#also if someone mentioned it before our brains are connected

[mandiffe]

now that is definitely a callback

the composition of the shot as a whole. the fact that we're halfway through ted's journey this season and getting a parallel scene to the first one in the season.

in the first one, Ted's still doubting himself, not understanding what is it he's doing in Richmond, why he stays for this long when he can just leave with Henry? in the second pic, Ted looks much healthier, there's hope in his eyes, I'd say. he's coming to a realization why he's still there and why he's still needed. "when you know you're doing what you're meant to do. you have to try", and Ted is going to try. we're getting to see his growth and, my gosh, do I have to mention how incredibly this show makes it?

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

[86espresso]

secrets i have held in my heart, are harder to hide than i thought ✯ jh86

sum: “I really like you.” *looks around* “are you sure-”

// jack x med student

warnings: 18+, oral (f & m receiving), mentions of familial neglect, cursing, kissing, stress, anxiety, doubt, pet tigers, jack thinking too hard, reader is insecure don’t know what for 💔, overuse of commas because im insane, happy ending, a lil too sappy (i say this with emphasis), i mean it there’s a whole lotta CHEESE, mostly fluff, very emotional and hearty pls im sorry im a lover. afab!reader w/ she/her pronouns :)

w/c; 7.6k

a/n: hey so yeah. wtf. the word count?? i had so much fun writing this. half scared that its boring. i love simp / munch jack. ps: as queen as y/n is, i gave reader a nickname, sorry. (a very … unique nickname. i myself am puzzled as to how my brain works) enjoy. or at least try to. under the cut !

THE library was unsurprisingly almost empty considering the fact that no sane person would want to step outside in this rainstorm, so you were content in studying organic chemistry in the very back, alone with your thoughts, your textbooks, folklore by Taylor Swift, and now a guy. Who decided that he will break the silence in the almost empty library.

You were in your world, as always, not really connecting or associating with things around you but the ruckus of the someone knocking over an umbrella stand and profusely apologizing to apparently no one made you lift your head up. You smile slightly before going back to your work, barely registering your surroundings. 

Sure, Jack was entirely focused on his friends, studies, and hockey back in high school, but he was an expert at faces and names and could jot down absolutely anyone that he knows he’s seen before. He knew exactly who the girl with dark circles and way-too-oversized hoodie in the back was. 

At least five minutes later, Jack started hovering near your spot, which was the romance aisle. You sneak a glance at him and take note of his athletic shorts and New York Giants hoodie and quickly denote that this man was definitely not the romance novel type (or maybe book type at all). After flipping mindlessly through another book he lets out a soft “fuck it” before turning to face you completely. 

You can’t help but crack a smile at his jump when he saw that you had already been staring at him with wide, voidfull eyes. 

A pause. You staring at him. Him staring at you. He cracks a dopey smile, blinding you with his paper white teeth, and pulls up a chair in front of you. 

“What’s up, Dee?” He asks holding his hand up for a dap. Bewildered at how this complete stranger knows your nickname amongst close friends (from when you gracefully told people that ‘the bags under your eyes are Dior’), you dap him back anyway and blurt, “I have never seen you before.”

“You went to my high school. We worked in a project in like, AP World I think? I dunno. But I remember you saved my grade that whole year.”

Your mind remains blank. You saved a lot of people’s grades. 

“My only high school memories are countless APs, pain, suffering, studying and depression.” 

Most people would blanch at your dreamy straightforwardness, but Jack just grinned again. 

“Yeah, I remember you were always tired but also really funny. And tired. Deja Vu, man, watching you sit here, laser focused on your books. I was on the hockey team, if that helps.”

I furrow my brows, thinking hard. 

“I do remember that our hockey guys were really good. They would announce their names like every day on the speakers because they won all the time.” 

Jack groans at the memory. He was well known but it was just uncomfortable having your last names called out where the whole school could hear. 

You laugh at his reaction. “They would call the same names over and over. I don’t know if it was you who used to hide your face every time they did it but yeah.”

Jack perked up. “Yeah that was me.” 

You take a moment to admire his boyish facial features and athletic build. He’s pretty. 

‘Don’t even think about it’ pretty. 

“Dang. You were like a superstar. Sorry I don’t remember much. I’m like, walking jet lag.” 

He laughs a typical frat boy laugh (if that makes sense) and you like it. You want to hear it again. 

“So, what are you doing out here? Never pegged you for a big city girl.” 

“I go to college here.”

“Damn, we should’ve met sooner. My name is Jack, by the way.” 

“My friends call me Dee, but I guess you knew that.”

You were left pondering as to why a hockey player from high school was even anticipating meeting you; people only approached you for notes and the occasional party invitation back then.

“So, uh- what about you? Make it big in the league thingy yet?” 

He breaths a laugh. “You could say that.”

“Who do you play for?” 

“New Jersey.”

“Prudential, isn’t it? That’s close by my apartment.” I say in thought. 

Jack grins. “Really? We might bump into each other often, then.” 

He looks genuinely excited. 

Why. 

What’s going on. 

You chat for a few more minutes but it’s mostly you saying out of pocket things and Jack laughing instead of side-eyeing you and walking away. You were surprised at his effortless kindness. 

“Phone.”

“Hm?”

“Or Snap? Whatever you feel like is best,” he says, pulling out his phone. It takes a second to register that he’s implying that you exchange contact information. 

“Don’t really use Snapchat. I kinda have too much on my plate right now.” You hand over your phone. 

“You always overwork yourself, you should be at the club. You’ll die on the inside.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle, I hope.”

You just need to push through and never ever have fun.

He checks the time and sighs. 

“I was just here to return a book but I gotta head back. Flight for a roadie takes off in a couple hours. I’ll be back in, like, four days? I hope to see you around then?” 

You match his soft smile and nod, whatever roadie means but okay. It was actually nice, wasting some valuable study time for a potential friend. He’s cool. 

“Yeah. See you.” You offer and huff a laugh as he reaches out to dap you up again. 

That night, after yet another long and winding day with the only highlight being meeting someone who was apparently a high school acquaintance, you decide to look him up. Surprised at the absolute famethat this man had loaded, your lips parting at every detail, you click on his instagram and officially unhinge your jaw. 

500k followers? 

You’re never on insta but that can’t be good. 

The shock of how you basically were bonding with someone who definitely downplayed how famous he was didn’t wear off a week later; he texted you quite often and you tried to text back without seeming dry. 

It was nearly a week later when he offered to meet up again. 

-> two questions

babies come from the baby store.

-> wtf 

sorry. ask away !

-> 1. are you at the library rn

do you still like the caramel frappe from dunkin

yes. and yes. what the hell are you doing. 

-> something nice. see u soon angel. 

angel is wild when I look like I snuck on this earth but thanks for that anyways. you’re very kind :))

-> kind enough to tell you to that you’re really pretty :))

*reacted with heart emoji*

You check your forehead temperature to make sure you hadn’t just imagined the whole conversation. 

It wasn’t long before Jack was strutting into the library with two dunkin’ shakes in his hands accompanied by his gorgeous smile when he spotted you in the back, once again. 

“You’re wearing glasses today.” He says when you look up at his outstretched hand. You reach forward with a grateful smile, and deja vu hits you hard. The same exact scene playing out in high school when he had asked everyone in some group project their favorite drinks and treated them when they all got an A. 

“I remember you,” you say as he flopped on the bean bag next to you with his own drink. 

“Yeah? I knew you would. You’re too smart.” He says, again dazzling you with his perfect smile as he lifts two fingers to tap your temple softly to emphasize his point. It’s a challenge to tear your eyes away from his baby blues. 

“Your eyes are so blue. It’s distracting.” 

Jack’s eyes widen at your unintentional rebuttal at his subtle flirting, and he smirks. He knew that you weren’t aware that you were being flirted with the past week; what you lacked in emotional and social intelligence was shadowed by your sharpness in academics. 

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you were a really big deal around here? Everyone knows you and you have like a million followers.”

“Stalking me?” 

“Educating myself.”

Jack laughs and throws as arm around you to peer over your shoulder. 

“Well, I don’t just go around telling people how good I am. So, whatcha doing?” 

The contact makes you freeze up and once again the surreality of a man wanting to spend time with you disorients you a little bit.

“Watching porn.” 

Jack laughs again and earns a stern look from the clerk down the aisle. 

“I’m studying anatomy.”

“Yeah, didn’t suspect any less than med school for your smartass.” 

You turn to him to talk back but his face was inches away from you and that sets off alarm bells throughout your body. You’ve had your fair share of guys and girls but there was not a single string attached and the short flings were easy to forget. 

But having someone that pretty, that close to you, not showing exactly what intentions he had? That caused your anxiety to spike. Positively. 

“Your face is really close.” You simply state, pushing your large frames higher up your nose. 

“And yours is really red.” 

You immediately press your hands against your cheeks and groan at what you picture your face looks like. Jack just giggles again and pulls your hands away. 

“It’s cute.” 

His hands are still on your wrists. 

“It really isn’t, but thank you. You’re very kind.”

There’s a beat of silence where you can see the gears in his head turning. 

“Do you like aquariums?”

You surprise yourself and Jack when you pull him into a hug as a greeting outside the aquarium.

The feel of your chests touching with little fabric in between set Jack’s heart off racing and the way your curves dipped at your hips had him pulling at his collar. 

But most of all, when he pulled back from the hug, he noticed you were wearing shorts that had your legs all out for him to ogle over. 

“You hidin’ all that?” He scans your figure, noting the dark, low cut, full sleeve top. 

“What? All this?” You say as you push your tits together. “There’s not much to hide.”

Jack’s throat runs dry. Unfortunately for him, he’s still a guy and tits still make him drool. And the fact that you had no idea you were keeping him on his toes 

“Be for real.” He rolls his eyes. “How’d your day go?” 

“Nice, actually. I just took Nala for a walk and-“ you cut yourself off. 

“I didn’t know you had a pet? Can I see her? I love anim-“

“She’s a tiger.” 

You give him more and more reasons everyday as to why him hanging out with you was unethical and strange but he seemed to keep on staying. Studying you as if intrigued by your strangeness. 

“You- have a pet..tiger?” 

Yeah. I’ve done it.

“I- yeah.” 

It seems like all Jack ever does is grin because he’s doing it again and flinging an arm around your shoulder as he starts to walk with you. 

“Oh, Dee. There’s just so much to learn and love about you.” 

It takes you a second to react. 

“That may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“You serious?” 

“Yeah. Well, cause I was ugly growing up, and people always thought I was strange. It’s hard to imagine that people are genuinely interested in any sort of friendship with me.” 

Jacks fingertips on your bare collarbone, his cologne and aftershave, his figure pressed against your side; all of it was overtaking your senses.  

“Baby, why do you think I walked up to you that day in the first place? You may not remember much but I do. You were so kind and honest. And so intriguing. And hardworking. And pretty. I think your dark circles are hot.” 

You huff out a laugh and ignore the flutter in your chest at ‘baby’. 

Jack looks down at you with a gaze that he can’t pinpoint. You’re just very, very endearing to him. He needs to show you all kinds of fun so you laugh like that again. 

“You smell nice.” You say and hesitate before loosening yourself against him more. He hums at the increased contact and at your compliment, smiling against your hair. 

“Thank you.” 

To say you had the absolute time of your life at the aquarium was an understatement. Jack got to see a side of you that loved fun, that was carefree, and didn’t have that goddamn crease in your eyebrows. You were the one pulling him around, telling him you wanted to be a marine biologist as a kid and that you recognize most of the species. Jack made sure to snap a few pictures of you when you weren’t looking, the lightning shaped twinkle in your eyes a memory he wanted to keep forever. 

Later that day, Jack drove you back to your apartment, mentally noting that you were about a fifteen minute drive from his place. 

“Nala?” You coo out softly as you push open the door and drag Jack inside, not giving him the chance to protest. Jack looks around at your apartment. It’s small and messy, but organized in some places. He jumps and lets out a brief scream when a fucking tiger is bounding towards you at full speed and knocking you over with a hug. You laugh as your beloved Nala starts licking up your face and you both roll on the floor. 

Jack’s breathing calms a little as he remembers who owns the tiger. 

“I’ll put her away for now.” You say, reading Jack’s skepticism. He sighed in relief. 

“Oh good. Because as much as you reassured me and as man as I am, she’s still a tiger.” You giggle at his words and guide Nala towards her room. 

The sound makes Jack smile stupidly. His heart stutters and he wants to put your little laugh on replay. He can’t believe that a girl who stated random medical facts at any time, who lost sleep because ‘she just forgot that it’s important’, who barely remembered him from a while ago even though he remembered everything, who waves at planes as they fly overhead, who didn’t know shit about the sport he played, had him wrapped tightly around her finger. 

He takes a moment to observe your apartment. The stacks of medical related books that he doesn’t want to and never will understand, the old record player sitting in the corner of the kitchen, a huge jar of nutella on the coffee table, a questionable fluffy purple blanket on your sofa. Just little things that made you all the more real to him. 

And he still wants to know more. He wants to know your sleep schedule so he knows that you’re getting enough sleep and when to text or call, he wants to know what you dream of, he wants to know your passions besides studying, he wants to know what made you become so numb and detached, how you still managed to have a twinkle in your eye when you experienced emotion. 

But, as he leans to the counter for support at his racing mind and as you enter the room, still clad in your godforsaken low cut top and curve-hugging shorts, he most of all wants to know what you are like, what your lips would feel like molded against his, how you’d moan or whimper at his touch. He’s still leaning against the counter as he recalls when you unabashedly pushed your tits together just hours ago. 

“You alright?” You ask, but you yourself seemed to have distressed eyebrow lines. 

“Uh? Oh yeah. I was just.” He gestures around your apartment. “Observing.” 

You nod, still lost in thought. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, not liking the stress in your body language. 

“Yeah. It’s just, I have two projects due next week and I’ve been studying for something else so I completely forgot about them.” You frown, feeling tears pool in your eyes. You can’t cry in front of Jack. If everything else didn’t make him abandon you, then this would. 

“Woah. Hey, hey.” Jack is by your side immediately. He feels guilty for thinking of you sinfully while you were in distress but he really couldn’t help it. You blink back the tears and shrug it off. 

“It gets kind of a lot sometimes, y’know?” Jack follows you to the couch and sits next to you, immediately taking your hands in his and pulling your legs onto his lap. You gave up on keeping your cool when he does that and give him a bewildered expression. Being taken care of is so strange. 

“And? Go on, baby.” He smiles softly and encouragingly, dropping one of your hands to hold your chin for a moment before grabbing your hand again. 

You blink. 

“Well, It’s probably not as much as I’m stressing it out to be. I’m about to abuse substances.” 

“Now don’t do that. There’s lots of ways to destress yourself.” Jack’s hand wanders again, resting on your bare knee. His movements are soft and gentle, but they still cause a foreign spark through your body. You dryly cough before registering his words and looking at Jack’s hand that had inched higher by the slightest. 

“Is this flirting?” Rushed out of your mouth and Jack chuckles, a normal sound but an octave lower. 

“Sure is, baby. You’re learning fast.” He’s staring your eyes down, and all of a sudden he’s consuming your senses again. His cologne is still there, his insane blues are glued to yours, his deep breathing is signifying his increasing heart rate. His hand inches higher as he moves closer. 

“Why don’t I just,” shrug, “eat you out? ‘S a better high than drugs-” His phone buzzes in his pocket. 

Jack huffs and pulls away, leaving your insides churning at the his lingering touch and words??? The implication alone, the images conjuring in your head were nothing short of filthy. 

He scowls as he takes the call, muttering something about how it’s his agent and he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t answer. His responses are curt and his expression neutral, but his hand is gripping your thigh with intensity. As he hangs up the call and tosses his phone aside, his hand is almost at your inner thigh and he maneuvers himself to be directly on his knees on the floor in front of you. 

The sudden movement and his face looking up at yours between your slightly parted legs has your pussy throbbing. It’s been weeks since you were.. in this particular position with someone and god did it feel nice that it was the finest man in world to unpause your sex life. 

He leans up to be face level with you. “Do you trust me, baby?” You never noticed how sultry his natural voice was. 

His eyes search yours for any kind of discomfort as his hand reaches forward to cup your cheek. You nod in conformation as he moves closer. 

Your breath hitches as he presses his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth. It confuses you slightly as to why he didn’t just kiss you but both of his hands on your waistband distracts you. 

“Can I take these off?” He questions and you nod once again, not trusting your voice. 

He’s doing everything in slow motion and you think it alludes to your sensitivity earlier, but anticipation and his hands cloud everything in your mind. 

What kind of guy just? offers to eat you out? to help you destress? 

Your shorts are discarded and the exposure doesn’t bother you. Sure your heart would be thudding either way, but Jack made you feel different. No anxiety in the sense that he would judge you or harm you or hurt your feelings.

“Hm, these are cute.” Jack’s thumb fingers over the lining of your underwear. 

You feel yourself flush. 

“Thanks.” Is your quiet response. 

“Relax, baby. This is for you to unwind, not to get nervous. Focus on how you’re feeling,”   Jack instructs as his finger ghosted over your clothed cunt. Your teeth nibble on your bottom lip as you push your hips closer to his hand. 

He smirks at your eagerness and gives in, entirely pushing his thumb against your clit through your panties. 

His thumb moves slowly but firmly back and forth as he gauges your reaction. Finding the right spots where your stomach clenches or your eyebrows knit together. 

“More.” You muster as you open your eyes to look down at Jack who was already moving to take your damp panties off. Once again, slowly. He groans as he sees you glistening for him and starts kissing up your thigh. 

“You have a pretty face.” 

Jack grins up at your compliment while peppering feather light kisses on your inner thighs. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The anticipation pools in your lower stomach as Jack breaks eye contact with you to admire your delicacy in front of him. He uses the same thumb to rub through your folds and reach higher to circle your clit. The stimulation has you moaning softly and the sound has Jack’s cock twitching in his shorts. 

“I- hurry.” You huff in slight annoyance, wanting more besides the slow circles. Jack smirks against your thigh and removes his thumb so he could move forward lick a stripe through your folds. 

Your knuckles get white gripping the pillow,  itching to hold his hair instead as his eyes flicker between yours and your pussy. Jack notices your hand on the pillow and guide it to his hair while sucking and licking your cunt. He parts away for a second to catch his breath before making slow and languid motions with his tongue on your clit. 

You grip his hair, hard. Jack grunts against you and loses a shred of control as he pulls your legs apart further to dive further in. You let out a startled breath at the sudden movement and pull on his hair more as he shakes his head deeper while still staring up at you. 

“Jack..” you breathe out, but it comes out as more of a whimper that makes him hum against you and a spark run through his body. He pulls away and inserts his middle and ring finger through your slick and pumps shortly before curling his fingers. You heave a breath and moan at the feeling while Jack stares up at you in awe. 

“You’re everything.” He says more to himself than you, as he watches you writhe and whimper at his fingers while holding the eye contact. He connects his lips with your clit again and suctions in a way that has your back arching and your moans getting louder and more high pitched with each type of attention Jack gives to your pussy. 

He switched his fingers and mouth and rubs your clit as he laps up your arousal as he feels you getting close. He takes that moment to switch back and locks eyes with you as his dark pink, wet lips attach to your clit again, softly sucking you closer to your tipping point.

“Oh, f-fuck I’m-“  

Your eyebrows knit and your eyes roll back at the sensations of his mouth and tongue and fingers and gaze. 

You spasm around his fingers and moan louder while Jack’s fingers guide you through your release. He licks up whatever he can before sitting and wiping his face with the back of his hand as you stare at him with hooded and tired eyes. 

“Feel better?” He has the nerve to ask as he runs a wet wipe up and between your legs. 

When did he even get that?

Your leg twitches in sensitivity after he’s finished. 

“Mm better.” Was all you could muster. All you wanted was to sleep and dream for days. 

Jack laughs softly at your state and checks the time. 

“I’ll need to head out soon. Team dinner.” He says as he fits another pair of underwear on you. You feel a pang in your chest and anxiety creeps up your spine, but Jack immediately shuts your thoughts down. 

“Hey, this doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you or anything. I’m goin’ cause I have to and I would take you but you look like you could use a nap. We can hang tomorrow?” He’s so soft and caring with you, cupping your cheek and smoothing his thumb over it. 

“Yeah okay.” You say and watch as he gets up, not before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I won’t go anywhere, baby.” 

After the team dinner, when Jack got home and shut the door to his apartment, the first thing he did was call his older brother. Quinn was just the slightest, itty-bittiest bit more fortunate with girls, so Jack naturally went to him for tips here and there. 

A few minutes into the call, they exchanged formalities and talked about each others’ seasons before Quinn cut to the chase. 

“So? Is it a girl?”

Jack blanched. 

“I- well yes, but it’s different this time. Swear.”

“You say that every-time. But it does sound like it might be different.”

“Do you remember Dee from high school?”

“I don’t remember anything from high school.” Is it really that common to forget four years of your life?

“Yeah well. I met her again a few weeks ago. She was the one who used to take all the APs and she graduated early? She was like always tired and kinda funny. And she’s pretty. Like the natural kind of pretty. You’d look at her and want to give up the world for her kind of pretty. I don’t know.” Quinn listened quietly, detecting the hint of fear in Jack’s voice. 

“I might be, like obsessed with her. I think she knows.”

“Wait, wait, wait. She knows? That you like her? And you’re not together yet?” Jack didn’t deny it when he said that he liked her. 

“I-yes? I think so. She might be into me too and we did a thing earlier today and she flirts with me without even thinking about it? That’s gotta mean something right?”

“You did things with her?!She flirts with you?! Do something. But take it slow. She probably still wonders why you even give her the time of day. She likes you but she doesn’t know it yet.” Hearing his older brother say it untightened his chest. 

“I was going to kiss her but I really wanted to things slow with her. She’s been through a bit and, I don’t know, I want to treat her special.” He’s glad that he has a person he can say the cringiest shit to. If it was anyone else on the other line, he would get toasted for the rest of his life. Jack wore his heart on his sleeve and was smart at reading people and their emotions. But sometimes he was just clueless on what to do with that knowledge. 

We can hang tomorrow. 

Who the fuck says that after going down on someone. 

Jack didn’t text you that night.

Or the next morning. 

You started panicking slightly when you come home from classes. 

That had to have been the last straw for him. 

He’s a fucking superstar, he lives in the New York City area, where all the pretty models and blue eyed blondes live. Why the hell would he go for a tired med student from his home state who didn’t care about herself enough to care for him?

Your mind runs a marathon as the elevator doors open to your floor. But when you approach your apartment, Jack is sitting on the floor next to door, scrolling on his phone. 

You freeze and stare blankly as he realizes that you’re here.

He perks up and walks over to you pulling you into a light hug. 

“Hey, Dee. How were classes?”

“Good. Thanks for asking.” You reply, hesitantly wrapping your arms back around him. You weren’t hugged a lot as a kid or growing up. You’ve hugged more in the last two weeks than you have in your entire life. 

“I have a game later today. Wanna come? The other team…isn’t that good. We might win. Unless you have work to do. Or if you just don’t want to go that’s okay too. Or-“ he cuts off when you press a finger against his lips. 

“I’d love to go. I finished a lot of my work during classes.” You smile removing your fingers, relaxing in his arms. “When is it?” 

“At 7. I’ll pick you up, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

You both just stand there for a minute before you remember social cues. 

“So, come in? I’m hungry as fuck. We should eat.” You say pushing the door open, petting Nala as you walk in and Jack followed. He smiles at your awkwardness and accepts. 

Your look is acceptable. Hair clutched back, light makeup, hoodie and sweats is your go-to anyway. Plus, you’re always cold. 

You arrive at around quarter to seven and with the help of signs make your way to the lounge that Jack gave you a pass to. 

There’s a guard at the door that held his hand out for the pass and when you gave it to him he eyed you wearily. 

“You’re Hughes’ girl? Where did you get this?”

“Jack gave it to me.” 

“Uh huh.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “So can I go in?” 

“Sweetheart, Jack has only ever invited two other girls here and I can tell you right now, you’re not the third. Who gave you this pass?” 

The mention of Jack bringing other girls here makes you absolutely sick to your stomach. 

You might vomit. 

But anger bubbles up your throat and you’re about to press your finger into the guards chest and give him a piece of your mind, when there’s a patter of feet and an excited “Dee!” coming from your left. 

Jack has you in his arms already before you could register it. He tucks you into his shoulder, presses his lips against your temple, lingering, and faces the guard. 

“Was there a problem?” The guards mouth hangs open and flickers between the two of you. 

“None at all.” He opens the door and lets the two of you in. After he shuts the door and turns face you, you take a second to admire him. 

He’s dressed in his game jersey, shoulder pads and everything; except for his skates. 

He looks really good. 

“You look really good.” 

Silence. 

“Are you blushing?” 

Jack pulls you into his chest so you don’t see more of the pink adorning his cheeks. 

“Am not,” he mutters above your head and you giggle as you try to untangle from his grasp. 

You pull back and notice that he still has a tint on his cheeks. He holds your face for a moment, admiring every feature. Going from eye to eye, the slope of your nose, the dimple digging into your left cheek, a beauty mark on your chin, your lips. 

You feel your breath quickening when his thumb grazes your cheek and his eyes linger on your lips a little longer. 

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the two of you. 

“Warm ups in two!”

Jack sighed and looked back at you. 

“I need to go. You can watch from here.” He led you further into the room and you could hear the crowd getting louder as you got closer. He led you to a balcony where there were a few other people, and pecked your cheek before going back. 

The game starts and you’re more clueless that you thought you’d be. The puck was way too small and you didn’t bring your glasses, but you remember Jack telling you that he was ‘86’, so you tried to follow wherever he was. 

The girl next to you strikes up a conversation which you cautiously tread with, but you warm up soon. She tells you that she’s dating someone on the team. 

“Woah. That must be cool.” She looks confused. 

“Aren’t you Jack’s girl?”

“No? We’re friends. I think. He’s really nice to me.” Your new friend blinks before talking again. 

“He really likes you though, and you look like you really like him.” 

“Well of course I do. He treats me really well.” 

“Oh, babe. No. He like likes you. My boyfriend told me he talks about you all the time.” She holds your hand. You look down at it and back at her. You’re quiet for a moment. You’re not sure how to process that. 

“I’m not sure how to process that.”

“Well, do you like him? Love him even?” 

“I-“

You’re cut off by that awfully loud goal horn, and glance at the screen to see that Jack has scored. You felt a surge of pride in your chest and feel yourself smiling wide as Jack’s tiny figure skated around and fist bumped the players on the bench. He turns to your section for a moment, lingering for a sliver of a second and your heart stops. The game called for the face-off just a second later so he had to look away. 

You look over to the girl on your right and she’s already looking at you with a half smirk. 

Jack politely declined on drinks later in the locker room after the devils won. 

He leans against his car and thinks about you. He really wanted to see you, needed your affirmation. 

It’s all he seems to do now. Jack just wants reassurance and peace in knowing that you were there. He spent every waking moment thinking about you and how he got you to show sides of yourself that you don’t show to people. He tried to keep his personal life away from hockey but the way his instincts told him to look in your general direction after he scored made him sick to his stomach. 

He might actually be stupid obsessed with you. 

Trusting his gut on your body language and making a bold move the previous night may have been the best thing he’s ever done.

That means that he doesn’t need to be cautious with his flirting anymore. He knows exactly what he feels but he wants to wait til you come to that conclusion on your own. 

He didn’t notice your quiet footsteps in his direction and was mildly startled when you were standing in front of him. Almost at once, he felt a smile adorn his face. 

“That was so cool, I didn’t understand anything but I know you scored.” Your wide, twinkling eyes stared back up at him. “I’m proud of you.”

And that’s all it took for him to usher you into the back seat, strip off your sweatpants, and throw your legs over his shoulders. 

Not even ten minutes later, your lungs are dying for air and your body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat. He was rougher this time, sucking a hickey on your neck before, getting the entire bottom half of his face messy, his own hooded eyes losing focus as he pleasured you.  

“You back to me yet, baby?”

“Hm?” 

You open your eyes and you’re in the front seat, cleaned up, pants back on, and Jack is fastening your seatbelt for you. 

“I lost you for like, three minutes there. You okay?”

His voice is gentle and quiet, his index and thumb holding your chin softly as his azure eyes bore into yours. 

“Chipotle?”

He laughs, pulling back and shifting the gear into drive, his hair falling slightly in his face and he pushes it back. 

“All the chipotle in the world for my Dee.”

Your mind briefly flashed to how he kissed the tip of your nose before he went down on you, and not your lips.

You’re in Jack’s apartment now (your heart dropping when you thought of Nala, but then you remembered that you fed her quite well and she had to be passed out by now. Jack handed you a Hershey’s kiss to calm you down), and it’s big. 

Like, huge. 

Massive for someone who lives alone.

His TV was playing ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’ and you were watching like a hawk. 

“I’ve never seen this one before.”

“Really? You don’t watch romcoms?” Jack looks at you surprised, sitting next to you with both of your chipotle orders and throwing a blanket over the two of you. 

“No. I don’t really get the time.” You furrow your brows and turn to him with a blank expression. “You’ve showed me so much fun in the last few weeks. Thank you.”

Jack could happily die in that moment. He flashes back to yesterday again, your childlike wonder, the new things he learnt about you. 

“‘S nothing yet. There’s so much more you deserve to feel happy about.” He kisses your temple before getting closer to you. 

You both watch in silence for a while, occasionally laughing and aw-ing, until you can’t hold it back anymore. 

“Do you think kissing is unhygienic?”

You look up to him, his unbuttoned shirt, messy hair and lingering smile making your heart skip a beat. 

Oh no. 

You have such a horrible, fat crush on him.

“Hm?”

“I-nothing.”

“M’kay.”

Sweet boy is not a multitasker and the movie was at a really good part, so he didn’t really get distracted and soon you were engrossed too. 

You were still in a cloud of feelings and it was getting a bit much for you. Your head was usually void of emotion, so the change was welcome. And you had Jack to thank for that. He’s done so much for you, taken care of you in ways that no one has and no one ever will. 

You realize that he could be your worst heartbreak or someone that’s going to be in your life forever. 

You feel slightly sick thinking about it and you need to get it out of your system. 

“Can I suck you off?” Your lips lightly brush his ear. 

Now that. 

That gets Jack’s attention. 

He nearly snaps his neck to turn to face you and your noses touch. 

“You- I- what?”

Your fingertips are feathery as you brush the hair out of his face. 

“I want to suck your dick.”

“You don’t- if this is to- to reciprocate or something-“

“I promise it’s not. I really just want to.”

Jack is already semi-hard and he can feel his dress pants tighten. His eyes briefly widen and he borderline gulps before he watches your hand run down his chest and toy with his belt buckle. As soon as he gives you the green light and pauses ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’, you’re on your knees in front of him, just like how he was with you the previous night. 

Jack’s sanity is once again lost as he watches you on your knees for him. You make a quick work of his belt buckle and pull down his dress pants just enough. 

You can already see how loaded he is through his boxers and look back up at him with the same wide eyes that he goes crazy over. 

“Cool.” 

Jack barely has time to react over your concise approval of his length before you’re mouthing over his boxers, sucking softly, leaving Jack gasping for a breath. 

You pull down his boxers and start working immediately, pumping him and wetting your hands slightly so you have more friction. 

“Y’know, it’s crazy—I know what all of these veins are called.” You say, more to yourself but Jack’s half smile drops when you lay your tongue flat against his shaft and suck on his tip. He lets out an embarrassing sound between a staggered breath and a whimper as you make your way down. Your cheeks hollow out as you make eye contact with him, making sure you’re getting it right. You come off and continue with your hands and look up at him. 

“Good?”

“F- Christ- fuck, so good, baby. So good.” 

Happy with yourself, you continue to suck him clean while he chokes out moans and his stomach clenches. You can feel him getting heavier in your mouth and you start speeding up, using both of your hands. 

There’s a moment when he reaches forward to push your hair out of your face, so that you don’t get bothered and so that he sees you properly, which warms your heart. 

He taps one of yours hands that’s on him to indicate that he’s close and you pull back with a kitten lick to his tip before sticking your tongue out.

You have Jack seeing stars when his load pumps into your mouth, and your eyes dart over his shirt clinging to his chest, his hair falling into his screwed shut eyes, his lips parted and his hand gripping the sofa with such intensity that his veins pop out. 

You tuck him back into his clothing after cleaning him up, and he looks at you with tired eyes while making grabby hands. 

You chuckle, climbing into his arms and he slumps his body against you, both of you now lying down on the couch as he unpauses the movie. 

His head rests comfortably against your chest, one of your hands running through his hair, and the other intertwined with his. 

It’s sweet. 

Jack wakes up alone and panics at once. It’s embarrassing, really; like finding out your stuffed animal fell to the floor during your sleep as a toddler. But when he checks his messages, he finds a text from you. 

Hey, I had to leave. I have a project due tomorrow and also Nala :( We can meet up later. I had fun yesterday. Thank you :))

It’s hits Jack how gone he is when he finds himself clutching his phone to his heart. 

It takes a while. 

He comes home fresh from morning practice took a nice long nap to clear his head before waking up properly to see that it was raining outside. 

He was enjoying (not) the protein shake that he was required to drink and mindlessly scoring through plays from an old game, when it hits him like a sack of bricks. 

Do you think kissing is unhygienic? 

You think he doesn’t want to kiss you. 

You think he’s toying with your heart by showing you all kinds of affection besides the one thing that both of you wanted so fucking bad. 

You think he doesn’t like you enough to do that yet. 

The drive to yours was smooth despite the rain pouring down from every direction, and because you always reminded him of road safety. 

You were standing outside of the apartment building, looking like you were having an argument with.. your tiger. 

Your hands were on your hips, body soaked and hair wet as you tried to coax Nala into shelter. 

Jack laughed at both of your antics which got your attention. Your mind flashes back to the day that you met him, the pouring rain, and how awkward it was to meet someone you knew from a while back. You wave at him happily as he approached, but noticed a hint of  anxiety and embarrassment. 

“What’s wro-?“

“Are you into poetry?”

“Uh, sometimes? Why?”

“This- well, I can’t read it. Here.” 

He hands over his phone, stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at anything but you. Puzzled, you cover his phone from the pelting droplets so you could read. 

‘The first time you caught my eye

it was not love at first sight. 

Instead a quiet curiosity was

planted in my chest and I knew

it was only a matter of time before 

you sunk beneath my bones and

nurtured this deep seated familiarity

into a love so fierce that I would question

if I had ever been in love before.’

Lyra Wren. 

You read it again. 

There’s no way he actually searched for a poem to depict how he felt. 

“Look, I didn’t understand half of it hit you get the-“

Jack was cut off by our lips against his. 

It was short, maybe a second long, closed mouth, but you pulled away breathless and were close enough to feel his heart racing underneath his clothes. 

How desperately he wanted your cold, soft lips against his again. 

“So, you like me? For who I am?”

He nods. 

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I-“ 

You were interrupted by Nala’s whine (to say: I change my mind, I want to go inside), and you give Jack his phone, grab his hand and pull him inside. 

“C’mon, we’ll get pneumonia.”

Your hands were still in each others, his engulfing yours, when you shut the door to your apartment, locked it, watched Nala bound to her room, and turned to face him again properly. 

He was so, so close. Your lips were parted, just inches apart, your foreheads touching. 

He closed the gap this time, almost groaning in relief when he felt your mouth properly against his, something you both yearned for without realizing. His lips move against yours gently, savoring as much of you as he can. He nips your bottom lip and it has you and Jack smiling into the kiss. And then it’s a mess, teeth clashing, giggling, tongues lolling over another, one of his hands cupping your face and the other wrapped around your waist, but it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You pull back. 

“I love you more.”

[novlr]

I have a bad habit of never finishing writing I start - I work hard on a story, make it to 3/4 of the way through, then lose passion for it and start something else. I know the key to overcoming this is discipline, and I’m trying very hard to make myself keep going with my current story that I like very much and spent so much time researching and outlining, but it’s a struggle every day to make my writing goal. Any advice for how to re-ignite writing spark or how to push through to the end?

We can lose our drive to write for a lot of reasons. It often indicates a growing maturity as an artist — you understand the craft better and your own (current) limitations better, and so you begin to feel overwhelmed in a way you didn’t before. It can also be that external anxieties are getting in the way or simply that you’ve lost interest in your current project. 

Hope is not lost. Read on for some tips on reclaiming your writing spark. 

Shift gears

Sometimes, all you need to reignite your writing spark is to engage your brain in a different way. If you’re struggling with your novel, take a break and try writing a poem or a piece of flash fiction. Or, you could try drawing sketches of your characters, a map of your story’s world, or some possible outfits for your climactic battle scene (it doesn’t have to be good. No one’s going to see it). 

The trick is to stay creative but to approach your work from a different angle. 

Change location

If you’ve been trying and failing to write at your desk, surrounded by crumpled up dreams drafts and last week’s candy wrappers, you may be suffering from an environment with stagnant energy. Try taking yourself on a writer’s date: go to a location that fits the tone of the project you’re working on (lux hotel lobby, seedy theatre bar, the wilds of a nearby park), and see if that gets your creative wheels turning. 

Dress [in]appropriately 

In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg has a chapter called “Blue Lipstick and a Cigarette Hanging Out Your Mouth”. By this she meant, “Use outfits and props to step outside yourself and get a new perspective”. You might find it helpful to have a special “writer’s sweater” that you only wear when you’re writing or to dress like someone confident and cool enough to smash writer’s block in the face. 

Do some soul-searching

What’s really going on here? If the above tricks aren’t doing it for you, there may be some bigger issues at play that are inhibiting you from connecting to your writing spark. 

Write letters

I’ve written about the restorative powers of letter writing before, and I’ll mention it again: handwritten letters are a great way to get the words flowing. You don’t actually have to send them when you’re done (although you can if you want to); the recipient doesn’t even need to exist. Simply by putting your thoughts down in a low-risk way, you’re unclogging your creative pipes. 

Join a writing group

There’s power and accountability in numbers. You can find writing groups online, through community centres and writers centres, or by sticking a flyer up in a bookshop and starting your own. There’s even a Novlr writing community on Discord where we share tips, struggles, and just generally talk craft! By inviting other people into your writing practice, you’ll have some support and encouragement to keep you going. 

Find your writing spark with writing prompts

The internet is awash with writing prompts. These can be a helpful way to get something down on paper and stretch out your writing muscles. Whether it’s a premise, an opening line, or a character study, writing prompts can give you a gentle, creative push and even inspire new work.

Experiment with found structure

If writing a traditional story feels like pulling out your own teeth, try a found structure story. This means using fictional “found material” like shopping lists, calendars, to-do lists, ticket stubs, banking records, and so forth to create a narrative. 

Here’s an example: Imagine a week in which a bride-to-be prepares for her glorious wedding, is left at the altar, rages in misery, and ultimately emerges healthier and stronger. Now, write her shopping list for each day of that week. How does it change from beginning to end? How much emotional detail can you communicate to the reader through the items that appear on these lists? This can be a fun way to create a story without the anxiety of writing it.

Set a petty life goal

I am a proud champion of the value of pettiness as a motivator. There are plenty of noble reasons to write: to share powerful stories, to help readers in need of healing, to inspire others to write stories themselves, and to draw attention to important social issues or minority identities. 

There are also some really inane and selfish reasons to write: to become more famous than your ex, to appear on TV and make your ex regret everything they’ve ever done to you, to have your book made into a movie and receive casting consultation rights and pitch your favourite actor in the lead role and allow them to take you for coffee as a thank you. But the thing is… these are the motivations that are really going to pull you out of the dirt when you need it most. Find the silly driving goal that really gets under your skin and hold onto it for dear life. 

Forgive yourself

Many writers experience a lot of shame when they aren’t writing as much as they feel they should. Needless to say, this shame only makes the writing harder. Allow yourself the space to take some time when you need it, process your struggles, and return when you’re ready. The page will be waiting when you get back. 

[the-labyrinth-of-me]

I don't know if that has been discussed in the past, but I wanna talk about a few things that stand out in the apartment of the Wakes, at least for me. First off, it's absolutely weird that the apartment looks nothing like the one from the first game, neither interior nor floor plan wise. Before Alan was trapped in the Dark Place, the apartment looked drastically different. Photos for comparison:

Seems like a regular home of a best-selling crime novelist, right?

The apartment in Alan Wake 2 has, as already mentioned, a different floor plan and weird structure. Like you leave the elevator and there aren't even any further doors, let alone a hallway. As if the Wake apartment was the only one on the whole floor. Then there's the entrance area with the cameras from Alice that set off once Alan leaves the elevator, with a few paintings on the wall (like graffiti) that seem to have replaced the skyline posters.

Then you enter the actual apartment. It holds a layout that doesn't make much sense. There's also no bathroom / toilet and Alice's studio seems to be missing. Some other paintings of graffiti on the wall mix with really old, outdated, simple furniture. Nothing that displays wealth for the cozy feeling of a real home, it's rather minimalist.

If only the furniture would be outdated, though...

A collection of old files, devices (seriously, who has a telephone like that in the 2010 and upwards years?), and old toys. Since the Wakes don't have children and there wasn't any mention that they, at any point, planned to start a family, one can assume these toys weren't bought for children to be born and they seem to be well-used as well. Maybe Alan's toys from his childhood?

The books all seem to be really old as well.

All that old stuff and the composition, how things are placed and displayed, rather give me the feeling I'm walking through a museum rather than an apartment.

(wtf why is there even an accordion??)

And if we take a closer look at the kitchen...

... we see a weird oven and coffee machine. Stuff we'd expect to find in restaurant, maybe. Or a diner. A very specific diner.

Moving on, what catches the attention in the living room isn't only the lack of a television (although the Wakes had one in the first game), despite the TVs can be found practically everywhere in the Dark Place in the most odd spaces. But not in an actual apartment, of all things? Hmmmm. As if someone deliberately choose not to have one. Maybe the one who is imagining that whole stuff?

Which would be my conclusion to the weirdness of the apartment: dream logic mixed with whatever is left of the apartment in Alan's memory mixed with what is necessary for him to move on. TVs is what he might be kind of scared of, since often he sees another version of himself speaking insane rants. Nothing he could use that close to escape. The old furniture and books and toys could really stem from his longterm memory, his childhood home blended in with his actual one, from his subconscious. His mother seems to have a key role because she was the one who gave him the Clicker. And he never got to know his father. There definitely is some pain in his childhood years. Maybe he has a box somewhere in which he keeps some of his toys?

In dreams our brain processes what we experience throughout the day, sometimes memories mix in, or things we suppress / are in denial about bc we're too afraid to confront them. That could be one explanation of the interior of the apartment. His childhood even gets a small section in the musical since we walk through his old bedroom. So, early memories are covered. Brings us the next subject - striking what isn't necessary to move to. Alice's studio apparently isn't necessary (and something he doesn't have a connection to. Makes even more sense considering her work didn't contribute much to their income, as she says in the video. So her office might be kind of invisible to him. His work being the "more important" one.) Bathroom? Not necessary. Interior replaced with old stuff bc its more important to him, maybe? But what about the industrial oven and coffee machine? That really seems to be a nod to the Oh Deer diner, where his journey (and demise) practically started. Where he got the keys for the Bird Leg Cabin and met the Dark Presence for the first time. It seemed to have left a mark. Rose, the superfan waitress who helps him from the real world. Rusty, the first major Taken he had to fight (iirc Stucky came after Rusty). The Old Gods and their stupid jukebox. I'm not gonna link Coconut here don't worry. There's also a pack of the Bright Falls Blend coffee on a shelf.

Summarized, we can say that dream logic blends all kinds of things together whenever Alan visits the apartment in the Dark Place. Not to mention that it even looks different each time he goes there, during each draft. If I find the time I'll try to draw floor plans of each version. I think it's very interesting.

If you made it this far, thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

Edit for additions / stuff from tags (holy shit is this a long post now)

- @taniushka12 yes you're right of course, the bathroom appears later however and not during the first draft. It seems Alan readjusts the apartment due to what he needs to go further, or Alice had a say about this. Idk. The bathroom appears in the next draft I think, with the expedition. He remembers they have a bathrooms yay! But it still looks completely different.

- @omena-perkele thanks for elaborating on that. I was planning to go into more detail about Alan progressively forgetting how his home looks like but only put it in half a sentence lol. It's my interpretation of how empty the apartment actually is, like not much personal belongings, if any. Bedroom is almost empty. There are pieces of furniture he remembers or remembers there should be some at certain walls in the rooms, but many empty spots. The rest is mixed with old stuff and dream logic / dark place fill-ins.

Thanks for each comment on this!

[heyyallitssatan]

I have another Batfam headcanon

So Bruce is absolutely paranoid and insane about keeping his secret identity secret, and there are some obvious thing you do to that end, wear a mask, don’t give out your legal name, don’t leave your gear lying around where anyone could stumble upon it, etc

But here’s a weird one I’ve never seen anyone mention but I’m convinced that paranoid freak has thought of: scent

Scent is the sense most closely tied to memory and emotion in our brains right? So it would make sense that you wouldn’t ever want someone to associate a certain scent with you that could connect both identities

Now, this is absolutely insane and something’s I don’t think anyone would ever think of, but the man who refuses to eat branded food on a stakeout so no one can make connections, he absolutely has

And I think he’s come up with a solution to this conundrum: before any bat goes out in their suit they have to shower with unscented soap to get rid of any lingering scents from perfumes or lotions or shampoos they’ve used

Sounds great right, you use unscented soap and don’t smell like anything no one can use that to track you

Here’s the thing though, and anyone who’s ever used an unscented soap knows where I’m going with this one, unscented soap has a very distinct scent, it smells like the word unscented, it’s strong and not generally pleasant, but it does mask most other subtle scents

But if unscented soap has a scent and they use that before every patrol then wouldn’t that be just as bad cause now the Wayne’s have that same unscented soap smell

Nope, they only have the unscented smell when in costume, the rest of the time they have their own signature scent they were intentionally, both because it helps separate them from their vigilante personas further and because it’s the kind of thing rich people would do

So here’s my headcanons for the Wayne’s signature scents

Bruce: sandalwood cologne and shea butter body scrub

Dick: fresh rain scented bath products

Jason: evergreen and old leather

Tim: clean laundry (apparently that’s a fucking scent) and coffee (but not real coffee, more like coffee scented something)

Damian: teakwood soap, it’s subtle

Cass: subtly vanilla

Steph: vaguely sweet vaguely fruity

Duke: sort of honey like, a sweet smell but also flowery

Babs: one of those smells that is distinctly that smell, but you know there’s ten thousand of those it could be, and it has a weird name with a weirder commercial

[ddollfface]

Can I please request a Yandere Hanayama Kaoru head canon?

𝐀 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

𝙆𝙖𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙢𝙖 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣

Warnings; reader is afab/described a girl, yandere behaviors, stalking, I talk a lot, lots of ramblings, probably doesn't make any sense, bad writing, more stalking, Tumblr is trying to silence me, ngl Hanayama is growing on me... If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Bro, I'm so sorry that this is super rushed, seeing as I hit the word limit??? I'm super confused because I barely wrote anything, but whatever. A lot of my headcanons are based around @yandere-writer-momo. Also, sorry for being offline for so long lol, kinda forgot I had Tumblr ngl :/

Okay, to start this off, I think that realistically, it'd be very, very, very hard to get Hanayama's attention. He's shown to be stoic and stone-faced, only showing respect and warmth toward specific people (Baki and Shiba included). And I think it's important to mention that the people he does respect is due to their fighting spirit and/or strength, that or they were there during his childhood (like Kizaki and his mama).

And that's just for him to show basic affection toward them, not even accounting for being loving. For you to catch his attention, I think that you'd have to be either a really strong fighter (meaning having impressive skills of some sort) or have a strong will, either one will work. (Though, a lot of the time, both go hand-in-hand).

When I say a strong will, I don't mean you get up after being punched over and over, instead, it can just be standing up for others. Similar to Katsumi, I can see Hanayama being attracted to a person who's selfless, in the sense that they're brave. Someone who's willing to push through their fear and do it, whatever it is. Now, that catches his attention.

There's a never-ending list of cowards who'll run with their tails between their legs at the sight of discomfort, willing to abandon everything just for their own gain, and Hanayama encounters these men all the time. Let's just say that it gets boring, annoying even. So when you see someone who's spitfire, ready to jump into danger for themselves or others. Now, that's impressive.

Whether or not they can actually carry through doesn't matter too much, it's the fact that they got back up, not letting their dignity lay to rest. Personally, I find that Hanayama would be far more interested in someone who's genuinely acting selfless in this way, acting from the heart.

Going more into his childhood, I think this type is rooted in Hanayma's relationship with his mother. Though I haven't read the manga, from the wiki, I've gained that he was close to his mother, loving her very much. We don't know much about her. Hell, we don't even know her name, but we do know that she was kind.

That's the only information we're given, but even from that, I can make an analysis. From this, I know that Hanayama was likely a Mama's boy, though still being trained to be a Yakuta. I don't mean Mama's boy in the traditional sense, I mean it in the way that she was his peace, his way out of the Yukuta world, his destiny. Being raised in a gangster lifestyle isn't easy, nor is it soft, so just imagine the damage that type of environment can put on a child's brain?

Horrible, huh? So I like to think that Hanayama's mama, before she passed, was far softer to him, giving him some sense of security. this is possibly why he felt such sorrow after she passed, discarding the natural pain we feel when our mama dies (seeing as there's a primal connection we have with our mama, but that doesn't matter too much at the moment).

Hanayama is a very monotone kind of guy, who, I imagine, doesn't like people with some type of alternate motive. Like, y'know how politicians or businessmen talk? Like they're hiding something from you? Yeah, Hanayama loathes those kinds of people, especially if they're trying to pursue him. I belive that he wants someone who'll keep his life steady; be his calm, if you will.

He wants someone who will be upfront, express themselves clearly, and won't keep what they're thinking from you. To him, this is a breath of fresh air. Hanayama is constantly surrounded by lackeys trying to kiss up to him, speaking with a hidden motive (which isn't really hidden in retrospect). If they're not trying to appease them, then they're quacking in their boots, ready to piss themselves.

But you're not like that, no, not at all. You're different. Hanayama can tell, you aren't some coward, instead, you're someone to respect. He can imagine you sitting next to him, all pretty as a Yakuza's wife. Yeah, he likes the sound of that. Well, the only problem is that you don't know who he is, not yet at least.

I imagine that you wouldn't know who Hanayama is, at first, seeing as he never spoke to you. He likely witnessed you acting selfless in some type of way, expressing your kindness by helping a grandma get across the street, something like that.

You didn't notice him, but he sure noticed you. At first, it wasn't anything too special. Hanayama just found you interesting, wanting to see what you'd do next, so he had one or two of his men keep a tab on you--nothing serious. It continues like that for quite a while, and Hanayama learns more and more about you. He knows that you like to sing when you cook, tapping your feet to the beat, and swaying side-to-side. It's cute, he thinks. And Hanayama feels closer to you, as if you know each other, like you're friends.

But then one of his men reports that you're not at home, not following your usual schedule. Instead, you were at some dingy cafe, drinking crappy coffee with another man, some slumbag who looked like he hadn't showered in a hot second. For some reason, which Hanayama doesn't know, he gets ticked off.

Someone as sweet, kind, and damn pretty as you shouldn't associate with someone like him, someone so gross.

He doesn't do anything, no, no yet. It'd be too brash, and too stupid. And Hanayama isn't stupid. No, Hanayama can keep himself composed, now knowing that he needs to get your attention. Afterall, he can't have you running around with other men, not when he's right here! Well... you don't know that, yet.

Few weeks pass, and you've completely forgotten the trashy date you had gone on, but Hanayama hasn't. You begin to notice new outfits appearing in your closet, clothing you certainly didn't have previously. They're far too expensive, too revealing for you to own.

You'll be confused, especially when these dresses, heels, and coats are no longer just appearing, but instead, being presented. Now, instead of being hung up or nicely folded in your closet, they're being laid out on your bed, accompanied by a pretty, black leather box with silk insides. A little note is stuck on top of the shimmering dress, causing you to gulp, looking around as a shiver racks through your body.

Who the hell is buying you a dress? (though, it looks far more like lingerie, seeing as you'd never be able to wear it out in public). You don't know, but you can't help but feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you lift the velvet cloth, feeling the lace slip through your fingers. Once you tried it on, listen, you couldn't help but feel curious, you gawked at how it fit you like a glove, hugging your curves, and accentuating your hips and bust.

It's fucking creepy, that's all you can think, but it gets worse, way worse. Throughout the weeks, you notice more and more gifts show up at your doorstep. The dresses get severely revealing, much to your discomfort. So do the notes. They get too detailed and too accurate to your day-to-day. By now, it's clear that you have a stalker, a rich one at that.

I'd have to say that this is the worst part of being with Hanayama: the courting. It's hella weird! You'll never feel alone, always having someone watching you, mostly Hanayama. He doesn't have his lackeys watching you anymore, seeing as he's far too jealous for that. He doesn't want someone as low at them to see you in such an innocent, vulnerable state. No, that's only for him to see.

Don't be surprised when he shows up at your door, your last hookup's head in hand and a bundle of roses in the other. After all, it's time for you to come home, no?

[gyllenhaalstories]

OH, THE MISTLETOE — JERRY BRINSON 🎄

summary: you have been invited to your friend's work party for christmas and she played santa's little helper to match you with her coworker.

warnings: i tried to keep the story accurate to its setting in the 1960s but i'm sure there are anachronisms, mention of divorce, alcohol & food, mostly fluff, smut, (pussy eating & fingering). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 4070

gifs credits: @/stephendorff (cropped) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: in the original script, jerry works at, and i quote, 'a mid-range sporting good store' so i kept this detail rather than what was shown in the movie, it suits my man better. this is what my brain chose to write after months of not even forming a coherent sentence... so ambitious and exhausting. i lost count of how many things i googled to make sure they existed in 1960s (and how many photos of jello salads i looked at). i suggest listening to vintage oldies to enjoy this fic to the fullest. ❤️💚 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"Take those cookies to the table, will you? I'll drop our coats off at the back of the store. I cleaned it well before the end of my shift yesterday, so don't worry about dust and grime. I'm not quite sure what type of dust golf clubs can leave behind anyway..." Your friend spoke, mostly to herself, as she held on to the platter of baked goods while you removed your winter coat.

After a swift exchange, you watched her head towards the back of the sporting good store while you followed the path of a few other people who brought food for the potluck.

Jerry emerged from the back store where he, too, had put away his winter clothes. He stopped by the mirrors to neatly fix his hair. He arranged his clothes too, he did not look all that bad for a man who had spent a solid hour shovelling snow off the side walk before the guests arrived.

In order to convince you to attend the Christmas party with her, your friend made you a promise. She swore she would stay with you until she found someone else you would get along with, forbidding you from looking sad and lonely all by yourself in a corner of the store until she would be ready to leave. She could be quite convincing, your friend.

But she also lived with her head up in the clouds, you doubted you would find friendship in a group of employees and their partners who decided to hang out together one last time before the Holiday break.

Jerry quickly greeted his colleague, this bubbly young lady who always had a topic to babble about. His poor attempt at small talk quickly took a turn when he felt dragged by the arm in the opposite direction of where he was headed. This colleague of his briefly explained that she had someone he absolutely needed to meet.

"This right here is none other than Jerry Brinson. He's the best vendor we've ever had at the store. But I already told you that, haven't I?"

Your eyes widened in surprise when your friend came back with a mysterious man on her arm. You fought a giggle when you noticed that this same man seized the first opportunity he saw to withdraw himself from the forced embrace. You stretched out your hand to shake his. Jerry's grip was firm, it conveyed a level of confidence that did not match the hesitant smile on his face.

"I wouldn't say that, you're good too." Jerry replied with a light shrug.

"Nonsense." Your friend brushed off his not-so heartfelt praise before she shamelessly continued her sales pitch. "Jerry could sell snow boots to a polar bear if one ever rang the bell on the counter... Oh! Speaking of which, did you read it in the papers?" Jerry and you shook your heads simultaneously. "Apparently they've spotted one of those up north, near the big river."

Again, Jerry and you seemed connected. You both shot her an incredulous look. "I don't think there are polar bears in Montana."

Jerry timidly nodded his head in agreement. If there were bears around, surely they were not white. And surely they would not walk in a random store right in the middle of Great Falls.

Your friend sighed at your ungratefulness. She tried so hard to set you up with good company and there you were, ruining her attempts. She gave you an obvious glance of encouragement, which you met with an annoyed eye roll. Right when you thought things could not get more awkward, your friend excused herself when she spotted her fiancé entering the already crowded store.

You stood alone with Jerry. The conversation immediately fell flat. You both exchanged shy and avoidant looks while everybody else mingled cheerfully. Jerry took a moment to study you, from head to toe. You would have caught his eye, even without the intervention of the self-proclaimed cupid's assistant he called his coworker. The manager's daughter, in fact. After a while, he broke the heavy silence. "I don't know who I'm waitin' to impress here." Jerry chuckled, visibly no less uncomfortable than when your friend carried the entire discussion.

"For what it's worth, there's no need to impress her. You can't out talk a chatterbox." You glanced over your shoulder, the social butterfly you called your friend now paraded her partner left and right. You turned your attention back to the man before you.

"Wasn't talking about her." Jerry replied bluntly. "But it's good to know she's always like that. Talking is great, it gets you to connect with the client. It makes it easier to sell what they want rather than what they need, but she..." He marked a pause while he racked his brain in the search of polite terms. "She's got a lot of enthusiasm."

"Spoken like a true salesman."

"What can I say? You got the employee of the month for the twenty-something time in a row standing right in front of ya."

You arched a playful brow. "Only twenty times?"

"Oh, yeah, that's when the boss started this gimmick."

Your genuine laugh made his shoulders relax. You could tell he was not one to brag, he made that clear when he did not allow your friend to stroke his ego by listing out all of his exploits.

"Wanna grab a bite?" He suggested when he noticed that several other guests already lined up by the tables.

You happily agreed. You waited in the queue, filled your plate with a few bites of the most appetizing dishes then you walked back to your initial spot. You looked over your shoulder, expecting to see Jerry following you, but he was taking his sweet time. When he finally walked back, he balanced a precarious plate of food in one hand and a beer in the other all the while he chewed on something. He looked like a chipmunk with full cheeks, you laughed at the imagery.

"You know... If I gotta sell one thing tonight, it's those cookies." He pointed at the folding tables by the wall.

On the red table cloth, no dish was left untouched. Not even the several variations of Jell-O salads that left you wondering how many of those concoctions were too many for one single party. You distinguished a familiar serving platter that looked rather empty.

"Have you tried the cookies? You gotta try them." Jerry set his beer and his plate down on the nearest surface he could find, which turned out to be a pile of shoe boxes. He reached a hand behind your back, with the intention to guide you to the array of miscellaneous meals that composed the potluck. But he quickly withdrew himself. "Wait."

You nodded. This time, you watched him make his way through the crowd as if he was playing hockey on ice. He glided expertly and he avoided the attempts at pointless chitchat from friends and colleagues.

Jerry returned with a pyramid of cookies on a paper napkin. "I could've eaten the whole platter, they're delicious."

"I know." You spoke before Jerry even had time to hand you the bigger half of the cookie he just broke in two. He looked up from the napkin, his head slightly tilted. "I baked them."

"You did?" He watched you take a bite, you did not eat with as much appetite as he did. He assumed you were already aware of your delicious talent. "Gotta have to teach me." For a second, you noticed the way his gaze appeared vacant. His mind drifted to the thought of his ex-wife, Jeannette, when she revealed she had been teaching that old Miller guy how to swim. The mere comparison between this party he shared with a lovely stranger and what happened before his divorce left a bitter taste in his mouth.

You frowned, the desire to inquire about this sudden change in his expression tickled your mind but you decided to stay quiet.

Jerry put on a small grin, picking up where he left off. "I'd like the recipe, if you don't mind sharing it. I'm sure my son would love it a lot more than the cake I baked for his birthday last year. Christ, that was a disaster." To put it briefly, he was glad he knew how to extinguish a fire.

You both chuckled, Jerry went on to explain how he swapped the sugar and salt, amongst other mistakes. You listened intently to more of his stories about his son. He loved his child dearly, that you could tell. You could also tell that your friend had lied to you. While boasting about her handsome colleague, she made a point in explaining how he seemed like a quiet man unless a conversation about sports sparked up. You witnessed the complete opposite.

Eventually, the two of you decided to sit down on one of the benches by the shoe racks. The anecdotes started to blend together, to the point that even Jerry realized that he was becoming bothersome. "You still sure I can't outdo your friend? 'Cause it feels like I've been talking your ears off."

You grabbed the last cookie he had brought out to share together. You nodded at Jerry when he insisted that you needed to let him know if he got you bored out of your mind with his stories about his wild life. In the distance, you caught a glimpse of your friend's approving smile that beamed brighter than the Christmas lights hung around the store for this special occasion.

*~*~*

"There you are."

You turned around to look at Jerry who leaned against the door frame. Above his head, you noticed that somebody had hung a garland of mistletoe.

"Thought you had sneaked out on me." Jerry's chin pointed in direction of the pile of coats. He then apologized for getting distracted by a conversation with his boss. "Wasn't far from the truth, huh?"

You shook your head and finally found your coat, you put it on. "It's getting late, better make it home before I have to walk in two feet of snow." Jerry echoed your laughter.

He nodded understandingly when you explained that your friend promised you a ride home, but in the end she insisted on staying at the party with her fiancé. Jerry expected a question that never came. "I'll drive you."

You quickly declined his offer. You did not live too far away, you did not want to bother him. Excuses.

"A pretty dress like this wasn't made for a hike in the snow." More excuses.

You tilted your head and, with a deep sigh, you accepted.

"Stubborn." You heard him whisper the word when you brushed shoulders as Jerry reached through the pile to dig up his coat. His keys fell from the pocket, so he bent down to pick them up from the floor. "Those shoes weren't made for walking outside either, darlin'."

You conceded, you would not make it the whole way back home in such an outfit.

"May I interest you in a brand new item we received? It just got invented by a smart fella from Maine. They're called ski boots. They're boots... For skiing."

"Revolutionary." You faked a dramatic gasp, successfully pulling another chuckle out of Jerry. "I'll have to visit the store again, then."

"I work five days a week, miss. I'll be happy to assist." With a wink, he offered you his arm to hold.

You glanced up at the garland of mistletoe one last time. Jerry put on his coat without bothering to zip it closed and he led the way to the exit. When the door shut behind the two of you, the infernal chattering noise finally quieted down. Jerry and you exchanged a knowing look with a mutual appreciation to for the newfound tranquility outside of the party.

*~*~*

Jerry parked in front of your apartment building. He hurried to the passenger door that he held open for you. He expected an invitation that did come this time.

You stood by the car, locking eyes with Jerry for a moment. "A handsome face like yours wasn't made to freeze out in the cold now, was it?" You smiled as you began to walk towards the door of your apartment.

The sound of Jerry's footsteps in the snow confirmed he followed you closely. You exchanged another longing look while you unlocked the front door of your apartment. You let him walk in first, he quickly untied his shoes and he placed them besides yours on the entrance mat. He helped you with your coat that he hung according to your instructions.

You noticed that Jerry was chuckling. "What is it?" You asked with a confused frown.

"It's real quiet in here." He admitted and you wholeheartedly agreed.

You brushed shoulders again as you made your way to the radio in your living room. You tuned in to your favourite radio station. It played Christmas music, the perfect ambience to calmly extend the party that started at the store. "Better?"

"Better indeed, darlin'." Jerry flashed you a smile that made you feel warm all over. Silence crept in the room, except this time it was much more comfortable than when you first met at the beginning of the party. Still, Jerry insisted on breaking it. "Smells really good in here." He could discern the scent of freshly baked goods, he assumed it was the remnants of the cookies, but there was something else to it.

"I made some mulled wine earlier, I haven't cleaned the pot yet. It's such a hassle." You shrugged before your eyes widened in surprise at your own realization. "There's some left, I could warm it up for us. How does that sound?"

Jerry's enthusiastic nod of approval brought the two of you in your small kitchen. He tried to stay out of your way, using your fridge as an arm rest while he watched you grab a ladle and two mismatched mugs.

You stirred the spiced wine slowly, waiting for it to come to temperature while Jerry entertained you with more anecdotes.

Until he switched it up with questions that encouraged you to tell your own stories too. He sipped the wine from the mug you handed him and he listened intently to every detail about your life that you shared.

You set your beverage down to finally tackle the dishes. Before your hands met with the water running from the faucet, you were gently nudged away.

"Let me help." Jerry left you no time or space to be stubborn or to turn him down, he put on the pair of rubber gloves he saw on the counter. You both laughed at the ridiculous sight while he scrubbed the pot clean.

You poured more dish soap so he could scrape off the spices that had gotten stuck. Soon enough, Jerry was done and he removed the gloves before setting the pot on top of the fridge. You placed your hand on his arm, your thumb gently caressed the soft material of his blue polo shirt. "You know you didn't have to do all that." Keeping you company, driving you home, now helping you with these trivial tasks... "I appreciate it."

He pressed his lips together, his head dipped in acknowledgement of your sentiment. Jerry's eyes flicked from yours down to your lips and back up again. "I don't usually do that."

"What, wash dishes?" You returned with a chuckle.

"No, that I do a lot of." He admitted. All these years of being a father and yet he could not comprehend how many dirty dishes one child could leave behind. He blinked away the thoughts of a sink full of plates and glasses. "I meant... Kiss." He leaned closer to you. "I don't kiss a lady on the first date."

You felt heat rising to your cheeks, your own gaze fell to his mouth. "Oh, that's too bad." His defined cupid's bow faded when he smiled at you.

"I could make an exception, y'know."

You hummed in response, locking eyes with him for a moment. You had only just met, yet it felt like you truly knew Jerry with all the talking you both did this evening. Ultimately, your friend's plan to set you up with her handsome colleague had worked. You would figure out a way to let her know at another time. You had much more pressing plans...

Jerry pressed his lips on yours. His eyes closed, his heart skipped a beat.

The kiss was tender, but it quickly lost its hesitation when you erased the remaining distance between the two of you.

He held your face in his hands to kiss you a second time.

The two of you slowly deepened the kiss, with Jerry's head tilting to the side to let your tongues dance together.

His hands fell to your shoulders and then they caressed down your body, following your curves. He guided your hands to rest on the small of his back before he placed his own on your hips.

Jerry gently pressed you against the counter. His forehead met yours while he tried to catch his breath.

Your mouth found his again and again, until he left a trail of kisses from your lips to your jawline and all the way down to your neck.

Jerry sprinkled open-mouthed kisses on your skin, as he inhaled the soft scent of your perfume. He pulled away to lock eyes with yours, searching for an ounce of hesitation or perhaps a drop of regret for the passion growing speedily between the two of you.

All he found in your beautiful eyes was a reflection of desire that shined in his own gaze. You leaned your head in his hand while he held your face again. You nodded softly.

He reached for your hand that he brought to his lips for a kiss. You watched his grin grow on his face as he leaned down. All the way down until his knees met the floor. He let out a huff of air. "I'm not as young and fresh as I used to be."

You rolled your eyes and laughed at his joke, as if he was a frail old man.

He popped the collar button of his polo open and he looked at you. The dimmed light of the kitchen made his eyes glimmer. His fingertips caressed up your legs, from your ankles to your knees. Jerry's eyebrow arched on his forehead, creating a wrinkle you so badly wanted to kiss.

You tilted your head, confused by his unspoken request.

He answered all of your questions when he started kissing his way up the inside of your thighs. His hands splayed on your skin, gently grabbing at the supple flesh.

"Wait," you caused Jerry to pull back in a quick motion. "Let me just..." You brushed all of his sudden worries away when you tried to pull your tights down. You struggled awkwardly. "Sorry."

He chuckled with you and gently pushed your hands out of the way. "Let me do it." Jerry insisted. He concluded the struggle was not worth the wait. "Do you have more than one pair?"

"Yeah, why?" You replied, stumped by his question. Then, you heard the noise of fabric ripping and your eyes widened.

"That's why." Jerry answered bluntly, tickling the now exposed skin of your thighs with his warm breath. He kissed his way to your covered core, he grunted at the sight of your red and lacy underwear. He gave you an apologetic glance before he ripped the delicate material too.

You parted your legs to give him more space.

"It feels like the mistletoe hung up at the party was a good omen, doesn't it?" He murmured. He pressed the lightest and softest kisses possible on your core while you giggled at his words. "May I?" He asked for permission another time.

"Yes please." Chills ran through you when he kept going, kissing you more and more hungrily. If what he said was true, that he did not kiss on the first date, it made this moment all the more special.

Jerry explored you gently with kisses and licks that sufficed to get you worked up.

You bucked your hips against his face, chasing more. You mewled in bliss whenever his tongue or his nose would bump against your clit.

Jerry understood that you craved more than the sweet attention he gave you, and he happily obliged. There was something about you, about the evening you unexpectedly spent together, that made his heart skip a beat. The discussions and the longing stares you shared would have made it nearly impossible to walk out of your apartment without getting a taste of you.

You gripped on the edge of the counter with your left hand, determined to stay upright although your knees were turning into jelly. Your other hand found his head and, after ruffling his hair a bit, you guided him.

Jerry moaned against you, the vibrations reverberated through your entire body. He loved the way you showed him how to make you feel good. He lapped at your essence, he tried to commit to memory the ways you liked to be pleased.

You pulled on his hair a bit, without caring much about the way your skirt swallowed him whole. You looked down to watch his legs shift as he tried to find a more stable position.

His tongue worked through your folds, circled your clit, dipped at your entrance. Jerry's hands found your thighs again so he could pull on the skin to allow him to devour you like a starved man. It had been so long, too long since he had done something of the sort. He could only wish you two would meet again. In the meantime, Jerry was desperate to make you tip over the edge.

You let out a song of moans, breathlessly chanting his name. You felt the muscles of your lower stomach tighten as the pleasure built up. You were so close...

Jerry replaced his tongue with his thumb, so he could catch his breath. The featherlight strokes on your clit made you shiver. Jerry dove back under your dress, flattening his tongue to lick over your folds and his finger too.

You let your head fall back when Jerry made you come on his tongue. Jerry's moans and yours blended into a beautiful symphony as he continued until your legs were shaking like a leaf.

He finished with a kiss on your clit, so you could feel his lips curling into a proud smile.

Both of your hands relaxed when the tidal waves of your orgasm became calm again. Rather than gripping on his hair, you ran your fingers through them. "Come here..." You said, the tone of your voice sounded shaky. Your chest heaved with each breath you took.

Jerry's head emerged from under your skirt, you chuckled at the sight. His hair looked a mess, totally dishevelled. The hair pommade he used to comb his hair over evidently could not sustain such a blissful moment.

A frown flashed on his forehead, his glistening lips formed a small pout. "What? Is everything alright?" He sounded a tad bit concerned, afraid that he did something wrong. Although, judging by the way your body reacted to him and by the moans you sung at his ear... Jerry could tell that that everything was indeed alright.

You nodded slowly while you caught your breath. "More than alright." You reached a hand to smooth his hair. Your hand caressed along his cheek until your fingertip tilted his chin up.

Jerry's gaze met yours, his hands stroked up and down your legs. You barely had time to catch a glimpse of his dimples that his head disappeared under your dress again. He left a trail of kisses on the inside of your thighs that grew gentler and gentler as he approached your core again.

"You're still trying to impress me?" You asked, before a small gasp escaped you as his mouth met your more sensitive place.

Rather than answering with words, Jerry's laughter resonated through you like the jolly music that still played on the radio. He lapped at your essence once more, inviting you to impress him with how much you could take.

[euseokz]

@ eunseok — you should still only have eyes for me, not anyone else . . cws : cheating . toxic relationship (jealousy mentions) . semi-public sex . degradation . use of nicknames (whore, slut) . oral (f) . unprotected sex . cheerleader! reader . college! au . wc : 1.8k+ . genre : smut

a/n : i blame my 🐾 anon and ads ( @bbina ) for this . . . a bit different than my usual style i think but i do still really like this tbh !!

BASKETBALL PLAYER! EUNSEOK who, even if you broke up because he wanted to, still feels some sort of twisted sense of possessiveness over you.

it had been a few weeks already, and after your big fight that led to you separating you hadn’t shared anymore than annoyed glances with each other. you obviously couldn’t completely avoid him — you went to college in the same place, shared some classes, and worst of all you were a cheerleader while he was a basketball player, so at least during practice and games you were forced to be in the same space. at first the tension between you two was palpable, but now it had eased down a bit. people knew not to mention the other to either of you, and although no one truly knew why you broke up — the whole problem having been, ironically, eunseok’s jealousy issues — they knew it was bad.

you had moved on though, and you were glad that eunseok didn’t pester you anymore, that you didn’t think of him anymore… you were finally happy — until he decided to come back.

you had been going out with sungchan for a while, you met him shortly after breaking up with eunseok and you two just connected easily and fast, your relationship recent but probably already more sincere than the one you shared with eunseok for all those years. sungchan was nice, caring, loving, and best of all, didn’t flip if you ever even looked at another guy. he was everything eunseok tried but couldn’t be, and that was enough for you, what you needed in that moment if you did jump into a new relationship.

with all of that in mind, and with that thought process circling your brain in a loop, you wondered why you were in that exact second still listening to eunseok’s angry rambling.

“it was fucking distracting, no one was paying attention and our strategy went down the drain”

“so i can’t support my boyfriend now?”

“you’re dating him!? the new guy of all people? i thought you’d be better than that”

“and i thought even your jealousy had an end, but apparently not” you argued back, tired of eunseok’s rambling “i wasn’t distracting everyone, i was distracting you, and you played a shit game because you can’t bear the thought of me being with someone else even now!”

he finally seemed to shut up after that, his expression surprised, taking him a few seconds to mutter out a low “you don’t know what you’re talking about”, that somehow only proving your point even more.

you groaned eunseok’s name, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, annoyed you had even allowed yourself to be in that situation — arguing with your ex-boyfriend in an empty locker room, everybody else outside, ready to leave for the night. “let’s just leave it at this, i’m tired of your bullshit” and with that you started turning around, ready to also leave, before he spoke up again.

“does he fuck you better than i do? is that it?” eunseok asked, his cocky smile suddenly curling his lips upwards as you started to turn around, looking at him with a frown, eyebrows furrowed together, and lips ever so slightly parted in pure shock at his rapid turn of emotions.

“that’d be impossible, only i know your body well enough, only i can fuck as many orgasms out of you as i want”

“shut up eunseok, seriously. you’re crossing the li-”

“i bet he can’t even make you cum, that’s why you’re all pissed off with me”

you sighed, finally turning around to leave definitely before eunseok grabbed your wrist.

“i can make you remember what you’re missing, maybe that will make you finally open your eyes” he continued, a sly smirk still resting on his expression, his eyes glistening with lust as he looked you up and down.

“you’re insane”

“maybe, but you still haven’t left so how different from me can you truly be”

“i’m with sungchan now, move on” you said through your teeth, almost as a threat, finally pushing your wrist out of eunseok’s grip.

“being with someone else has never stopped anyone from finally having a good fuck”

“i’m not a cheater”

“no, you’re only looking somewhere else for what your goody-two-shoes boyfriend can’t give you”

you sighed once more, asking yourself for the nth time why you couldn’t just leave, why you were still there, why eunseok still had such an effect on you.

“just be honest with yourself, he can’t fuck you like i do, no one can”

“i never said that”

“but you also didn’t deny it”

eunseok took a step closer, suddenly all too close to you, his breath fanning against your face. “let me remind you of how good we can be together, angel” he whispered, only for you, eyes locking with yours as you bit your lip in indecision, the old nickname he used on you all throughout your relationship only affecting you even more.

you were sure you had moved on, so why was eunseok’s proposal so tempting? why did you feel so inclined to accept it? why did you kiss him back when his lips pressed against yours? why couldn’t you just leave? all questions you couldn’t answer, allowing him to push you into the nearest shower stall and lock the door behind you two, the space tight but enclosed enough, eunseok’s kisses fervent throughout the whole process.

“are you gonna let me fuck you? uh? gonna act like my little whore again?” he asked breathlessly, eyes focused on yours as he fiddled with the button on your jeans, undoing it and pushing the heavy fabric down, dropping it to your feet.

“we have to be quick” you reminded, just as out of breath, trying to repress your guilt by not doing anything to help eunseok, letting him handle everything, take off your clothes the way he wanted and twist you around whichever way he pleased — as if that made you any less blameworthy.

eunseok kneeled down, face near your crotch, breath fanning over your exposed cunt and making you inhale a deep breath. “i’ve missed her, you know? no one’s like her” he commented, talking about your pussy, completely taking off one of the legs of your pants so he could move you more freely, propping your leg over his shoulder so he could get a better angle. eunseok peeked his tongue out, lapping up your cunt in a quick swipe, feeling how you tasted and humming pleased against your folds, closing his eyes momentarily before looking up at you. “still tastes just as good as i remember”. you moaned softly, forcing yourself to keep your whines in when eunseok started properly flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud attentively, leaving you soaking wet, your hole clenching around nothing.

you had forgotten how good he made you feel, this a mere sample of the things he had done to you while you were still together. as much a you’d like to not have to admit it, he was better than sungchan, and you blamed that knowledge as the sole factor that allowed you to let him keep going, to let him suck and lick at your cunt so messily, dragging an orgasm out of you more easily than anyone ever had, all because he did know what buttons to push to make you come undone for him. that was eunseok’s problem, he knew you too well, he knew that didn’t matter how much you resented him you’d never be able to tell him no — even if you had convinced yourself you could — and things were the same for him, he’d never deny you anything, even after you had been broken up.

“i wanna fuck you properly” eunseok announced, your slick mixed with his saliva glistening on his lips and chin as he came up, leaning in for another kiss, hands cupping your cheeks and keeping you in place as he sucked on your bottom lip, tongue flicking over it and pushing into your mouth, pressing against yours.

and of course, you let him do whatever he wanted, even if you knew it was wrong, allowing yourself to be turned around so you’d face the wall and have your entire front pressed against the cold tile, your arms being held behind your back by eunseok’s hand as he pulled his hard cock out of his pants, his pink tip dripping with pre-cum. he pressed himself against you, wasting no time in pushing his entire length into you, both of you moaning in unison as he started fucking you as roughly and mercilessly as usual, pistoning his hips against yours, stretching you out better than anyone ever could, better than sungchan could. eunseok knew what angles to hit to make you see stars, what sweet spots you had, what felt the best for you. he was harsh, fucking you in a seemingly selfish manner, as if all he seeked was his own pleasure, but in reality he wanted to give you yours most of all, being rough but in a loving way almost.

“wonder if your boyfriend knows what a little slut you can be, letting me fuck you in a stall as if he isn’t probably waiting for you somewhere else”

“‘seok…” you moaned, squirming in his grip but not able to move away, only closing your eyes and immersing yourself more in the pleasure, letting him clasp one hand over your mouth and push your head back, making it easier for him to whisper into your ear his next words.

“you’re still my whore, you’ll always be, don’t you dare forget that”

and as he said that, you came, clenching around eunseok’s cock as a mix of arousal and guilt flooded you. you were still, deep down, his, and if it took him fucking you again for you to realize that, you wondered just what else you had managed to hide from yourself.

“such a good slut, cumming all over my cock… that’s it angel, always so good for me” eunseok said, his words tainted with both filth and praise, before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head, his thrusts slowing down until he was completely pulling out, stroking his cock a few times before spilling his seed all over your ass — that apparently still being his favorite place to cum on — while groaning against your neck, resting his forehead against you for a second, both of you catching your breaths.

once you had finally collected yourselves, eunseok helped you get cleaned up and dressed, acting like he did back then, destroying you just so he could help put you back together again. just as you were about to leave, both of you still very clearly flustered but at least looking somewhat collected now, someone walked in, one look up making you stare at sungchan, his appearance frantic as his eyes drifted between both of you before finally stopping on your frame, going to you and holding your hands gently.

“i’ve been looking for you everywhere, did you two fight again?” he asked, voice sweet and worried.

“yeah, something like that” eunseok replied, giving your boyfriend a tap on the shoulder before leaving as if nothing had happened.

[ariadne-mouse]

This post discusses addiction & mentions related heavy topics.

The addiction comparison for what Laudna has going on with Delilah is certainly not 1:1. Most obviously, addictive substances & activities IRL are not sentient evil wizards who have found a way to cheat death (that we know of). Put more seriously: in-universe, warlocks exist all over and the relationships they have with their patrons don't necessarily evoke addiction; someone saying they are a warlock does not mean are an addict. But I've seen a couple takes thrown around for why Laudna's connection with Delilah isn't or can't be compared to addiction, and I'd like to examine those briefly.

Let's start with the origin of their entanglement - it's notable, for instance, that Laudna's fusion with Delilah's spirit was not something she chose or was necessarily even conscious of at first; however, equally notable is that not all IRL addiction begins with a person making bad choices to do the addictive thing, such as in the cases of forced drug use in trafficking, painkillers post-surgery, etc.

There is also the point that Laudna would die if Delilah were to be removed, whereas addicts can put aside the object of their addiction. But here there is also grey area: in some cases, unassisted withdrawal from serious substances can in fact kill you. And for another angle, even when it is quit the object of addiction will still exist in the world somewhere; it cannot be completely removed either, and it is the recovering addict's challenge not to engage.

Next is the way feeding Delilah gives Laudna new powers she can use to help the group - and certainly, IRL addiction doesn't give you magical combat abilities! But a substance being abused may indeed provide an effect that the user can leverage to their advantage (stimulants for work productivity, alcohol for relaxation or confidence, etc). Addiction happens because the mind and/or body are getting something in return that feels good, at least in the short term.

I mention these counterpoints not to say it's all a slam dunk, but rather to point out that addiction is a hugely complex issue, both mental and physical, taking many forms. If you want an addiction comparison to apply to Laudna, or not, you can probably find a manifestation of addiction out there that aligns with your argument. Marisha and others of the cast using addiction to describe Laudna's behavior just gives us one (1) possible lens to orient her experience and motivations, and, critically, to envision a way out for her: to fight Delilah with every ounce of willpower she has, to ask for the support of her friends in that effort, and to shove Delilah back into the sub-basement of her brain and keep her there for good. A common adage around addiction is that there is no "curing" it, just the lifelong work of recovery; and similarly, if Delilah can't be fully removed from Laudna, she has been successfully suppressed before and could be again. I think it would be incredibly powerful to see Laudna take that journey! She has agency in her circumstances and she can seize it. Also, she still has responsibility for her actions when they harm those around her; addiction, like trauma, explains but doesn't excuse.

The addiction comparison for Laudna and Delilah seems to have mixed reactions from fandom, and that's fine! If it truly just doesn't resonate with you, fair enough - there are plenty of other valid ways to describe Laudna's behavior and circumstances, and not mutually exclusive with the addiction angle either. We don't have to pick only one way of interpreting what characters do (in fact I advise against it), and as the story evolves our frameworks of interpretation may change too. A lens is just a tool for understanding. But for the handful of folks on the two sides of the polarized reaction coin at the moment - those either overly defensive about the comparison or conversely leaning into it in an ugly, mean way - if you think the word "addict" by itself irrevocably condemns Laudna or deprives her of compassion for her circumstances, perhaps consider mulling over how you view addicts IRL.

[seresinhangmanjake]

That's Definitely a Name

dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Summary: You need to name your newborn son and your daughter helps.

Notes/warnings: this is inspired by an ask about the moments after their son's birth. I wanted to do it with Oh, Baby, too, so I am doing Oh, Baby first, and then Signed Away. Mention of pregnancy, birth, that's it I think.

Words: 835

Part of the Oh, Baby Universe

-

"He looks like you."

You snort, but it's weak from your exhaustion. "Well it's only fair," you say. "Eve is nearly your clone."

"That's true." Jake chuckles before he presses a kiss to your temple. It’s a long kiss, and soft, and conveys once more what was earlier expressed with words: “I love you, Honey. You’re so amazing. How did you just do this? How have you done this twice?

That last question has also crossed your mind in the twenty minutes since birthing your son. Twice. You’ve done this twice. But this time, your brain isn’t full of a humming fuzziness in the aftermath as it was with Eve. You’re so alert and aware of your daughter waiting outside the room with her grandmother, of Jake wrapped around you, of your new son swaddled in your arms. 

“What do you think we should name this little man?” Jake asks. “We never settled on one.”

During the months of your pregnancy, you’d shuffled through many names for your son, but none of them seemed to fit quite right. For Eve, it was a no-brainer. Without Jake in her life, it was important to you that her name connect to her father in some way, which was achieved by choosing the name of his grandmother. For your son, though, there isn’t someone you can positively name him after without some degree of resulting issue. After your mother’s fit over Jake a few years ago, your father didn’t make the effort to stay involved in your life, and Jake’s is horrid, so they were never added to the list of possibilities. Jake feels that making the little boy a junior will be too confusing, unable to let go of the image of you irritated for some reason and calling out the matching name causing unnecessary anxiety for both he and his son when you are actually only mad at one of them. You tossed around the idea of using a name from your group of friends, but you quickly realized that of the five other men on Jake’s team, four of them would take serious offense if their name wasn’t chosen while the other one would be so sweet as to simply thank you and your husband for even being considered. They didn’t last on the list for more than a day.

“We weren’t given enough time,” you decide as you trace your finger down the line of his tiny nose. “He came too early.”

“I don't think one week before your due date qualifies as too early,” Jake says, snickering. “Let's be real, Honey, we were slacking from indecisiveness.”

“Well, since we can’t figure it out maybe we should just let Eve pick a name.”

You immediately miss the warmth of his arms when Jake pulls back and shifts to the side of the bed to look you in the eye. “Now wait a minute, Honey. Think about what you're saying.” His eyes are wide and his hands gesture wildly with his attempt to snuff out your idea. “I love you and I love our baby girl, but do you really want to risk our son being named something crazy like, I don't know, Meeko? You know she loves that weird raccoon from ‘Pocahontas’,” he says. “And what happens when we don’t take her suggestion because we cannot do that to our son, hmm? This is not a particularly good time for us to be snubbed by our daughter.”

You release a light scoff. “Oh, she wouldn't do that to us, or her brother.”

“She absolutely would,” Jake says with a slight quirk of his lips. His hands fall back to his sides. “Honey, if we truly let her pick, ninety-nine percent chance we have a Disney critter sidekick name for our son.”

You look down at your newborn as you consider Jake’s concern. Meeko Seresin? You internally chuckle. No, that would not do. But your girl is smart and neither you nor Jake have been able to come to a decision on your own. You see no real harm in asking. Not to mention, it would be a prime opportunity to have Eve feel more included now that she’s no longer the only child in her parent’s lives. And if her suggestions are life-ruining bully-targeting disasters, then you’ll deal with her reaction from being denied later. 

—

“Teddy Bear!” Eve bursts out as she sits tucked between you and the rail of the hospital bed.

A sigh mixed with a barely-there chuckle falls from your husband’s lips.

“Baby girl, you want to name your brother Teddy Bear?” Jake asks, glancing at the amused smile you’re struggling to hold back before returning his eyes to his daughter. 

Taking the question very seriously, Eve’s face loses all expression, her stare unwavering against her father’s. “Yes.”

“After your teddy bear?”

“Yes.”

Jake runs a hand through his blond locks. The other rests on his hip. “Wouldn't you like to think about it for another second?”

“No.”

—

Teddy “Bear” Jacob Seresin

(More Bear and Eve) Digital Daggers: Oh, Babies by @mamachasesmayhem

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[hatsukeii]

"WE ARE THE BLOOD IN OUR...WAS IT VEINS OR ARTERIES AGAIN?" / T. KUROO

PROLOGUE | M.LIST | NEXT. |

warning(s): a very offhanded, not serious mention of suicide, also ochem and bio!

wc: ~1.0k

When Kuroo Tetsuro sees another glaring "2" that bleeds into the white paper of his chemistry exam, he has to consciously restrain his fingers from curling up around the cover and crumpling it until it is unrecognisable to the naked eye.

"Great work, Kuroo, as expected. 84%, keep it up!"

He smiles at his teacher, only customarily, with a grin that presses tight against his lips to hide the grinding of his teeth.

"Yeah...thanks."

For the second time in his life, somebody; some monster, or formidable foe, has pushed his head into the ground and risen from the dirt in this subject. From the front of the room, Kuroo slams his paper into the desk face down, a thud sounding from the slapping of paper on wood. His head snaps around his shoulder, eyes scanning his classmates behind him for a gleam in someone's eyes, or a face that tries to stay still, but trembles at the apples of its cheeks. Chatter about specific questions drones on, heads bury themselves into clammy hands, pens tick as impatient thumbs tap anxiously at the clicker shafts. An air of dread and nihilism paints the room grey, white lab lights buzzing and flickering more like that of a morgue as hopes and dreams are slowly, but surely, dissected with the flick of a pen that etches numbers into a test paper.

He should be glad, after all, he's in second place! Just barely grazing the top spot of the cohort! The education system is largely flawed anyways! Life is not a grade! He is still worthy of merit!

Kuroo's mind races for consolation, only to find sarcastic, half-hearted sentiments plucked from inspirational TED talks watched in his showers, and mandatory wellbeing assemblies enforced by the school to prevent students from finding the urge to launch themselves off bridges. He rips through the pages of his exam, picking at every calculation error, and missed argument, and misused theory that emerges from his work. He can almost hear their laughter, screechy and squeaky as they wiggle and twist on the paper, before shooting out of the page to laugh a little louder in his face.

"Guys, just take a look over here, since almost everyone messed up drawing this diagram. LDPE is supposed to be branched, but I still need to be able to read how many carbons and hydrogens are on each chain."

The projector ahead flicks on to reveal a perfect diagram, branches and webs of polyethylene connected neatly to one another, carbons and hydrogens labelled between each spot. Kuroo stares at his own diagram, a mess of lines and scribbled letters, all rendered futile beneath the ink red cross of judgement. He bets that whoever beat him wouldn't have gotten the words "illegible" stamped beside their polyethylene diagram. Wait, is that an S, or a 5?

From four rows behind, a pair of eyes train onto a sticky note stuck on a page of the exam. Just beneath the outline that houses the same polyethylene diagram on the projector screen, a labelled neuron is sprawled across the fluorescent yellow of the note. You rip the note off, clicking your tongue at the loss of a mark on the next question, before sticking the neuron diagram into a lined notebook. Peeling a new sticky note from your notepad, a pen spins between the joints of your fingers, rolling in steady backs and forths along your hand. You bite down on the hard plastic of the clicker shaft, flipping through the rest of the pages as you wiggle the pen up and down with your teeth to ease your bubbling annoyance. Seriously, who even cares about the difference between "suppose that" and "assume that" anyways?

A flick of the page with your hand flips the test back on its cover, and you slap the fresh sticky note onto the circled "1" that graces the top of the page, before scribbling the frontal lobe of a brain on the fluorescent green square in preparation for your lunchtime duty.

author's note:

to say that i haven't been either reader or kuroo would be a lie because you bet your ASS i am arguing for anything and everything i can get in an exam paper.... ANYWHO welcome to the new series!!! I've decided to make this into a series because of both the poll and personal planning preference LOL don't hate me pls but i hope u enjoy!!!

tags: @staraxiaa @iiwaijime @hiraethwa @akaakeis @wyrcan @chuuya-brainrot @catsoupki @bailey-reeds @fiannee @cupidsblonde @she-lovesmyheartshapedsunglasses @kuroppiii

ok love u guys see u soon bye bye

[littlespacereader]

Okay, so! @shadowlord23 and I were rant and raving about criminal minds, you know, as one would. We were talking about (spoilers) the season where Spencer gets arrested and is stuck in prison. @shadowlord23 made a great point to say “Well what if that happened and he was a caregiver?” CUE MY BRAIN EXPLODING WITH POSSIBILITIES!

I will warn those about to read this. It’s not the usual happy and fluffy fics I usually write. While I did give this a happy ending, the rest of the fic is sad and definitely hurt/comfort up until that point. Please be warned it’s a sad story for the most part.

While in my eyes I see it as Safe for work because I never write anything NSFW or anything +18, I didn’t put the SFW tag on here because of it’s darker tone. But please know that is doesn’t have any graphic violence or anything +18.

This story is one I enjoyed greatly writing! I loved the different type of story, one a bit angsty. Please let me know if you enjoy it! Thank you again for the idea @shadowlord23 ! 🥹🙌

Through the Glass📞

Caregiver! Spencer Reid & GN Little! Reader (plus BAU Family)

Tags - tantrums, lots of crying, hurt and comfort, BAU family unite!, hugs, forehead kisses, happy ending, angst…a lot of it, but a strong CG and Little connection,

TW- mentions of violence, mentions of weapons, talk of police, being ripped away from a cg, going to a prison

They explained the plan me not once but three times. Its supposed to be a simple, Spencer goes into the drug deal alone, he pretends to be the seller in order to get the buyer to show up and somehow manages to get this buyer to confess to the murder of our cases victim.

But there was plenty of things that could go wrong. What if the buyer got spooked and shot at him? What if the government didn’t agree with what we were doing? What if-

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Spencer asked looking concerned.

Spencer and I sat together on the bed in our hotel room. Apparently this plan had already been approved by the team…all but me.

“You told the team first because you knew I wouldn’t be okay with it.” I stated the facts plain and simply. I don’t lift my head up, instead I play this plan over and over in my head.

Spencer sighed before nodding his head, “I know it’s risky-.”

“Risky?! Risky isn’t even the word for it! Spencer you could get shot, arrested or kidnapped?!” I look into his eyes, frantic and scared.

“I know. But you also know that all of that could happen outside of this case too.”

“It doesn’t make it okay…”I cross my arms and look away.

“It doesn’t.” Spencer sat closer, wrapping an arm around me, pulling me into a hug.

Spencer wasn’t a hugging type of person but with me he’s the most cuddly person alive. He knew I needed the comfort in this moment, needed the closeness.

“I just-…I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” I turned and cried into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“And nothing will happen. The team will be monitoring everything. You will be monitoring everything with the team. But…”

“But what?”

“But if something was to happen-“

“Don’t say that! You said-.”

“Nothing is going to go wrong but I also don’t want to leave you without knowing what to do if something did happen.” Spencer quickly explained. “If something did go wrong, I would want you to listen to either your Uncles or your Aunts, okay? They would know what to do.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about this. The BAU is my family. Rossi, Hotch, and Morgan are my uncles while Emily, JJ and Garcia are my aunts. But I didn’t want to go to Uncle Hotch or Aunt Emily. I just want him to be okay.

“B-But you’re going to be okay?”

“I’m going to try my hardest to be okay.” He hugged back tightly. “In and out. Then after we’re done and back home, I promise a certain someone that we would go to the aquarium right?” He said, bouncing the Little in his arms.

“To see the sharks?” They lifted their head up.

“Yes sweet love to see the shark. Just like you wanted. It’s a date, just you, me and the sharks. A Caregiver and Little date. And if it’s a really nice day I may be persuaded to get someone some ice cream after.”

He knew bargaining wasn’t the best tactic when it came to discussing something so important but he knew it would put Y/N mind as ease for the time being. Soon enough they started to relax a bit more in his arms. The once worried adult turned calm Little in his arms.

“And see the fishy?” They lifted their head off his shoulder.

“Yeah all the fish you can imagine!”

“Nemo?”

“Yup. I’m sure they’ve got Nemo there. Maybe even Dory.”

“Wow!”

“I think they also have jellyfish and a starfish.”

“Like Patrick?”

Spencer laughed, “Yes sweetheart just like Patrick.”

“But for now my starfish has to go to bed. We have a big day tomorrow.” Spencer brought them into his arms and laid them down on the bed with him, their head resting on his chest. He leaned over and turned off the lamp.

The two sat like that, just holding onto each other before the stressful day tomorrow planned on bringing.

Out of the darkness, a simple question.

“You’ll be okay, right?”

“I’ll be okay Y/N,” he leaned down and kissed their forehead, “I’ll be okay.”

~~~

There’s a lot of problems with this mission. For one, the BAU was working in a country with a government that wasn’t the fondest of America. Their government is mostly corrupt, and while they knew of our presence and what our case was about, there’s a whole lot of trust issues between the two of us.

The next problem was the setup itself. The team and I would be set up far away from Spencer. Close enough to see the setup with binoculars but far away that yelling would have no real reach. This made it so we could spy on everything but have cover so it wouldn’t create suspicion. The biggest issue with this is it made it so if something went wrong we would be too far away to do much about it.

That plus the million other probabilities played in my head on loop. With the binoculars in hand I looked again to the setup, knowing Spencer would be arriving soon.

“Y/N?”

Morgan placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Everyone on the team must’ve known I was beyond stressed about this plan. And if they didn’t, they could just profile me and tell immediately. Can’t get away with anything when your Cargiver and Aunts and Uncles are profilers.

“Doing alright there kid?”

And if all else failed and the profiling didn’t help, then the fact they’re all Caregivers would’ve given them all they need to know about me.

It wasn’t a secret to the team that I’m a Little. They’ve all known for years, some even babysitting me. They still respect me as a member of the BAU regardless of my need for regression.

“Yeah, just nervous.” I reply back.

“Really? Because I couldn’t tell. I thought everyone grips binoculars that tightly.”

I looked down at my white knuckles around the binoculars and quickly let them go.

“Y/N, Spencer is going to be-.”

“If you say ‘Spencer is going to be fine’ I’ll lose it.” I quickly say, nerves getting to me.

“Sorry Morgan you don’t deserve that. I just-…” I look out to the scene once more before looking back to him, “They couldn’t have chosen someone else to do this? Like someone not on our team? Someone who’s not my Caregiver?”

“I know, I agree with you. But the higher ups fought Rossi and Hotch tooth and nail to get this setup underway. The government seems to really want this guy in for questioning.”

Before I had a chance to argue, Hotch walked over and interrupted, “Everyone get into positions, Reid is on his way.”

And so it begins. Spencer’s car pulls up to the building. He gets out and immediately goes into the building. JJ and Hotch sit together listening to the microphones hidden in the building while I watch the building with Morgan, while Emily and Rossi monitor all the other areas surrounding it.

20 minutes goes by with nothing, no sight of the unsub or anyone else. My nerves start to get to me. My binoculars shake as I hold them up again, looking at the building once more.

“The unsub is here, 3 o’clock.” Emily calls out.

I turn my binoculars to look and sure enough there he is, white suv pulling up to the building. They enter the building and from there I feel as though I can’t breathe.

JJ relays to us in bits and pieces what’s being said and what’s happening. I keep my eyes on the building hoping to just see Spencer give us the signal to move in.

“Guys we’ve got activity at 9 o’clock.” Morgan calls out.

“What?” I turn my head to look. There shouldn’t be any activity outside of the building, not before we move in.

“What the hell is that?!” Rossi calls out angrily.

I turn my binoculars to look. Not one but six black SUV’s speed towards the building. I look in horror towards the team.

“Who is that?!”

“I don’t know.” Morgan replies looking through his own binoculars.

“They’re going to mess with the setup! What if the unsub shoots Reid? What if these people shoot him?” I start to yell out, but no one seems to hear. Everyone’s eyes are on the building as the SUVs pull up.

Once the SUVs reach the building squad patrols exit the car and start rushing into the building. Men and women in swat gear and assault rifles storm the building from the outside. The SUV outside turn their lights on.

Hotch grabs an extra pair and look to the building as well, “This isn’t drug related. They’re government swat teams.” Hotch almost sighs saying. He knew the implications, this was about to get a lot more complicated.

I kept looking towards the building with my binoculars. The world around me almost frozen in fear.

“Doesn’t the government know we’re working out here?” JJ asked.

“They do but they have jurisdiction over us when it comes to crime related issues.” Rossi replied.

“What the hell does that mean?” Morgan asked, getting angry himself.

“It means whatever happens is out of our hands till we reach an agreement with their government.” Hotch sighed again before looking to me.

I wasn’t listening to a word they were saying. I couldn’t. Reid hadn’t come out of that building yet and I wasn’t going to move till he did.

Then suddenly…

The swat patrol pushes the Unsub from the building, handcuffed and bleeding from his head. “They’ve got the Unsub in custody! Maybe Spencer talked to them.”

But just as I finished my sentence, another swat officer came out of the building with Spencer, hands behind his back cuffed, a black eye and a bleeding lip. The sight made my heart stop.

“They’ve…They’ve got Reid.” I say looking in horror.

“What?!” JJ grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked as well.

“They’re arresting him too. They must think he’s in on it.” Morgan tried to reason.

“W-We can go over there and tell them he’s not!” I put the binoculars down. “Come on, we can get in the SUV and tell them!” I practically begged to Hotch, pulling on his arm. But by the looks on his face, the answer was one I wasn’t going to like.

“Y/N,” Hotch said sincerely, trying to take my hand but started shaking my head, back up as tears began to fall down from my face.

“No! No! We can all get in the SUV and we can go get him! He can’t just be arrest for something he didn’t even do?!” My regression wrapped around me like a vice as my panic blossomed. What’s as going to happen to my Caregiver?!

“Y/N we don’t have jurisdiction here. We are not allowed to get involved with their government.” Rossi tried to say.

“I don’t care what we’re allowed to do! It’s Spencer!! We can’t leave him there!” At this point was was practically yelling, begging the team to do something, but they all just looked at me with worried and concerned eyes. Not the same eyes of my team, but eyes of Caregiver’s worried about a Little.

“Kid, I’m sorry.” Morgan started to say realizing that they were right. There is no other way.

“No! NOOOOO! No! I won’t let him be taken away! I WON’T!” I stomp my foot twice, screaming at the team. I couldn’t help but let my frustration and anxiety get the better of me. I couldn’t stop worrying about him.

“Y/N, honey we have to go. If we don’t and they come here, we’ll all be arrest on conspiracy.” Emily tried to explain.

“I’m not leaving him!” I cried out as tears fell from my eyes, “I’m not! If you won’t go get him, then I will! You can all leave without me!” I take my binoculars and throw them towards the team before storming off and walking towards Spencer direction.

In reality there was no way I could walk there on my own. But I wasn’t thinking logically. I just wanted him so badly and I wasn’t going to stop till I got him.

Hotch and Morgan shared a look before Hotch nods his head, almost giving Morgan permission. Morgan nodded back before he runs over, catching up with me.

“I’m sorry about this kid but you’re going to have to trust us on this.” With one swift motion Morgan picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. “Right now, we know what’s best.”

I absolutely lose it. I start kicking and screaming as Morgan carries be back towards the team. “Noooooo!!! Dadeee!!” I called out, my arms stretched towards the building in the far distance. “NOOOOO!!!”

“Pack the essentials back into the car. We need to leave immediately.” Hotch orders.

Everyone starts rushing around and throwing things into the trunk. By the time Morgan comes back to the SUV I’m just crying, begging to be put down, crying out for Spencer.

Morgan helps me into the backseat and quickly buckled me before I had a chance to bolt again. JJ sits to my right and Emily to my left.

“It’s going to be alright sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.” The two of them say back and forth. But I can’t be consoled. I just cry and cry and cry, clinging onto JJ for comfort, wishing it was Spencer instead.

~~~

Everyone glances back to check on Y/N as the car drives back to the hotel. All worried about Y/N and about Spencer. Their priority is to go somewhere secure to talk, one without anyone listening.

Eventually Y/N’s cries die down to little sniffs and silent tears. Every so often someone tried to talk to them but they stayed silent, in shock from the events of the evening. That worries the team more.

Arriving back at the hotel, the team split into two. Hotch, Rossi and Emily split off to make phone calls and see what they could do about Spencer while Morgan, and JJ stayed with Y/N.

JJ lead the way and Morgan followed behind with Y/N in his arms. The Little just played with the collar of his shirt but doesn’t say anything. Silent tears fall from their eyes as they rest their head on his shoulder.

“Is it okay that they’re so quiet?” Morgan whispered to JJ.

“They’re in shock right now. I think it’s going to take them a moment.” JJ answered back.

With Y/N keycard, they opened the door to there and Spencer’s hotel room. The moment there were back in the room though, the shock start to dissipate.

They lifted their head off Morgan’s shoulder and looked to the bed, almost as if they were expecting Spencer to be in the room. When he wasn’t, they wriggled and pushed to be put down.

“Okay, kiddo just give me a second,” Morgan said as he gentle put them down.

Immediately the moment they were set on the ground they took off, searching the bathroom, the closets and the rest of the room, as if Spencer was hiding somewhere.

Morgan went to go to Y/N but JJ stopped him. “They need to figure this out themselves.” She said softly. Her eyes looked so sad as she watched Y/N look for Spencer in the room.

But everywhere they looked, he was still gone.

Even though it wasn’t a new realization, it hit Y/N as if it is was. They stopped and looked at Spencer’s jacket thrown over the desk chair.

How simply the morning was, the two of them getting ready for the mission tonight. The storybook he read the night before sat absent on the nightstand.

The whole room had the makings of Spencer. All without him being there.

Tears started to fall from Y/N eyes again. They grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around their shoulders.

Everything became so overwhelming at once. The reality of the day was setting in. When would they ever see him again? Would they ever see him again? Would they ever be able to get him out of prison?

Too many unanswered question rattled around in their mind. And with it? Anger. Anger about the fact this happened, about the fact they warned Spencer about doing this, and about the fact they couldn’t do anything about it.

So, like any toddler would. They began to throw a tantrum. First it was cry, and screaming. Then it was throwing every pillow off the bed and onto the ground. Then it was every blanket.

This time JJ wanted to step in and try to comfort Y/N but Morgan stopped her for a moment. “Like you said, they need a moment. This time I think to let it out.”

~~~

An hour later Hotch, Rossi and Emily walked into the room, only to find it looking like a tornado had passed through. Every pillow was on the ground along with the blankets and sheets. Clothes from their suitcases were also everywhere.

JJ was sat on the bed next to a crying and screaming Y/N. She gently tried to rub circles on their back to calm them down but it didn’t seem to be helping. Morgan was standing by the door, unsure how to help.

When the rest of the BAU came into the room, both Morgan and JJ looked exhausted. Hotch quickly stepped in, Emily following closely behind to help JJ out and give her a well needed break.

Once JJ got up Hotch replaced her spot, sitting close to Y/N. Emily took a seat on their other side. All the commotion got the attention of Y/N who stopped crying and screaming for a moment and lifted their head off the bed.

They quickly looked to Emily, tears stained face, “Dadee? Come home?” They simply asked.

Emily looked to Hotch then back to Y/N before replying, “Y/N, getting Spencer back is going to be a bit more complicated than we expected.” She starts to explain.

Rossi join the two, standing near the end of the bed, “We talked with our higher ups and updated them on the situation but…we need to give our reports and we need to start a lot of paper work before we can start the work to get him out.”

Y/N looked between Rossi and Emily confused, what did this mean for Dadee? What did this mean for them?

Hotch right away noticed the confusion. He places a hand on their shoulder, “Y/N, in order to begin working on getting Spencer out of prison, we need to go back to the U.S.” He let those words sink in.

And boy did they sink in like an anchor. Though it seemed impossible at this point, fresh tears started to fall from Y/N’s eyes. “W-We can’t leave him here.” They said in a broken voice.

“We’re not going to sweetheart. I promise we’re not. But for right now we have to head back home so we can begin the process of getting him out. And to do that we need to leave this country just for a little while.” Emily explained taking their hand.

“But we can’t, he’s stuck here! We can’t leave!! I-I don’t have…anyone…” Y/N tried to say before going hysterical again. It was all too much. Too much information at once. They were just about to start hyperventilating.

Hotch, making an executive decision, pulled the Little into his arms and cradled their head on his shoulder. Y/N held onto him tightly, crying into his shoulder. He started gently rocking and bouncing them in his arms.

“Y/N, breath. Take deep breaths with me.” Hotch guides them, helping them out of their hyperventilating.

“You’re not alone Y/N. I can promise you that.” Hotch lifted his head from Y/N and looked at his team of Caregivers. Though he didn’t ask, he knew that they would all be willing to step in and help take care of Y/N while they tried to free Spencer.

“We’ve got you.”

~~~

Four months had passed by. Four long months. It feel like just yesterday I saw Spencer arrested and pulled away. Every day I hope he’s okay and wonder what’s happening across the ocean in that prison he’s stuck in. It leaves me with crazy anxiety.

As for me? I’ve been the traveling Little. Every week I go to a different BAU members house. One week I’m with Hotch, the next I’m with Emily, then Morgan and so on. They’ve all treated me so nice and each house feels like a home with them.

They’ve all comforted me through the process of dealing with the temporary loss of my caregiver. Late nights waking up to the same nightmare. Hotch running into the room and comforting me through a crying fits. Or Garcia making me a cup of coco as a special treat.

They all really live up to their nickname BAU Family.

It’s been months and we aren’t even scratching the surface of getting Spencer out. It’s been killing me having to do this the paper work route and not just break him out myself…if I could.

But while they’re working on it back in the States, Morgan, Garcia, Emily and I made a trip back to the country to visit Spencer in prison.

I just…I need to see him. I need to see him again, talk to him again, and make sure with my own eyes he’s okay.

Once we arrived I stick close to Morgan, holding his hand tightly in mine as we stepped foot in the scary looking prison. I leaned close to his side as we walked down the scary hallways with prisoners yelling and shouting at us.

Finally we made it to the visiting room. Each section was like a small cubicle. A phone hung on each side of the wall with a piece of thick glass separating the visitors from the prisoners.

I promised myself I would try hard not to regress. I wanted to talk to him, see how he was doing and try to help him through the glass as much as I can. But as we entered the room, I could feel my regression screaming to take over.

The guard stopped us before we walked over. “It’s one at a time. And each of you only gets ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?!” Garcia said just as shocked as the rest of us.

“Yes only ten minutes each.”

“Could I give my time to them?” Emily asked, seeing that I was the most anxious to see Spencer.

“No. It’s ten minutes each. Your time starts now. Reid is at cubicle six.” And with that the cold hearted guard walked back to his post.

I looked up at Morgan who gave me a comforting smile, “It’s okay Y/N. Just go spend every minute you can with him.” I nod my head and begin moving to cubicle six. As I walk down the rows I see the other prisoners talking with their friends and family.

But nothing in this world will ever replace the feeling of reach that cubicle and seeing Spencer again.

He smiled warmly at me. His hair is much longer now and his face scruffy, two things I’ve never seen on Spencer before. I start to tear up seeing him. It’s been so long and I’ve been so worried about him. And now? Now he’s here right in front of me.

I immediately take my seat and grab the phone, Spencer does the same. There’s a moment I don’t even know what to say. All these emotions hitting me at once. Tears start to fall from my eyes as I look into his. Thankfully Spencer must’ve realized it and starts the conversation.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you so much!” He smiles again, pure happiness ok his faces.

“I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been worried about you every day wonder that’s happening, what going on there, what’s-.”

“Y/N, Y/N,” he stops me, “I’m okay. I’ve been doing okay here. I promise.” He shared a sad smile with me. Though I know he was trying to reassure me, I didn’t believe him 100%.

“Your hair is so long!” I chuckle.

“It’s is. They don’t give haircuts here.” He joked.

“I like it. It looks nice on you having long hair.”

“Really? Huh. Maybe I’ll keep it then.” He adds pushing his hair back dramatically, I can’t help but chuckle.

“I think about you every day too. I haven’t forgotten our date you know.” He smiles, “The sharks are waiting for us.”

“Yeah…the sharks…” Memories flash back to how we ended up here. I look back up into his eyes, but they’re not the eyes of normal me. They’re the eyes of a Little.

“I miss you.” My voice cracks as more tears start to fall, “I miss your bedtime stories and your cuddles and your hugs.” I begin rambling.

I stop, looking back into his worried eyes, “I just want you back.” I place my hand on the glass, wishing and hoping it would somehow disappear.

He placed his hand on mine, the glass blocking us from actually touching. “I wish I was back with you too. I wish I could be giving you all the cuddle and snuggles you could ever want.”

“I’m working Dadee, I’m working every day to bring you home.” I don’t move my hand from the glass, tears still fall from my eyes as I look into Spencer eyes.

“I know you are darling, I know you are.” He smiles warmly.

“Tell me how you’ve been doing.” Spencer says, trying to change the subject to one more uplifting.

I begin explain everything that’s been happening while he’s been gone. Going between everyone’s houses, the adventures they’ve taken me on.

“Aunt Garcia taught me how to play animal crossing and Uncle Hotch almost set his kitchen on fire when he tried to cook.” I giggle.

“He almost killed my Little?” He joked back.

“No! I saved him with the fire extinguisher!” I say proudly.

“Wow!! I didn’t know you were a firefighter too?” Spencer smiles, making me smile as well.

“Uncle Morgan is trying to get me into jogging with him.” I can’t help but chuckle.

Spencer laughs and smiles, “He’s trying to get you into jogging?“

“Yeah but can’t keep up with him. He’s too fast.”

“I don’t think we’ve jogged a day in our lives.” Spencer laughs some more.

“We haven’t!” I laugh as well, “We just walk in the park. Not running or jogging. Just walking.” I smile, thinking about all the times we’ve walked through the park to our favorite spot. We sit on a blanket together as he reads and I lay down and watch the cloud roll by.

I start rambling, “Me and Mr. Bear have been making a list of all the things we want to do when you’re back. We’ll have tea party, and go to the park, and-.”

“TIME’S UP!” I heard the prison guard yell down to me.

I look over worried then back to Spencer. “No!” I cry out. Looking back at him, trying to memorize his face before they come to get me. “I don’t want to go! I can’t go! Please don’t go!!”

My hand doesn’t leave the window, I hold my hand there not quite ready to take it away. Not ready to leave him. “Please don’t leave! Please!” My eyes meets his, mine looking worried while his look sad. I start to cry.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I promise you I’m going to be okay. I want you to know how much I love you and that I’m thinking of you every day. And how I can’t wait for the day you’ll be back my arms again.” Spencer quickly starts to say, trying to get every last word in.

“Dadee,” I try to catch my breath, “I don’t want to leave you again.” I choke out, trying to catch my breath between sobs.

“We’re not saying goodbye forever bug, we’re just saying goodbye for now.” The world seems to pause for a second as he looks at me and says, “I’ll see you again. I’ll see you soon.”

I nod my head, tears still falling from my face. “I love you.”

Spencer smiled back at me, “I love you too Y/N. I love you so-.”

~~~

Y/N turns to look away from the glass and off to the side. They put their phone down and start shaking their head to someone. Spencer can’t see what they’re looking at or who they’re talking to.

Spencer’s heart shatters as Morgan comes over, placing a hand on their shoulder before he scopes Y/N into his arms. Morgan and Spencer don’t get to talk, but the small nod and look in Morgan’s eye tells him everything he needs to know. Y/N’s in his safe hands.

He watches as Y/N turns and cries into Morgan’s shoulder as he carries them away. With one final glance, the Caregiver and Little lock eyes before Y/N is carried off.

The moment Y/N is out of sight, Spencer breaks down. Trying to put a tough face on for Y/N in showing that he’s alright. But he isn’t. He’s always running the risk of getting beaten up. He’s gotten into one or two of fight which didn’t end well for him. It’s hard being a cop in prison, let alone an FBI agent.

Spencer looks down, crying into his hand. The tough front of ‘everything’s okay’ drops and he’s finally able to let it out. His heart breaks for Y/N. He’s supposed to be there taken care of them, and instead he’s lock up, countries away. All the moments he’s missing out on, all the time.

The phone picks up and someone sits across from him. He doesn’t lift his head till they start talking.

“Reid, I’m so sorry.” Emily tries to say. “These guards aren’t happy with us being here to begin with, and you and I know Y/N would happily fight all of them to have more time with you.”

Spencer wiped his tears and nods. “How-,” he clears his throat, trying not to sound so upset, “How have they been doing?”

“I won’t lie to you, it was definitely a grieving process in the beginning. Then it was getting used to traveling around to everyone’s house every week. But,” She looks off to where Morgan is, holding Y/N in his arms, lightly bouncing them and rubbing their back, “But I think they’re finally starting to settled with us, comfortable regressing.”

She looks into his eyes and shares a comforting smile with him, “They’re doing okay.”

Spencer nods his head taking it all in, “That’s great to hear. I’ve been so worried they haven’t adjusted well, or they’ve been upset about everything.” He rambles.

“They have their moment but they need to have their moments of crying and being upset. Sometimes they need to let it out. I’m just thankful they have people to care for them and allow them a safe space to let it out.” Emily shared a small smile with Spencer.

“So, let’s get down to business before they cut me off.” Emily places her brief case on the table and begins going over their plan for getting him out.

They talk a while longer before Emily’s time is up. Then just when he thought his visit was over, Garcia took a place infront of him.

“Spencer! I love your hair this length! You should keep it this way!” Garcia smiled.

“It’s good to see you too Penelope.”

“So! I’m sure Emily went over all the business stuff with you.” She starts to say, “I’m not here to talk business, I’m here to cheer you up and tell you Y/N’s okay.”

Spencer right away smiles sadly, nodding his head.

“How are they taking it?”

“Very rough, which is to be expected.” She says honestly, “But…they’re not fighting us or trying to go against our help. I think they realizes they need people they can regress freely around so they can process the situation.”

Spencer nods along, listening intently.

Garcia chuckles, “You should only see Hotch and Morgan with them. Talk about softies! You think they’re the toughest men of the BAU? You should only see them when they’re trying to cheer Y/N up. There’s not much they would do.”

Spencer join her in laughing, picture the two of them with Y/N. “That’s something I’d love to see.”

“And I know you will soon. Between our team’s efforts and Y/N determination to find a loophole in the system, you’ll be out of here soon enough.” She smiled warmly.

“I just wanted to take the time to tell you that we’re taking good care of Y/N. Emily paints their nails, JJ and Morgan takes them to the park, Hotch and Rossi have been teaching them how to cook, and I’ve been showing them every movie and playing every video games imaginable.”

Spencer smile again, “Thank you Garcia. Thank you for taking care of my Little one.”

“It’s been our pleasure.” She smiles back. “Hang in there, okay? We’ll see you soon.” She kissed her hand and pressed it to the glass.

Spencer did the same, sharing a small smile with her.

As she stood up and walk away, the guard behind him call his name, visiting hours were up. He sigh, standing up and walking back to his cell. Before he felt empty and now? Now he felt a small glimmer of hope.

~~~

Two more months later there we stood, outside the gates of the prisons waiting endlessly for Spencer. The whole BAU was here to ensure Spencer was brought out safe and sound.

I stood next to Hotch nervously picking at my nails as we waited. He grabbed my hand gently, stopping me from the nervous habit. “It’s okay Y/N. You have nothing to worry about.” He took my hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.

“But what if-.”

“There’s nothing they can do to keep him in there.” Rossi cuts me off. “They have to release him today.” He reassured.

I nod my head, still not so sure. So there we wait, and wait, and wait.

“Did they give us a time?” JJ asks.

“They said 12 o’clock.” Emily replies.

“And it’s…” Morgan asks.

“It��s 1:37.”

We all sigh.

“If they don’t release him by 2 we’ll raise hell. But for now we’ll wait.” Hotch replies to the group. Looking to me and sharing a small smile.

So we wait some more.

I lean against Hotch’s arms watching the gate endlessly.

Suddenly there’s a loud alarm sound and the gate starts to open. I squeeze Hotch’s hand. “Is it Spencer? Is it him?” I look to him eagerly.

“Let’s wait a moment and see before we go over.” The group watch as the gate opens and a prisoner walks out.

There’s no denying who that is. His hair much longer, almost to his shoulders. His face unkept. But his smile towards the group is the most recognizable sign that it’s him.

I look to Hotch who gives me a smile and a nod.

With that I take off! I start running like my life depends on it. Spencer smile only grows as he sees me running towards him. He kneels down, opening his arms wide.

After months of being without him, it lead us to this moment. I tears fall from my eyes as I finally embrace him, running right into his arms. He wraps his arms around me and picks me up, spinning us around while hugging me tight against him.

We stop, just holding onto each other, tears running down both our faces. “Spencer!! Dadee! I miss you!! I missed you so much!” I cry into his shoulder, holding onto him to tightly.

“I miss you so much. I’ve thought about you every day, thought about this moment every day. I couldn’t wait to hug my little bug again.”

We’ve both been waiting for this moment forever. Long nights sleeping in my bed wishing I could just be cuddled up with Spencer, nightmares that I wish he could protect me from, adventures I wish he would take me on.

It was all over. I held onto with a tight grip. As if I didn’t he would disappear. Finally no more glass to separate us any longer. We are finally back together again. And we’re never leaving each others side.

We break apart but only for a moment as we look into each other’s eyes, “I did it. I got the paper work and I demanded they release you. I never stopped fighting for you.” I cry.

Spencer reaches up and wiped the tears away, “I couldn’t be more grateful for you. Thank you Y/N.” He pulls me back into a tight hug, kissing the side of my head.

The recovery was going to be a long one. Spencer was definitely going to need some time away from the BAU and so was Y/N. They needed to catch up on loss time and deal with what happened together. But for now…

“Now we can go to the aquarium!” I mumble, squish in our hug.

Spencer chuckles. We break apart and he takes my hand in mine. “It would be my honor to finally take you to the aquarium.” He smiles back.

Together we walk towards the rest of the team, hand in hand. Reunited at last.

“What fish are you most excited to see?” I asks as we walk.

“Maybe a star fish.” Spencer replies.

“A star fish?!”

“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“But that’s not even a fish?”

“It’s close to a fish but not technically a fish.”

“Then why is it called star fish?”

“I…don’t actually know. We’ll just have to ask one when we see it.” Spencer smiles, squeezing my hand. I giggle at the silliness and squeeze his hand right back.

[batnbreakfast]

OMG tell us about your teacher crush you met at a lesbian bar! 👀

Sure! 😄

She was my German teacher and I had a crush on her for several years until I changed schools and managed to calm down about her. 😅

She was this artsy kind of woman, who also taught theatre, always dressed in black, combined with a brightly coloured scarf or jewellery, quite often wearing a leather jacket and boots. (I might also have had a bit of fashion envy.) Tiny woman, long black hair, impressive dark makeup - the most beautiful and admirable person to ever walk the face of the earth, at least if someone would have asked smol bat.

I dreamed of having the confidence to sign up for her theatre class, dreamed of saving her from the burning school building (😅😅😅), saving her from peril in other ways, and I swear, at that time I didn’t realise I had a crush on her.

We all dream of being the hero for our favourite teacher, right? 😌

Years later - I had finished my A levels, my private situation wasn’t as precarious as it had been before, I had come out about a year before, I had made friends, and a group of us went to one of the three lesbian bars in town (those were the days!!), and in she walks, sitting down right at the bar.

I froze.

My brain was doing overtime connecting all the dots between “I know her - oh, it’s her - wait she’s in a lesbian bar - omg she’s a lesbian - huh, funny that, me too - OMG I HAD A CRUSH ON HER - yeah, I still think she’s insanely attractive, thanks brain.”

Younger me and older women, what can I say.

Dutch courage (but not too much of it) helped me walk up to her to say hello. She got a deer in the headlights look when I mentioned that I knew her from school years ago - and then she practically bolted out of the bar, leaving me behind.

I’m still sorry I scared her. Given that it was a devil’s sacrament situation, I think she should have taken a few deep breaths, and maybe just told me to leave her alone. I hope she figured out an elaborate scheme with the bar owner, where she would call her in advance to check for any women aged around twenty, so she didn’t have to find another watering hole.

I moved to another city roughly a year after and never met her again.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Keeping Vigil

The little clinic on Pabu isn’t much, but you won’t leave it until he wakes.

Pairing: Tech x gn!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: kinda sad, kinda angsty, but also a little comforting, Tech is unconscious, reader is in love but our nerd has been oblivious, mentions of death/thinking someone had died, references to canon typical violence, ends on a hopeful note

A/N: this idea has been rattling through my brain for a while, and I refuse to believe he’s gone, so…. #TechLives

The small private room in Pabu’s only clinic exuded an air of tranquillity. Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, casting a gentle, dappled pattern on the white walls. A warm breeze carried with it the sweet scent of exotic flowers and sea salt, filling the room with a sense of calm that seemed to soothe even the most restless souls.

Curled in a small chair, your eyes were fixed on the swaying palm trees visible through the open window. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing on the nearby shore provided a comforting backdrop for your thoughts.

Hand resting on your chest, where your heartbeat drummed steadily, the faint hum of the nearby bacta tank was the only interruption in the otherwise quiet room, and it reminded you of the fragility of your existence.

Four weeks ago, you’d finally stormed Mount Tantiss.

Eight weeks ago, he’d enacted Plan 99.

Casting your gaze to the horizontal tank, you take in his prone form, following the jut of his nose, the curve of his lips, and down across his chin. Bones had been reset, bruises fading, and cuts stitched up, but you had no idea what the lasting damage would be. And you wouldn’t until he woke.

You hadn’t anticipated finding him, not after Hemlock had so callously thrown you his shattered goggles and declared it was all they could ‘salvage.’

Turns out Hemlock had been lying.

You’d never been more grateful for your terrible sense of direction. One wrong turn as you’d been searching for Omega and Crosshair had led you into a room full of bacta tanks, each housing a clone, but one had not been like the others…

You’d called for backup, Howzer and his men finding you a few minutes later. As a team, you’d drained the tank and pulled him free. A hasty job had been done to stabilise and get him to the waiting ships. But it had been enough.

The rest of the rescue had been a success – the Empire hadn’t anticipated a well-connected network of highly skilled clones to storm the place. All the clones taken had been saved and transported away in a small fleet of ships. Hemlock had met his end from one of Crosshair’s perfect shots, and once everyone had been clear, Wrecker had blown the place to smithereens. But not before you’d grabbed every scrap of information available from the place. The small pile of data spikes you’d handed over to the fledgling rebellion would hopefully help.

“The sun is out today. The storm I told you about the other day has finally cleared.” You spoke a little louder than usual. The doctor had suggested he might be able to hear you, and that thought is partly what kept you tied to the room – to the chair. You didn’t want him to be alone, to risk him waking with no one by his side.

That and you needed the reminder that he was still here. That the memory of him shooting the rail track and plummeting thousands of feet wasn’t the end. Loving him from a distance for years had been hard, but believing that you’d never gotten the chance to tell him had been devastating.

“I kind of miss it. The storm reminded me of Kamino.” You continued, letting out a soft sigh. Your fingers crept upwards, wrapping around his broken goggles. You’d carefully removed the glass and slipped them around your neck after Omega had been taken, and they’d rested there ever since.

“Remember that terrible storm, the one that knocked out the power when you were trying to fit my bracelet?” You reminisced, tearing your eyes away long enough to look at the band of silver around your wrist, which had been locked into place with one of his many screwdrivers. It had been a gift from them all six months after you’d joined as their handler. A comms unit and tracker had been embedded, and a small ‘99’ engraved into the metal.

“None of the torches were charged, so we’d had to borrow the one from Crosshair’s rifle. I can still remember the look on his face when Wrecker had reached for it.” You chuckled at the memory. Things had been so much simpler then.

A bird squawked outside, a reminder of how life was continuing on beyond the four walls of the clinic. The boys had come to see you and him a few times. Omega usually swung by after school with her homework, and you’d help her finish it. They brought you food and news from the rest of the island, and they’d leave with the same sad look on their faces – sympathy painting their matching brown eyes. They weren’t blind and had known for some time that your feelings for their brother went far beyond friendship.

Phee had visited once, too, having finally put the pieces together. She’d vowed to back off, to not tread on your toes, and while you’d appreciated it, you couldn’t help but feel bad. He wasn’t yours – he didn’t know how you felt. Who were you to say who could or couldn’t pursue him?

“I’m glad I found you. I thought for a while I’d truly lost you.” You confess, forcing volume into your voice even as it cracks a little. “As much as I despise Hemlock, I’m glad he found you, that he saved your life.”

“If I ever come across Saw Guerra, though, it’s on sight…” There was no point concealing your anger. The blame for Tech’s fall lay solely at Saw’s feet, and that man was fortunate you weren’t already on the warpath.

Silence lingers again, the breeze outside picking up a little, making the curtains rustle. “I’ve been trying to fix your helmet, too.” You state, turning to look at the mess of equipment on a small side table. “I found it in a million pieces in one of the labs on Tantiss. I think they were trying to access your files on the Republic. They just didn’t account for how smart you are.” A smile crosses your lips as you shift in the seat, reaching out like you had done hundreds of times over the last four weeks to press your hand to the tank glass. You loved that exceptional mind of his, how he solved complex calculations on the fly and picked up new skills and information in an instant. It was incredibly attractive.

“With how many pieces it’s still in, I don’t think I’ve accounted for how smart you are either.” You chuckle before taking a deep breath. “Maker, I miss you, T.” You whisper, slipping into the small nickname you’d given him shortly after joining the squad.

The silence over the last four weeks in the clinic had given you plenty of time to think. You weren’t sure when he woke if you’d share your feelings openly, but you certainly wouldn’t conceal your affection so much anymore.

“I miss your voice and your info-dumping.” You add. “But you’re going to get better, and you’re going to wake up.” You try to look at the bright side.

You took another deep breath, embracing a sense of hope that lingered in the air. With a tender smile, you felt the weight of the last few weeks finally lifting off your shoulders. “When you wake, I’ll be here, ready to help you, to share every moment, and every bit of affection that I’ve kept buried for so long. The quiet, safe life we’ve all yearned for is just around the corner. You, me, and your siblings, all back together again.”

Lost in the darkness, Tech’s mind had desperately clung to your voice over the last few weeks. And this time, as he listened, his fingers finally twitched.

[a-court-of-mischief-and-madness]

Midnight revelations

Part 3--------Part 4

Summary: her wings had vanished ever since that night with the horrors encountered with tamlins father, only a person she feels true desire and passion for can invoke those wings. What happens when the person who does that is non other than eris vanserra?

Note: what's up guys, hope all of you are enjoying this series so far. If you have any suggestions for the next few chapters.. dw my requests are open!!! So ask awayy. Also if you want to enter the taglist please comment and let me now xx

Warnings: slight smut, romance, mentions of kissing!, angst and mentions of blood

As you stepped out of your room, the familiar corridors of the House of Wind stretched out before you, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. The events of the evening still weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you lost in thought as you made your way through the labyrinthine halls.

Lost in contemplation, you barely noticed the subtle shift in the air as you approached Amren's chambers. Her voice, sharp and commanding, pierced through your head, calling you to her side with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.

Curiosity piqued, you hastened your steps, your heart pounding in anticipation of what awaited you behind closed doors. With each passing moment, the weight of the unknown grew heavier upon your shoulders, filling you with a sense of apprehension mingled with a glimmer of hope.

As you reached Amren's door and stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted, enveloping you in a sense of solemnity and reverence. Amren's piercing gaze met yours, her eyes holding a depth of knowledge that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You have wings of great power," Amren stated bluntly, her words cutting through the silence like a knife.

Caught off guard by her revelation, you struggled to find words to respond. "Had, you mean. what are you talking about? " you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You still felt them in you but you thought it was your brain's method of coping with the trauma. To make you think they were still there

Amren rose from her seat, her movements graceful yet purposeful. "Your wings, they disappeared that night when Tamlin's father attempted to clip them, not because of their weakness, but because of their strength," she explained, her gaze never leaving yours.

Amren's expression remained impassive as she rose from her seat, her movements deliberate and measured. "Your wings are special, perhaps the most powerful I've encountered in our realm," she explained, her tone grave yet tinged with a hint of awe.

The weight of her words settled heavily upon you as you tried to make sense of their significance. "Special?" you echoed, seeking clarification.

Amren nodded slowly, her gaze never wavering from yours. "They have the ability to reveal themselves only when you experience extreme passion and desire for someone," she revealed, her voice tinged with reverence.

The revelation sent a shockwave through you, the implications of her words sinking in. "Passion and desire..." you murmured, your mind racing with thoughts of Eris and the inexplicable pull you felt towards him.

she continued, her tone steady yet filled with warning. "Such power comes with great responsibility and consequences."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling heavily upon your shoulders. "So they can be revealed at any moment, what should I do now?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Amren regarded you thoughtfully, her gaze softening ever so slightly. "Trust your instincts," she advised, her voice a mere whisper. "And be prepared for what may come."

With that, she returned to her seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of her revelation. As you processed the implications of your wings and the connection they symbolized, you couldn't shake the feeling that your destiny was now inexorably intertwined with Eris, for better or for worse.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

Amren's revelation about your wings left you stunned. The idea that your wings could only return through the touch of someone you had extreme passion and desire for was both thrilling and terrifying. You kept replaying Amren's words in your mind, trying to process the implications.

Over the next few weeks, the rest of the inner circle learned about Amren's discovery. Rhysand was cautious, hoping the person who could invoke such passion and desire in you was not someone dangerous. He knew all too well that strong emotions could cloud judgment, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Then one evening, Rhysand invited Eris to dinner at the House of Wind to finalize an important agreement between the courts. The atmosphere was tense as everyone gathered in the grand dining hall. You chose a magnificently beautiful red dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. The fabric was a deep crimson, soft and luxurious, with a subtle sheen that caught the light just so. The neckline dipped low, hinting at the curves beneath, and the skirt flowed gracefully around your legs, pooling at your feet in a cascade of red.

You paired the dress with red lipstick, a bold shade that accentuated your lips and added to the allure of the ensemble. As you entered the dining hall, you could feel all eyes on you, but one pair of eyes, in particular, stood out.

Eris couldn't take his eyes off you the entire evening. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, as if he couldn't resist the allure you exuded in that dress. His eyes traced the curves of your body, lingering on the exposed skin of your shoulders and the dip of your neckline. Every movement you made seemed to captivate him, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

Azriel noticed, his sharp eyes picking up on Eris's fixation. Nesta leaned over and whispered in your ear, her voice teasing yet reassuring.

"He's eye-fucking you," Nesta murmured, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Relax, darling. Don't let it get to you."

You flushed at her bluntness but appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood. Rhysand seemed engrossed in the negotiations, but Feyre's suspicious glances didn't escape your notice.

After dinner, you retired to your room, thinking Eris had left, but you were startled when he appeared in your chamber. The atmosphere crackled with tension as he moved closer, his eyes smoldering with desire. You were in your nightgown, feeling exposed yet strangely exhilarated.

"What are you doing here?" The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, a mixture of surprise and apprehension lacing your tone.

Eris regarded you with an inscrutable expression, his gaze piercing as he took a step closer. "I came to see you," he replied simply, his voice low and measured.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of unease at his response, your instincts urging you to tread carefully in his presence. "At this hour?" you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions raging within you.

He offered you a small, enigmatic smile, his eyes holding yours in a steady gaze. "I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to make sense of his words, the conflicting emotions swirling within you making it difficult to think clearly. "Eris..." you began, unsure of what to say next.

As Eris approached, the air seemed to sizzle with the heat of his presence. His gaze, filled with an intensity that bordered on infernal, seared into yours, sending a rush of heat coursing through your veins. You could feel the warmth emanating from his very being, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

Eris stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you with an intimacy that made your breath catch. "I needed to see you," he murmured, his voice husky. His fingers brushed your face, trailing down to your hair, the touch electrifying.

Your back was bare in your nightgown, and when his warm hands slid down to your shoulders, a shiver ran through you. "Eris," you breathed, but he silenced you with a look.

His hands were warm against your cool skin, the fire within him contrasting with your own tension. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel it too?" he whispered.

Before you could respond, his hands moved lower, caressing your back. The touch was intimate, setting your nerves on fire. When his fingers brushed the base of your spine.

And then, in that moment of exquisite intimacy, your wings unfurled, bathed in the golden glow of his fiery touch. Eris's eyes widened in astonishment, the flames of his own power flickering in the depths of his gaze.

"You have wings," he breathed, his voice a low rumble, tinged with a mixture of awe and fascination.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find words, the heat of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. But before you could respond, Eris leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Secrets like this..." he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "they only make you more irresistible."

You panicked, forcing him to keep quiet about what had just happened. "You can't tell anyone," you demanded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eris raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what will you do for me if I keep your secret?" he asked, his tone teasing.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. "Name your price," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

Eris leaned closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "Oh, I'll think of something," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Just then Eris seemed to have winnowed away and before you could take in what just happened

Nesta entered the room, her eyes immediately fell upon your unfurled wings, their golden radiance filling the chamber with an otherworldly glow. Shock registered on her face as she took in the unexpected sight, her mouth opening to speak before she turned to you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"What just happened?" Nesta's voice was incredulous, her eyes darting between you and the now empty space where Eris had stood moments before.

You struggled to find words, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. "He... he saw my wings," you managed to stammer out, your voice betraying a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

As Nesta's gaze lingered on your wings, her expression shifted from shock to a thoughtful understanding. "Your wings... they only come when you truly desire someone," she mused, her voice carrying a note of realization.

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks at her astute observation. "I..." You struggled to find the words, unsure how to articulate the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

Nesta's eyes met yours, her gaze unwavering. "You desire Eris," she stated matter-of-factly, her words hanging in the air with a weight that left you breathless.

The truth of her statement hit you like a bolt of lightning, stirring a whirlwind of emotions deep within your chest. You couldn't deny the undeniable pull you felt towards Eris, the magnetic attraction that seemed to defy reason and logic.

"I..." Your voice faltered, unable to deny the truth of her words.

Nesta's expression softened, her hand reaching out to grasp yours in a gesture of support. "It's okay," she said gently, her voice filled with understanding

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at her acceptance. "I hope the rest feel the same about it"

She offered you a reassuring smile before turning to leave, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of her revelation. As you processed the implications of what she had said, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life had just become infinitely more complicated, with Eris at the center of it all.

----------------------------♧-----------------------------

The tension in the Night Court was palpable, and it seemed as though everyone was on edge after the recent events. You had barely settled into your room when there was a knock on the door. Before you could respond, Rhysand and Feyre entered, their faces a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Your heart raced as you instinctively turned to shield your golden wings from their view, but it was too late. Rhysand's eyes widened, and Feyre gasped, stepping closer.

"Your wings," Rhysand said, his voice low and urgent. "How did this happen?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "It's... complicated," you replied, avoiding their eyes.

Feyre stepped forward, her gaze soft but probing. "We need to know. This could change everything."

You hesitated, the memory of Eris's touch still fresh on your skin, his warmth lingering against your back. But you couldn't reveal his involvement. Not yet. "I don't know," you lied, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. "It just... happened."

Rhysand's eyes narrowed, suspicion and worry battling for dominance in his expression. "Are you sure?" he pressed.

You nodded, keeping your voice steady. "Yes. I'm sure."

Feyre placed a gentle hand on your arm, her eyes filled with understanding. "If you remember anything, or if something else happens, please tell us. We're here for you."

You managed a weak smile, grateful for their support but burdened by the secret you were now carrying. "I will," you promised, hoping they couldn't see through your facade.

Rhysand, however, wasn't satisfied. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "There's more to this, isn't there? I can sense it. You need to trust us."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "I trust you, Rhys," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I genuinely don't know how it happened. One moment they were gone, and the next... they were back."

Rhysand's eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his stance remained. "I want to believe you," he said quietly. "But if there's anything you're not telling us, it could put everyone at risk."

Your chest tightened at his words, the pressure of the situation nearly overwhelming. "I understand," you said, fighting to keep your voice steady. "And I promise, if I figure anything out, you'll be the first to know."

Rhysand studied you for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. But remember, we're in this together. If you need anything, we're here."

Feyre squeezed your hand gently. "Take care of yourself. And don't be afraid to lean on us."

With that, they turned to leave, the door closing softly behind them. You let out a shaky breath, the burden of your secret pressing heavily on your shoulders.

-----------------------------♧---------------------------

As Eris stood with Lucien in the dimly lit study, the weight of his confession pressed heavily upon him. He couldn't keep it hidden any longer, not from his own brother, not when the truth gnawed at him every waking moment.

"Lucien," Eris began, his voice low and hesitant, "there's something I need to tell you."

Lucien's gaze met his, curiosity mingled with concern in his green eyes. "What is it, Eris?" he asked, his tone gentle yet expectant.

Eris took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. "She's my mate," he confessed, the words heavy with significance.

In the depths of his mind, Eris was transported back to that fateful night—the night when he first laid eyes on her, and everything changed.

The grand hall was ablaze with light and music, a symphony of colors and sounds that seemed to dance around him as he entered. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the opulence of the event, until it landed on her.

She stood at the edge of the room, bathed in a halo of soft candlelight. Her violet eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief, drawing him in with their magnetic allure. They were eyes that seemed to see right through him, to the very core of his being. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a river of midnight, the soft waves catching the light and shimmering with an ethereal glow. It framed her face perfectly, highlighting the delicate angles of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips, painted a deep, inviting red.

She wore a gown of deep blue, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was both elegant and provocative. The bodice was intricately designed, hugging her slender waist and accentuating the swell of her hips. A daring slit ran up one side, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her long, shapely legs with each step she took. The neckline dipped just low enough to hint at the soft curve of her breasts, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive him mad.

Eris's breath caught in his throat as he watched her, every fiber of his being drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her beauty was a siren's call, a magnetic force that pulled him in despite the danger it represented. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the golden thrum of the bond that pulsed between them.

He could feel the heat of her presence from across the room, a tantalizing warmth that wrapped around him and refused to let go. His thoughts became a whirlwind of desire and need, an all-consuming fire that burned through his veins and set his soul alight.

As she moved through the crowd, their eyes met, and he felt the world narrow down to just the two of them. The noise and chaos of the party faded into the background, leaving only the intensity of her gaze and the electric connection that sizzled between them.

In that moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to cross the distance between them, to take her in his arms and claim her as his own. He imagined the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips, the taste of her lips as he kissed her with a passion that had been building since the moment he first saw her. He longed to bury his hands in her hair, to pull her close and feel her body pressed against his, every curve and contour fitting perfectly against him.

He could almost feel the silk of her dress beneath his fingers, the warmth of her breath on his skin as she leaned in closer. His mind raced with thoughts of what it would be like to explore every inch of her, to lose himself in the depths of her eyes and the heat of her touch. The bond thrummed between them, a golden thread that tied their fates together and set his soul on fire.

But before he could act on those desires, he felt his father's gaze upon him. Beron, ever observant, had seen the change in him, the shift in his demeanor that betrayed the truth.

Their eyes locked across the room, and in that instant, Eris knew that his father had sensed it too. The knowledge hung between them like a heavy shroud, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that bound them together.

And as Eris stood frozen in place, his father's knowing gaze bore into him, his expression unreadable yet filled with a silent warning. It was a warning that echoed in the depths of Eris's soul, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

But despite the fear and uncertainty that threatened to consume him, one thing remained clear: he would do whatever it took to protect her, his mate, from the darkness that loomed on the horizon. For she was his light, his salvation, and he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his expression mirroring the shock that coursed through Eris's veins. "Your mate?" he echoed, disbelief coloring his voice.

Eris nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've felt it—the golden thrum, the string in my heart—since the day of the reunion party," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucien's eyes widened in realization, comprehension dawning on his features. "That's why..." he trailed off, his thoughts racing as he connected the dots.

Eris nodded, relief flooding through him at having finally shared the truth with his brother. "I couldn't deny it any longer," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Lucien placed a reassuring hand on Eris's shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "It changes things," he acknowledged, his voice filled with understanding.

Eris sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him once more. "It feels like it can never happen," he said, his voice heavy with resignation. "Rhysand is her brother, and she can never be disloyal to her family. She would never forgive herself."

Lucien's expression softened with empathy. "That's a difficult position," he agreed quietly. "Family ties run deep."

Eris nodded, his jaw tightening. "And it gets worse," he added, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Our father found out about the bond. He told me to use it to get information out of her."

Eris's mind drifted further back to a darker memory, one that had left a scar deeper than any physical wound. It was the night after the grand event, the night he realized the full extent of his father's cruelty.

He had returned to the Autumn Court, the golden thrumming bond still pulsing within him, a beacon of both hope and fear. But as he entered his father’s study, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Beron's eyes gleamed with a malevolent light, and the air was thick with tension.

"Sit down, Eris," Beron commanded, his voice a dangerous whisper. Eris obeyed, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew his father well enough to recognize the signs of impending violence.

Beron leaned forward, his eyes boring into Eris's. "I saw the way you looked at her," he hissed. "The way you reacted. She's your mate, isn't she?"

Eris didn't answer, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes gave him away. Beron’s lips curled into a predatory smile. "Good. This can be useful."

Eris's stomach churned with dread. "Useful how?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Beron stood and walked around the desk, his movements slow and deliberate. "You will use her," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Get close to her. Learn her secrets, her weaknesses. Bring that information to me. We will exploit her to undermine Rhysand and his Court."

Eris's blood ran cold. "I won't do it," he said through gritted teeth. "She's my mate. I won't betray her."

Beron's expression darkened. In a flash, he grabbed Eris by the collar and slammed him against the wall, a wickedly sharp knife appearing in his hand. He pressed the blade to Eris's throat, the cold metal biting into his skin.

"You don't have a choice," Beron snarled. "If you defy me, if you refuse to do as I command, I will make sure your mother suffers. I will hurt her in ways you cannot fathom."

Eris's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with fear and fury. His mother—his gentle, loving mother—was the only person who had ever shown him kindness in this pit of vipers. The thought of her in pain, suffering because of him, was unbearable.

Beron pressed the knife harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "Do you understand me, Eris?" he demanded, his voice a venomous whisper.

Eris nodded, the movement barely perceptible. "I understand," he whispered back, his voice hollow with despair.

Beron released him, stepping back with a satisfied smile. "Good. Remember, Eris, you are a pawn in a much larger game. And you will play your part, or you will watch everything you care about burn."

As Eris watched his father turn away, the weight of his predicament settled heavily on his shoulders. He was trapped, bound by a cruel choice that tore at his very soul. To protect his mother, he would have to betray the woman who was his destined mate, the woman he was already falling for.

That night, as he lay in his bed, the golden thrum of the bond felt like a chain around his heart, a reminder of the impossible situation he was in. And in the darkness, he vowed to find a way to protect both his mother and his mate, no matter the cost

Lucien's eyes darkened with anger. "Beron," he spat, the name a curse on his lips. "That bastard."

Eris clenched his fists, a mixture of rage and helplessness roiling within him. "I can't do it," he said fiercely. "I won't use her like that. But if I refuse, he'll know something's wrong."

Lucien squeezed Eris's shoulder in affirmation, a silent promise passing between them. "We'll figure this out," he said firmly. "Together, but for now you need to stay away from her as much as you can, I know you feel extremely provocative but father is very brutal and if he touches her you wouldn't be able to do anything eris."

---------------------------♧-------------------------------

Later that night, Eris received a summons from his father, Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court. Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach as he made his way to his father's chambers, knowing that Beron's demands were rarely benign.

As he entered the dimly lit room, Beron's imposing figure loomed over him, his eyes sharp and calculating. "Eris," he greeted, his voice dripping with a deceptive warmth that made Eris's skin crawl.

"What do you need, Father?" Eris asked, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the unease gnawing at him.

Beron's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I want to know how your little mission is progressing," he said, his voice laced with thinly veiled menace.

Eris swallowed hard, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a convincing lie. "It's... progressing," he hedged, careful to keep his thoughts guarded.

Beron's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through Eris's defenses with unnerving precision. "Don't play games with me, Eris," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I want to know if you've made any progress with her. Have you gained her trust? Learned her secrets?"

Eris felt a surge of panic clawing at his chest. He couldn't let his father see the truth, couldn't let him know about the wings. This was the only thing he had left that were truly his own, and he would protect it at all costs.

"I'm working on it," Eris replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But these things take time. I can't rush it."

Beron's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "Time is a luxury we don't have, Eris," he snapped, his tone turning icy. "I need results, and I need them now."

Eris clenched his jaw, his mind racing for a way out of this impossible situation. He couldn't risk his father discovering the truth, couldn't bear to see the look of triumph in Beron's eyes when he realized the power that lay dormant within Eris's mate.

But despite his best efforts to hide it, Beron's High Lord power was too formidable to evade. With a surge of energy, Beron reached into Eris's mind, probing for the secrets he sought.

Eris fought against the intrusion, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of resistance. But despite his efforts, he couldn't keep Beron out completely. And in a horrifying moment of realization, he knew that his father had seen it—the memory of the golden wings, hidden away in the depths of his mind.

Beron's eyes gleamed with a fierce intensity, a hunger for power burning within them. "Well, well, well," he murmured, a twisted smile spreading across his lips. "It seems you've been holding out on me, Eris."

Eris's heart sank as he realized the magnitude of his mistake. He had inadvertently revealed his most closely guarded secret, and now his father would stop at nothing to claim what he desired.

Beron's gaze locked onto Eris's, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Those wings," he said, his voice filled with a dangerous excitement, "they are the key to everything. And now that I know they exist, I will stop at nothing to make them mine."

Fear clenched at Eris's heart as he watched his father, knowing that Beron's obsession with power knew no bounds. And as Beron's plans began to unfold, Eris knew that he would have to tread carefully if he hoped to protect both his mate and himself from the ruthless ambitions of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

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