Smollypolly



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    There was no physical equivalent to what it felt like they did, so intimate it was. It was seeing each other naked, it was deep make-outs, it was dry-humping, and it was sex, but it was none of it. Perhaps, if someone opened their chest cavities, took their hearts and squished them together, that’s what it would feel like — feeling their valves open and close, the blood pump, the muscles contract, and one heartbeat pulse right into the other.

    Derek offered his hand. “Let me show you one more time.”

    “Show me what?”

    “What would it feel like to have an alpha.”

    Warmth burst in Stiles’ tight chest. His stomach swooped. His spark trembled in anticipation, reaching out, striving to taste that power again. Going red under the constant gaze of those hazel eyes, Stiles put his hand in Derek’s. He couldn’t help but give a small inhale at their sparks meeting once more.

    Heat. Weight and weightlessness. Tight embrace and high, impenetrable walls. Power. Safety.

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    12 Sep 2026

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    It was a special kind of torture to watch Stiles dance, but to see him in the hands of another was a sickening agony.

    Gerard’s hands gripped Stiles’ waist with a hunger familiar to Derek. He knew how that skin felt, he knew its warmth. He gritted his teeth to dust that evening, standing still by the entrance, watching over the guests and the omegas. Stiles did not look at him once, for it could provoke rumors, and Stiles was smart enough to know it. Still, his pointed dismissal spurred bitter jealousy in Derek's stomach. He could not take a single bite that night. At least, he had an excuse to look his fill.

    Derek ought to strangle his stupid, selfish dreams. There was no future with Stiles. Gerard would lie with him, Gerard would have him, own him in every way. Gerard's kids would drink Stiles' milk and call him "mama".

    Gerard had never known gentleness, and he would not extend it even to the softest of creatures.

    Derek would have abhorred him even if he did.

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    12 Sep 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 55

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    Sterek in 1890s NYC: Stiles is a recent immigrant from Poland selling pastries off a pushcart in his working-class tenement neighborhood. He keeps coming up with weird flavors that no one likes.... except the butcher's son, Derek Hale.

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    11 Sep 2026

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    Hi Ilya,

    My name is Shane! I don’t speak Russian, I hope that’s okay. I’m also 25 years old and I love hockey too! So we have some things in common.

    I’ve never written an inmate before. I don’t really know why I’m doing this. I guess I’m lonely. I’m not very good at making friends or dating. I think maybe I can be a bit awkward in person, but I’m good at writing. So I hope that’s okay.

    or Shane Hollander finds Ilya Rozanov on WriteAPrisoner.com and sends him an email.

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    10 Sep 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    James "Rocky" Rockwell has to leave his dream job at NASA due to an episode he would rather not speak about. He moves to San Fransisco to begin his new career, and stops at a little diner on the way to his new apartment. There, he sees someone incredibly familiar, though they have never met before.
    Not in this lifetime, at least.

    Memories come flooding back to Rocky of an entirely different life he lived. The universe has given him the chance to reunite with the person he holds closest to his heart. And the one who is currently holding him up on the diner floor, telling someone that he needs an ambulance. Rocky grips the sleeve of his cardigan, calls Grace's name, and Grace holds onto him tighter.

    Does he remember, too?

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    10 Sep 2026