourself. You clutched your hand to your chest, your face contorting in a painful grimace.

"I can't do this..." you mumbled, more so to yourself than to the other women in the room, your bridesmaids, "I can't do it."

Your best friend, and maid of honor, had been at your side since the moment you started feeling sick. Her hand hadn't left your back, soothingly rubbing up and down as she barked orders at everyone. It was always like her to take charge and ensure things remained intact when you started to crumble, it was the reason you two worked so well together. It was the reason you could trust her to put you back together whilst you sat still and helpless.

"Somebody get Paige," she said aloud.

"No!" you cried, looking frantically at her, "No, no I don't want her to see me like this, she can't."

"Honey," she wore a look of sympathy as she spoke to you, "you gotta breathe. I'm gonna leave and she's gonna come in here, you're gonna be fine."

You could only nod in response. Morgan had always been adept at reassuring you, persuading you that everything was fine even when it felt like your world was unraveling. As the room gradually emptied, leaving just the two of you, you finally gave in to the tears, allowing the warm droplets to slowly trickle down your face.

Morgan held you tightly, her own eyes pricking with tears at the sight of her best friend in shambles.

You felt frustrated with yourself. Today was meant to be the happiest day of your life; after seven years of dreaming about it, you and Paige were finally getting married. It was the start of a new chapter you had eagerly anticipated. Yet here you were, on the verge of ruining everything because you couldn't manage your emotions. Why couldn't you just get a grip? Why couldn't you just focus on everything good that was to come instead of everything that could go wrong?

What if this doesn't work out?

What if she falls out of love?

What if she feels like you're trapping her?

Paige could hear your sobs through the door, and her own nerves rose at the mere sound of it. She hadn't been told why you were crying, all she knew was that you had refused to leave the room multiple times. Her hands shook as she grabbed the doorknob, twisting it open to reveal you and Morgan sitting in the corner. She could've sworn she felt her heart break in that moment, she had never seen you this pained.

Morgan stood to her feet, placing a kiss to your temple before approaching Paige at the door.

"What happened?" Paige whispered with furrowed brows, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Morgan and you.

"I have no clue," she shook her head, "she said she couldn't breathe and then she just broke down...I don't know what to do Paige." It was the first time in her entire life that Morgan had no idea how to calm you down, she was beginning to panic as well.

"I got it," Paige reassured her, watching her leave and then shutting the door after her.

As she carefully approached you, she could hear you mumbling frenziedly into your hands. Your bouquet was on the ground beside you, a combination of pink and white hibiscuses all tied together with a blush colored bow. The two of you had gone out to pick them yourselves, Paige wanted them to be just right for you. They were perfect, everything was perfect, why were you crying?

"'M'sorry," you sobbed, "'m'so sorry."

She comfortingly wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer to her.

"What happened baby? Tell me what's wrong," she whispered.

"I can't do it," you repeated for the second time that day.

"Can't do what?" she frowned. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, to assume that by 'I can't do it' you meant marrying her. She couldn't lose you, she wouldn't.

"What if...if this is a mistake?" you panted, avoiding her eyes as she fought to catch yours. "What if later on you meet somebody else or you realize that i'm not enough for you?"

It was then that she realized this wasn't about you at all, it was about her. You were scared that she was getting cold feet, that she was having second thoughts, that her mind wasn't made up. She held you closer to her, kissing the top of your head as her own tears began to fall. She wondered if it had been something she had done to convince you that she wasn't all about you, that she wouldn't pick you in a room full of every other woman in the world.

She pulled away from you to get a better look at your face, holding either side of your face with her hands. "Stop talking like that, stop. That shit is never gonna happen and I know that for a fact. I can sit up here right now and tell you that falling out of love with you is several levels above impossible."

You blinked out more tears, staring silently at her as she professed her undying love for you.

"I am so in love with you it scares me. Every day that I wake up and can't be with you because i'm away for basketball or i'm out with some friends or anything else, all I do is think about you. And even when i'm with you, i'm still thinking about you. I can't even keep my hands off of you, like i'd need to be physically restrained for that to happen. You make me wanna do things i've never done before like jump out of a plane or swim in that little ass cage with the sharks around it because all I wanna do it impress you. I want you to stare at me with those big brown eyes and tell me how much you love me, and I wanna record your laugh so I can listen to it on repeat whenever you're not around.

I want you to force me to watch romcom movies that you've seen a thousand times and are only watching again because you want me to see them. I wanna come home really late at night and find you sleeping on the couch in my clothes because you missed me, and then in the morning I want you to tell me how you tried to stay up to see me when I came home. I'm planning to take you to all the countries that you've dreamed about visiting and just haven't had the time yet. I'm gonna be front row at your med school graduation with a huge poster of your face that blocks everyone behind me from seeing you. I wanna go back and forth with you over what to name our first kid, and I wanna combine all of our money so we can build an obnoxiously big house.

I swear to God, and I never swear to him so that's how you know I'm being so serious, I'll be damned if I spend my life with anyone other than you. Nobody else is worth my time. All I need is you baby, that's fucking it."

You and Paige were bawling together, both of your makeup needing desperately to be redone. It would push the wedding back for sure, but that didn't matter now, Paige loved you.

You pulled her in for a kiss, ignoring the way both of your tears were mixing together. She wouldn't touch anything other than your arms, not wanting to ruin your dress.

"I love you. I'm not leaving this spot until you understand that," Paige said firmly.

You nodded your head, swallowing the lump in your throat that had begun to shrink since the moment Paige stepped in here.

"I understand it."

"Do you still wanna do this?"

You shook your head, watching intently as Paige let out a sigh but nodded nonetheless.

"I'm kidding! Fuck, let's fucking do this!"

Paige playfully pushed your shoulder, narrowing her eyes as she stood up. "I'm gonna go grab that fancy makeup lady and tell her to get you right, and then i'm telling Morgan to work her magic and impress everybody with one of her weird talents to buy us time," she explained quickly, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes! I'm fine, now go and fix the mess I made," you laughed.

She placed another quick peck on your lips, hurrying out of the room and leaving you alone with your thoughts again. This time however, they were a thousand times more collected than before. You laughed at yourself, you were silly to second guess Paige's love for you. She had never, not once, given you a reason to. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your face was a wreck and it'd take a miracle to hide the swelling of your eyes. But again, none of that mattered.

Paige loved you.

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[lazyneonrabbitt]

Beginning to learn

Adar x reader

Uruk and mortal learn things from one another in this. Suggestive themes.

Written with specifically season 1 Adar in mind.

You wandered the tunnels in search of Adar. There were matters to be discussed but it was like he avoided you.

He had been everywhere others told you to find him but by the time you got there all you were told was "Apologies, lady. Lord Father just left."

It took you almost hours to finally get to him and catch him off gaurd.

"Why do you avoid me?" There was a tone of annoyance to your voice and Adar visibly curled into himself at the directness of your words.

You and Adar were new to relationships, especially of mixed kinds. In the short weeks of knowing and being with each other Adar learned about mortal's routine bleeding. It had sent panic through his entire being as he found you in your chambers reeking of blood and in visible discomfort.

"I am confused as to why you believe I avoid you. The tunnels are close to completion and I am overwhelmed with overseeing it all." You could see he lied. His eyes had a tell. Yes, Adar was busy but it was not work that overwhelmed him.

It was your scent.

"Come take a break, then. If you are so overwhelmed. Calm your mind and eat with me, then you may go again." Even if he lied, it was still clear he was not entirely okay.

Taking a step towards him you caught his arms and pressed yourself against him to leave a kiss on his jaw.

"..Adar?" He was in trouble now, he felt the looming dark void in his mind grow. The voice that spat nothing but filth and hurt. You would be disgusted, how would you not be.

There was no denying you felt what you did with your body flush against his. With a quick glance down you took a step back to look him in the eyes.

"Are you ..aroused by me being near you? Is that why you ran?" You were confused. You and Adar had talked about communication and boundaries before, making sure both of you would voice your concerns.

"It is not that." The air of disgust was now visible to you as well, but it was unclear what is was directed towards. "I need to get used to smelling you in the air. Your current state is affecting me in ways I am sure you are uncomfortable with."

"My current.." You had no clue what he meant, but the idea of him believing you'd be uncomfortable with him being attracted to you was hurting your feelings more than him avoiding you.

"That's not a reason to avoid me. You are allowed to ask such things of me, I'm not afraid to lay with you if that is what you think." With a huff you crossed your arms and waited for a response, but he stayed quiet.

"Adar." You siged and looked at him. "I need you to speak. In clear terms, what is wrong here?"

"I can smell that you are.." You could see Adar search for his words. "Fertile.. Uruk noses are sensitive and I prefer to keep my distance as to not cause you any unease."

At his explaination heat rose to your cheeks. "You can smell that? What else do I need to know that you can just sniff out?"

While you were on one hand embarassed that your body was letting everyone know of something you had no control over, you were also curious to learn more about the uruks.

"There is also arousal, which I catch a slight hint of right now. Does this sort of talk interest you in such ways?" Adar's question made you want to let out a huff of laughter with how he did not seem to understand, but it also saddened you with how undesirable he saw himself.

A smile crept upon your face, now it had become your turn to be shy about things.

"What can I say. I suppose thinking about such things, about doing them with you is affecting me." You gave him an apologetic look, still unsure how he was faring in the moment.

Closeby the sound of a group of uruks drew closer and before you you watched him shake off his current state and hold himself with that leader stature that came naturally to him. "We'll speak more after today's business if attended to. In my chambers. Come find me then." You bid each other farewell and moved on.

Later that day, within the privacy of Adar's chambers you found yourself sat atop his hips. Your garment bunched up at at yours after you had helped him out of his armor and left him in just his tunic and trousers.

Adar's face still held no sign of true enjoyment.

"I am not offending you with any of my actions, am I?" You stopped your already slow ministrations, not wanting to cross a line.

"No, not offensive. I don't want you doing anything that makes you uncomfortable. Don't feel you must do this because of how my body responded before." One of his hands had come to rest against you, yet still over your garment instead of the skin of your thigh.

"You are not forcing my hand, nor my mind. I do this because I want to. There are no chains that bind me to these tunnels. No shackles that force me into this bed." With the utmost care you took his hand off your clothed waist and placed it on your bare thigh. "I want you. For my own pleasure, and yours."

There was loads of convincing needed to have him put his hands on you more intimately, let alone have his cock inside of you. Sighs of "oh, Adar please.." and "your hands feel so good." Turned into your combined moans as Adar finally gave in to the pleasure he felt. He gave up his control for you to take the lead and with the events from earlier gone from your minds you allowes him to spill inside of you, only realizing once the deed had already been done.

"You know the children you bear won't be fair like you.." The way he spoke sounded like he felt as if he cursed you, but you weren't letting him. Everything he gave you was a blessing, and never a curse.

"Fairness is in the eye of the beholder, my love. And I am sure they will be perfect."

You knew Adar wanted to speak against your words but he stayed quiet, knowing he could not win in this. You loved him and his children with all their flaws ans imperfections.

Perhaps, he thougt, he should start to learn from you in seeing himself through your eyes.

[yayll]

Hiii i hope you're feeling better soon :(( I was wondering if I could request a Dazai x reader fic where the reader has PTSD? Specifically, the beginning of autumn kind of triggers her (sorry if it's a confusing i dunno how to word it lol) Could it be fluff/comfort? Btw I love your writing style so badly so pls tweak the idea if you think it would work better! And no worries if you'd rather pass :33

hii angel i genuinely am sorry that this took me a while! (work and life happened a little more than usual, GOT SICK and barely had time to sit down and write.) it was so ivover but i am fine now thank u so much bub!

i REALLY hope you like this and that it's what u wanted, i've never written someone w PTSD before and i was just rlly hoping i didn't mess this characterization up for ur request ahhh. i had such a nice time writing it and i rlly wanted to explore the impact it could have around reader and dazai and him going out of his way even if it could be a little goofy and sappy to make u feel at least a little better even if u can't talk abt it.

i love uuuu thank u again! <3

~ a little something about Dazai noticing harmful patterns and loving you through them ~

He's been watching you sit by the window for the past half hour as you stare at what seems like the beginning of the new season outside. You were quieter than usual, more withdrawn and jumpy, which could only mean that you weren't sharing something with him- or rather having trouble processing something to the point where you didn't realize he could tell something inside you was on high alert.

Dazai would rather die than see you in such a state, especially during what's supposed to be such an exciting time of the year that's full of the things you usually love to do. Whatever is impeding you from enjoying the leaves falling has to be dealt with the most delicate of methods, but especially with love. If you taught him anything about the past haunting you to the point of mental distress, something he suffered bouts of every now and then when memories made days grow dark, it's that all you need is one person to truly witness you. Just like how you've seen the ugliest parts of him time and time again yet you still look at him with all the stars in the sky, stars he consumes like a black hole waiting to be filled.

Luckily for you, he has an arsenal of things he can try to soothe you with, because he wouldn't be a good detective AND boyfriend if he didn't keep all those context clues in his pocket for a bad day. Mainly though, he was just completely attuned to your every need. You are his happiness, and your wellness isn't up for debate: It's mandatory. He stands up from the loveseat with a deep exhale as he walks over to you, his lips curled in a lazy smile as he tests the waters to see what you could need from him without asking.

"You know, if you stay any more still I could probably paint you like one of those fancy paintings. What do you say, be my model?"

You look over at him from the window, and he can visibly tell you haven't been at ease lately. He suddenly realizes he's just fallen even more in love with you. That there is nothing in this world that could ever let him see you as anything but his heart.

You murmur, a faint smile decorating your serene face.

"Mm, I'm not sure. I don't think I could pose for that long, you know? It would probably be hard to catch my likeness, heh."

He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes with a playful smirk. Oh how he wants to lean in and worship your likeness with his loving touch, but he decides to take it easy on the physical affection for now, not until he knows you're feeling up for it. He can be a good boy, something he usually isn't.

"Well, I wouldn't mind being the brave young knight who tries~ Shall we take this outside for better lighting?"

You instantly don't give him a good reaction to that. You shrug, seeming conflicted and unsure of yourself, but unable to really bring yourself to explain with words, something uncharacteristic of you.

No problem! Dazai thinks to himself. If you don't want to go outside, he can bring outside to you in the comfort of home. He'll enhance your safe space, and tailor it to just what you need. He hums, tapping his temple in an exaggerated manner as if he were thinking really hard and when he sees that it gets a small giggle out of you, he knows he's on the right track.

"Hm, I know what we should do instead. Wait here, angel.~"

He disappears into the hallway and you sit there as the sound of cabinets opening and rummaging around fills the air. You smile to yourself, and shake your head at the mental image of Dazai becoming a tornado to find whatever he's looking for right now, hoping he doesn't make too much of a mess. You fidget with your hair, twirling it in between your fingers as you take a deep grounding breath while you wait.

A moment later, he comes back with what seems like art supplies and a ton of mini candlesticks.

He knows you're intrigued when you tilt your head in confusion, but then again that's probably just the confusion... Dazai sets down two canvases along with the candles, flashing you a mischievous grin. If you couldn't process your feelings through words, art was always there! You look over the activities he's laid out for you both, awaiting his silver tongued explanation.

"You know when I want to be the little spoon but I don't say anything?"

You laugh softly, and nod.

"Mhm, you get all moody and weird."

He nods back, a half smile on his face as he rests his hands on his hips. He wants to tell you that the only reason he even knew such intimate luxuries is because you showed him that he's worthy of it, of being loved, but he doesn't say anything. He lets the sweet memories between you swim through his mind as fuel for the day he's trying to create for you. His voice sounds more like he's talking out loud now, lost in a thought..

"You make me moody and weird. You also make me want to grab your soft little face and just..."

He then snaps back to the moment, and his tone picks up.

"... But alas, there is no time to waste! Come, sit, I'll get the other things ready.~"

He zooms off to the kitchen, and your heart softens at how much he fusses over you, though you also hope you aren't being too much. You know he'd hate to hear that, so you simply sit down and look over the supplies you had honestly forgotten you had.

Dazai makes tea, because he knows it helps with your fidgeting and you like how the mug feels in your hands, he also begins to set the candle sticks all over the living room, lighting them one by one. You flash him a look of faint concern.

"Feels like Dracula's castle. You sure this is safe, Osamu?"

He simply grins impishly.

"It's called 'mood lighting', cutie. There is an atmosphere to be created!"

"Yeah, and possibly a wildfire."

"Boo, you're no fun. Besides, that sounds like a problem for future us. We live in the moment."

Dazai would never risk your safety and you know that, which is why you don't push the topic any further.

You two settle in, the candles illuminating you both with a warm flame that feels more comforting than you'd like to admit, you feel yourself becoming more immersed in the random little doodles and brush strokes you create as you both talk for hours about literally nothing while sipping on your tea. Nothing feels nice, for once and Dazai can see it in the way you slowly become less and less tense. So mindful, so beautiful.

After you fill your canvas, you set it down, and peer over at Dazai's.

"What'd you paint?"

He smiles sheepishly, and hides his.

"Not finished yet. No peeking!"

He stands up and in one swift motion, runs outside, while leaving you bewildered at the spontaneity of the situation. A few moments later, he runs back inside, huffing with his arms behind his back. He sits back down on the floor with you, criss crossed. He grabs his canvas, and puts something on it as he slowly unveils his work to you.

It's a single crisp leaf he must have plucked from the grass when it fell, the orange and reddish hue placed on the canvas that shows a cartoonishly painted tree as well. He murmurs, eyes trained lovingly on you but with that familiar playful tone.

"I wanted you to get a little air. It's good for one's mood, you know."

You slowly take the leaf, and twiddle it in your thumb as you begin to smile to yourself. You mutter back.

"The weather changes, moods change, it's so overwhelming sometimes..."

He slowly leans in a little closer and places a hand on the small of your back, inching you closer to him too. He wants to distract you from those thoughts affecting you, but it's getting harder when all he can think about is how much you affect him. He whispers.

"My mood never changes, you're the most precious thing I have ever seen all year round."

You look up at him, your eyes communicating what you feel, and he picks up on it with a silent confirmation. You hold each other's gaze for a long quiet moment and when you feel ready you lean into his chest, nuzzling into him. He envelops you in a hug that feels like the remedy you've been searching for this whole time, and it almost brings you to tears. You don't know it also does the same to him. He gives you a soft squeeze and leans down to your ear, his warm breath feeling like the way life is supposed to feel. You mumble, your voice slightly muffled against him.

"Thank you, Osamu. Love you."

He smiles at that. To be something so soothing to you, to be of use for once in his life, it's a feeling that he could never describe. He'll have to find the words when he covers you in kisses from head to toe later, when he makes sure you feel the full extent of his devotion to you through thick and thin. He exhales deeply.

"Change of season, change of mind... It doesn't matter to me. It's still you. It will always be you."

[whereforarthur]

Brother’s Flatmate

Request: anything that starts angsty but ends fluffy PLS

Pairing: Arthur Hill x George’sSister!Reader

Category: Angst to Fluff

Word Count: 4.3k

*****

"Real love doesn't meet you at your best. It meets you in your mess." – J.S. Park

In the bustling heart of London, where the Thames River curved its ancient path, there was a man named Arthur Hill. He was known to many as a charismatic YouTuber with a velvety singing voice, yet to his closest friend George, he was simply Arthur, the bloke who was always there for a pint and a laugh. Arthur's flat, a cozy sanctuary tucked above a quaint bookstore, reflected his unassuming nature—a blend of vintage furniture and the faint scent of dusty pages that spoke of quiet nights spent reading and recording his latest vlogs.

The flat was often filled with the sound of George's raucous laughter as the two friends bantered over cups of tea. However, the dynamic changed whenever George's sister, Y/N, was around. She was a sharp contrast to Arthur's laid-back demeanor—ambitious, driven, and often blunt to the point of discomfort. Her visits were met with a tension so palpable it could be sliced with a knife.

Today was no exception. The moment she barged in, Arthur felt the atmosphere shift. He set aside his camera, knowing that the evening's vlog would have to wait. Y/N's eyes narrowed as she assessed the cluttered room, a clear judgment of his lifestyle.

"It's not just a bit of mess," she retorted, her voice laced with frustration. "It's a health hazard. And it's not like you don't know how to clean up after yourself, Arthur."

The unspoken hostility between them was a constant thorn in George's side. He had no idea what had caused the rift, only that it had grown wider with each passing year. Arthur and Y/N had never seen eye to eye, and it was clear that their dislike for each other was deeply rooted.

"Look, I've had a long day," Arthur said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Could we not do this now?"

Y/N scoffed. "I'm just saying, if you want to be taken seriously as an influencer, you should start by taking your living conditions seriously."

The comment hit a nerve. Arthur's success had always been a sore spot for her, a constant reminder of her own unfulfilled aspirations. Her words stung, and he felt his temper begin to flare.

"And what would you know about that?" he shot back. "You've never had to chase your dreams because you've always had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice dangerously low.

Arthur took a deep breath, knowing he had crossed a line. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, trying to backpedal. But the damage was done.

"You don't get it," Arthur said, his voice tight. "You never have. You think because I make videos and sing songs, I don't have a clue about hard work?"

"I didn't say that," Y/N replied, her voice equally as tense. "I said you should take better care of yourself. This place is a mess, and it's a reflection of your priorities."

The accusation stung, and Arthur felt his cheeks heat up. He had always prided himself on his authenticity, his willingness to show his true self to his followers. Yet here she was, suggesting he was a fraud.

"You think I don't know what real work is?" he spat out, his eyes flashing. "You sit in your fancy office all day, sipping lattes and bossing people around, while I'm out here, trying to make a difference in the lives of my fans."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You're not curing cancer with your videos, Arthur."

The words hung in the air, a challenge that Arthur couldn't ignore. "At least I'm not living a lie," he retorted. "Pretending to be someone I'm not just to climb the corporate ladder."

Y/N's job was a sore subject for her, a constant battle against the expectations of their family's legacy. He opened his mouth to intervene, but she was already responding, her voice icy.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about hard work, Arthur," she said, her eyes glinting. "You play dress-up and make jokes for a living. It's easy to be liked when you're not actually doing anything of substance."

The words hit Arthur like a punch to the gut. He had always felt a little guilty about his chosen career path, especially compared to Y/N's high-flying corporate job. But he also knew that his content brought joy and comfort to millions. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his cool.

"You don't know anything about what I do," he said, his voice measured. "You think it's all fun and games, but there's a lot more to it than you see."

Y/N folded her arms, unmoved by his defense. "Oh, I know all about it," she said. "You sit here, making videos that people watch to forget their own lives, and you think that's meaningful?"

"It is to them," Arthur said, his voice rising. "It's more than you do, stuck in your ivory tower."

Y/N's eyes flashed. "At least I'm not living in a fantasy world," she snapped. "At least I'm not chasing after something that's never going to be more than a hobby."

"It's not a hobby," Arthur said, his voice strained. "It's my life."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Your life? More like your escape," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You're afraid to face the real world, so you hide behind a screen and pretend you're important."

*****

Arthur's eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at her, the words cutting deep. He hated her—no, he didn't. He didn't hate her. It was something else, something more complicated. He hated the way she made him feel, the way she brought out his insecurities, the way she questioned his very existence. He hated that she could do that to him.

But he didn't hate her. She was George's sister, and George was his best mate. He couldn't hate her. Could he? The more he thought about it, the more he realized that what he felt was closer to fear. Fear that she might be right. Fear that he was just a glorified clown, dancing for the amusement of the masses.

He took a step towards her, his hands balled into fists. "You don't know anything about me," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "You think you're so much better, but you're just as lost as I am."

Y/N's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes flickered. For a moment, Arthur thought he saw a glimpse of vulnerability, a hint of doubt. But she quickly masked it with a sneer. "You're pathetic," she said. "You're wasting your life on this nonsense."

Arthur felt his heart racing, the blood pounding in his ears. He didn't hate her, not really. But her words stung because they echoed his own fears. He had always wondered if his career was just a facade, a way to avoid the responsibilities of adulthood. Yet here he was, standing up for what he believed in, for the community he had built, the fans who looked up to him.

"You're just jealous," he spat out, the anger giving him courage. "You're jealous that I found something I love, something that makes people happy."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "You think you're so special," she said. "You're not. You're just a pretty face with a decent singing voice."

Arthur felt his anger boil over. "And you're just a cold-hearted bitch," he said, his voice shaking. "You don't know the first thing about love or passion."

Y/N's eyes went wide with shock at the venom in his words. For a moment, she looked as though she had been slapped. Then, she laughed—a bitter, harsh sound that rang through the flat. "Love and passion? Is that what you call it? A bunch of teenagers worshipping you?"

The room was a battleground, the air thick with animosity. The line between love and hate was paper-thin, and it was clear that they had both danced upon it for too long. Arthur's heart felt as though it was being squeezed in a vice, the weight of her accusations crushing him. Yet, amidst the anger, there was something else—a strange warmth that he couldn't quite explain. It was as if their shared disdain had kindled a spark of something more.

Y/N's eyes searched Arthur's, and for a fleeting moment, he saw a flicker of doubt in her gaze. The mask of superiority slipped, revealing a hint of the insecurity that lay beneath. She had always been the successful one, the one who had everything figured out, while he had stumbled into fame almost by accident. Yet here they were, both lost in their own ways.

"Shut up," Arthur murmured, the words barely audible. He didn't know if he was speaking to her or to the voice in his own head, the one that whispered doubt and fear.

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes flashing. "Make me," she challenged, her voice low and dangerous. The air between them crackled with tension.

Arthur's hand shot out, his fingertips brushing against her cheek. It was a gentle touch, a stark contrast to the harshness of their words. Y/N's eyes widened, and she took a sharp intake of breath, as though she hadn't expected the softness. For a second, they just stared at each other, the electricity between them palpable.

Then, before he could think better of it, Arthur leaned in and kissed her—harshly, desperately. He kissed her as if he was trying to prove a point, to show her that he was more than the sum of his YouTube views and singing talents. He kissed her as if he could erase the years of contempt with one fiery gesture.

Y/N's body stiffened, her eyes widening in shock, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the kiss, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. It was a strange, intoxicating dance of anger and attraction that neither of them had seen coming. The heat between them grew, the air in the room thickening until it was almost suffocating.

*****

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Y/N's cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark with a mix of anger and something else—desire? Arthur couldn't tell. He felt as though he was drowning in confusion, his chest tight with emotion.

"I hate you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. But the way she said it, the way her breath hitched, told him she didn't mean it. Not entirely.

Arthur's chest tightened. "No, you don't," he said, his voice low and intense. "You're just scared."

Y/N's eyes searched his, a storm of emotions raging within them. "Scared of what?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Scared of admitting that maybe, just maybe, we're not so different after all," Arthur said, his voice low and earnest. "Scared of what this could be."

Y/N stared at him, her eyes searched his, looking for a sign that he was joking, that this was all some twisted ploy. But Arthur's gaze was unwavering, his expression raw and vulnerable. The truth of his words hit her like a tidal wave, and she felt the walls she had built around her heart begin to crumble.

"We're nothing alike," she whispered, her voice shaking. But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. They were both chasing their own versions of success, their own ways of making an impact on the world.

Arthur stepped closer, his hand still resting on her cheek. "We're more alike than you think," he said softly. "We both want to be seen, to be heard, to matter."

Y/N's breath hitched. She didn't hate him, not really. But she had spent so long pushing him away, hiding behind her sarcasm and scorn, because the alternative was too terrifying to consider. If she let him in, if she allowed herself to care, she might just get her heart broken. And she had been down that road before—she wasn't sure she could handle it again.

"I don't do feelings," she said, her voice a feeble attempt at the armor she had worn for so long. But Arthur's hand remained on her cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles that seemed to be unraveling her very soul.

"Well, you're doing a bloody good job of hiding them," Arthur said with a sad smile. "But I can see right through you, Y/N. And I think it's about time we both faced them."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of a bluff. But all she found was honesty, a stark contrast to the barbed words they had exchanged just moments ago. Slowly, she reached up and placed her hand over his, her touch tentative yet filled with a spark of hope. "What are you saying, Arthur?"

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words before speaking them. "I'm saying that maybe, just maybe, we should stop fighting and start understanding each other." His thumb continued to caress her cheek, his gaze never leaving hers. "We're both just trying to find our place in this world, and maybe we could help each other do that."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, the walls she had built around herself feeling more fragile than ever. The idea of letting Arthur in, of admitting that she might need someone, was as terrifying as it was tempting. Yet, she couldn't deny the undeniable pull she felt towards him, the way his touch made her feel seen, understood.

"I don't know if I can do that," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've spent so long pushing people away."

Arthur's eyes searched hers, filled with a gentle understanding that seemed to see right through her tough exterior. "I know," he said, his voice equally soft. "But maybe it's time to try something new."

The silence that fell between them was heavier than any of their previous barbs. Y/N felt the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand, and the sincerity of his words. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that usually surrounded their interactions, a gentle reminder that love could emerge from the most unlikely of places.

Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of a lie or a hidden motive. But all she found was a mirror to her own confusion and yearning. Arthur was right—they were both lost in their own ways, but perhaps together they could navigate the tumultuous waters of life.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice shaky with uncertainty. "Okay, let's try."

Their kiss was not gentle this time, but it was not fueled by anger either. It was a kiss of understanding, of two souls colliding in the messiness of their shared existence. Arthur's arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and she melted into him, her own arms snaking around his waist. It was as though they had been holding onto this moment for years, waiting for the perfect storm of words and emotions to bring it to the surface.

As they broke away, both panting, they stared at each other with a newfound appreciation. The hostility that had once dominated their interactions was now replaced with a strange, thrilling anticipation. They had both been hiding behind their own fears and insecurities, throwing jabs and insults to keep the other at bay. But in that one moment, they had found a common ground—the mess of their lives.

Arthur knew that real love didn't emerge from a perfect, pristine environment. It grew in the cracks of doubt and the weeds of imperfection. It was in the chaos of their shouting match that he had seen the real Y/N, the one who was just as lost and scared as he was. And in that chaos, he had found something beautiful—a spark of connection that was more real than any of the scripted moments in his videos.

They stood there, in the silence that followed the storm of their words, their hearts racing in unison. The tension between them had shifted, no longer a barrier but a bridge, a delicate yet solid connection that neither wanted to break. Y/N's eyes searched Arthur's, looking for confirmation that this was real, that she wasn't just imagining the tenderness in his gaze.

*****

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured, his thumb still tracing circles on her cheek. "For everything."

Y/N nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Me too," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I've been a bitch."

Arthur's hand slid down to her neck, his thumb brushing against the rapid pulse in her throat. "You've had your reasons," he said, his voice gentle. "But let's leave them behind now."

Y/N nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "Okay," she whispered. "Let's start again."

Arthur wiped the tear away with his thumb, his eyes never leaving hers. "We don't have to start over," he said softly. "We just have to start… differently."

Y/N took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against his chest. "Differently," she echoed, the word feeling strange and yet incredibly right on her tongue.

Arthur's gaze searched hers, his eyes filled with a warmth she hadn't seen before. It was as though he had just discovered a hidden treasure, something precious that had been buried beneath layers of anger and misunderstanding.

"I didn't know," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "I didn't know it could feel like this."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searched his, and she could see the realization dawning in his gaze—the raw, unfiltered understanding of what love truly meant. It was as if he had just stepped into the sunlight after years of darkness.

Arthur's eyes searched hers, the weight of his realization heavy in his gaze. It was a look that spoke of a thousand unsaid words, of moments of doubt and fear that had led them to this precipice. In that instant, she knew that he saw her—the real her, not the armored version she presented to the world. He saw the vulnerability she had worked so hard to hide, the softness that lay beneath the sharp edges of her sarcasm.

"Neither did I," she murmured, her voice shaky. She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin, the steady beat of his heart under her palm. The tension between them had transformed into something new, something that made her heart flutter in a way she had long ago convinced herself she was immune to.

They stood there, in the quiet aftermath of their confrontation, the air charged with the electricity of their newfound connection. It was strange, terrifying, and yet, somehow, it felt more real than anything she had ever experienced. For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, she had found someone who truly understood her.

"We'll take it slow," Arthur said, his voice low and soothing. "We'll get to know each other without the baggage of what we've always thought we knew."

Y/N nodded, the tightness in her chest slowly easing. The idea of taking it slow was both comforting and exhilarating. She had always rushed into things, eager to prove herself, to conquer and claim. But with Arthur, she felt the need to be gentle, to tiptoe around the fragility of this newfound bond.

"Okay," she said, her voice a whisper. "We'll start tonight."

*****

They decided to order takeout, a simple meal of fish and chips from the chippy down the street. As they waited, Arthur suggested they watch one of his videos together, one that had a special meaning to him. Y/N agreed, her curiosity piqued.

The video was of Arthur singing a cover of an obscure indie song, the melody haunting and beautiful. As he watched her reaction, he explained how the lyrics had resonated with him during a particularly tough time in his life, how the words had given him the courage to keep going. Y/N listened, her eyes never leaving the screen, and for the first time, she saw the depth of his passion, the raw emotion that fueled his art.

When the video ended, she turned to him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I had no idea," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I never knew you felt like that."

Arthur took her hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles on her skin. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he said, his voice gentle. "And I want to show you."

The night stretched out before them, a canvas of unexplored possibilities. They talked, shared stories, and laughed—the kind of laughter that washed away the years of tension and left them feeling lighter, freer. It was a tentative start, a delicate dance of opening up to each other.

As they sat there, on the couch in Arthur's cluttered flat, surrounded by the detritus of his life, Y/N felt something within her shift. It was as though she had been holding her breath for years, and now, finally, she could exhale.

The kiss that followed was not driven by anger or spite. It was born of a newfound respect, a tentative curiosity that grew into a blaze of passion. Their lips met, and it was as though all the words they had left unsaid were finally finding their voice.

When they parted, Y/N's heart was racing, her cheeks flushed. She looked into Arthur's eyes and saw the same wonder reflected in his gaze. They had crossed a line, stepped into a place neither had dared to tread before.

"I don't know what this is," she murmured, her voice husky.

Arthur leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "Neither do I," he said. "But I know I don't want to let it go."

And so, with the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the window, they embraced the uncertainty, the thrill of the unknown. They had found something in each other that was more than just friendship or rivalry. It was a connection that defied logic, a bond forged in the fires of their shared pain and doubt.

As they sat there, holding each other tightly, Y/N felt the first stirrings of a love that had been buried beneath layers of contempt. It was a love that had been waiting for the right moment to emerge, a love that was as real and as raw as the music that filled Arthur's soul.

The future was uncertain, fraught with the potential for either heartbreak or a love that could surpass their wildest dreams. Yet, in that moment, all that mattered was the here and now. They decided to take it one day at a time, to build their relationship on a foundation of honesty and mutual respect.

The weeks that followed were filled with tentative smiles and gentle touches, as they both learned to navigate the new waters of their blossoming relationship. Y/N began to see Arthur not just as George's friend, but as a complex individual with his own fears and aspirations. She admired his dedication to his craft and the way he connected with his fans, bringing joy to the lives of so many.

Arthur, in turn, discovered the strength and resilience behind Y/N's sharp exterior. He saw the passion she brought to her work, the way she fought for what she believed in, even when the odds were stacked against her. Her ambition was no longer a source of irritation but a quality he found himself drawn to, a reminder that there was more to life than just his own small corner of the internet.

*****

Their first date was a simple walk along the South Bank, the Thames reflecting the soft glow of the setting sun. They talked about their hopes, their fears, and the moments that had shaped them into the people they were today. The conversation flowed as easily as the river beside them, and with each step, they grew closer.

Holding hands, they stumbled upon a small jazz club, the music spilling out onto the cobbled streets. Arthur looked at Y/N, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Dance with me?" he asked, leading her inside.

The intimate venue was crowded, but they found a spot near the stage. As the music swelled around them, they swayed together, lost in the rhythm and the warmth of their bodies. Y/N felt a sense of belonging she hadn't experienced in a long time, as though she had finally found a place where she truly fit.

Their relationship grew steadily, each moment revealing a new facet of the other. They discovered shared interests, like a love for obscure British sitcoms and a passion for long, meandering conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. The flat that had once been a battleground of snark and sarcasm now echoed with laughter and whispered secrets.

Yet, as much as they enjoyed their time together, the specter of their past remained. George, caught in the middle, watched with a mix of bewilderment and happiness as his sister and best friend grew closer. He knew the history of their animosity, the depth of the scars that still lingered beneath the surface.

One evening, as the three of them sat around Arthur's kitchen table, the tension grew thick. Y/N reached for Arthur's hand under the table, a silent plea for support. He squeezed it gently, a reminder that they were in this together.

"Look," Arthur said, breaking the silence. "We've all said things we regret. But we're trying to move forward. Can't we just… be happy for each other?"

George studied them, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "I just want you two to be happy," he said. "But don't expect me to understand it."

Y/N and Arthur shared a look, a silent promise to navigate this new chapter with care. It was a step forward, a small but significant one. They knew they had a long way to go, but for now, they were content to simply enjoy the dance they had found themselves in.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23 @xxkatxgracexx @pookietv

[meanbossart]

Alright, I am like 90% sure there is ONE line in A Novel Experience touching on Gale GTFOing rapidly, so I don't think there are answers in there for me. So I come to you and ask-WTF went on between Gale and Drow???

Alright, so

There are two versions to what happened to Gale in my first campaign (the OG DU drow campaign that this whole universe is based around), lets begin with the technical version. As I've only somewhat recently come to understand, my Gale was bugged. I had 1 interaction early in the game that slightly veered into romance which didn't go anywhere, and first chance I had I clarified that I was not interested in him that way (the whole reason why It happened in the first place was because i misunderstood his dialogue). Despite this, and despite me turning him down in every romantic interaction following, I kept getting them and my interactions with him were as if we were romantically involved. I even got one exchange (the one about muscles glistening and cheeks flushed) twice, and rejected him both times.

So, later in the game once DU drow and Astarion sucessfully 5d chess-ed their way into falling In love, I was surprised to still be informed i had to "break things off" with Gale if I wanted to get with him. Which I did. And he gave me a whole spiel about it.

Now it's crucial you understand this was early in the game's release, I went into it completely blind and I had never played a game like Baldur's Gate before, so I was not familiar with the mechanics at all, which... Kind of led me to believe Gale was just like that normally.

From that point on I was highly amused, but for roleplaying purposes I decided my drow would have been highly annoyed and a little creeped out. And so I proceeded to be extremely rude to the guy at every chance I got. This eventually resulted In him pursuing the crown of Karsus despite me (rudely) telling him that was a very dumb idea.

The second version of what happened, as I already touched on above a little bit, Is the Narrative one. As I mentioned I had no clue what was and wasn't supposed to happen, so I just... Went along with it within the role-play.

So our beloved DU drow gets worms. He goes on a grand adventure with this weird possy of people to find a cure. When the tiefling party comes everybody except Astarion wants to get into his pants (because I left him on the beach for like a week and then proceeded to be The Rudest to him, sorry babe, I didn't see your pale ass and the asshole dialogue options were Really funny).

Someone else who Didn't seem to wanna fuck him was the wizard. He said he just wanted to show him a magic trick and he (and, I'll admit, me) really thought that was just that. The scene unfolds, Gale tries to teach DU Drow to cast a spell but his 9 intelligence says No. The unsolicited date ends abruptly because Gale is upset that a champion fighter without a single cantrip makes for a shitty wizard. DU Drow thinks thats the end of that - It's Not.

Then what proceeds to happen is a long, annoying, somewhat unsettling dynamic where Gale continually tries to pursue him throughout the game, coming to the point where the guy I'm Actually interested in thinks we are together - and when DU drow tells him verbatim that he had no idea they were even a thing in Gale's mind, he has to hear him whine about it. Add to that the fact that all Gale talks about is his ex-girlfriend, DU drow is (kind of justifiably) led to believe he must be a Profound weirdo to whom he cannot ever say even a Neutral word to again lest he becomes any more infatuated with him - 0r whatever the hell is going on.

Whether it be DU drow's own inflated ego or the actual truth, when Gale begins to pursue the crown he also assumes he's just doing it to spite him - so he isn't the kindest to him about that either.

And within this narrative that I concocted around a simple bug that didn't let me end a romance, I cannot imagine Anyone getting on particularly well with Gale within my main party. Drow thinks he's madly in love with him, Shadowheart is probably a little confused but she trusts DU Drow's word on the matter more than the Wizard's, Astarion thinks... What Astarion thinks.

So, no, they didn't part on the best of terms.

Before anyone gets mad, I assure you - I've completed the game again since then, I realize this is Not the intended Gale experience. He's a hysterical and deeply interesting character and only Slightly clingy and weird.

But, you gotta admit, this is way funnier.

[seirei-bh]

I'm trying to calculate or at least approximate in headcanon the ages that I think each character is in New Gen

First according to ep 5, Ysaline is 22 years old, since she says that she was 9 when her sister Tasha was 3, and now her sister is 16, (although since each sucrette is customizable, I think each player can have the freedom to decide what age prefer to imagine that they have their sucrette in New Gen, and that's what I'm going to do with mines)

Anyway, this also gives us a clue as to at least Thomas's current age. And also this other important fact: Thomas is 10 when OldSucrette (Lynn) is 17. So they are 7 years apart.

And there's supposed to be a 3-year time jump after Love Life to the special crossover ep. Since Lynn is 26 in LL, she is 29 in that special ep.

If we subtract 7 from 29, then Thomas is 22 years old. The same one as supposedly Ysaline canonically.

Now, it is much more difficult to estimate the age of the other characters. The only clue we have is that Elenda said in ep 4 that she was 6-7 when Devon was 10-11. Taking into account that many stories in video games, books and animes sometimes tend to use even and round numbers in big time-skips so that readers can easily remember the dates, it makes me assume that 20 years have passed since that time. So Elenda would be 26-27 and Devon about 30-31. Now the problem is that we don't know if Roy and Devon are the same age or if Roy is younger, we only know that they went to the same high school and so did Elenda, and these three met each other since they were kids, but I'm inclined to think that Roy and Devon were more like friends in a sense of older-younger brothers, since Devon seems older due to his features and behavior, so perhaps Roy is the same age as Elenda. I can be wrong though, and Roy and Devon being the same age, but this is what I think for now~

We also don't know Amanda's age, but due to her features, she appears to be around the age of Thomas and Elenda. Although Elenda in a scene from ep 3 defines herself as "the fairy godmother of Devenementiel" and says that she was there from the beginning, while Amanda seems like a recent member of the company, which makes me think that perhaps Elenda is a little older than Amanda.

Jason could be either Roy's age or Devon's age, but I'm inclined to think that it would be more convincing for Jason to be Devon's age, given his features, and since they are both company bosses and direct rivals, it would make sense for them to be the same age, and olders than the other crushes.

And Brune seems from her features to be somewhat older than Elenda, but perhaps not as old as Devon.

So my final conclusions are:

Thomas: 22 (the only age probably canon for now) Amanda: between 22-24 Roy: 26/27 Devon: 30/31 Jason: 30/31

Elenda: 26/27 Brune: 28~

There are other possibilities, of course. But the only thing we can be quite sure of is Thomas's age, being 7 years older than Lynn and the same as Ysaline, and that Devon is 4 years older than Elenda. It's also possible, for example, that they are all 22 except Devon and Jason being 26, but Rayan Zaidi is 33 in UL and Devon and Jason's features seem -at least from my pov- closer to that age than in the middle of the twenties~

Anyway, I'd like to know the opinion based on these calculations and/or headcanons of other players regarding this topic 💜

I guess we won't know until they confirm it in the game, if they confirm it in future eps, however if it is never revealed, I'd really like to know what the canonical ages of each crush are. So @chinomiko if you ever see this, please it'd be wonderful if you could answer this some day, or at least if these ideas are close to the canon. I know that the age of each character is something that doesn't have too much importance since everyone can imagine what they want, but I am especially curious about Jason and Devon <3 Besides these details are always useful for fanfic material.

[thefirstknife]

hey have you seen the lore tabs for the exotic ghost shell and ship in the super high levels of the season pass? if so what do you make of them. like, speaker is a new light, has a name starting with s, is dealing with vex, and speaks as if theyre part of humanity in the ship lore tab like that cant possibly be maya sundaresh right but im not sure what other candidates there could be since the episode is called echoes and is almost certainly going to involve the vex on nessus

I've seen them! There's also one on the sparrow of the same type. I genuinely have no idea. There's some clues in the tabs, but they're super hard to understand without context, but yes, I do believe this is Maya.

Spectrum Shell, Unbridled Iridescence sparrow, Polychroma ship. Putting them in this order, because of the number on the log. Each lore has a "personal log" with a number: 0002, 0025 and 0031.

It starts with a vague description that I don't think shows a new light or a Guardian at all:

It is strange to be awake, physically, after so long spent wandering.

This is very peculiar; it has the vibe of this person having existed in some other form before gaining physical form. Since we know we'll be dealing with the Vex and Maya, this immediately reminds me of Ishtar scientist simulations.

Following the number of the logs, there's "AS." The speaker explains what this means:

Keeping a log will help, at the very least to track the days. As will my silly little joke to make myself feel important, two days after the rebeginning of myself. Anno… me. I suppose.

This specifies that the "0002" is "two days" and the "AS" is a joke on the time designation: "anno" being "year" as when used for example in "anno domini" (year of our lord) or AD. Instead in this case it's the author's name which as you've noted begins with an S. This bit:

I ignored and abandoned the best person I knew. I feel foolish, empty. Daunted at the immensity and masochism of my own stupidity. It feels childish to admit I'd always assumed she would follow me.

... first made me consider it being Maya thinking of abandoning Chioma. Then "S" would be Sundaresh, and it would also fit with her being a simulation newly awake and finally physical, as would the rest of the information of the author being a scientist and knowing things from the Golden Age.

Also interesting from the first lore tab:

At least I am not alone here. My new ally more than makes up for the Vex's dreadful company. His disposition is calming, reassuring—a welcome voice when I need affirmation and guidance. And such a fascinating origin! Such astounding variance in biology and culture. I look forward to our continued partnership.

The author has some sort of an "ally" among all the Vex, someone with a "fascinating origin" and "astounding variance in biology and culture." I have no idea what this means. Possibly non-human? Or at least neo-human, so perhaps Awoken? If this is Maya, she would not know about the Awoken. I'm thinking Awoken because, if we're dealing with the Vex, there's a guy in there: Asher Mir. But I would NOT describe Asher as calming and reassuring. Another option is possibly Mithrax? If we're dealing with some Vex shenanigans, he might be involved.

The sparrow lore originally made me feel like it's Maya because of the topic of discussion; the science and philosophy of personhood and simulations. The author also mentions "pre-Veil contact philosophy" which implies the author has been there or is at least well-read on the topic, which suggests a connection to the Golden Age. Also:

Traversal through other states of being are possible, as proven by my own journey and ascension over my Vex...

"Proven by my own journey" also would imply Maya, but the addition of the ominous "my Vex" is strange. Is this a hint to the new plotline then? Maya ascending over the Vex and becoming capable of controlling them or just using them in some way? Wild. Curious addition in the next paragraph with "... Vex, even these older ones..." Older Vex? As in Precursors? Or something else? I am very intrigued.

The ship lore is somewhat concerning as the author talks about humanity's unwillingness to continue progressing:

My hypothesis is that it is a true technological leap that hinders us. Perhaps when humanity sees what can be accomplished using a force that can reshape the planet itself, they will feel secure enough to turn to science once again.

The author thinks we can use a "force that can reshape the planet itself" to continue the technological advancement of humanity. A what? Is this something to do with Nessus and the Vex abilities to terraform? Furthermore:

These are problems my Vex can alleviate. Why take risks with AI when a more straightforward force may be utilized to facilitate a civilization's rise? Related… research with my ally has proven the path forward. Radiolaria remains easiest; its individual minds are simply so small, although they are multitudinous their connections make it simple. Other larger, more complex minds prove difficult for the time being… But I am not unfamiliar with the rigor of practice. I will delight in trial and error.

Again with the "my Vex" and the implication that the Vex can be used for these advancements, specifically radiolaria. This also includes "research with my ally" which makes me want to discard Mithrax as an option because he would simply not be suggesting these things. But who knows about the radiolaria's effects on people and transformation? Well, Asher does. However, I don't think Asher would suggest this either? Like, he may have the research, but I don't think he would ever make any implication that this would be good.

This was my thought process reading these. There's a lot of context missing and I can't wait to get back to them after the Echoes starts. I'm definitely leaning on this being Maya and don't have any other theories for who it might be. If anything, then another Ishtar scientist, but I doubt it they would put anyone other than Maya or Chioma here and it doesn't sound like Chioma nor does she have the "S" as her name.

I have no other theories for the "ally" either; my only other thought is Praedyth, whom Maya and the scientists met at one point and he helped them escape (?) the network. That was the whole deal in Aspect lore book + what seems to have been implied with the Starcrossed ending. Praedyth would also know a lot about the Vex to help with research, but he would equally not be someone thinking using Vex for a technological leap is good. Interestingly enough, a D1 quest somewhat implied Praedyth was part of the Future War Cult, which adds another layer of his connection to Maya.

The most of what I'm getting from this is that Echoes is going to be really damn cool.

[alatuswind]

Attack on Titan Nintendo 3DS game translation (#13)

This is a translation I did for fun as I was curious to know what this scene from the game was about. As I couldn't find any translation I decided to share the one I did. There are probably mistranslations as I don't speak Japanese, but, once again, this was just for fun. I accept any corrections

(Door opens and closes, and steps are heard Hange appears in Erwin's office, glasses up and angry, talking loudly.)

Hange: Aah! No more! I can't do this! At all!

Levi: It's noisy, be quiet.

Hange: (still talking loudly, now with the glasses) But hey! Can something like this happen!? Sonny, too! And Bean too! They were cute children that I cared for with great care! From now on! For humanity! A lot! It was supposed to be helpful! I can't even look into those round eyes anymore!? Who could have done such a thing!

Erwin: (ignoring Hange) Levi. What are the tea leaves today?

Levi: It was diverted from the centre. Not bad.

Hange: (angry and talking loudly) Hey, you two. Are you listening!?

Erwin: (looking at Hange) Calm down, Hange. Why don't you drink it too?

Hange: (in a more calm voice but still bothered) I'm not having tea. It isn't the time for a drink.

Erwin: Well, don't say that.

(Erwin makes a cup of tea and gives it to Hange)

Hange: (sighs, calm) ････････････, phew! I see, it tastes good.

Levi: So, You still don't have any idea who did it?

Hange: Not at all. Not even a clue. We've been completely outwitted. The only certain thing is that the crime was committed using a three-dimensional mobile device.

Levi: ･･････ I see. ････････････････････････ Erwin, are new recruits also eligible?

Erwin: Of course, this year's 104th training corps seems to be full of people with strong habits.

Hange: Ah, some kids are really smart, right? That's interesting.

Erwin: (agrees silently) ････････････････････････

Hange: (silence) ････････････････････････

Levi: ････････････････････････It's been 5 years

Erwin: Yes, that would be a reference point. It seems like it would be a good idea to exclude those who have been there for a while before that.

Hange: Five years. Now that I think about it, it was around that time that Levi joined the Scout Regiment. 5 years ･･････ or was it 6 years ago? When he first came in, he was like "I don't care about anyone!" So it was hard to get close to him.

Levi: (rudely) Shut up, damn glasses.

Hange: Yeah, like a wounded cat! But now, we're so open to each other. Well, you know, from the very beginning I knew we'd definitely get along!

Levi: ･･････ Who's good friends with whom?

Hange: Of course, it's me! However, Levi is loved by everyone. I was surprised at how strong he was right after joining the Scouts, but now he's the captain who brings everyone together. I think it's amazing that it's only been 6 years.

Levi: Even after 6 years, your annoyance hasn't changed. I think it's a big deal.

Erwin: (approaching) ･･････It's about time, both of you. (with a more serious expression) Levi. Next outside the wall check, you will be in the centre of the fifth row.

Levi: ･･････ Understood.

Hange: Take care of Eren. Because the fate of humanity depends on him.

Erwin: (still serious) Hange, how are you preparing?

Hange: (starting to get enthusiastic) Do you want to hear it? That's right, it's the best feeling. We have strengthened the elasticity of the wire. Efficacy testing has already been completed. The results are as expected. All that's left to do is wait for that time. Well, it was worth hitting the investor's ass until there was no dust left!

Erwin: That's why we need results.

Levi: You just have to put it out.

(Cups and spoons are heard. Everyone appears with a cup of tea. Erwin is with a teacup in his hand looking at Levi. Levi is drinking his tea and looking at Hange. Hange is happily pouring tea into the cup.)

Levi: Erwin, are you sure that he will definitely come?

Erwin: Yes.

Hange: (distracted and starting to sound creepy) Well, I have to treat them well, after all, they took Sonny and Bean from me. I need to deal with them in place of those children. I'll leave aside the question of whether they're human or non-human for now. What should I do?

Levi: ･･････ Erwin. I feel a little sorry for that guy just for now.

Erwin: What a coincidence, Levi. Me too

Hange: (didn't hear) What, what are you two talking about?

Erwin: No, it's nothing.

Levi: I'm talking about the tea being delicious. You should taste it too.

Hange: Hmm, let's see. ･･････

(Cups and spoons are heard. Hange drinks.)

Hange: Oh, it’s true. It’s delicious——

[flymetosnarryland]

A little progress.

I'm working on "Infraction." My precious baby, uh. This art is part of it in a way. Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape. When people are falling in love everything seems easy, but then life happen.

(I'd like to talk about how things are going with Infraction.)

I'm back on it since couple of weeks and working on it is intense (my brain is literally boiling). I don't think I ever planned a story for that long. The first idea has born 6th January this year. I was writing down (like crazy) everything I wanted to be in this fic. During first months it was chaotic and messy, but brought me so much joy. When I've had everything that (I thought) I needed, I wrote first chapters, yeah. And then shared them, because was so excited about all of it and just couldn't wait. Gosh.

Now I... hm... well, maybe not "regret" it, but I think, I totally should have wait. Why is that? First thing first, this story is not ready yet for being written in, you know, final version. It's too fat, lol.

I may want too much from it. There is a lot, like, seriously, A LOT of things to cover. First notes took me around 80 pages and it had many gaps in it (too much if you ask me). Things I needed to figure out and fill in, in the same time making everything work together. Because this Snarry is not sprinkled with crime. It's filled with murder, political shenanigans, family shiteshow and tough, not always appropriate, love. There are secrets and lies, blackmails and history that matter. Backstory of many people, whose actions over the years supposed to bring us to the point where we are now. And, you know, all of it gives me the thrill. First time in my life I feel like a true Puppet Master.

So, couple weeks ago I started to write a proper outline, if I can call it like that. To put everything in order and, going from the very beginning, to fill all the gaps. To answer all the questions I was asking myself in notes. To figure out the missing clues, some details without I couldn't go further and with that - to find out how characters will change facing new situations. How they will grow (I really love this part). Sometimes I think, "why am I even doing it?" I could just write some cosy, little fic where Harry and Severus' silly problems would be the main goal of the story. Like, focusing on them should be enough, right? Why am I going for all the other things, if I just want them to shag and have their happy end after all? 😂

Well, if it's not for fun, I don't know the other reason. The level of excitement is just incredible. I don't know, if what I'm writing is good or bad. If it really has sense, because I've always seen myself rather as a potato, not as a great mastermind who can plot some good shite, you know. That said, "Infraction" feels even more challenging that I ever thought it will be. But I feel deep inside that I can do it. Going step by step where the main plan leads and... it just feels good.

I've started in October 1989. Now I'm in January 2011. It means that I managed to finish everything that happen before the fic starts, lol. And, actually, I almost covered the first part of the book. So, two more to go? Hehe. It'll take time, yes. It's crazy how much I want to continue writing the main chapters, not only swim in the plan-phase. Drawing the series of "Muggle London" art helped me a lot with easing this itch. However, it's still there. I know, though, that I have to finish it. The whole outline, I mean. Without it, things can go south.

That said, I can't tell how long it will take. Couple weeks? Maybe months. This is really... a lot of work and I want to be proud of it. Even more so, because this fic means a lot to me. I know it may not be, you know, mind blowing or something. But I hope that giving it all my love, it could be, you know, not that bad for reading, hehe.

[captain-mj]

Hear me out

Angel Graves being tempted by Demon Price :]

Hell yeah brethren, I can do that

This is rather short because I'm working on two longer things right now (both will be one part, they're just a bit longer and time consuming)

Price stared at his little prize, admiring the bright wings, the soft features and the plush looking ass. He shouldn't be so vulgar. Not with an angel at the very least. But how could it be helped when Graves walked around like that? In soft white robes that showed off way too much skin to be considered Godly. Price was in a nice suit at least, as proper for a demon.

Graves glowered down at him, wings up and defensive. "What are you doing?"

"Admiring you."

Graves scowled more and his wings quickly twisted to cover himself. "Your wretched eyes should not be gazing upon me."

"Then burn them out of my skull. I'll enjoy it." Price purred and Graves slapped him with one of his wings hard enough to wind him. Then he was gone with nothing more than a fluttering of feathers left behind. "Damn it."

They met again later. Graves had wandered on to Price trying to make a deal with a human and had cruelly prevented Price from doing so. It irritated him, making his tail twitch back and forth.

"You're evil. Taking advantage of that man." Graves pouted at him.

Price growled, watching the feathers start to stand on end. "It's my job. Something you should know about. Or do you just stand on clouds tempting mortals to the sin of lust."

Graves's face lit up gold and it took Price a moment to realize he was blushing. "I! I!! I do not tempt mortals to have lustful thoughts!"

"You certainly make me. Though, it's less a temptation and more of a need. The idea of losing myself in your flesh... Maybe it would make me more holy."

Graves disappeared again. Price could feel himself growing more irritated. He both wouldn't get a deal today (he wasn't even going to take the man's soul!!) and his angel left. Again.

Price was tenacious though. He tried again. He wore sluttier clothing with jewelry that hung around his neck and along his belt loops.

It caught Graves off guard to see him in such a state. The golden blush covered his face again. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're dressed differently."

"Yes. Different situations means different outfits."

Graves blushed brighter, face glowing ethereally. He raised a wing to cover Price right as it started to rain. "Ah. I do not see how this outfit is beneficial for this situation."

"I am tempting people to lust and covet. Shoving off my body does that easily."

"I felt the suits you wore did a perfectly good job showing off your body"

"So you looked?"

Graves went quiet, looking away. He kept them both from getting wet. "No."

Price laughed. "You did. It's okay. You're not sinning. Am I not also part of God's creation?"

"You're an abomination."

"Yes, but this body was crafted by God. Her loving hands."

Graves looked away, getting flustered. "I suppose."

"So it is not a crime for you to gaze upon me. I'd say it's encouraged."

Graves shook his head and continued to refuse to glance at Price.

"You know, how can you keep people from sinning if you have no clue what it feels like to indulge?"

"I do not need to know what it feels like to sin."

"But wouldn't it help you improve?"

Graves hesitated, looking at him cautiously. Then, he let his gaze wander over Price's body. He could see it. The beginnings of lust.

Water started to pour down on him when Graves disappeared. He looked around, trying to hide his disappointment. Reluctantly, Price went home.

Graves kept reappearing now. Never staying long. Just... lingering.

Price started to show off. Flirting with people. Exposing skin. Making himself more and more alluring.

Graves started to look more and more distracted. Until Price caught him off guard and managed to get his hands around him. His waist was perfect.

Graves gasped and his back arched. "Wait."

Price pulled him closer, the heat building between the two of them. "Give in to me. Let me pleasure you."

"I shouldn't."

"I know. But please. Let me be selfish."

"I... I can't I..." Graves broke off when Price brushed against his wings. He reached up and stroked them gently, causing pleasured shivers to run through him. Before Price could pull away, not wanting to do anything to Graves without consent, Graves pressed closer. "don't stop."

Price pressed back and started to tug gently at the feathers. More pleasure ran up Graves's body. He started to press against him more and continued to explore. Graves was deliciously reactive. Each brush and tug and press of his fingers breaking him down to nothing but sensations.

Price dragged him to the floor and put Graves's legs over his shoulders. While part of him would love to take his pleasure from Graves, to fuck him until he felt content, something about letting the angel just feel sounded enticing. He made sure his fingers were incredibly slick before he dared to try to press them into him. His mouth worked hard on Graves's cock, hollowing his cheeks and taking him all the way down until Graves squirmed and whined.

"Please. Please, sir."

Price moaned at the honorific, hips rolling against the floor as he pleasured himself.

Graves groaned and his back arched as he tried to get more. "Please. Oh, it's so good. So good."

Price hummed softly and felt Graves throb in his mouth right before he came.

He tasted sweet but it burned his mouth where it fell past his lips.

[flippinpancakes64]

Jasper with a Cervitaur Mate

A Cervitaur is a deer Centaur, something like:

(this is also my art, feel free to use it)

Jasper with a Cervitaur! Reader

Tbh going into this I had no clue what a cervitaur even was. I feel like the premise is self-explanatory though so I'm rolling with it

Also I am making another attempt at a narrative story so hopefully this is good. I just figured that headcanons wouldn't be able to do this topic justice

And yes as always I got carried away sue me

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

"I bet that I'll get a bigger catch than you today," Emmett said as he leapt over a rock.

"You're on," Jasper replied smugly, running through the trees.

Emmett and Jasper were currently running far away from the Cullen house, deep into the woods. It was nice to be in a new place far away from the wolves. They didn't have to watch where they went anymore.

It was currently the middle of the day, the sunlight beaming through the breaks in the leaves above, catching on their skin as they drifted through.

"What are you thinking today? A bear, a jaguar, a mountain lion, a hyena" Emmett asked.

"... I'm not sure... maybe a deer," Jasper answered, coming to a halt as the pair reached the edge of a cliff.

"A deer? Those things are so weak though!" Emmett replied incredulously.

"But they taste good," Jasper deadpanned. "Those bears that you insist on catching all of the time are way too gamey."

"Whatever. You just don't have good taste."

Jasper rolled his eyes and darted off to the left, intending on finding himself a nice, big deer for dinner. In the distance he heard Emmett veer off to the right, heading towards one of the mountains. Presumably looking for a cave that a bear might be hiding in.

As he ran, he came across a wide, open field filled with flowers. He could hear birds chirping in the trees above, the wind whistling through the blades of grass. In the center of the field laid a deer, its hind legs folded underneath it as it lazed in the field.

He could hear its strong heart beating in its chest, its blood pumping through its veins, its lungs expanding as it breathed deep, even breaths.

He licked his lips, his pitch black eyes widening and then narrowing as he readied to pounce.

But then the deer moved.

Where its head was supposed to be sat a very human torso, large antlers protruded from the creature's head, catching in the sunlight of the field. Jasper stood there stunned, his mouth slightly agape as he took in the mythical being, something that he had never seen before.

"Where's your puny little deer at, bro?" a deep voice boomed from somewhere behind him, he didn't even need to look to know that it was Emmett. And judging from the faint scent of blood running through his veins, he already found his bear.

The deer creature in the field whipped its head around, their human face etched with shock and fear. They quickly raised onto their hooves and began running away as fast as they could.

"Wait!" Jasper called out, already beginning to run after it.

He knew this was a bad idea. He had no reason to be chasing the poor thing anyway. But he just felt so drawn, so enamored. He NEEDED to know what this beautiful creature was.

You were fast, that much was obvious. But no thing with a beating heart and pumping veins would ever be faster than a vampire.

He descended upon you, your galloping hooves beating into the dirt with the fervor of a thousand men in your attempt to escape your pursuer. But it was for nothing. He caught up to you and sprang into the path in front of you, cutting off your exit.

"Don't hurt me, please!" You cried, your breaths heavy and your eyes frantic as they looked into the beautiful, undead face of the man in front of you.

"What are you?" he asked, voice level and calm. He pushed his ability forward, doing his best to wrap you with a blanket of calm and comfort. Trust.

"I... what? You chased me just for that? Aren't you supposed to kill me and then suck all of my blood out?" You asked incredulously.

"How did you know I was a vampire?"

"Well are you a human?"

"...no..."

"Then you're a vampire. If someone looks human but can outrun me then they're a vampire." You explain, weirdly calm now despite being terrified moments ago. Whether that was due to his ability actually working or your nerves having calmed down due to seeing he wasn't going to outright kill you is up for debate.

"Okay, well, still you didn't answer my question, what are you?"

You just look at him strangely for a second.

"You're not gonna hurt me?"

"No, I won't. I promise," he says. You can see the sincerity in his eyes.

"And what about the big guy you left behind?"

"Emmett. I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you either." From far away Jasper can faintly hear Emmett hum in agreement. He guesses the two of you are close enough for him to hear.

"Alright. Sit back and relax while I blow your mind," you say, beginning to tell your story.

And he does. He stands there listening intently.

[badaziraphaletakes]

Hello!

Omg yes, thanks for bringing that out. The fact that Aziraphale was already aware of the dangers of Heaven as early as Before The Beginning is SO important for the story imo. It really bothers me that ppl's selective memory tends to forget that scene when analysing s2. It feels like they're cherry picking evidence to build a version of Aziraphale that fits their opinion instead of collecting all the data to try and understand his actions.

If you look closely, Before The Beginning and The Final Fifteen are parallels of each other up to some point: in the former, Crowley is saying that he can make a difference ("if I was the one in charge I'd like it if ppl asked questions", "hey boss this is a really terrible idea", "how much trouble can one get into for just asking a few questions") and Aziraphale is saying it's dangerous. In the latter, their roles are reversed, Aziraphale is saying they can make a difference and Crowley saying it's no use bc they're toxic (and it IS dangerous). It's funny bc Aziraphale is agreeing with angel!Crowley now, and Crowley is agreeing with cherub!Aziraphale now (showing once again that aziracrow are one and the same), but they're probably not seeing it.

Aziraphale never had this never-ending belief in Heaven ppl attribute to him (he probably thought that he should have that belief, even pretended to sometimes, but he didn't, his actions show us that he didn't). If anything, angel!Crowley trusted Heaven much more than Azi ever did, bc he was sure nothing bad would happen to him. BUT I also don't think he was naive for that, bc he was trying to make a positive change on things, and that's NEVER a stupid thing to do. He also didn't believe Heaven was always right just bc it's Heaven (his questions are evidence of that), even if he trusted them. For characters like Aziraphale and Crowley, in a situation like theirs, we must look at what they do, not at what they say.

Yes, it also bothers me that some ppl think he's always wanted to go back when in s1 we've seen that he was miserable when he was there, and not wanting to go back to Heaven was the reason for him to help stop Armageddon!! It makes no narrative sense. AND he said it in no uncertain terms "I don't want to go back to Heaven." He said it to the Metatron, but he was retelling this conversation to Crowley, so he said that in front of Crowley, with his own mouth. Crowley knows.

As for not loving Crowley as a demon, I absolutely agree with you and it's all part of the last thing you write about and I think it's an absolutely on point badass take, and it's:

You are SO DAMN RIGHT about this and it grinds my gears. We are supposed to analyse The Final Fifteen using the whole context of the story we got in the previous eleven and a half episodes! We're not meant to re-contextualise the rest of the show bc of The Final Fifteen? That makes no sense in this story?? Especially bc The Final Fifteen is full of biases. Us being heartbroken, the characters being triggered and emotional, the storytelling trying to hide stuff from us, the fact that they were threatened... There are Clues there, I'm sure, but we have to know the whole context of their relationship to understand them.

It's like trying to analyse your whole self when you're having a panic attack. It's not an accurate depiction of who you are. Analysing a couple using only one of their fights and erasing all of their good moments bc of it is pretty fucking dishonest to them.

Thanks so much for your take, I really, really loved your last paragraph and be sure I'll use it again to comment on other takes here 😁😁😁

[agaypanic]

HI HI HI HI HELLO, SORRY IF WHAT I SAY DOESN'T MAKE SENSE, BUT I'M FREAKING OUT, LISTEN.

Malcolm is in love with Reader but reader is dense, like VERY DENSE, Reese style, so Malcolm decides to confess, the problem is that at every hint/indirect nothing works or Reader loses the thread of what he meant or saw it from a different side, so Malcolm lasts a whole week trying to confess, but nothing but nothing, so at the end of the week, he ends up confessing to her straight up (oh boy, that would solve everything from the beginning).

Reader is a prankster? troublemaker? YES, PLEASE MAKE HER A TROUBLEMAKER.

Just ideas? Malcolm goes around telling Stevie and Cynthia all the time how Reader isn't noticing and they are SICK of the conversation because he's done it like 5 times about 3 hours. Possibly at some point Reese ends up finding out about the situation and is like "We're dense, you have to be direct or we don't understand".

She Doesn't Get It (Malcolm Wilkerson X Reader)

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Summary: Malcolm keeps trying to tell Y/n he loves her, but she has about as much common sense as Reese.

***

“I just don’t get how she doesn’t know that I like her!” Malcolm complained for what felt like the millionth time. Lunchtime had quickly become Cynthia and Stevie’s least favorite part of the school day ever since Malcolm harbored a crush on one of their friends.

“Malcolm, have you tried, oh I don’t know… Telling her?” Cynthia asked, exasperated. Malcolm rolled his eyes.

“Obviously, I have. She just doesn’t get it. Like there was this one time…”

You and Malcolm shared an elective class in the morning, and it was Malcolm’s favorite. Not because of the subject matter, it didn’t challenge him in any way and, like most classes, he thought his teacher was an idiot.

It was Malcolm’s favorite class because every day for an hour, he got to sit next to you. It was probably the only time where he wasn’t doing all the talking because he let you do it. You didn’t talk about things like the latest discovery in chemistry or a complicated math theorem. Instead, he’d get to hear about the latest prank you pulled on a classmate or why you got landed in detention for a third time that week.

It kind of reminded him of Reese, which he didn’t like. But he still hung onto every word of yours because you were the one doing the things.

“Yeah, so that’s why there’s a hole in the ceiling in the math hallway now.” You finished your latest story, the two of you laughing at your antics.

“I can’t believe you were able to catch that bird,” Malcolm said, looking at you with a look of admiration that he always had for you. You shrugged.

“You just gotta time the grab right. Helps if you have a lot of food so it doesn’t flip out at the wrong time.” You laughed again before quickly being glared at by your teacher. Neither of you cared much, but you still gave him a look that promised him you’d be quiet.

That didn’t last long. After a minute, Malcolm tapped your arm, interrupting your doodling.

“I was wondering, do you maybe wanna grab some food after school?” Malcolm looked nervous, but you had no clue why. “Maybe even catch a movie or something?”

“Oh, I’d love to, Malcolm. But I can’t.” Whatever hope Malcolm had dropped. “I’m having lunch at school, so I’d be too full to eat after with you.”

Cynthia let out a classic Cynthia snort-laugh while Stevie shook his head in disappointment.

“And that… was it?” Stevie asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t clarify that you wanted to hang out with her and that food didn’t have to be part of it?” His lack of response made Cynthia roll her eyes. “Honestly, Malcolm, I think you need to have your IQ retested.”

“It’s not my fault!” The boy exclaimed. “How was I supposed to respond to that? Besides, that’s not my only example.”

“Oh… Do tell,” Stevie said, resting his chin on his hand as he and Cynthia prepared for another sad story.

“Just last week, we were at the park, right?”

It was a nice spring afternoon. You and Malcolm had managed to snag one of the good picnic tables that weren’t rusty or covered in lewd graffiti. School books and notebooks covered the surface but were quickly abandoned in favor of the view. 

For you, the view was the sun shining through trees and squirrels running around. For Malcolm, it was you. If you noticed, you didn’t comment on it.

What you did notice was a sigh that came from Malcolm. You couldn’t decide if it was one of content or a warning sign that he would start complaining about something soon.

“What?” You asked, looking away to face him. Malcolm felt brave because he didn’t avert his gaze or change his posture. He kept his head leaning against his fist, admiring the view in front of him.

“Nothing.”

“You sound happy; it’s weird.” You laughed at your own jest, making Malcolm grin.

“It’s nothing, really! You’re just really pretty.” Your brows raised in surprise, but you quickly recovered.

“Aw.” You cooed, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “You’re really pretty, too, Malcolm.” The contact made him blush, but you didn’t notice because something behind him caught your eye. “Oh my god, that squirrel’s so fat!”

“I don’t see the problem with that one.” Cynthia shrugged, twirling the ends of her hair. “You just complimented her. Be grateful she returned it, Malcolm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just look… at you,” Stevie added, and he and Cynthia laughed.

“Hilarious, guys.” Malcolm rolled his eyes, clearly sarcastic. “The problem is that me about to tell her I liked her was thrown off by a really fat squirrel!”

“Y/n is known to lose her train of thought easily, Malcolm; it’s nothing personal.”

“Oh really? Nothing personal? We were pulling a prank yesterday, and you won’t believe what happened.”

It was all your idea, something you were very proud of. Everyone hated Mr. Thomas for his ridiculous grading standards and lousy teaching. Your getting a D on the latest pop quiz really pushed you over the edge.

You insisted that your never studying for his class had nothing to do with your grade, that it was all him.

You were lucky that Malcolm always jumped at an opportunity to do something with you, because a small tub of marbles weighed way more than you thought. Together, you quietly placed all the marbles in front of Mr. Thomas’ door.

What you two didn’t expect was him leaving his classroom earlier than intended. Malcolm heard his footsteps and yanked you up and away, causing you to spill the rest of the marbles on the floor. He dragged you to an open supply closet and closed the door behind you, leaving it open just a crack so you could watch the madness unfold.

It was comical, the scene in front of you. Mr. Thomas managed to stay upright for a few seconds, flailing his arms around in hopes of finding balance before ultimately crashing to the floor. The once-empty hallway was now full of concerned and humorous students and teachers, wondering what had happened.

Malcolm shut the door completely, and you had to try to keep your chuckles down.

You didn’t seem to notice or care about the lack of space, but Malcolm did. You two were practically chest to chest, breathing heavily from the running. His hand was still clasped around yours.

“That was fun.” You said quietly, looking up at him though you could barely see him because of the darkness.

“Yeah.” Malcolm gulped. Even if he couldn’t see well, he knew you were so close to him. It took everything in him not to just lean over to your lips. “Everything’s fun with you, Y/n.”

“Then we should do this more often.”

“I’d like that.” There was silence for a moment. “I didn’t expect the closet to be this small; we’re so squished together.” Malcolm immediately regretted what he said when you responded by trying to put more space between you.

“Oh! Sorry.” You wiggled your hand out of his grasp and opened the door. “It sounds like the coast is clear. Come on.”

“Have you… considered… the fact that… maybe… you have… no game?” Stevie asked, completely serious.

“Shut up, Stevie.”

“Malcolm!” Cynthia brought the attention to her. “I hate to make this comparison, but when it comes to the brains department, Y/n is kind of like…” She clearly hated the comparison because she didn’t want to finish her sentence. But before Malcolm could ask her to continue, Stevie did it for her.

“Reese.”

“No!” Malcolm cringed in disgust. “No, she’s not! Don’t say that.”

“Maybe not exactly like Reese.” Cynthia amended. “But it’s pretty close. Maybe you could ask him how to confess to her. Especially since he’s had a lot more girlfriends than you.”

“I’ve had a lot of girlfriends!” Instead of verbally countering the statement, Malcolm’s friends just gave him unimpressed looks. “Okay, maybe not a lot. Academics take up a bunch of my time, though.”

“That’s definitely… not… the reason.”

***

After more failed attempts that he didn’t want to think about, Malcolm had decided he’d talk to Reese. It felt like a very last resort. Like, the nuclear option. Asking his idiot brother for advice on how to tell a girl he liked her was something he’d take to his grave.

“Dude, just tell her you like her.” Reese had told him, rolling his eyes at the stupid question.

“But I don’t know how, Reese! I’ve tried everything.”

“Except actually telling her.” Malcolm gave his brother an unimpressed look, and he sighed. “Look, people like me and Y/n-“

“I hate that you just grouped yourself with her.”

“-don’t understand subtlety. It’s like when Mom tries to not scream her head off, it’s just not possible. You have to tell Y/n that you like her straight up.”

“But what if that doesn’t work?” Reese snorted.

“Then you’ve got bigger problems.” Malcolm groaned and stormed out of the shared bedroom. He didn’t want to blatantly tell you he liked you; talking about feelings was so awkward and humiliating sometimes. But on the other hand, you weren’t understanding any of his advances.

It took half an hour of pacing and muttering, but soon Malcolm had psyched himself up to call you. He wouldn’t tell you about his feelings over the phone; he’d need more time to prepare for that. So instead, he was calling you to ask if you could meet up sometime soon.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, and Malcolm had to wipe the sweat off his palms.

“Hey, Y/n. It’s Malcolm. Listen, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Mission accomplished, genius. Guess what you’re doing.” You laughed at your own jab, and he followed, except more nervously.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Malcolm focused on a chipped part of the kitchen counter, picking at it while he talked. “So anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime. Sooner rather than later, there’s something I need to tell you in person.”

“I can come over right now.” Malcolm panicked as he heard rustling over the line, you grabbing your bag and putting your shoes on. “See you soon, Malcolm!”

“Wait-” Malcolm was cut off by the phone disconnecting. You had hung up and were on your way over.

Shit.

Malcolm spent all fourteen minutes of your walk panicking. Quietly, of course, so Reese wouldn’t beat the hell out of him for disturbing his peace. Malcolm practiced what he was going to say a few times in his head, pausing and restarting his speech when he needed to mentally rewrite something. He wished he had more time to panic and prepare, but soon enough, he heard you knock on the door.

“Hey, Malcolm!” You grinned, stepping into the house when the boy moved aside. Malcolm led you to the backyard so you could have some privacy. He picked at the splintered wood of the picnic table, trying to hype himself up to start the conversation. But you had beaten him to it. “Do you mind if I say something first?”

“Sure!” Malcolm said a bit too enthusiastically. This was perfect. He didn’t have to start what was going to turn into a quickly awkward conversation, and he got to listen to you talk about whatever it was you wanted to talk about.

“Okay, look. I like being your friend, Malcolm. I really do.” Malcolm’s mood instantly deflated. That sentence coming from a girl that you like is never really a good sign. “You’re really cool, and smart, and funny. And you don’t make me feel like, dumb for not understanding something that you could get in a second. And I love hanging out with you.” You sighed, scratching the back of your neck. “But..”

“But?” Malcolm leaned forward, nervously waiting for you to continue.

“But… it’s not enough.” You looked just about as nervous as he did. “Being friends isn’t enough for me, Malcolm. I want more than that. God, I really want more. If you don’t feel the same way, I totally get that. But, geez, I just needed you to know, you know?”

There was a beat of silence that made you want to throw up. Malcolm just stared at you with this indecipherable expression. You were about to laugh and say it was a prank when Malcolm let out a breath that neither of you realized he was holding.

“Oh, thank God.” That was a surprising response. “I was panicking trying to figure out how to tell you because I knew there was no way you could possibly feel the same way, but you do. I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, but you never picked up on any of my hints, and I was honestly about to just cut my losses, but now-”

“Wait, Malcolm. What are you saying?” Malcolm laughed softly. Even now, you didn’t seem to pick up on what he was saying. He grabbed your hands, squeezing them and leaning closer to you.

“I like you too, Y/n. I was gonna be straightforward and tell you, but you beat me to the punch.” You grinned so wide you thought your mouth would start hurting. Yanking your hands out of Malcolm’s, you went around the table and practically tackled him into a hug that he eagerly returned. You pulled away from him again to bring your lips to his, giving him quick and many pecks that he also eagerly returned.

[rythmicjea]

On the last day of summer vacation... The Writer and His Muse

Full disclosure, I wrote another version of this last night. It was... factually correct. But it just wasn't good. So I saved it and took a few steps away and realized what I was supposed to be writing. I apologize now this is going to be long.

When I came up with the idea to write this series, I wasn't sure of the structure. If I'm honest, I still don't know lol. And after being called the "Riverdale Analysis Auteur" (thank you @storkmuffin ❤️), I promise to do the utmost to put forth only my best for you. There isn't going to be an uploading schedule so follow the tag "Code Word Jeronica" to see when I post.

My intention with this is to show that from the pilot there has always been the opportunity for Jeronica. I know what you're saying "there's an opportunity for ALL pairings."

And, yes, while you are correct. There were some possibilities that were more feasible than others (Sorry Jarchies!). For the skeptics out there, the showrunners did chemistry tests with so many pairings. Cole even admitted that he did one with Cami and he was open to a Jughead/Veronica relationship "It's the CW, anything can happen"! Coding isn't always intentional or needs to be taken seriously. And that's okay. As a writer myself, I understand the "side character curse" all too well.

With all of that being said, I will only be focusing on the evidence we get in the show itself. I may reference the comics sporadically (like how Jughead and Veronica have been paired up/dated several times in the comics, throughout the comic's history. Below is a picture from Pep #154 in 1962!) but I'll never reference anything outside of the source material as evidence.

The Writer and His Muse

It's established from the pilot that Jughead is a writer, an aspiring novelist. All writers need a muse. Something that inspires them to put pen to paper. In Greek Mythology, Muse was a Greek Goddess who gave inspiration to all. Often, a muse is referred to as a beautiful woman but it can be anything. The show Riverdale is the muse for fanfiction writers who write in the universe. Jughead has several muses throughout the show. He goes through various tribulations with his writing. We see him suffer with writer's block, make a deal with the devil (both Jugheads in Rivervale), and we know that the story that put him on the map was a telling of him and his friends.

In the overall show we know of five big stories that Jughead writes. Jason Blossom's murder, The Red Dahlia, Killing Mr. Honey, The Outcasts, and Bend. Towards. Justice. All follow a pretty basic plotline. Something happens, a group of teens have to investigate, there's a surprise twist, and then a resolution.

But, through all of these he has one muse that is constant. Would you believe me if I told you it was our fair Veronica? Because it is. Before you ask "What about Betty?", let me ask you the same. What about her? She is a character in his stories. Sometimes she's the main character. But being the main character and being a muse are two very different things. Veronica's presence in his stories symbolize different major elements to a story. More than any other Riverdale character.

Throughout the series we see Jughead struggle with his writing. His father tells him to keep writing as a way to get out of Riverdale and not get caught up with the Serpents. We see him have profound writer's block, plagiarize another author, change the way he writes due to his disability, and physically lose his ability to write. His writer's block, and the complications with it, start in season 5 and aren't resolved until season 6.

Here's an unexpected bonus from helping Veronica...

...I started writing again.

She is, and has always been, his muse. This is the first time he acknowledges it, but the clues have been there since day one.

Jason Blossom's Murder

The first story begins with the pilot's very first scene. It also introduces the audience to a concept called "The Center of a Story". The center of a story is just how it sounds. It is the element that brings everyone together. However, while this can be the main character and what that character goes through, it can simply be a person or place that has very little interaction at all with the main story. In a murder mystery, which Season 1 is, the center of a story can be the murder victim. In telling that story we can either have flashbacks of the person's life up until they are killed; or, they are simply the reason why everyone comes together (and not even just to find out why. Sometimes the why isn't necessary).

Jason Blossom is the center of the story. It's all about finding out who killed him. But the muse of the story? The hook? The character's entrance that actually connects everyone together? That's Veronica. "On the last day of summer vacation, a new mystery rolled into town." Jason's murder is the B-plot of the season. It might have kicked everything off, and the action might be connected to him, but it's not the entire reason why Jughead is writing this book. In fact, the opening soliloquy says:

Our story is about a town, a small town, and the people who live in the town. From a distance it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world. Safe, decent, innocent. Get closer though? And you start seeing the shadows underneath. The name of our town is Riverdale.

The story was never about Jason Blossom.

The Red Dahlia

I'm not going to touch on this much, because I have a whole post planned just about this episode. But, I want to point out that out of all of the stories we see him write, this is the only story that focuses solely on one character. It's completely about Veronica. She, like Jason, is the catalyst. The difference is that, unlike Jason, she plays a major role.

Killing Mr. Honey

In his last story to submit to the University of Iowa, it's about how seven teenagers try to get rid of their unethical and overbearing principal. We have known up to this point that Jughead loves horror. He likes to write "Lovecraftian" style stories. The difference between the two are HPL rejected morality. He considered himself a "Morality Atheist". Jughead, on the other hand, loves morality tales. (In 1955 there's a whole episode about it.) This is most evident in this telling. Each character represents an architype. Veronica, arguably, is the most important architype. She represents morality. She's the only one who really challenges what they are doing. Specifically, Jughead. At face value someone can go "Well, Jughead and Veronica aren't friends so it makes sense". First off, no, they very much are friends. But, second, if they weren't, why put her in such a place of honor. In actuality, given his character in the show (and the comics), Archie should be the moral compass of the story.

The Outcasts

The Outcasts is really the only story that we have very little knowledge of. I freely admit that for evidence, it's the weakest of the five. It presents coded details for the audience to infer their meaning. Jughead is the Viper Leader, the Serpents are the Vipers, but is Betty The Homecoming Queen? Most likely. The co-ed he takes home tells him that he wrote a "very sexy book" in regards to the Viper Leader and the Homecoming Queen. However, in his drunken voicemail, he lambasts Betty. One line in particular stands out "You're a cold, fake, duplicitous bitch. And once people read my book, everyone's going to see that". Now, we don't know what is in the book (Kind of wish they'd released it) and it could end with the Homecoming Queen cheating on the Viper Leader with the Football Captain (I'm inferring that that would be Archie's character). Or, they could have lived happily ever after. Or... using the ambiguity to stretch the possibility... the Homecoming Queen could have been Veronica.

Why? Well, there's a reason why the Enemies to Lovers trope is so popular. What better way to get back at your ex for cheating but to immortalize their best friend (who was also cheated on by your best friend) as the true-love-fairy-tale-princess of your wildly popular NYT best seller?

Bend. Towards. Justice.

The last story we see Jughead write is when they've been taken back to 1955. 7x01 is very reminiscent of the pilot. But, for Jughead and his writing, it's always been in the details. Season 7 is my favorite season, and trust me, I have a lot to say about what happens. So, I'll keep this brief. Even when he describes Tabitha it's very factual. There's no emotion. He lists who she is and the reason why she might know what's going on. Please don't take this to mean that at this point he isn't still in love with her, because he very much is. When he sees her, he doesn't know the 1955 version isn't his girlfriend. He keeps all of his emotions bottled up until he can figure out a plan. And to spare her from any craziness because her memories also might be gone. Up until this point, everyone's description is "This person is here, and this is who they are". Including himself.

For starters I live in an abandoned train car with Hot Dog which... actually tracks... Betty and Kevin aren't merely friends, they're dating. Cheryl's twin brother is alive, but he's not Jason, he's Julian. No sign of a Reggie yet. But Archie exists and he's pretty much a teen Charles Atlas... I've been waiting to reconnect with the one person who might shed some light on our predicament because she was both Chronokenetic and the town's guardian angel. My girlfriend, Tabitha Tate.

He mentions that all of this information is "overwhelming, heartbreaking". But he doesn't say why because there are many reasons why. His best friends don't remember anything. Do they even really know him? With one one question he realizes that the person he loves doesn't love him back. But he breaks this way of introducing the "characters" when he introduces Veronica. It's all emotion. There's even a sexy jazz trumpet riff announcing her.

"Damn..." His thoughts whispered to him breathlessly. "Even in 1955, Veronica Lodge still knew how to make an entrance." He goes from boredom to attention. He straightens his shoulders, he sits up to see her better, and he doesn't blink. Like everyone else, and very unlike him, his whole attention is on her.

THE PILOT

Now that we've gone through the five major stories we know he writes, let's go back to the end to see the beginning. The last episode of the entire series ends with a typewriter. All of the stories mentioned above are stories written within the main one. Riverdale itself is a story (possibly Archie Comics fanfiction) written by Jughead.

The pilot itself, as all TV shows, has a narrative woven throughout. There's characters, conflict, plot, etc. Though the episode opens with Jason's murder the pilot was never about that. Hell, Jughead is barely featured in it. We see him two significant times. The first time is two minutes in, where he's drinking his coffee writing his story. And he says the classic line, "We were still talking about the Fourth of July tragedy on the last day of summer vacation, when a new mystery rolled into town." We are introduced to Veronica Lodge, by Jughead, right after we're introduced to him. At this point he's only named Cheryl and Jason Blossom as that is the impetus for this show/season. "There needs to be a dead body".

The pilot is about Veronica. She moves to Riverdale, she meets Archie and Betty, she mentions Our Town, and her desire for Archie is established. Compared to Veronica, it takes 8 minutes to mention Jason again and 10 minutes to bring him back into the plot. Then nothing significant happens with him until the very end of the episode! But even after that brief interlude it's only 5 minutes later Veronica is given her first conflict. And by the halfway point, she's thoroughly decimated said conflict.

So, Miss Auteur, why are you bringing this up?

Because Riverdale was supposed to be about Archie. But by the end of the first half of the first episode Veronica is the only character to have a full plot arc and even an epilogue! More importantly, she is immediately woven into the fabric of the town. Even though the Varchie romance is introduced we must remember how the episode is being framed.

If you compare the narration to the writing on Jughead's laptop, it doesn't match up. Cole Sprouse might have read everything on said laptop and it was shortened for time. But, I wouldn't read too much into the discrepancies. I mean, the previous two pages are exact copies of each other lol. And while there might not be numbered pages it's at least four and I'm baffled about what he could have written prior to the opening lines. Also, as a writer, there are the things we think we're going to write and the things we actually do write (For example, I wrote a 16 chapter 100k+ Zack and Cody fanfic, and I didn't know the show existed! The Suite Adult Life). Our thoughts vs our words carry weight to a story. An argument can be made that either position is the most important. Is it better to write out that which we keep so closely guarded so it may live on in infamy? Or are the most profound thoughts those we keep closest to our chests?

Though one little line stands out when I do read it...

"See, the Blossoms had their tendrils wrapped around the entire town - no one wanted to make enemies of them."

Who is the person not wrapped up in their tendrils? And who immediately made an enemy of Cheryl Blossom?

Bisous, Bisous... Votre Auteur.