#and it's always the worst with things like statistics because someone's gonna be like 'well if you reframe the numbers slightly

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I will be curious to read the vituperative denials of the validity of this article's analysis, which is pasted below the cutoff:

“Are you better off today than you were four years ago?” That question, first posed by Ronald Reagan in a 1980 presidential-campaign debate with Jimmy Carter, has become the quintessential political question about the economy. And most Americans today, it seems, would say their answer is no. In a new survey by Bankrate published on Wednesday, only 21 percent of those surveyed said their financial situation had improved since Joe Biden was elected president in 2020, against 50 percent who said it had gotten worse. That echoed the results of an ABC News/Washington Post poll from September, in which 44 percent of those surveyed said they were worse off financially since Biden’s election. And in a New York Times/Siena College poll released last week, 53 percent of registered voters said that Biden’s policies had hurt them personally.

As has been much commented on (including by me), this gloom is striking when contrasted with the actual performance of the U.S. economy, which grew at an annual rate of 4.9 percent in the most recent quarter, and which has seen unemployment holding below 4 percent for more than 18 months. But the downbeat mood is perhaps even more striking when contrasted with the picture offered by the Federal Reserve’s recently released Survey of Consumer

The survey provides an in-depth analysis of the financial condition of American households, conducted for the Fed by the National Opinion Research Center at the University of Chicago. Published every three years, it’s the proverbial gold standard of household research. The latest survey looked at Americans’ net worth as of mid-to-late 2022 and Americans’ income in 2021, comparing them with equivalent data from three years earlier. It found that despite the severe disruption to the economy caused by the pandemic and the recovery from it, Americans across the spectrum saw their incomes and wealth rise over the survey period.

The rise in median household net worth was the most notable improvement: It jumped by 37 percent from 2019 to 2022, rising to $192,000. (All numbers are adjusted for inflation.) Americans in every income bracket saw substantial gains, with the biggest gains registered by people in the middle and upper-middle brackets, which suggests that a slight narrowing of wealth inequality occurred during this time. In particular, Black and Latino households saw their median net worth rise faster than white households did—though the racial wealth gap is so wide that it narrowed only slightly as a result of this change.

A big driver of this increase was the rising value of people’s homes—and a higher percentage of Americans owned homes in 2022 than did in 2019. But households’ financial position improved in other ways too. The amount of money that the median household had in bank accounts and retirement accounts rose substantially. The percentage of Americans owning stocks directly (that is, not in retirement accounts) jumped by more than a third, from about 15 to 21 percent. The percentage of Americans with retirement accounts went from 50.5 to 54.3 percent, a notable improvement. And a fifth of Americans reported owning a business, the highest proportion since the survey began in its current form (in 1989).

Americans also reduced their debt loads during the pandemic. The median credit-card balance dropped by 14 percent, and the share of people with car loans fell. More significantly still, Americans’ median debt-to-asset, debt-to-income, and debt-payment-to-income ratios all fell, meaning that U.S. households had lower debt burdens, on average, in 2022 than they’d had three years earlier.

The gains in real income (in this case, measured from 2018 to 2021) were small—median household income rose 3 percent, with every income bracket seeing gains. But that was better than one might have expected, given that this period included a pandemic-induced recession and only a single year of recovery.

The picture the survey paints, then, is one of American households not only weathering the pandemic in surprisingly good shape, but ultimately also emerging from it in better financial shape than they were going in. And that, in turn, points to the effect of the U.S. policy response to the crisis: Stimulus payments, enhanced unemployment benefits, the child-care tax credit, and the moratorium on student-loan payments boosted household income and balance sheets, helping people pay down debt and increase their savings. In the process, these policies mildly narrowed inequality.

The U.S. government’s aggressive response to the pandemic, including Biden’s stimulus spending, also helped the job market recover all its pandemic-related losses—and add millions of jobs on top. The resulting tight labor market has been a huge boon to lower-wage workers. In fact, because the Fed survey’s income data end in 2021, it understates the income gains for the bottom half of the workforce, and the shrinking income inequality they’ve produced.

Hourly wages for production and nonsupervisory workers (who make up about 80 percent of the American workforce) rose 4.4 percent year-on-year in the third quarter of 2023, for instance, ahead of the pace of inflation. And this was not anomalous: Arindrajit Dube, an economist at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, crunched the numbers and found that real wages for that same sector of workers are not just higher than they were in 2019, but are now roughly where they would have been if we’d continued on the upward pre-pandemic trend.

The reason for this is simple: Low unemployment has translated into higher wages. As a recent working paper by Dube, David Autor, and Annie McGrew shows, the tight labor markets of the past few years have given lower-wage workers more bargaining power than in the past, leading to a compression in the wage gap between higher-paid and lower-paid workers. Of course, that gap is still immense, but the three scholars found that the wage gains for lower-paid workers have rolled back about a quarter of the rise in inequality that has occurred since the 1980s.

So what should we take away from the Survey of Consumer Finances data, and from Dube, Autor, and McGrew’s work? Not that everything is fine, but that public policy and macroeconomic management matter a lot. Enhanced unemployment benefits, the child-care tax credit, the stimulus payments—these things materially improved the lives of Americans and helped set the economy up for a strong recovery. If the policy response had been less aggressive, the U.S. economy would be in worse shape now. This is something you can see by looking at Europe, where economies are growing far more slowly and unemployment is higher, while inflation is no lower.

Key to this story is the fact that lower-wage workers in particular would be worse off, because they have been among the chief beneficiaries of the low unemployment created by the robust recovery. It’s a useful reminder that stagnant wages are not an inevitable result of American capitalism: When labor markets are tight, and employers have to compete with one another for employees, workers get paid more.

So, even allowing for the high inflation we saw in 2022, no one could really look at the U.S. economy today and say that the policy choices of the past three years made us poorer. Yet that, of course, is precisely how many Americans feel.

Although that pessimism does not bode well for Biden’s reelection prospects, the real problem with it is even more far-reaching: If voters think that policies that helped them actually hurt them, that makes it much less likely that politicians will embrace similar policies in the future. The U.S. got a lot right in its macroeconomic approach over the past three years. Too bad that voters think it got so much wrong.

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

When the ‘03 Turtles are in love!

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word Count: 889

CW: Gender-neutral reader as always, referred to as ‘you’, my underrated beloveds ong, (especially Donnie 💜), nothing but fluff! Turtles realizing they’re in love with you and how they act around you!! (+ confessions because yes <3)

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 With Leo, it takes him a good while to realize he’s in love with you. It just randomly hits him when he’s meditating, the comfort you bring, the way he can lean on you, the way he’s always seemingly drawn to you! It hits him like a bus.

💙 He gets a little shy and distant with you, but don’t give up! Continue coming to him and acting like yourself, he’ll feel a bit guilty for avoiding you, but you still coming to him makes his heart flips and he’s feeling those butterflies.

💙 That’s when Leo can’t take it anymore and finally confides in Master Splinter, (which we both know that man knows when his sons are in love). Splinter is pleasantly surprised! But he’s happy to help his son sort out his feelings and even devise ways to confess to you.

💙 Finally, Leo works up the courage and asks you to go to the training dojo with him alone, to train. You two do train and by the end of it, Leo finally spills it, confessing his love to you, but also expressing his understanding if you didn’t feel the same.

💙 Pleasantly surprised when you admit to feeling the same way! Man is fist-pumping the air mentally when you confess. After that, you two spent more time together in the dojo, just talking things out and making it official with a hug, (a kiss will come later, Leo’s not ready to make that quick of a step!)

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ With this emotional turtle, Raph is quick to realize, unlike his brothers, and at first; he’s frustrated. He didn’t NEED feelings, especially not towards a family friend, a human… A very beautiful human at that—

❤️ Okay, he gives up and comes to terms with the fact, Raph, the tough guy with anger issues, has soft feelings for YOU. (Bro went through the 5 stages of grief because of this/j)

❤️ And after coming to that conclusion, man is always trying to impress you, he gets closer to you, wants you to depend on him because he wants to be that someone for you! It strokes his ego quite a bit too.

❤️ It’s when he finally realizes he wants to be with you he shoots his shot. What’s the worst they could say? No? So, one night when you join him on patrol and you two are chilling on a roof, he finally confesses. And he’s straight to the point like, “Look uh, this is gonna sound weird, but I have feelings for you.”

❤️ Dude is so hyped when you say you feel the same way too. Raph isn’t the type to wait around either like Leo, on that rooftop was where you two shared (his) your first kiss.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 When Donnie realizes, he panics a little actually. YOU are his best friend, and he’s completely shocked when he realizes that his heart thunders in his chest and his palms get sweaty when YOU are around, (*slow fade-in of the demi-romantic flag*).

💜 He tries to shut down these feelings as best as he can by working on his technology more and being distant with everyone, and I mean EVERYONE.

💜 Even then he can’t stay away for too long, he’s back to ranting and rambling about his inventions to you, and his breath hitches whenever you smile at and tell him, “Go on”, whenever he pauses and apologizes for rambling again.

💜 Donnie has to tell you, if he gets rejected now, hopefully these feelings will go away, right? He didn’t even consider the fact that you could possibly like him back, according to his statistics, the likelihood of a mutant and a human together is low!

💜 Well, when he sat you down for a serious conversation, going on to admit his feelings and saying he wouldn’t be hurt if you said no— Wait what? You were quick to interrupt him and tell him you liked him back?? He had to process a moment before he would shyly ask if you wanted to go for a small ride in the Battle Shell around town. (You two held hands while he drove. <3)

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 Woof, Mikey on the other hand is a bit of a wild card, at first he confuses platonic with romance, but when his brothers point out to him the obvious, he’s all for it!

🧡 Mikey is the type to start reading comics and watch movies that involve romance so he has an idea of what to do, (and yes, he kicks his feet all giddy-like when he’s doing this).

🧡 After he’s obtained his knowledge, he’s quick to try and impress you and reenact some moments from the movies he’s watched, always saying quotes you probably wouldn’t understand. And when you don’t get it at first, thinking he’s just being Mikey, he’s a little bummed…

🧡 Then Raph has to point it out to him why his advances aren’t working, because he’s not really acting any different, and just tells Mikey to grow a pair and to tell you honestly. And that’s when Mikey’s new plan is sent into action, operation confession is a go!

🧡 Still a little confusing because he’s still making references but he’s got the spirit. Eventually he ends up forgetting the movie references and out-right tells you. And it’s safe to say, you guys have a roof-top date coming up here soon.

Gaaah, I’ve been obsessing over TMNT good lord. I wanted to write about them, and I’ll probably write more about them too 😭💙 Love turtle pookies ong, hope you enjoyed, and yes I posted the same day, I am motivated to write. ✍️

[renfaires]

What is it about the summer for me? Why does the universe seemingly work against me this time of year?

The last time I talked to Bryan, it was at Daniel’s funeral (almost 18 years ago)—and that memory has gotten me through some of the worst times in my life (I still have dreams about that deep hug he gave me, and wouldn’t let go; it was honestly one of the most comforting experiences of my life). He wasn’t my friend (he was my older brother’s), but I grew up with him around the house (we were neighbors) and he was literally one of the nicest people I’ve ever met (which is saying a lot, considering the people my brother typically hung out with).

He called me about a year ago, out of the blue. My brother warned me. “Hey I talked to Bryan earlier, and he asked for your number, so expect a phone call.”

I was really thrown off by it. Hadn’t talked to him in over a decade (and we were NEVER that close anyway). Still reeling from pandemic life adjustments, partner and I had just separated, my dog had just been diagnosed with an auto-immune disease, I was broke, depressed, anxious, unmedicated, and really going through it, so I ignored the call (I know… that’s gonna bother me forever now) and he actually left a voicemail (like, who does that unless they really want to talk to someone?)

I never returned his call, blaming it on my social anxiety and the fact I’d rather text than talk… Still doesn’t excuse why I never texted him either (but honestly, I just didn’t have the spoons until very recently). But I kept the voicemail. I always intended to call back when I felt well enough…

And now I won’t ever get the chance. Bryan died by suicide this morning, and everything’s come full-circle in the worst way possible (two brothers who lost their best friends to suicide almost exactly 18 years apart)… Only Bryan had kids (which makes everything harder)—who must be teens by now (yes, I come from the South where pregnant teenagers was like a fad)

I’m not trying to feel sorry for myself, or guilt myself (there’s already plenty of that), I’m just struggling with how to support my brother while also dealing with my own mixed emotions. But I am tired of going to friends’ funerals (we’re too young for this). And I’m so emotionally exhausted researching death statistics (for work) and seeing my friends represented in the data (especially the suicide metric).

I’m tired of being the person my family always comes to with difficult things like these, like I’m expected to be the expert in resiliency because I work in the grief field and was bereaved as a kid from my own friend’s suicide… they think I’m just supposed to know how to handle this stuff I guess.

But honestly, it never gets easier. What looks like resiliency is actually just careful compartmentalization and repression for me. I’m not okay. I usually tend to just shut down emotionally rather than “deal.” But I can say I probably wouldn’t feel as shitty and depressed if I had maybe answered his call a year ago. Not that it would have changed anything, but who knows… And like I said, I’m not trying to guilt myself (even if I do feel some); I DID get a bit of a mental warning alarm when my brother gave me the heads up a year ago; it was just so random and out of nowhere that I suspected his call had to do with “heavy” things (but I wasn’t emotionally equipped to talk to him back then). I guess I’ll never know now.

Anyway, if you have the bandwidth (that’s important), reach out to your people and ask how they’re doing (it’s so easy for all of us to get wrapped up in our own shit). Tell them you love them. And take care of each other.

[cutieboop2000]

The lonely witch's musings. (part 2)

It's a continuation of revealing the WBB version of Celene, but for this time, I'm doing something different-- something creative. While my own commentary from my completed playthrough is there, it's also going to be written through Celene's point of view as I explain the relations during WBB. By doing this, it would give me writing practice as well as express my own thoughts after finishing WBB. In that case, BEWARE! Spoilers will be present, and if you don't want to be spoiled, don't click past keep reading unless you've finished the game. Without further ado, these are the lonely moon witch's musings, and it WILL be a long post.

(CW: Cannibalism, Violence mention, Necromancy, Body horror, Drugs mention/use)

After another day comes to a close, and with the Loveless Biker Boys going rampant with drastic changes, Celene sighs as she returns to her room, her garage, her starry haven. She makes sure to lock the door and keep it that way while she writes her heart out. To set the atmosphere, the room will become dark with a flicker of the light switch, then illuminated by the starry nightlight projector, so it will be decorated by the night sky and its stars. Once the preparations are complete, she sits down at her worktable, brings out multiple pieces of paper, and her pen with purple ink. She begins to write about the bikers and how she feels about them during the drastic changes...

Jatay (Jawtay)-- "It's interesting to see you being the same. Or, well, almost the same, old man Jawtay. I know, your actual jaw isn't doing too well, and the only difference is that your mouthy friend took over your outfit and gained sentience of its own. However, Maltot isn't... uh, too friendly. Iunno what you want me to do, put on gloves and hope it doesn't melt them and burn my skin? I'm not... gonna.. go near it anytime soon unless I can figure out a way to safely interact with you AND Maltot at the same time. Best or worst, you have your gang's local witch/medic to patch you up, maybe fix the jaw of yours if you wanted to. It'll be a pain if you keep falling apart either way... so we just gotta try our best to make sure the medical treatment still works. Stay safe, yeah? I'll keep an eye out." Celene seems to chuckle after writing the paper about Jatay. Yeah, the jokes didn't always work, but when it works, it works. It's a good thing she is still fond of this biker. She seems to care about him quite a bit, even if it's because she cares for every biker as the designated medic/witch. Jatay is one of the people in the Loveless Biker Boys that she respects and someone who gives her hope, the other being Dice.

Jeff-- "You've been a weird one lately, Jeff. But then again, so have I. We've been aware of the secrets of the outside-- the secrets of the unknown world and its creatures. It's driven us mad, but I fear it's been the worse for you. You cannot hope that our gang, nor anyone else, understood everything beyond their regular knowledge. It's been... technically, us and nobody else. Yeah, I know, it's bittersweet as hell. As the gang's witch, and the daughter of a witch and a warlock, it is true we lack social comprehensibility when we gain knowledge beyond our own, especially when coming to contact with eldritch deities or go too deep into what we know, like secrets or magic. We've just got to do the best we can, even if we're all different people, right? I'll still look out for you and the others, I just don't want you to get hurt or worse.

Oh, and... uh... you don't have to beat up the newbies, just try not to destroy them unless they really really REALLY deserve it. No, I'm being serious here, Jeff. It's either you or Dice that's been killing them, and my workload is running high. My statistics are getting SCREWED. Plus we're not getting any new members that stay long term because by that point, they've probably been converted to meat food for cannibalism. Like, god damnit, I don't want to have to resort to necromancy or dark magic just to revive people or some other weird shit just to get them a better chance at joining the gang than if they were fresh. I appreciate you caring for me and the others, but damn I wish you hadn't completely lost your mind sometimes." Celene sighs, putting the paper about Jeff to the side. She's been fond of him, but she's also been frustrated. Yet again, these two have knowledge beyond normal comprehension, so it's not like Celene can find anybody else... Besides, she has her knowledge on the outside, witchcraft, medicine, her lunar and night magic, astronomy, and even eldritch studies (including dark magic).

Varai-- "Varai, Varai, Varai... your case is a lot more weirder than all the others. It's also the one that's been driving me crazy as the gang's medic and witch. I'm aware you cannot meet your own end, and yet you look and smell as if you had. It's like you are a 'living undead' person. I have tried multiple, and I mean, MULTIPLE ways to put my waning moon magic to work on this sort of thing, yet it doesn't seem like you have healed that much. You're still the same living undead as I see you currently. It's complicated, as you are a book of undead magic, so full of mysteries and secrets I've not yet solved or delved my book-smart head into. I just don't get you. I really just don't get you. It's not that I hate you, I really don't... I just feel concern AND confused at the same time, and that's what's driving me mad. As your fellow biker, medic, and friend, I want you to get better, feel better, AND I DON'T KNOW HOW! I still wish there was more ways to help you, but I can only do my best as the medic to heal whatever I can...

P.S. Even though I'll still talk to you and play with you, as the gang's medical witch I would rather not be infected for health reasons. Without me being healthy and alive, I wouldn't be able to still heal wounds, infections and whatnot, including my attempts to heal yours. I'm sorry, Varai."

Celene puts this paper expressing her feelings about Varai to the side. The conditions and circumstances regarding Varai are so mindboggling that she's struggled to find ways to fix the condition. In fact, he's one of the reasons WHY Celene has gone to unethical lengths regarding her healing magic (aka dark magic/necromancy)! She's mainly been keeping an eye on Varai, and to her he's still a research subject and an experiment in some way. If something went wrong, it's easy to just patch Varai up with basic lunar magic (waning) or even stitching up. However, for most other conditions, like how he kind of looks undead, it's puzzling until Celene figures it all out and it's not as puzzling to heal and cure. Even when she wrote this letter describing Varai, she shuddered out of fear, a chill running through her head to her tail for once.

"Ugh... I wish Dice didn't have to do that, but despite how flustered I AM over him, he does things that make me quiver with f e a r... And this result... was one of them." Celene takes no pleasure in this fact. There's things she likes about the boss, and there's things she doesn't like. There's a bunch to say, and it isn't easy writing a paper about her own boss, someone she's smitten with still... She's always saved the best in her eyes for last.

Dice-- "... Oh, Carroll. Dear boss... There's still so much, a lot, to say to you. It's not easy to say all of them, because they are a mix of affection, admiration, and... concern. My feelings are still strong, but it's not just 'cause of my loyalty, nor my hopeless crushing. It's because I'm concerned about you. Yes, it's about your drug usage. I doubt your boasts of being unable to really die, but what if I do lose you because of it? What if you are gone because of it, even if you yourself 'enjoy it' or 'get stronger' because of it? Not that I mind having you and 'Pink' around as a thrilling two-in-one person package. Yet, a drug overdose is... potentially dangerous, mortal even, and my magic cannot heal you from those long term consequences to your body and your mind, even as the gang's medic/witch. Your life is still young and delicate, and there's still a future ahead of you, even if this gang dissolves.

Er, well, it's BEEN dissolving because no new members have come to revive it from its current state. Partially because you've been eliminating them, yes I'm aware. It's affecting my workload and the status of the gang's existence. I wish I could tell you to stop increasing casualties, but you have more power than me. Thus, my statistics and papers will be messed up regardless.

However, you've REALLY got to take care of yourself, boss. It's the only way you'll still be able to take care of the others as a leader. You're not going to be alone through this, and... I'll stay 'til the end. I'll stay by your side to help you, and I'll keep taking care of the gang. Just, please, no more lies, and no more running away on that motorcycle in the night. Don't pretend as if you're immortal, because you're not. Be brave as you always are, embrace the darkness of reality, and see the full moon with me and the other bikers. All this, because... I love you, Carroll... I really care about you, Carroll... and I want to always be there for you any way I could." Celene frowns on this piece of paper designated to Dice. Some parts were scribbled out because she doesn't know the reaction, and because it sounds cringe in her head. Even if she were to put in the most important part of a confession, she stashes it away in the drawer under the desk. She's become bolder in regards to showing affection and even trying to find ways to confess, yet she still holds back in some way. It's torturous. It's hell. He's hell, in his own way; and yet Celene enjoys Dice very much.

"Oh, fur-get it, I wish there was an easier way to show support and love in more ways than one, but it's just... it's just difficult to convey in words. The only thing I can do is to be there by the boss' side, kick ass, heal... and keep my eye out for the others. The witch's work is never done. Even though I would want the others to be okay... I really just want Carroll to be healthy and happy most of all." Having a strong crush on the leader is still one feeling, but her concern has been pretty powerful since the big changes to this place. Either way, her sense of duty remains stronger than her free-time admiration. Celene sighs, taking a break from her worktable and going to her bed, just nodding off to sleep.

Who knows how long will this dream nightmare last? It can only go on for so long until it's just... gone. Like a scenario in which the moon really disappeared. In either case, the lonely lunar kitty witch biker can only sleep and hope for the best in this instance.

[dismaltouch]

she knew that he was strong, that the man was very much capable of doing many depraved things to her. a more sane individual would've been truly afraid and likely running for the hills from the man, but not holly. she might've been a little afraid, but that fear was only amplifying the lust she was currently overcome with. those words chilled her to the bone, but in the worst possible way, causing a low moan to push through her lips. he was absolutely deranged, but she thought it complimented her own instability quite well. "fuck. that's the hottest thing anyone's ever said to me." she genuinely didn't know if he actually intended on killing her at the end of the night or not, which kept her on her toes. it would be her own damn fault if he did, considering she'd allowed him so carelessly into her home. she got hterself into the rather vulnerable position she was in because she'd been horny, and orion had been an eager participant in all of it. the more she moved, the more pain she experienced. she had no use of her arms or hands, couldn't do anything but remain in the position he'd placed her in and wait in anticipation to see what he had in store for her. holly's mind drifted off to so many places, she always did have quite the active imagination. "i know what i am," she confirmed, slight grin forming on her features. "and i am proud of it." brow arched as he promised to beat that prideful mentality out of her, teeth sinking into her lower lip. if anyone could achieve something like that, it was likely him. "you gonna teach me a lesson daddy? hmm? show me why i shouldn't be happy with being a useless whore?" she was curious to find out what that would be like.

emitted a needy whine from the combination of feeling him draped over her with his erection pressed against her ass and the cool knife against her neck. she hoped he'd hold it against her throat while he fucked her, she really wanted the consistent reminder that at any minute he could end her life if that was what he chose to do and there wouldn't be anything she could do to stop it. if she was going to be taken out while she was young and hot, she wanted it to be like this. the blonde inhaled sharply as he pressed the knife firmly against her ass, acutely aware of just how close to her it was. "maybe i'm not special," she agreed, exhaling shakily. "but how many of those other dumb sluts let you do this to them? hmm? how many of them let you tie their hands together and got turned on when you reminded them how easily you could kill them? i bet it's not that high of a number." she knew most people were actually stable, that they wouldn't allow some depraved man to enter their bedrooms and get them into this type of position. even if she wasn't special, she liked to think that she was at least different. someone who would be memorable for him, even if he claimed she'd just be another statistic at the end of the night. orion would remember her and how willing she was to let him do anything he wanted to her. to holly, this was all exciting, a fun game that only managed to turn her on, not instill sheer terror into her. he wasn't afraid to leave marks behind, to use a firm hand with her, and she loved that. the forcefulness of each slap had her crying out, nails continuing to harshly dig into the palms of her hands. all she could do was nod in response to his question and acknowledge that this was her fault. maybe if she was less of a slut he wouldn't have to punish her this way. there was a mixture of both pleasure and pain that came from each blow delivered to her ass. if she survived, she knew she'd be having a difficult time sitting down the next day. a pathetic whimper escaped as he told her exactly what he intended to do to her, and it was in that moment she realized how truly sick she was, because it amplified her arousal tenfold. tongue pushed against the panties shoved into her mouth so she could guide them out, didn't care if it got her into more trouble. if he wanted to properly gag her she had a box in her closet with some items that'd do the trick. she wanted to run her mouth freely a little more. after all, he might be the last person she ever talked to. "you wanna be the first and last person to take my ass daddy?" she groaned in delight at the thought. she whimpered as he continued to mercilessly slap her ass, grateful he hadn't demanded she count them out, because she surely would've fucked up by now. "if you're gonna be the last fuck of my life ... you better hold on and make it the best one."

what orion wouldn't give to know what was running through her mind that whole time... surely there had to be some thread of fear somewhere within that twisted little brain of hers, as he'd more than displayed that he was capable of doing her great harm. it seemed to him, though, that the fear was turning holly on more than anything else, and she'd yet to utter the safe word he'd picked out for her, so god knows just how far he could push her. "i'll make you a fucking star, alright. the next black dahlia... your name's about to be plastered on every fucking newspaper around the world." orion had already done his fair share of jail time, having been locked up for everything from arson, to petty theft, to assault. the notoriety that would come from murdering a pretty, innocent little lady like holly, though? there's no way his name would be ever forgotten after that. if only the public knew just how far from innocent his victim really was, though... would they still mourn her all the same? his phone remained tucked away in his back pocket, however, waiting for the right moment to start his oscar worthy production. so far she had impressed him with her performance, but he'd barely even gotten through the opening act, and the finale would be going off with a bang. for a moment he just allowed himself to admire her, face down on the bed and restrained, red marks already beginning to appear on her wrists and forearms. the first of many reminders he intended to leave behind, and perhaps the least severe. "that's fucking right... maybe you aren't as dumb as you look. you know exactly what you are, don't you? and you're proud of that shit? i'll beat that pride right out of you, don't worry..."

everything she said, every little squirm or wiggle only riled him up further, which was likely her desired intent. even from her completely submissive state, holly still possessed some form of power. as he draped himself over her, sharp blade held to her neck, he bucked his hips forward, letting her feel his covered erection pressed against her plump ass. "you really think you're fucking special? that i brought this shit just for you?" a cruel chuckle preceded his pressing the knife to her asscheek more firmly, just a slight bit of pressure away from breaking skin and drawing blood. "you know how many dumb sluts like you i've fucking shoved this shit inside? you're not special, holly. you're nothing. by the end of the night, you'll be nothing more than a fucking statistic." a bluff on his part, but she didn't know that. for all she knew, she'd willingly invited the most infamous serial killer into her home, consented to her own brutal slaying. he could only hope the uncertainty amplified her sick sense of arousal. the knife was discarded beside her on the bed once he'd cut through her panties, one hand pressed to her back to hold her down while the other gave her ass another hard spank. such force caused a bright red handprint to appear on her skin, hardly giving her a second to compose herself before he slammed his hand down on the other cheek. "fucking hurts, doesn't it? this is what you made daddy do. this is what you fucking get." he found himself wishing they were in his own bedroom, gory posters plastered on the wall and stuffed dead creatures displayed on every surface. his collection of toys and instruments would greatly aid in giving her a night to truly remember, but he could make do just fine with his own two hands, and whatever he could find around her room. had always been creative, especially when it came to sex and violence. "god," he groaned as he delivered two more harsh slaps, slightly frenzied over the absolutely pitiful sight laid out before him. "i can't wait to fucking cut you open and play around with your blood... gonna smear it on my dick, use that to slide right into your ass. you excited? daddy's gonna fuck your tight little ass while you bleed out on these fancy sheets." hands grasped her hips roughly, lifting so her knees were bent and her ass was in the air to give him a better angle to spank her, grasping and kneading her abused flesh after each slap to intensify the pain. "how much longer do you think you have left? few minutes? seconds? i'll let you in on a little secret." again, he draped himself over her, grasping her throat in one calloused paw and tilting her head to the side. "soon as i bust, you're fucking dead. so you better fucking hope i can hold on..."

[yourmidnightlover]

all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

———————————————————————

when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

-

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

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@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

@spencerreid9

@spencyreidpls

@spencerreid9

@spencersmagic

@calm-and-doctor

@the-local-pendeja

@spencersrose

@spencersmagic

@shemarmooresfedora

@pastelbabygirl19

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[drspencerweed]

Dreams Do Come True

Summary/Request: from anon: CONGRATS ON HITTING 500 ILYSM!!! random request,, having a wet dream about spencer while sharing a room on a case (i know, super original) and him getting all hot and bothered hearing you moan 🙈😁

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

W/C: 3484

Content: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, oral sex (both receiving), premature ejaculation, wet dream, sub!spencer

A/N: Hi! So this probably isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I started writing it and it kind of took on a mind of it’s own. I banged this out in two days, it practically wrote itself. I hope you enjoy! 

Masterlist

read on ao3

Sharing a hotel room with her was normal. It was. Sure, they had never done it before, but that was just because Hotch had never randomly assigned the two of them before. So okay, it wasn’t normal by definition. But he wasn’t going to make it weird. Just because he had a small crush on her did not mean that he would let it be weird. They were colleagues, and they even spent time together outside of work too! She would come to his apartment to watch old movies, and he would go to hers so she could cook for him. So he knew he could spend time with her alone, that wasn’t the problem. 

It was the sleeping that was potentially the issue. 

His little crush had been invading his subconscious almost constantly nowadays, and he was known to talk in his sleep. He was so scared he would say something wrong in his sleep. If she overheard something like that, he knew their friendship would never recover. How can you act normal around someone who said your name in their sleep? 

He had been avoiding going to sleep before her, so he had taken Derek up on his offer for a drink in his room to talk about anything but the case they were working. 

“So when are you going to tell [Y/N] that you’re into her?” Derek asked out of nowhere. 

Spencer stuttered around the sip of his drink. “W-Who says I’m interested in her?” 

Derek just laughed and clapped Spencer on the shoulder. His cheeks were burning, a sure sign of his embarrassment at being called out. “Pretty boy, you give her heart eyes every time she walks in a room.” 

His blush deepened. “Even if I was interested, there’s a very low probability that she is also interested. So the answer to your question would be never, obviously.” Derek stopped his giggling and gave Spencer an incredulous look. 

“All that genius and you don’t see how she looks at you?” Derek asked. 

“How she looks at me?” 

“She looks at you like you hung the stars, man.” 

Spencer scoffed, brushing off the comment. “No she doesn’t.” 

Derek started laughing again, “Yes she does! Oh my god, the genius can’t read basic body language?” 

“Even if, occasionally, her body language reflected an attraction to me, it was probably because she was thinking of someone she actually was attracted to.  Statistically, most women find me awkward and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, none of this negative self talk. You’re a catch!” 

Spencer just waved his hand at the comment, taking a long sip of his whiskey and coughing a bit as he swallowed. Derek eyed him curiously. 

“I’m telling you, you’re never gonna get anywhere if you never shoot your shot. The worst thing that could happen is she says no.” Derek advised. He shook his head and finished his drink . 

“The worst that could happen is she thinks I’m an absolute weirdo and never wants to talk to me again.” Spencer explained.

“That’s not going to happen.” Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“I can’t risk losing her.” He insisted. Derek sighed and accepted that he was a lost cause, leaning back in his seat and changing the subject. 

~~~~

Spencer made his way back to the room a few hours later, saying a silent prayer to a God he didn’t believe in that she was already asleep. The light was off, so he clicked on the bathroom light so he could see but hopefully not wake her. 

“[Y/N]?” He called quietly into the dark. All he got in response was a small whimper. He thanked his lucky stars and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

Once he was all cleaned up and in a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt, he made his way to climb into bed. Just as he swung the sheets off, he heard a low moan from the bed next to him. It stopped him in his tracks. He turned towards her bed, looking at her face for any signs of distress. Nightmares could be debilitating; he knew from experience. But her face was peaceful, beautifully restful. He stopped again for a different reason, taking in the way her face looked as she slept. 

Then it scrunched up as she let out another moan. His eyebrows furrowed, wanting to wake her in case she was having a bad dream, but not wanting to disturb her. He swallowed thickly. 

Another moan. This one was followed quickly by a quick, “Spencer!” He reeled, unsure where his name had come up. Was she dreaming about him? Was she having a nightmare about him? Or was she calling out for his help?

She let a long, drawn out, “Oh,” and rolled from her side onto her back. He took a step forward, planning to shake her awake from what was clearly a nightmare at this point. But suddenly, “Go on, lick me.” 

Spencer stopped with his hands out above her shoulders, inches from waking her. Lick me? He mouthed to himself. What could she possibly be dreaming about? 

“Fuck, Spencer, I’m gonna cum!” She exclaimed, rolling back on her side. And-oh my gosh. Spencer took three quick steps back, realizing far too late exactly what was happening. He was entirely unsure how to react. [Y/N]? Having a sex dream about him? It was unbelievable. On his third step back, he ran right into his bed, and lost his balance. 

He fell to the floor with a crash. 

Her eyes blinked open, and he didn’t have any time to get up or move at all, so her eyes met his immediately upon waking. “Spencer? What happened?” Her voice was tired from sleep.

Spencer blinked, and immediately panicked. He was never good at lying under pressure. “I-uh. You were having a, uhm, dream. And I thought, thought it was a nightmare so-” As he spoke, [Y/N]’s face got redder and redder, and she sat up in bed and placed her face in her hands. 

“Oh no, you didn’t hear anything, did you?” She asked cautiously, barely chancing a glance up at him. He swallowed tightly and nodded. “Fuck me!” She said, throwing her head back on the pillow. Her voice sent something through him, and all he wanted was to say Okay and kiss her. But Spencer knew one didn’t control their own subconscious. Just because she had a dream about him didn’t means she actually wanted it to happen. He scrambled to his feet and cleared his throat. 

Before he could say something, anything really, she was sitting up again with a groan, rubbing her hand over her face. “Well I guess now you know about my stupid crush.” 

“Your crush?” He asked. She looked at him incredulously. 

“You heard me moan your name in my sleep. Yes, obviously, my crush. On you.” She explained matter of factly. He stuttered, trying to allow his brain to process the amount of information he had just been given. It didn’t make sense to him. [Y/N] was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, not to mention one of the most confident. She carried herself with such authority he never thought she’d look twice in his direction. Clearly, she’d want some confident alpha male who could match her energy, not his insecure nervous self. But here she was, telling him point blank that she had a crush on him. 

He didn’t know what to do. While he was standing there, stuttering, trying to gather his thoughts, [Y/N] made her way out of her bed to stand in front of him. She was only wearing a tank top and a pair of small shorts, and he could barely keep himself from staring at her body. “I had no idea.” He finally settled on saying, and she let out a loud laugh. 

“Really? Profiler extraordinaire? No idea? Why do you think I cooked for you so many times?” She smiled at him while she said it, like she couldn’t quite believe he didn’t see it. 

“I thought you just wanted to be friends!” He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. She seemed to deflate at this, her face falling and wringing her hands together. 

“I did! I do! But I was always open to...more. I just wanted to spend time with you.” She explained, sitting back on the edge of her bed and staring down at her hands. “But you clearly have no interest in that-” 

“No! No.” He corrected quickly, and then realized with a sudden clarity that since her confession he’d done nothing to imply he felt the same. She stared up at him at his exclamation, unsure what he meant. 

“No?” 

“No, you’re wrong, I do have interest in that. In more.” He explained, sitting next to her. He awkwardly reached for her hand, which she offered with a small smile. Lacing their fingers together, he looked her in the eye with purpose. “I also have a crush on you. I stayed out of the room tonight because I was trying to avoid, uhm. What happened to you. I thought that might happen to me.” 

She stared at their entwined hands, and then looked back at him. “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” He smiled at her, and her face brightened immediately. She turned completely towards him and pulled him in by the neck, pressing their foreheads together. Spencer let their noses rub together, both of them still beaming. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.” She whispered, her breath fanning over his lips as she said it. Before he could even nod, her lips pressed to his. It was magic. Her lips were soft and urgent, catching his bottom lip between them. Her hands pulled him closer to her by the neck, and he let his hands find her waist, urging her closer. She climbed into his lap with his guidance, and he let his tongue slip into her mouth as she did it. Her hands roamed into his hair, pushing it off his head and carding her fingers through it, causing him to moan. She giggled into his mouth. 

“You like having your hair played with, baby?” She asked, pulling away to watch his reaction as she tugged on his roots. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let his hands drop to her ass. He squeezed and pulled her down onto him, letting his lips find her neck. She let out a loud groan as he sucked a mark into her pulse point, but she pushed him away with both hands on his cheeks. 

“Not above the collar,” She reminded. He smirked at the idea of everyone on the team knowing what they were doing. At everyone on the team knowing that she wanted to do this with him. 

“But what if I want people to know you’re mine.” He asked, pressing a quick kiss to her lips as he said it. She smiled at him. 

“I think you’ve got this whole thing wrong then.” 

He furrowed his brow at her, unsure what he could have possibly misunderstood. 

“You, Dr. Reid, are mine.” She said, and then pushed him down onto the bed. He stared up at her perched on his lap, and let his hands roam her body. Now that he had free reign to touch, he never wanted to stop. She sighed and ran her hands down his chest, going to the bottom of his shirt and pulling it off of him. Her hands lit fires under his skin, as he gripped her by the hips and rolled his hardness into her. She chuckled at him. 

“Hard already, baby?” She teased. He moaned and threw his head back as she rotated her hips on him. “Use your words.” She ordered, gripping his face to make him look at her. 

“Yes, miss.” He answered on instinct. He immediately froze up, trying to take back the honorific when they had never discussed anything like that. It just slipped out, his little experience with being a submissive taking over because of [Y/N]’s naturally dominant role. But her eyes lit up, and she simply smirked at him. 

“Good boy.” She whispered, and pressed down hard with her hips. 

He came in his pants. 

With a loud groan and a thrust upward, he shot into his sweatpants. She chuckled as he shuddered through his orgasm, and leaned down to kiss him. As soon as he came down from the high, embarrassment overtook him. He had a chance with his dream girl, and he literally blew it not five minutes in. Because she called him a Good boy. He brought his hands up to cover his face, but she caught his wrists before he could reach. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, not ready for the ridicule that was sure to follow.

“Awh, did I make you cum?” She rolled her hips a few times, and he hissed at the oversensitivity.  “That’s so hot.” 

“W-What?” He asked, turning back towards her slowly. She was beaming at him. 

“You were so overwhelmed with me that you came so quick, what’s not hot about that?” She said, stroking his cheek. “The cutest boy, all worked up, just for me.” 

He blushed again, and swallowed as he smiled back at her. “But what about you?” 

“What about me?” She asked. His hands danced along her sides, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples through her shirt. 

“Wanna make you feel good.” He said while she gasped. 

“What’s stopping you?” She asked with a smirk. He surged upwards and began kissing her again, only stopping to finally rip her shirt off of her and get his hands on her bare breasts. Her hands found his hair again and tugged on the strands, causing their mouths to break apart as he panted. 

“Wanna taste you.” He requested. She moaned and pulled him into another kiss, guiding his hands to touch her under her shorts. His fingers trailed through her wetness, and she moaned against his lips. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, while her eyes watched through hooded lids. He moaned around his fingers, the taste of her so intoxicating he wanted more of it.  

“You’re so fucking hot. Such a good, good boy.” She whispered, stroking his hair. Then she crawled off his lap and laid out on the bed next to him. He turned to watch her as she shimmied off her shorts. Her eyes fell to where he was still sucking on his fingers. She gestured him over to her, and he quickly crawled between her legs. She nodded towards him. “Go on then, taste me.” 

He dove in tongue first, with broad licks up and down her pussy. Her hands immediately laced through his hair, pulling him closer to her. His tongue traced from her hole to her clit. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her in, letting his lips latch onto her clit and sucking. Flicking the tip of it with his tongue, she moaned and threw her head back on the pillows. 

“Oh!” She cried, and it sounded just like when she was having the dream earlier. Spencer had a quick thought about making her dreams come true,  but brushed it to the side as idealized thinking. Then she lifted his head off of her and looked straight into his eyes. “Go on, lick me.” 

Whether she remembered her dream or not, she was clearly living out her fantasy. He lolled his tongue out of his mouth and leisurely licked over her pussy, his tongue flat and wide. She canted her hips up towards him, and he let his tongue form rapid circles around her clit. Her moans fueled his motions, and he moved one of his hands down to pressed two fingers into her. 

She whined as he entered her, and let out a quick “Spencer!” He curled his fingers while sucking on her clit again, and her thighs began to clench around his head. He found the right spot inside her by listening to her moans, and then focused all his attention there while flicking his tongue against her clit. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” She cried, tugging on his hair. He kept doing everything exactly the same, pushing her over the edge with a loud shout. He kept up his ministrations until she pushed him off from the oversensitivity. She let out a loud sigh as he pulled off, and her hands went up to clutch at her own hair for a change. Staring up at the ceiling, she let a grin cross her face as a few aftershocks rolled through her. He admired her as she came down from her high, and then moved to the bathroom to wash his hands and get a rag to clean her up. 

When he came back he went to wipe her down, but she took the rag from him. “Sit. I get to take care of you, now.” She wiped herself down and then kneeled in front of him. She pulled down his sweatpants, which stuck a little to his cock which was hard again. Smirking up at him, she began wiping him down while he hissed, the gentle touches not enough for him. Suddenly her hot mouth wrapped around his head, and he groaned out. She made quick work of him, throwing her all into the blowjob from the start, taking him as deep as possible over and over. His hands clenched in the sheets as he came for a second time, this time down her throat. 

She swallowed as he watched in awe, and then wiped down his softening cock and stood up. Silently, she made her way to the bathroom and got rid of the dirty towel. 

When she came back Spencer was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He smiled up at her and reached out a hand, which she took gladly letting him pull her in for a hug, with her standing between his knees. 

“I really like you, you know.” He said, his chin resting between her breasts as he stared up at her. 

“I know. I really like you too.” 

“Would you like to get dinner with me, when the case is over?” 

“As long as we can keep doing what we just did before then, absolutely.” She said with raised eyebrows. He let out a laugh which made her smile, and he pressed a kiss to her chest. 

“Of course.” 

“You can make my other dreams come true.” She smirked. 

“I’d love to.” 

~~~~

When they walked into the precinct the next morning, [Y/N] was wearing a scarf, despite the hot Texas heat. She hadn’t quite caught Spencer in time, and he had in fact left a mark. Of course the whole team noticed.

“Oi, Pretty Boy, was [Y/N] in your room last night?” Derek asked at the coffee station. Luckily Spencer was facing away from him, so Derek didn’t see how his immediate reaction was to blanche at the memories from the night before. He gathered himself quickly.

“Yes, of course, why?” He asked as he turned around, stirring his coffee. Derek’s attention was on [Y/N], who was talking to an officer on the other side of the precinct.

“That scarf is only there to hide something, I think our lovely lady might’ve got some last night.” Derek said with a smirk. “Don’t let it break your heart, you still have a chance!” He turned to Spencer and clapped him on the shoulder, who was blushing intensely at the tease. [Y/N] had, in fact, ‘got some’, and he was the some she got with. Derek noticed he was off. 

“C’mon, I’m just teasing. She probably didn’t get a chance to-” While he was talking, Spencer caught [Y/N]’s eye from across the room. She smirked at him and waved, and he smiled and waved back. Derek cut himself off when he saw Spencer’s wave, turning to see just as [Y/N]’s face turned back to the officer she was talking to. “Oh my god. You crazy man, you actually did it!” Derek exclaimed, shaking Spencer. 

Spencer spluttered, shaking his head. “N-No, it’s not like that, I-” 

“I don’t need all the details, I just need to know it happened. Because it did happen, didn’t it?” He asked, trying to look Spencer in the eye, but the latter was aggressively avoiding eye contact. Spencer pursed his lips to try and contain his smile as he nodded. “My man!” Derek exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. 

Spencer caught [Y/N]’s eye again over Derek’s shoulder, and the smile she gave him made him smile right back. 

They had dreams to realize tonight.

Final A/N: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! 

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send me a message or comment on this fic to be added to my taglist!

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

[jkstompers]

just to study | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: your seat partner asks if you’re free after class, just to study.

genre: fluff, college!au, established friendship, flirtationship, mutual pining, they go to a ‘frat’ party together, also yugyeom! a sweetheart<3 we love him.

warnings: mature!!, mentions of alcohol + alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, strong language, SEXUAL TENSION, mentions of dick sucking??, hints of a wet dream on oc’s end, very strong urges to kiss each other but no kisses today </3, that’s pretty much it!

word count: 7.4k (i...kinda went overboard)

authors’ note: hello!! this is a pt. 2 to sleepyhead! it’s based a few weeks after so yeah <3 also the pacing is kind of weird but… i don’t really know how being drunk is so............(＞人＜) i’m sorry about that! one scene was inspired by this post haha it was just so cute to think about i had to do it. ALSO i literally haven’t taken anatomy since high school so i just used random terms from quizlet T_T pls excuse that as well! but otherwise, enjoy!!!!!!!!! (っ^_^)っ

(if u see any typos...ignore them pls T_T)

side note: imagine jk looking like this when he goes to the party lmao classic fboy look with the camo bomber and his piercings ugh <3

banner pic creds here ! <3

you made it to class on time today, woke to your alarm and even had enough time to eat breakfast before you came. in a particularly good mood, you made your way up the stairs to the row jungkook was sitting in, hoping that the seat next to him was empty (you didn’t have to hope, jungkook always saved the seat next to him for you, no matter what.)

“good morning, ___!” jungkook’s voice greets you the same as always as soon as you appear next to him. he moves his bag out of the way for you to sit down.

he looks especially cute today. his long floppy hair framing his face, his sweet smile beaming up to you. you wonder how dumb you looked drooling over him for a minute before you replied, “hi jungkook, how are you?” with the same smile on your face that you show him every time he sees you. it never changes, but it never fails to make jungkook’s heart skip a beat.

“i’m doing okay, you?” he answers while you pull out your laptop.

you didn’t have a chance to reply before your professor starts talking. informing the class about the test that’s planned at the end of the month, finals in two months, and then dropping the bomb that there’s a quiz tomorrow about the things you’ve learned in the past week. a slight panic takes over you, although you didn’t know why, you understood what he was teaching and you were retaining all of the information well. but when the professor pulls up all the information on the screen to review it all, all of the words and pictures overwhelm you.

to make things worse, jungkook is to your left, not paying attention to a word your professor is saying. instead, playing some game where he has to click his touchpad an obnoxious amount of times. your attention is split between jungkook’s erratic tapping and the notes that the professor projects onto the screen, even though his computer barely made any noise, his incessant movement was distracting you.

“jungkook, you’re taking notes and playing a game?” your voice comes out as a rushed whisper. there’s a snort that comes from him before he nods. you couldn’t be mad at him. “there’s a quiz on all of this tomorrow, you know?”

“i know,” he continues to tap and click, the motion growing incredibly annoying. you didn’t know why you couldn’t have just tried to block it out, but he was just so close to you and admittedly, you looked at his hands, a lot. the way that his fingers tapped against his keyboard and his veins that accentuate his already beautiful hands, it was free art you could look at, how could you not? at this point, you’re contemplating holding his hand to make him stop tapping.

you were in the middle of typing when he finally stops, leaning back and stretching his arms up into the air. you let out a sigh of relief, until he starts again. apparently he reached the next level on his game, tapping even faster, if that was even fucking possible.

quietly, you groan. turning your attention solely on him. you place your hand on top of his, the tapping ceasing almost immediately. “please, jungkook, you’re distracting me.”

he looks at your hand before he looks at you, his chocolate doe eyes wide to the action. he gulps, “sorry.”

you remove your hand, focusing back to the presentation. jungkook feels the heat from his cheeks travel to his hand. the feeling of your hand on his wasn’t something he was expecting to experience today, but he wants nothing more than for you to do it again. he exits the game tab and changes his focus to the lecture.

or moreso, you focusing on the lecture.

you look so cute. your cheek pressed up against your fist. he stares at the way that your forehead creases in concentration. he taps on your arm that’s resting on the table, “hey, you look like you’re stressed out.”

you turn your head slightly to look over to him. “that’s because i am,” you send him a quick smile before you go back to looking at the projection.

he furrows his eyebrows, “why? you’re smart, there’s no need to worry about what you get on this.” you were an a+ student, never anything less than that. jungkook knows that you ace every test that you take, so he doesn’t quite understand why you’re so stressed.

“because jungkook,” you groan. you expected a lot from yourself, sure b’s were okay, but a’s and a+’s were what you wanted and what you thought would make you feel satisfied. there was no way you could explain this without sounding like an overachiever. so you just sigh, “i’m just not really prepared.”

jungkook thinks of the perfect way to spend more time with you, snapping his fingers before suggesting, “we should study together after class, studies show that studying with someone else will give you an a+, guaranteed.” the confidence in his voice makes you smile, and helps you ease up a little bit.

you raise an eyebrow, a laugh creeping up from your lungs. “source for that statistic, sir?”

he taps his right temple, the gesture making you snort. “no but seriously, i’ll help you out,” he assures. his laptop turns towards you to show you all the notes he took, different words highlighted and colored differently.

you act like you think about it, staying quiet for a minute or so. but you know the answer was yes no matter what. “just to study?” you tease. jungkook raises his eyebrows in surprise, an amused smile on his face, “just kidding, we can go to mine? i owe you for the ride you gave me like two weeks ago.” you tap your fingers against your laptop nervously, your teeth taking in your bottom lip as you ask. you haven’t had a guy over to your apartment, not since you’ve moved in. there’s a certain anxiousness that comes with the suggestion.

jungkook nods, “sounds good.”

“okay, again.” you brush your hair behind your ears, preparing yourself once more for another pass of the flashcards. the two of you have been at it with these cards for the past hour or so, you were determined to get these right no matter how long it took. jungkook knew you were gonna get it down, you only had three more cards, these ones specifically stumping you.

“aponeuroses,” he looks at the card and then to you.

“connective tissue that forms a broad sheet which attach muscle to bone or muscle to other muscles,” you speak confidently. jungkook nods, moving onto the next card of the set of three.

“endomysium,” he reads the card. you hesitate on this one for a second, he plays with the corner of the card until you snap your fingers.

“that’s the connective tissue surrounding the… the— uh, oh! muscle fiber?” your brain works extra hard. jungkook rewards you with another nod, flipping to the last card.

“fascia.”

“dense connective tissue,” you begin, pausing to think of the rest of the answer. you start biting your thumb nail, knowing there’s more to it but it’s not coming to your brain quick enough.

jungkook just stares, watching your facial expressions as you search for the answer in your brain. this could be the worst crush he’s ever had, he thinks you’re cute when you’re just sitting there, thinking. he doesn’t remember ever liking someone this much, most of the time his crushes went away after a few weeks or so. but it’s almost been an entire year since he’s started crushing on you, and it still hasn’t stopped. you still manage to find a way to make his thoughts surround you.

“separates and holds individual tissues? it’s the one that extends into the tendons, right?” you perk up after a minute or so. your brain finally coming up with the answer. you blame jungkook’s presence for slowing you down. maybe you shouldn’t have accepted this offer to study together, because how could you focus when jeon jungkook is sitting right in front of you?

“you’re amazing,” he praises, setting the flashcards down onto the table. you blush at the compliment, jungkook takes notice, but he doesn’t mind, he thinks pink is pretty on you. he’s never wanted to kiss your cheeks as much as he did now, and trust, he’s thought about it many, many times. “all done?” he asks after staring at you for the longest time.

you nod, “just gonna highlight these terms to review them later so i can get it down 100%.”

jungkook watches as you diligently reread your notes and highlight them. an apple on the table taking his attention away for a second when he realizes he hasn’t eaten at all today. he takes a bite, the loud crunch noise seemingly startling the both of you. it makes you turn your head and raise an eyebrow towards him.

“sorry,” he chews, “hungry.”

your stare lingers a little longer than you wanted it to. his cheeks are full of apple, you can’t help but laugh a little. “there’s still the sticker on it,” you point out.

he turns the apple around to see the blue sticker. peeling it off, he holds it on his fingertip, an idea sprouting in his mind to see that sweet smile of yours again. so he places the sticker on your cheek, your gaze moving from your screen to him and then to the fruit sticker now stuck onto your cheek. “get it? ‘cause you’re sweet like this apple is,” he smiles.

oh my god. you blush embarrassingly, your entire face flushed pink as you hide your cheeks behind your hands. he laughs at your reaction. jungkook was feeling bold today, so he moves forward, gently taking your hands away from your face to see the cute pink tint he caused. he sits back, admiring your pretty face.

you feel yourself burning hotter and hotter the longer he stares, looking everywhere but his face, too scared to make eye contact. you look back to your computer screen, “um— there’s pasta in the fridge— if you’re hungry, i made it last night.” you offer, but he declines politely, telling you that he has to leave pretty soon because his friends are expecting him to join them today.

begrudgingly, you watch as jungkook packs his things up. he thinks about how content he felt hanging out with you today, and how he wanted to do it again, as soon as possible. a thought pops into his head before he opens the door to leave. he turns on his heel.

you weren’t expecting the sudden turn, accidentally bumping into his chest. “oof! sorry.”

“it’s alright,” he laughs, helping you steady yourself by holding your shoulders. “i just wanted to ask— uh, my friends are throwing a party tomorrow night, do you— do you wanna come?” his words come out jumbled, jungkook never fails to trip on his words whenever he’s near you.

tomorrow night...it’s a friday tomorrow, the quiz is tomorrow, why the fuck not? a stress reliever from all the studying you’ve done. “sure,” you answer after a minute or so of deliberation. you look up at him with a smile, suddenly realizing how close the two of you are.

your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, the close proximity makes you hold your breath. “great! i can pick you up? be your DD?” he quirks his head, a smile that matches yours on his face.

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” with that, jungkook takes a step back, widening the space between you both as his right hand goes to hold the strap of his bag.

“okay, i’ll text you the details.” before he turns around, turning the knob of your front door and letting himself out. before the door closes, he sends you a wave, one which you reflect as he pulls the door closed. you move up and lock the door, your forehead resting against the cold metal slab.

you wonder if this crush will ever advance into something more. neither of you really push the agenda, most of the time just cutely flirting with each other and only talking to each other during class. maybe this party will be a chance to further the bond the two of you have. you could only wish that you could drop this nervous shield that pops up everytime you’re around him, but jungkook is just so cool. the campus heartthrob, everyone wants to be him or be with him.

for the rest of the day, jungkook seems to occupy your mind, as he always does. when you get to sleep, the fantasies of jungkook’s lips on yours drift you into a deep sleep, one that eventually leads to a dream that has you rubbing your thighs together. his hands were all over your body, his cologne that you were so familiar with tormenting your nose, it all felt too real. so when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, sweat beaded at your hairline. you took deep breaths, cementing the fact that he isn’t here, and he certainly isn’t doing those things with you right now.

it was not helping that you dreamt of him sexually on the day of your quiz, the one that you were immensely stressing over. now, you’re gonna have to walk into class, act normal around jungkook even though your brain produced pornographic images of him, (it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve had to face him right after it happened) and ace this quiz.

you tried almost everything you could to have cleared your brain of your dream sequence. taking a shower, eating breakfast, studying once more, etc. but when you’re walking into the lecture hall, flashes of the dream and the sound of his imagined moan echo in your mind.

you walk up the stairs with your eyes down, not sure if you could make eye contact with jungkook without turning red. “hey, ___, good morning!” the familiar voice greets you.

“morning,” you reply, dryly. taking the seat next to him and silently taking your laptop out, waiting for the professor to start the quiz. jungkook seemed a bit taken aback by your cold answer, but he took into account that you’re probably just super nervous and stressed out because of the quiz, so he doesn’t take it too personally. instead, just sitting back in his chair and waiting patiently to take the quiz as well.

at this point, you were psyching yourself out, swearing that you already forgot all of the terms. if you were quizzed on the parts of male anatomy, specifically jungkook’s, then maybe you could ace it, but the terms that you were working oh so hard to memorize yesterday slip from your mind. when the professor tells you to separate and start the quiz, you start to bite your thumb nail again.

jungkook takes a look over at you, noticing the bad habit of yours. he gently takes a hold of your arm, pulling your thumb away from your teeth. the action causing you to make eye contact with him and his big doe eyes that hold so much love and light. you find yourself a bit speechless then, too many thoughts running around in your mind.

he whispers, “you’ll do great, okay?” the statement soothing your nerves. his voice somehow makes your body relax, even though you thought you would freak out if you made any sort of contact with him.

“you— you too, good luck,” you mutter. a half smile on your face. you were grateful that jungkook broke you out of your trance, his words of encouragement suddenly placing you in the testing state of mind. the images from last night's dream seem to put themselves away for now.

the next twenty minutes are complete silence. everyone focused on the questions before them. of course, you zoomed through the quiz, prepared for the trick questions and the harder ones that come up. jungkook finishes after you. it wasn’t a surprise, jungkook didn’t even have to try, you swear you’ve never seen him stress out before. nobody was perfect, you believed that, but jeon jungkook was the closest to it.

“okay, class! the quiz will be graded by tonight hopefully, you’re free to leave,” your professor alerts the class. jungkook waits patiently until you’re standing, following you down the stairs and out the door.

you decide to speak first, since you greeted him with such a dry response this morning. it wasn’t his fault that you dreamed of him on top of you, so why were you punishing him for it? “how’d you think you did?” you asked, turning to look at him.

he shrugs, “good i guess, i think i fucked up on one or two questions.”

“was it the striation part? i think i messed up on that one too.”

he shakes his head, “you know you aced that, don’t lie.”

you stay silent, the two of you walking to the campus parking lot. neither of you engage in conversation as you usually do. the images of last night’s dream slipping into your consciousness once again. you try to shake your head, to rid yourself of the thoughts. nothing else to distract you from them because jungkook was oddly silent the entire walk. you fear that he can actually read your mind and see all of your thoughts. if he could, he doesn’t mention it. not saying one word to you until he walks you to your car, greeting you with a ‘see you next class!’ before leaving to go to his car. not even mentioning the party to you, you start to wonder if he regrets inviting you. up until you heard your phone ring when you parked in the lot of your apartment complex.

[10:24 am] jungkook: hey! forgot to remind u about the party 😫

[10:24 am] jungkook: ur still down to come, right?

[10:28 am] you: hi! yeah :)

[10:28 am] you: is there a dress code or smth? haha

[10:29 am] jungkook: not that i know of 😂

[10:30 am] jungkook: u can wear anything u want

[10:30 am] jungkook: ur cute whatever u wear

[10:31 am] you: oh stop it jeon ur making me blush

[10:32 am] you: but tell me :( should i wear something casual? pants? a dress?

[10:34 am] jungkook: 😂

[10:34 am] jungkook: it’s kind of like a frat party…

[10:35 am] jungkook: so anything is okay

[10:37 am] you: ah okay

[10:37 am] you: i’ll surprise u then ;)

[10:40 am] jungkook: alright :)

[10:41 am] jungkook: i’ll come by around 9 to pick u up? sound good?

[10:42 am] you: yeah! gives me enough time to nap and get ready lol

[10:44 am] jungkook: great :) see u then cutie

you wake up from your nap around one, you had more than enough time for you to get ready for a party. so you decide to clean your apartment first, little chores to waste time before you get yourself dolled up. when you finished, it was around seven thirty. you washed your face, brushed your teeth, all that good stuff before sliding on a simple black bodycon that you got last summer. styling your hair and spraying on your favorite perfume before looking at yourself in the mirror. this wasn’t too much, right? lots of people wear stuff like this to frat parties, so you didn’t find it too fancy. the notification sound from your phone goes off, you move to check and see if it was who you were expecting.

[8:54 pm] jungkook: i’m here :)

[8:54 pm] you: ahh gimme a sec i need to pee haha

[8:55 pm] jungkook: take ur time cutie

[8:56 pm] jungkook: i’m right in front

jungkook only really had to wait about five minutes. the visual of you walking out of your apartment doors, looking the way you did, was breathtaking. his jaw drops, mouth slightly agape as he watches you walk up to his car through the passenger window. you are so gorgeous. it’s probably the first time jungkook’s seen you in clothes that really compliment your figure, most of the time you show up to class in hoodies and sweaters. so greedily, he takes in the way the dress hugs your curves deliciously. he shakes the thoughts from his head to get out of the car and open the door for you.

“what a gentleman,” you tease, getting into the car.

he joins you soon after, “you look...gorgeous.” jungkook doesn’t seem so shy now, his eyes taking in your beautiful self.

“thank you,” you blush under his stare. “is it too much?”

“no! no— not at all, all eyes will be on you tonight.” he smiles, turning the car on. now you were able to gawk over him. a simple outfit, all black with a black and white camo bomber. his side profile is perfect, his long hair draping over his face so gracefully and his piercings somehow sparkling in the dark of the car.

he doesn’t drive too far, somewhere in the suburbs where the big houses are. a huge iron gate in the front, seemingly too fancy for a frat party setting. jungkook rolls his window down to greet someone waiting in front of the gate with a couple of other guys.

“jeon! you’re late dude,” one of the guys gives him a handshake through the window.

“sorry man, i’m here now though,” jungkook laughs. the guy giving him the greenlight and opening the gate for him, jungkook parks inside on their stone driveway, decorated with a fountain and a beautiful garden.

“your friend lives here?” you inquire, impressed by the look of the place.

he nods, “fancy right? his parents are ceo’s.” makes sense, and it would also make sense as to why they were throwing a frat party here, rich sons always seem to stir up trouble whenever they’re bored.

he steps out of the car to open the door for you, always a gentleman. he takes your hand and helps you out, the two of you walking to the huge open double doors. as soon as you walk in, the smell of alcohol hits your nose, you try your best not to cringe. the blare of the speakers is the second thing you notice, along with the shouting of jungkook’s friends greeting him. “who’s this?” one of them asks, referring to you.

jungkook seems to hesitate at first, not really knowing how to introduce you. he settles by saying, “this is ___!” not attaching any ‘friend’, ‘classmate’, or anything to the introduction. his friend holds his hand out to shake yours.

you take it with a smile on your face, “i’m yugyeom, it’s nice to meet you!” a smile that reflects yours is on his face, it made you feel welcome. you were never really the type to go to parties, your time is spent working and/or going to school, but this interaction helps you ease up a little more.

“hello, yugyeom!” you reply, shouting over the music.

“do you wanna take a shot?” he asks. pointing to the enormous kitchen where they’re housing all the alcohol, you look to jungkook first who’s paying more attention to his phone rather than the conversation you were just having.

you shrug, “why not?”

yugyeom leads the two of you to the kitchen, jungkook following behind you blindly. he looks up from his phone, done with whatever business he was dealing with to ask, “where are we going?”

“taking a shot,” you answer, pointing to yugyeom who’s already pouring three shots.

“dude, i’m not drinking, don’t pour three.” jungkook tries to stop him before he fills up the third shot glass but his arm knocks yugyeom’s in the process, the bottle spilling the clear liquid into the third shot glass.

“i’ll take two,” you suggest, feeling a bit wild and down to venture out of your comfort zone.

yugyeom smiles at this, “i like her, jeon.” he hands you the two shot glasses full of vodka, jungkook stands next to you and watches as you down the first shot. your face cringing as soon as the alcohol touches your tongue.

“you didn’t even give her a chaser,” jungkook notices, scolding yugyeom who's already downed his shot and is sucking on a lime. “here, suck,” holding a slice of lime up to your lips. his choice of words disorienting you, especially since he was holding the lime up to your mouth instead of just handing it to you. your eyes flicker between the lime and his face, but nevertheless, you suck. sinking your teeth into the sour fruit. jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on how your lips wrap around the slice, slightly grazing his fingers. it’s not long before you’re making a cute scrunched up face from the sourness. “good,” he praises. you don’t deny the slight burn your lower belly felt when he said that to you. you swear he was making sex eyes to you, but you couldn’t tell. he broke eye contact with you soon after, throwing the fruit into the trash below the table that the alcohol was perched on.

yugyeom hands you another lime for your second shot, this time no jungkook to hold the fruit for you. the second shot burning down your throat with the lime chasing after, both yugyeom and jungkook cheer, congratulating you for being a trooper (even though two shots were their warmups).

the next hour or so, jungkook brings you around. he introduces you to his friends and making conversation with them. one certain group, you didn’t really enjoy. a group of five girls, clearly swarming jungkook as soon as he turned around from talking to another one of his friends. the girls ask how he’s been doing, all of the basic conversation starters. when jungkook tries to introduce you, they all turn to you and give you a little head nod before turning their attention back to jungkook. he stands there, conversing with them longer than he had with any of his other friends, and you found yourself getting, hm, jealous.

so you search around the room crowded room, looking for some way out. your eyes spot yugyeom in the backyard through the huge sliding doors, sitting on one of those lawn chairs with the one next to him empty. you decide to leave the group you were currently getting pushed out of and join yugyeom. he notices you when you step onto the grass, trying your best not to sink into the dirt with your heels. “you doing alright? where’s jungkookie?” he asks, sitting up.

you plop down onto the lawn chair next to him. “he’s in there,” you point to the house, “with five girls.”

the last bit of the sentence makes him laugh, a cackle where he holds his stomach because he was laughing so hard. “do you want a shot?” he offers after he recovers from his fit, pulling a tequila bottle out from nowhere.

but you agree, “two, please.” he fills the two shot glasses, but not completely like he did with the vodka earlier. there were no limes, or any type of chaser for you to take around, so you take the two shots like ripping off a band-aid, quick.

“you’re a funny girl,” yugyeom compliments when you’ve downed the shots.

“thanks?” you cough, the feeling of the alcohol still burning your nose and throat, “what did i say that was funny?”

“i think it’s because i’m tipsy, but that joke you made about jungkook being with five girls was hilarious.” he slaps his knee, almost making himself laugh up a storm again, but you weren’t laughing.

you raised an eyebrow, speaking with a serious tone. “it wasn’t a joke, he’s in there with five girls.”

yugyeom tries to collect himself, sitting properly on the lawn chair when he asks you to clarify, “you mean he’s fucking them? or he’s talking to them?”

you’re silent for a second before replying, why did you say it like he was in there fucking them? maybe it’s because he might as well be, so engrossed in whatever the hell they were saying to even notice that you were gone. “just talking to them,” you reply.

“that’s what i thought, jungkook isn’t like that anymore,” yugyeom nods his head, pouring another shot out for you.

“anymore?” you ask. he hands you the shot, you hesitate this time, starting to feel the effects of the first four shots you took. he doesn’t push you to take it. he just leans back onto the lawn chair as he sighs.

“you could say he’s retired,” he shrugs.

the term makes you laugh, “...a retired fuckboy?” you sit back into the lawn chair as well, looking up to the night sky. the shot glass forgotten on the table next to you. your body feels like it’s floating.

“yeah, he hasn’t really been doing stuff like that recently,” yugyeom spills. you stay quiet after he feeds you this information. yugyeom offhandedly telling you that you shouldn’t be jealous makes you feel guilty. why were you even jealous? jungkook was technically still just a friend to you. just because the two of you flirt every now and then doesn’t mean you’re together. of course he would be surrounded by girls, just look at him!

“there you are! i was looking all over for you,” jungkook interrupts your inner monologue. his voice comes from across the lawn, you look up to see him walking over to you and yugyeom.

“hi, jungkookie,” you smile up at him. the alcohol having more of an effect on you the longer you let it sit in your stomach.

he almost freezes up at the nickname, looking over to yugyeom and asking, “did you tell her to call me that?”

yugyeom holds his hands up in innocence, “i didn’t tell her to do anything, she’s like five or six shots deep though.”

you take the shot that was forgotten on the table and down it. “six,” you clarify.

“alright, slow down, iron liver,” jungkook jokes. yugyeom stands from the lawn chair, receiving jungkook’s telepathic signals to get the fuck up to he could talk and hang out with you.

“play beer pong with me later, ___! i’m gonna go look for eunwoo,” yugyeom points to you, giving you a thumbs up before leaving the backyard and moving into the house.

“feeling okay? think you might throw up soon?” jungkook asks, replacing yugyeom in the chair next to you.

“feel like i’m surfing, you know? like wavy,” you answer. the feeling was hard to explain, you weren’t dizzy but at the same time your brain was telling you to stop moving, even though you were completely still.

“ah, you’re getting there,” jungkook snorts. you didn’t have much willpower to answer, so the two of you sit there in a comfortable silence before a group of people coming towards, all greeting jungkook and you. they offer you a red cup, despite your current predicament. leaning against the chair and your droopy eyes, telling them that you’ve taken too many shots. a lightweight at her peak.

jungkook tries to deny it for you, but with a smile, you accept the cup. it was filled with the fancy mixed alcohol juice they had. “thank you,” you place the cup onto the table, “i’ll drink it.... later..” your words begin to draw themselves out. jungkook somehow finding a way to make the entire group leave, making it just the two of you again.

“give it to me, you’re starting to slur your words.” his hand is open, laying on the table and waiting for you to surrender the cup.

your eyes flicker from the red cup, to his face, then to his hand. a smirk on your face when you hold the cup up to your lips, tilting it back and drinking the cursed juice. you weren’t able to down it all, it was too much, you drank maybe ⅔ of it. you cough, taking in a deep breath as you try to steady yourself.

you weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk, but the way that his face looks in the moonlight was so pretty. so you just had to tell him. leaning forward, you speak, almost a whisper, “you’re so handsome.” you drag your finger across the expanse of jungkook’s hand. “did you know i have no gag reflex?” you smile, not your typical sweet smile that he’s used to, but a devilish grin.

jungkook’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing immediately at your remark. “alright, you drank way too much.” he takes the red cup from your hands, dumping it out onto the grass in front of you both.

“hey, i wasn’t done,” you pout, but jungkook didn’t give you much time to mourn your spilled drink before he was holding your arm, lifting you from the lawn chair you were sitting on. “where are we going?” you ask, trailing behind him with your hand in his.

“gonna get you some water and something to eat,” he answers. the two of you move through the house, jungkook pushes through groups of people and makes sure you’re safe behind him.

“i have to pee.” you tip toe to tell him your emergency in his ear. he stops at the stairs, knowing a bathroom where no one else goes. his friend specifically telling him to use that bathroom when they have parties because the other ones get way too gross.

he brings you up the stairs to the guest bedroom, opening the door to reveal one of the biggest rooms you’ve seen. “the bathroom is there,” jungkook points to the door on the left. you nod, your wobbly legs making their way to the toilet.

jungkook sits on the bed patiently, waiting for you to finish. he hears the flush and the sound of the sink running, the door opens and you’re coming out of the bathroom, pulling your dress down. “are we gonna have sex?” you utter, slurring the end of your sentence. your alcohol poisoned mind taking over your ability to speak.

his eyes widen at the question. “no! no— oh my god, this is just the room with the cleanest bathroom, we’re not—“

you’re next to him now, “you don’t want to?” you pout. glassy eyes looking into his.

“no! i mean, yes, i want to but— fuck, just— just not now, yeah?” jungkook stumbles over his words, his face blushing a blood red. your pretty face peering up at him makes him even more flustered, his hands start to sweat.

“okay,” you nodded. your drunken brain deciding to stop the interrogation of jungkook’s desire for you. to which jungkook lets out a sigh of relief, taking your hand and bringing you out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the driveway. he brings you to his car, opening the passenger door for you. “wait, are we leaving already? yugyeomie wants me to play beer pong with him,” you complain, wiggling your hand from his grasp.

goosebumps appear on your arm when you make it outside of the house. jungkook notices when he turns around to look at you. without a second thought, he takes his jacket off and places it over your shoulders. the newfound warmth shielding you from the cold night. he didn’t mind the breeze, especially since he was still recovering from the stunt you pulled in the guest room.

“we can come back later if you want, let’s just go grab something to eat first so you won’t regret this tomorrow morning.” his explanation is pretty solid according to your drunken brain, so you oblige, moving to sit in his passenger seat.

he joins you in the driver’s seat not long after. “can we get mcdonald’s?” you ask as soon as he sits down.

a smile appears on his face as he starts the car, “sure.”

the drive made you feel a little dizzy, it makes you laugh. “you okay?” jungkook asks, but you nod your head. he’s so sweet, always asking if you’re okay, making sure you weren’t feeling too awful, etc. it only makes sense that you were falling head over heels for him.

“totally fine,” you look over to him with a smile on your face. he’s so fucking pretty, his side profile is something you could rave about for days. as he’s pulling into the mcdonald’s drive through, he’s talking into the intercom, ordering the two of you something to eat when you’re suddenly mumbling, “mcflurry, kookie, oreo mcflurry.”

he looks back to you, an amused smile on his face, “oreo mcflurry?” he repeats. you nod, “okay, anything for you.”

he reiterates the request into the intercom and the server gives him the greenlight. he drives forward and waits until the next car moves up, in the time being, he looks to you. your head laying up against the door and your eyes slowly blinking, warning him that you might fall asleep. so he reaches into his backseat, his arm looking for the water bottles that he usually keeps in his car.

“hey,” he taps your arm gently, “drink some of this first.” he hands you the water bottle, you blink slowly, trying to figure out what he was handing you. once you realize it was a water bottle, you take it, opening it and gulping some of the water down. jungkook is grabbing the food when you’re screwing the cap back on. he parks somewhere in the parking lot and tells you to start eating.

you grab your mcflurry first, the feeling of the cold ice cream on your tongue soothing your dizzy brain. “yum,” you think out loud.

jungkook laughs, taking out his hamburger while he takes out your chicken nuggets. “make sure to eat some of this, yeah? don’t want you throwing up and hating me.”

the thought makes you smile. jungkook was taking such great care of you. sure, he let you down the alcohol like it was nothing, but you never opposed to it, always taking the shot because you wanted to. now jungkook is here, taking care of you, because he wanted to. you knew that if it were anybody else, they probably would have left you at the party, letting you fend for yourself. the sudden warmth in your chest makes you want to tell jungkook everything.

with his jacket wrapped around you instead of him, you can see the bulge of his arm muscles peek out from the short sleeved shirt he was wearing. even drunk, your brain seems to travel back to the images from your dream. “you know, i had a dream about you, a reeaaaallllllyyyyy dirty dream, jeon jungkook.” you blurt out the confession before your thoughts catch up with you, the alcohol still very much blocking off the common sense part of your brain.

he tries his best not to overreact, but you had a dream about him? a dirty dream at that? it awakens something in jungkook, but he pushes it down, ignoring the feeling as he asks, “you did? what was it about?” he curious as to what you meant and what your dream entailed, but he didn’t want to push too far. especially since you were drunk and most likely just spilling everything because your brain doesn’t have the willpower to hold it back.

you stick your hand into the bag to steal some fries, stuffing them in your mouth. “oh, you don’t wanna know,” you chew.

jungkook quirks a brow, “well, was i good at least?” he jokes.

you scrunch your nose, nodding nevertheless. “too good, couldn’t even focus during the quiz because of it.”

jungkook is silent for a second. the conversation making him hot even though he wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore. so he clears his throat, trying to change the subject in a subtle manner. “is that why you were so mean to me this morning?” he pouts, connecting the dots.

you laugh at the question, “sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear.”

with that, the rest of the time is spent eating. jungkook makes sure that you ate enough and drank enough water, the empty water bottle in his cupholder as proof. “do you want me to take you home now?” he asks, the two of you finished eating and now a silence takes over the car.

“are you going back?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. he thinks you’ve started to sober up, or maybe have gotten to the point where you just want to sleep.

he shakes his head to your question, “honestly, i’m kind of tired, but if you want to go back, we can go.”

“no, i’m okay,” you decline the offer. jungkook laughs, starting the car again and driving back to your apartment complex.

you take this time to try to get yourself together. you know you’ll regret confessing to jungkook that you had a wet dream about him in the morning. but in the moment, it felt right to confess, (to your drunken brain of course). you tilt your head back, pushing your head against the headrest, and suddenly, you’re reminded of the stars jungkook has on his ceiling. you were silent as you admired the lights, jungkook takes a look at you when he’s stopped at a red light.

so cute, he thinks, staring up at his ceiling like it’s the real night sky. when he pulls up to your apartment complex, he wishes the night could be longer, that he could spend more time with you. he parks the car in the front, exactly where he picked you up. you’re looking to him now, your hands in your lap and your heart seemingly beating three times as fast as it usually does. it wasn’t the alcohol.

“did you have fun tonight?” he asks. his voice never fails to make you melt.

you nod, “i did.”

“i’m glad,” he smiles. there’s a small silence before he speaks once more, “also, y’know, you don’t have to stress yourself out so much, i know you might have expectations for yourself and stuff, but you should give yourself a break from time to time.”

the alcohol’s effects fading slowly from your brain when you start to realize that the entire reason jungkook invited you out was to help you destress. it makes you fall even harder, he was so thoughtful. even though a party wasn’t your scene, he invited you to give you a glimpse into how he has fun and hoped that it would help you loosen up a bit. you were grateful for the mental break he provided you.

you didn’t reply, purely because you were thinking about how much you want to kiss him right now, but it wouldn’t be right. when he speaks up again, there’s a nervous lilt in his voice, scared that he’s overstepped. “if you need anyone to help you— i don’t know, let loose? you can— you can always call me.” he scratches the back of his neck.

but you try your best to reassure him, smiling at the offer. “i will, thank you for tonight, jungkook, i really enjoyed it, despite being a lightweight.”

he laughs, staring at the way your face cutely scrunches when you giggle. he too, is fighting the urge to kiss you, because right now isn’t a good time. he wants to do it right. he doesn’t want to fuck it up with you. so instead, he hops out of the car and moves to open the door for you. helping you out of the car and walking you to your door, your hand in his.

“i’ll see you in class?” you turn to face him, squeezing his hand.

he nods, “yeah.” his signature bunny smile coming out to greet you a goodnight. “text me before you sleep?” he requests. you give him a thumbs up before he’s letting go of your hand and you’re sticking the key into your door, it’s then that you realize that you’re still wearing his jacket.

“oh!” you exclaim, taking the jacket off and handing it to him. but he holds his hand out to stop you.

“keep it, you can give it to me the next time we hang out, or something,” he suggests. you try to hide the growing smile behind a nod.

you hold onto his jacket, “goodnight, jungkook.”

he sticks his hands in his pockets, sending you another grin, “goodnight, ___.”

jungkook drives home, his empty apartment welcoming him. he plops down onto his bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes he was in because he was that tired. the events of today running through his mind.

he hopes you don’t think he was doing anything with those five girls. he saw you walk away when you did, he tried his best to escape the conversation, but they kept pulling him back. he gave up after ten tries of trying to get away, standing there for a good fifteen minutes listening to them babble about how much they missed him. jungkook had never rolled his eyes so many times in a conversation.

the talk the two of you had after was another thing taking over his mind. your dirty flirting and your dream you mentioned in the car had his imagination running all over the place. he didn’t want to push you when you explained, but he was very curious as to what he did in your dream, and how good it was for you to have it run through your mind all day.

his phone rings next to him. he turns and opens it, a smile on his face when he reads your message.

[12:32 am] you: hi jungkookieeeeeeeee

[12:33 am] you: im sleeping noww

[12:33 am] jungkook: alright cutie

[12:33 am] jungkook: goodnight! again 😂

[12:34 am] you: goodnight <3

he turns his phone off after that. looking up to his ceiling with a dumb smile on his face. his mind thinking of you and only you.

[notconsolation]

LIstEN i wrote a couple more scraps of songs over the summer and putting them together is being a bitch but! i’m going out on a limb and spending some hard earned cash on a keyboard and THEN MY FRIENDS WE SHALL HAVE ORIGINALS ONCE MORE

[st-louis]

a list of hockey podcasts

i spend... a lot of time reading about, listening to, and learning about hockey and i thought maybe you guys might be interested in the podcasts i follow. i don’t always listen to every episode of every show, but they’re things i have in my subscriptions and listen to frequently.

i’m going to end up having to put this under a cut because it’s getting really long.

general podcasts

the hockey pdocast - without a doubt my favorite general hockey podcast. dimitri filipovic is a stats guy who writes for eprinkside, and his analytic cast definitely shines through in the way he handles the topics. i like the variety of deep dives he does and i always feel like i come away from listening with better understanding of the topic because he doesn’t just talk stats, but gives you context for why those numbers might be the way they are, so if you’re trying to become more familiar with advanced stats this a great one to listen to. also his voice is just so soothing. absolutely my favorite car show.

the athletic hockey show - it’s frequent, long, and informative, but there are different hosts depending on the day and i definitely enjoy listening to some of them more than others (i like ian and hailey a lot, i enjoy the seans, craig and pierre know what they’re talking about but hoo boy i do not enjoy their episodes so much).

staff & graph - they are definitely leafs homers and some of their takes really annoy me especially because they purport to be analysis based and then like... will come out with something that’s not really an analysis so much as it’s, you’re a leafs fan and that’s your opinion, but for the most part i do enjoy it. doerrie is a former front office employee of the devils and she has a lot of very interesting inside knowledge and knowledge based on actually working closely with hockey teams. she still has connections so if you’re interested in ‘sources,’ she usually has good info and stories. again, usually come away feeling like i learned something.

soul on ice - kwame damon mason (film director and hockey fan), akil thomas (kings prospect), elijah roberts (formerly of the niagra ice dogs, currently playing college hockey) hang out and talk hockey and interview guests. they’re all really likeable dudes and have a lot of interviews with players of color and other interesting topics (taya currie!). a solid listen from both a fan and player perspective, for example it was cool to hear akil talking about his experiences during the covid season.

the cross-check nhl show - decent general hockey talk show. andrew berkshire is a habs writer and mary clarke is a general hockey writer but a flyers fan (a show made for me, haha). they’re likeable and have good opinions on social justice related issues within hockey. they cover major stories around the league, discuss their personal teams, and also do a little pop culture segment at the end that i usually skip.

hockey central - unfortunately this is like the epitome of a hockey man podcast (as in, it is literally all hockey men). they come from a variety of backgrounds, including players and coaches, and generally the actual hockey talk is good, even if they get on my nerves sometimes. if you want to know what the average player/former player is thinking this is a pretty good one. and they update a lot.

31 thoughts - jeff marek (also of the hockey central pod) and elliotte friedman talk hockey. if you’re looking for “insider” info this is one of those you’re gonna want to listen to. a bit wishy washy when it comes to stuff like the hawks scandals.

behind the gear - this is an interesting one, because they interview a lot of “lesser known” personalities but it’s always a pretty solid interview. again, i don’t listen to every interview but if there’s a guest that looks interesting, i’ll mark it for later. they have a bunch of interviews with nick and ryan suzuki so that was a personal interest of mine, haha.

puck soup - i almost never listen to this one because it’s too long (like episodes upwards of 100 minutes) and i really don’t like wyshynski as a person. but i do appreciate sean mcindoe. usually only tune in if there’s a topic i’m interested in.

6 degrees with mike mckenna - mike mckenna (former journeyman goalie and flyers goalie of the Eight Goalie Year and former vgk broadcast)’s interview / general hockey show. he’s very personable and a good interviewer.

the press zone - a show mostly focused on prospects, whether that’s in major juniors, the ahl, european leagues, etc. it’s a deeper dive into an area that a lot of the other shows don’t necessarily get to, so i appreciate it.

the hockey think tank - another ‘smaller’ podcast with some interesting and unexpected interviews. again, don’t listen to it all the time but it’s worth a shot if they have a topic you like.

the full 60 - craig custance’s solo show. another “insider.”

missin curfew - i usually only listen to this one if they have a guest i’m interested in because this is also a very bad example of hockey men hanging out and talking and you want to strangle them mostly. it’s two other dudes and kevin hayes’ older brother so you can pretty much expect exactly what you are getting from them.

the broadscast - wish there were more female hockey podcast hosts, but this one is a good one. i like the variety of guests that they have on. i don’t listen to it every episode but will tune in if there’s a topic i like.

flyers-related podcasts

broad street radio - i have such a hate/hate relationship with this one. it’s like the flyers podcast but i hate most of the hosts. i listen mostly for charlie o’connor, who is the only one who can reign in their terrible opinions.

flyers daily - daily news about the flyers, game recaps, and interviews with players. usually short and no-frills episodes, which i appreciate. myrtetus also plays goalie in beer league so he has a player’s perspective, at least, from that level.

flyers talk - nbc’s podcast with jordan hall, taryn hatcher, and joe fordyce. pretty basic talk show from a beat reporter, a former broadcast, and a guy named joe. again fairly no frills, do not always agree with them, but decent enough information.

everything but hockey - andrea helfrich, the most beautiful woman in the world’s, podcast. she does interviews with a lot of people who work with the team in some capacity (for example, nyree, the nutritionist) are associated with the team (she is great with interviewing wives and girlfriends), and the players themselves. she is super charming and good at talking to people so the episodes are usually fun to listen to.

snow the goalie - two flyers beat reporters i dislike but who nevertheless sometimes have The Info.

locked-on flyers - i haven’t actually listened to this much yet but i like locked-on habs a lot and i’m gonna have to give it a chance.

nasty knuckles - this is a podcast i absolutely suffer through. settlemyre is so fucking annoying and maybe the worst interviewer i’ve ever heard. however, if you are interested in the flyers, he has the goods. riley cote is also here. i have to get back to actually transcribing these again because really you don’t want to listen to them.

habs-related podcasts

le support athlétique - arpon and marc antoine from the athletic talk the habs. alternating episodes in french and english, which is frustrating when they are talking in french about something i want to listen to, but i think it’s cool that they provide for the entirety of the fanbase. they are fascinating to listen to, and obviously good friends. i enjoy their insights about the players and coaches.

eyes on the prize - one of my favorites. good hosts, great variety of topics, including interviews with european prospects that you don’t always hear from. it’s also an sbnation podcast but i like it so much better than i like bsh.

habs-statician - statistically-based habs analysis from a fan in toronto. dylan is a really thoughtful podcaster, and i appreciate listening to him very much. 

locked-on canadiens - another daily listen. laura and scott continue the theme of the habs podcasts i enjoy which is mostly that they are really reasonable about their view of the team. they criticize when players aren’t doing well, but not in a mean way, and they praise the players who are doing well. i like the daily analysis and breakdown of the news mixed in with sillier segments like who would play the habs in a movie.

habs tonight - former hab and flyer dale weise and a rotating cast of co-hosts discuss habs related topics. i was skeptical at first because i thought it might be gossipy, but it’s actually not that bad. the hockey talk from a former player is all like “wow, that makes so much sense” when you hear it (the episode where weise talks about joël bouchard, in the first negative thing i’d ever heard about him, is one that i am specifically thinking of here). he’s also good at interviewing his former teammates, you can tell they are at ease with him.

history in the making - national treasure marc dumont interviews habs prospects and other people associated with the team. he is so funny and charming and knowledgeable about hockey, it is always worth a listen.

habby hour - i don’t really enjoy these hosts but i will listen if they’re interviewing someone i’m interested in.

other teams-related podcasts that i listen to

steve dangle - i will admit i mostly started listening to this one as schadenfreude, but for the most part i enjoy it. i don’t really like the co-hosts but i do enjoy how absolutely fed up he is with the leafs. :) but on a more serious note, they do some good work, i was very impressed with their recent episode interviewing rick westhead about his work on the chicago coverups.

[pigeonsatdawn]

law school ep 15 (and solhwi overall)

gonna put in my two cents for the line that singlehandedly caused the solhwi nation to implode.

(apologies in advanced because my thoughts are too messy for me to neatly put it in a post but i want to say it anyway—also this is just the way i view solhwi so please don't come screaming at me if you disagree!)

i'm a diehard solhwi shipper and i love their relationship, and think they have one of the best relationships out there in the fictional world, and also definitely one of the healthiest. but to me, their relationship extends far beyond the romantic relationships we so often see portrayed in media.

kim beom said in one interview that this relationship between HJH and KS is kin to that of a soulmate relationship that's not necessarily romance, and i find myself agreeing with that notion. while soulmates are typically used to describe romantic partnerships, it doesn't necessarily have to start with romance. (many people have pointed this out in other posts so i won't go further down the fact that HJH x KS's relationship is a friends-to-lovers slow burn but you get me.)

but in fact, this bond between soulmates (or at least how i define it), in my opinion, is far beyond what we usually see in romance. as in, it's not just someone you like, but it's someone whose changed your life in a certain way. i know some may be averse to the idea of having to change for the one you love because loving is the notion of accepting someone in spite of the person's flaws, but what i mean is that when you love someone in this way, you want to change because of them. you see them, and they inspire you, and you grow in your own way. once again—growth is a very subjective idea, and even for HJH and KS we can see them grow in different directions—but we can clearly see how they have impacted each others' lives.

it's quite obvious, imo, how KS's life has been impacted by HJH's. she's,, not the "smartest" out there, and we can't deny that. we know she probably won't make it through law school if not for HJH's help. HJH is always there, a step ahead of KS, but he's not just being proud about it, instead opting to help her understand what the laws are and why they are the way they are, which KS especially needs, being a particularly empathic person. but we've also seen that HJH has helped KS beyond simply academics. he's always been there to protect her—almost all their interactions have proven that (the camera outside her house, the hungover soup, the switching seats—i think literally everything?..?..?.??). maybe she doesn't necessarily need protection, but surely thanks to his protection she's much better than she might've been without, especially knowing her terribly miserable life.

but i often wonder why HJH is so heart-eyes of KS of all people. i mean, i know love is love and sometimes you just catch feelings, but i believe there's more meaning behind their relationship than meets the eye. like you don't just look at someone so lovingly for it to be just a crush, y'know? the first reason that comes to mind is clearly simply KS's amicable personality. she definitely stands out: she's not that intelligent, struggling and barely surviving, but she has insane passion to pull through even despite truth attacks (like SJH saying she should reconsider her life decisions, saying that a chance of passing isn't something to be proud of, etc). she treats everything with such a positive outlook, and, well, KS is just an adorable human, so it's hard not to have a little crush her.

what makes KS stand out most, the core of her personality, is that she has hope, despite everything. she's been through shit because of her circumstances—left by her twin sister without a word, been in juvie, has no money to deal with it—you know, entire backstory. but instead she fights her weakness, even though she feel like it should've been her sister, even though she's not smart enough, because she has to do this. she keeps going, even though things keep turning out for the worse for her, holding hope when circumstances are most dire. but why? because she strives for justice. she doesn't want to be wronged. she wants the law to own up its mistakes, wants to make sure the law gets its own revenge. that's why she wants to work in law, yeah? and so she keeps fighting, even when hope seems lost.

okay but why did i mention this? because i think this is what HJH sees in KS. why? because this is what he needs.

HJH had lost hope. in an episode (i don't remember which), he mentioned he doesn't trust anyone, and it's obvious why: his uncle. it's the worst kind of betrayal that causes your ideals being burned down. he realized that even people who work in law can be corrupt, people who he thought he could trust above all others, people who seemed utterly good. and then he just begins to regard everyone with baseline amity, and no further. many have pointed out he doesn't have real friends (other than KS), even though he looks outgoing and friendly. it's not quite shown, but it must've been lonely. and a lonely fight, trying to prove that he will be a better prosecutor than his uncle was. and we know that HJH's nature as a person is to be calculating, objective, seeing things through facts and statistics; it's what makes him so intelligent. what that also makes him is realistic, and more often than not, that is almost equal to pessimistic—because reality just... sucks, as has been proven by the betrayal of his uncle. and further into the drama we see only more corrupt people in the business, so we certainly don't get out hopes fueled.

there's scarcely anyone in what we see who's actually pursuing law because they're passionate about the law, or if they are, they're not often very... human in doing it. examples: YJH, SJH, KSB are all very cold and indifferent types, people who really just come and do what they do, focus on studies (in the case of YJH, his teaching), and interactions with others are treated as "lesser". SJH and KSB in particular—they're good at the law, sure, but they seem to prioritize their position in law first and foremost. SJH and KSB don't hesitate to call out their losses, and even would rather not intervene for justice if it meant their position would be compromised. not that they're bad characters, not at all; i mentioned them simply to compare them to KS, who, despite not having the brains to do half the things she's supposed to do and earning herself nosebleeds everytime she tries, still does what she does for justice, passionately, hopefully, all for righteousness.

okay this was longer than i intended WHEW so i'll cut to the chase: long story short, HJH needs KS because KS gives him hope. hope of a humanity where people actually work in law and choose to fight for justice against all odds, even if the system itself is infiltrated by filth and corruption. KS is someone who, in her first lecture, was grilled the fuck out by Yangcrates, yet the first thing she does after she nearly throws her guts out is ask HJH whether he can tutor her. she does not ever lose hope, and that, truly, is what stands out to HJH, what he needs.

and KS needs HJH because he is her hope as well! hope by itself does no good if you can't actually do something about it, and KS knows this. HJH, despite seemingly just being someone to help her in her studies, is someone she needs if she wants to achieve her goals, if she wants to get back on the law the right way. which is why, in the end, KS and HJH are, while independent in their own way, dependent on each other in terms of their growth—KS gives HJH hope in humanity, HJH helps KS realize (make real) her hopes that would have been dreams if not for her.

oh my god i've rambled on this long without stating my point: THE DAMN LINE.

HJH saying he owes her makes sense in this light because, indeed, KS's positive outlook in everything keeps him going. it gives him a reason to keep wanting to work in law, because she is a reason to believe in goodness and justice, that there will be people who keep fighting for justice against all odds. he owes this to her—and perhaps that is why he goes all out to help her achieve that hope, perhaps that's why he goes out of his way to care for her. because they are each other's missing puzzle piece, the other half. soulmates.

sigh ok this was long ONE FINAL POINT. everyone has their own opinion on a solwhi ending, so i might as well chip in mine.

certainly, as a solhwi shipper, i want them to end up together. i believe they're really the best of soulmates, two people who just complement each other so well. but in the current timeline, them having a romantic relationship out of the blue would be,,, simply unnecessary, imo. they're still very much in the stage of friendship, and are both dealing with their own personal baggage, that shoving a romance would just take away the focus from their growth. i personally think even this platonic relationship is already a beautiful one, one that outshines many of the romances i've watched, even without having to flood everything under the romance light—which i think many can agree with me, seeing as how solhwi is shipped so much. i still want to see them end up together, though, so SEASON TWO LAW SCHOOL MANIFESTATION. please please please directors writers make it happen i am begging you. thank you.

sorry for this long ass post, thank you if you do read it and leave any thoughts! again this is just my opinion, you're free to let me know if you think differently or anything, or shoot me a message if you want to scream about solhwi or whatever i'm just solhwi brainrot 24/7 🤸🏻‍♀️

[lilyofthestyx]

Fighting For Tomorrow: Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Still haven’t bought AOT but I’m working on it! 

AN: this. is a doozy of a chapter- i know. lots. and lots. and lots of words. but DAMN if i didnt love every part of it. however! if you guys prefer smaller chapters please please please dont hesitate to say something. seriously. id love to write you guys more frequent, smaller chapters but if you guys like the longass, slightly infrequent chapters then they shall continue. just say the word bby. also i felt kinda poetic in some of these sections so if you see reader gettin fancy with her verbage, don’t trip. that was my bad. 

Reiner x Fem!Reader, eventual Captain Levi x Fem!Reader, Sasha x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 10k (i finished this at 2 am today before class and nearly passed out at the sight ‘10,008 words’ when i pulled up my word counter. CH-YOW this a big boy)

TW: gore/blood/violence/death, adult language/swearing, slight PTSD, mental anguish, self-harm, grief, nightmares, insomnia, hysterics, horse accident

You can read parts one, two, three, four, and five just by tapping the lovely numbers!

   The flames crackle and rage before us, engulfing our comrades’ bodies in scarlet and gold waves. 

   Engulfing Marco’s body. 

   Jean had found him. Just… laying there. Up against a building. No one had seen him die, no one knew how he died, just that he did. Marco- our comrade, our friend... my friend- just gone. Taken from us. There was no valiant deed. There was no heroism. There was no triumphant story. Nothing. He just… died. 

   And that’s the worst part. 

   He was taken from us and no one knows how. No one knows why. 

   Marco was one of the first comrades I got close to. We were competitive- always fighting to outdo each other. I’d train two hours, he’d train three. He’d pass the ODM test after four tries, I’d pass it in three. Back and forth, back and forth. 

   But if we faced something bigger than us- if there was an exercise we couldn’t quite pin down, if there was another Cadet giving us problems, if one of our squad members were injured- we’d always come together to beat it. It was always like that. 

   He was like my little brother. 

   I scoff at myself. They all are like my younger siblings. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, even Annie and Bertholdt. They’re all family and losing Marco… it was like losing a brother. 

   I did lose a brother. 

   My brother is among the flames- being turned to ash before my eyes. Marco is gone. Taken from me. Robbed from me. From everyone. His intellect, his kindness, his leadership. All of it gone. Taken from humanity. 

   We’re just kids. 

   Marco was just a kid. 

   All of us- bright-eyed kids wanting to do our best for humanity. To take back what was stolen from us. To serve humanity. We didn’t know how much hate, how much horror was waiting for us. To watch our comrades- our family and friends- be torn apart in front of us. To lose the ones closest to us in unspeakable carnage. 

   All we wanted was to do something for humanity. 

   All Marco wanted was to do something for humanity.

   He was just a kid.

   Tears are streaming down my face as we all watch the flames consume the bodies of fallen soldiers. I can hear the crackling of wood, feel the heat on my skin. But the crackling is distant and the heat is faint. My chest feels empty and cold. 

   I lost Marco. I lost Hannah. I lost Franz. 

   And I’ll never get them back.

   But I’ll be damned if I allow anyone else to be taken from me. 

   The Commander roars and rages before us, engulfing us in his words. They burn and singe like fire as they cross the Cadets’ ears. I can hear them whispering among themselves- asking if he’s serious or if he’s crazy or already resigning themselves to the Garrison. 

   It doesn’t matter what they say. 

   I’m joining the Scouts. Commander Erwin’s words are a comfort, a pleasant yet caveat warmth. Like a candle sitting beside a curtain. I know what I’m signing up for. I’ve always known. But it doesn’t mean I’ll be giving it all up now. 

   “I’ve made my decision.”

   My eyes turn away from the Commander, landing on Reiner’s form beside me. His gaze is still stuck on the Commander, back straight and shoulders squared. I turn my gaze back to the Commander- not wanting to be chewed out by a commanding officer for not paying attention. “...really?” I ask quietly, “Where are you-?”

   “The Scouts.”

   My eyes are back on him. “What?” I hiss, “Reiner, you can’t... throw away your shot at the Military Police- you worked so hard, why would you-?”

   “Eren was right,” he says quietly. I can feel his chest fill with breath before he chuckles. “They don’t need our skills so far away from the walls. They need us where we’re at use- where the people are.”

   “Rei, please, please,” I whisper, “Please don’t do this.”

   “Why not?” Reiner chuckles again, “You want me gone?”

   “It’s not like that,” I shoot back, “I just…”

   “You just what?”

   “...I don’t wanna lose anyone else.”

   “...you won’t.”

   “You can’t know that… I’m already worried about Eren and Armin and Mikasa- if I have to worry about anyone else-”

   “You don’t need to worry about me, darling… Because we’re going to get through this,” I can feel his finger graze the side of my hand before his hand takes mine. “Together.”

   A shaky exhale leaves my mouth as I close my eyes. “...together,” I whisper as shivers run down my spine.

   “That’s right, darling.”

   “...those who wish to join other divisions are dismissed.”

   Shuffles of feet scurry past me as I remain. I can feel their gazes, their judging glares and confused looks. They mumble to themselves. ‘Insane’, ‘crackpots’, ‘suicidal’, ‘deathwish’. Nervously, I swallow and grip Reiner’s hand tighter. 

   I can feel his smile. Proud and bright like the sun. Warming like the sun. Relaxation smoothes out over my skin as I soak it in. 

   I’ve done it. Finally. After years of fighting and hoping and wishing and dreaming about this very moment, I’m here. 

   The crowd clears out and a scattering of us remains. My eyes dart to each of the figures in the hopes of identifying my fellow crackpots.

   Reiner. Armin. Mikasa. Bertholdt. Ymir. Christa. Sas-

   My heart stops. 

   Sasha. Connie. Jean. 

   What the Hell are they doing here?! They were supposed to join the Military Police. They were going to, weren’t they?! Why are they still here?! Why aren’t they walking away? 

   At the very base of my stomach, something churns. Quickly and violently. 

   I think I’m gonna be sick. 

   I’m already going to be looking out for Armin, Eren, and Mikasa- I came to accept that long ago- but now Sasha? And Reiner? Connie and Jean, too?

   Most of everyone I’ve ever loved has just signed their hearts and bodies away to the Scouts- to nearly certain death. 

   There has to be a way to change their minds, right? There has to be. 

   ...but there isn’t, is there?

   They heard the statistics. They know how many have died in the Scouts. They know all the facts, all the dirtiest of details. 

   And they stayed.

   Gods, why did they stay?

   I’ll drag each of them out of here by their ears, kicking and screaming, if I have to. I already lost Marco and Hanna and Franz. I don’t think I could take losing them, too. 

   But if they truly want to- if they know the risk and want to dedicate their hearts just like I am… why would I stop them?

   I should be proud. 

   They’re- we all are- dedicating ourselves to the better future humanity deserves. To the eradication of Titans. To the freedom we all hunger for. 

   “Very well!” Commander Erwin’s voice booms out over us. “I welcome you- the newest recruits of the Scout Regiment!” His fist slams against his chest in a tight salute, “This is my real salute! Dedicate your hearts to the cause!”

   The group moves as one as we all strike our fists to our chests. 

   My eyes glide from the Commander to Sasha once more. 

   She’s shaking. I can hear her stifled sobs from here. 

   But she remains firm in her spot. 

   She’s made her decision. 

   And I can accept that. 

   I lay awake. Moonlight flickers through the window- inching towards the other side of the room. It’s late and I’m exhausted but even when I am, I can’t sleep. There’s too much screaming in my head. Too much gore. Too much carnage that I can only barely remember. The only things that do remember are my heart and lungs- hammering and pounding and stretching to the fullest in the wake of whatever nightmare slinked back into the recesses of my mind. 

   Reiner stirs in his sleep and wraps his arms around my waist. Tucking me into him, he sighs and buries his head into my neck. “...can’t sleep?” he mumbles. His voice is deep. Deeper than usual, with a gentle rumble to it. 

   “No,” I whisper back, shrinking into him.

   “Wanna talk about it?”

   I stay silent. No. No, I really, really, really, really don’t want to. Talking about whatever bothers me is like pulling teeth. It feels like a burden that I’m casting onto someone else. And with Reiner… he’s burdened enough already. He’s everyone’s big brother. Everyone’s confidant. He shoulders responsibilities and punishments for others- never once thinking about himself. 

   But he’s exhausted. All the time, exhausted. And he’s so good at hiding it. Even around me. But I can see it. The way his golden eyes go hazy at times, the way his shoulders sag and the way things slip his mind. The way he can become an entirely different person with terrifying speed. 

   It scares me how much I think he carries. Because when he breaks… it’ll be cataclysmic. 

   Reiner’s lips slide up my shoulder and neck, pressing gentle kisses against my skin. “...well?”

   But maybe he’ll open up to me if I take the step first. Maybe I’ll show him that there’s nothing to worry about- that I’m not going anywhere and that he can talk to me about anything. Everything. 

   “...I’ve… I’ve been having nightmares.” 

   His kisses stop where they are, lips still pressed to my skin for a moment before pulling away. His grip on me gets tighter as he pulls me closer. Reiner lets his head rest in the crook of my neck and sighs. “...what about?”

   I laugh quietly, letting my fingers trail against his forearm. “...I don’t remember most of them but… there is one that comes back… every now and then.”

   “I’m listening, darling.”

  Slowly, I take a breath. My eyes close as I remember the details of the dream. “...it always starts off the same… I’m in a throne room and there’s a person at my feet. Sometimes… it’s a woman and other times it’s a man and other times, I can’t tell which, but… there’s always someone at my feet,”

   “And they’re always crying,” I whisper, eyebrows drawing together and I grip his forearm. “Sobbing and pleading for mercy. A-...And I…” My voice quivers as tears start to flow from my eyes. “I… just… I don’t even know, I just… I see this… light- red light- come from their eyes and they just… they convulse and thrash around for a moment- screaming and crying and begging- before… before they…,”

   “...before they die at my feet,” I whisper brokenly, eyes open and staring out into the distance as the scene replays. “And when they finally die… I look up… and there’s… corpses. Thousands upon thousands of corpses, Rei… All piled up on top of each other and in writhing rigidity. As far as I could see- there were bodies- and… and somehow I know that… that I… I had… somehow I know that I was the one that killed them all.”

   “I’m your squad leader, Ness,” the man before us states before clapping a hand onto the horse towering beside him. “And this! Is my horse, Chalet…” 

   My eyes drift away from him, blankly settling on the various horses in their stalls behind me. I’ve tuned him out… I should probably listen to whatever he has to say. But… I’m so tired. Another night of staring at the ceiling while listening to Reiner snore and watching Bertholdt contort himself into a coil across the room. 

   I don’t know how many sleepless nights I have left. 

   My body lurches forward slightly as someone nudges me from behind. I turn to face whoever it was. Jean is towering over me with a smirk on his face as he pretends to be watching Squad Leader Ness. “...what the hell was that for?” I mutter, facing forward.

   “You were falling asleep again,” he chuckles quietly, “Another… late night?”

   I scoff and shake my head, “You’re a child.”

   “You didn’t say ‘no’.”

   “No, Jean,” I hiss, “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

   I can feel him deflate slightly behind me. “...oh…”

   “Yeah.”

   “...I get them, too.”

   “I really hope you don’t.”

   Connie, standing beside me, scoots closer. “What’re we talkin’ about?”

   Jean answers at the same time as I do. “Sex.”

   “Food.”

   Connie’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he risks a glance at me. “...huh?”

   I sigh and roll my eyes, “We were talking about-”

   “Did someone say ‘food’?” Sasha whispers excitedly behind me. 

   I sigh and roll my eyes again. “You three are-”

   “Hilarious.”

   “Your favorites.”

   “Really hungry.”

   Groaning softly, I shake my head at their responses. “Gods… I thought Armin, Eren, and Mikasa were a lot… then I had to get you knuckleheads thrown in, too.”

   “Now!” Ness states, looking significantly more disheveled than he did a few minutes ago. Adjusting the bandana around his head, he huffs and stands up straight. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your dorms- and then you’ll be introduced to your horses.”

   He walks off, leading us between the stables and the looming walls of the castle. My eyes trail up the crumbling stone- plants and vines and flowers managing their way through the cracks- and over the rolling hills dotted with trees. Sunlight floods the stone courtyard, basking us all in its warmth.

   It reminds me of home. 

   Not Shiganshina- but of the modest cottage in the forest. I smile to myself, watching Sasha bother Jean with Connie’s help just in front of me. I remember playing with her in the trees. We made and marked that forest. There isn’t a tree in that entire forest we haven’t carved up with arrows and knives or with the undersides of our shoes as we climbed their roots and limbs. Sasha would be afraid at first- of foxes or wolves or falling or tripping. But as soon as I took her hand and led her to the sunlight, to the tops of the trees, to the very breath of the sky… she’d always hunger for more. To go to the brightest spot in the forest, to climb the highest tree, to scale the steepest cliff. 

   My smile starts to fade slightly. 

   She’s even more afraid than she used to be… did I cause that? Does she even remember? She was young when I left… Does she remember when she scraped her knee and told her that she was now one with the forest- that its blood was in her and her blood in it? Does she remember that first tree we climbed together? Does she remember the nights we would run barefoot around the dew-covered clearings in the heart of the woods with no light to guide us except that of the moon? Does she remember what it was like to not be afraid?

   Will we ever get to go back…?

   The group stops. Ness smiles at us and points down the hallway to our left. “Down this hallway are the boys’ rooms,” he points to the hallway to our right. “And down this one is the girls’.” He chuckles and turns back to us. “There is… one other thing.”

   Uh oh. 

   “There’s only one bathroom.”

   I stifle a groan. It’s a goddamn castle. How in the walls is that even possible- one bathroom, my ass.

   “Well… only one that’s in good enough shape to be used, anyway. ‘sides the officers’ bathroom...” Ness admits, a sheepish smile growing on his lips as he rubs the back of his head. “You’re welcome to fix up the other ones, though! ...although, I think you’d need help…” Ness continues muttering more to himself than anyone else. 

   One bathroom. Unbelievable. I growl under my breath as Ness marches us back out into the courtyard. You’d think Captain Shortstack would be all over the renovations of this place- bathrooms included. 

   Whatever. It’s not like I shower when everyone else does, anyway. There’s always a possibility I could sneak into the officers’ bathroom like when we were in training… And there was that river...

   “I can see you already coming up with a plan,” Sasha appears next to me, lowering her voice. “What’re ya thinkin’?”

   I laugh softly, nudging her arm with my elbow. “Nothing regarding food.”

   Sasha pouts slightly, “Fine… then what’re ya thinkin’ about?”

   “Just plannin’ my way into the officers’ bathroom.”

   “Oooh,” Sasha laughs maliciously. “Do you think they’ll have hot water?”

   I sigh, closing my eyes and imagining the steam and feel of hot water cascading down my body. Hot water was a privilege in the Cadet Corps. ...one that was constantly being robbed from me. I’d mostly show up after everyone had already showered, praying that maybe I’d have even a moment to myself to unwind- and to not be stared at. And nearly every time, I bathed in freezing cold water. But there were a few times where I’d be wrapped in steam, delicate streams of hot water warming my frigid body. 

   ...now that I think about it, those ‘few times’ were whenever Reiner would wake me up early to get in the shower before everyone else.

   “Gods,” I mumble, looking at Reiner as he walks with Bertholdt and Annie. “I really hope so, ‘tato-muncher.”

   As if he felt my gaze on him, Reiner turns around and smiles. I return the smile with a scrunch of my nose. Reiner’s eyes glide behind me for a second, returning to me before darting back behind me. I turn around to follow his gaze. 

   Eren. 

   Eren runs straight for us, green cape flaring out behind him as he charges towards the group. Our eyes meet and his pace increases. My hand latches onto Sasha’s sleeve and tugs, “‘Tato! ‘Tato, look!” I laugh, slapping Connie’s shoulder. “Look who it is!”

   Connie and Sasha turn around and I can hear the others turn along with them. Armin and Mikasa greet him first, taking him into their arms and speaking quietly amongst themselves for a moment. When they break away, Eren’s smile widens as he looks over us. 

   “...you’re all here?” he asks quietly, smile slightly fading. “You all joined the Scouts?”

   “Well, yeah,” I laugh, “Why else would we be here- shits ‘nd giggles?”

   Eren rolls his eyes before scanning over us again. “Wait… if you’re all here… That means Jean, Marco, and Annie all joined the Military Police.”

   My heart plummets like a rock into my stomach. That’s right. He wasn’t there for the funeral. He doesn’t know. 

   The remaining section of our group walks up behind Eren- Jean leading them all. Eren turns around and groans. “Not you, too.”

   Jean doesn’t react. His face unreadable and voice flat, he rips the bandage off. “Marco’s dead.”

   “...what?” Eren mumbles, “What did you just… What’d you just say? Did you say Marco died?”

   Jean’s voice stays still as he continues.

   “Seems like not everyone can die a dramatic death.”

   “You don’t think it’s weird?” I laugh, picking up a section of hay and starting back towards the stable. “We know everyone, every thing’s position in the formation except Eren’s- arguably the most volatile and important piece of information to have. That isn’t the least bit confusing to you?”

   Reiner shrugs, taking the hay from my hands. “Dunno… I haven’t really thought about it.”

   I huff and shake my head, stepping in front of him and taking the hay back. “I can carry it,” I mutter, looking at the ridges growing in his face. “And by the look on your face, you have been thinking about it.” I turn around, lifting the hay over the stable door and onto the growing pile just beside my horse. 

   My horse nudges me with his nose, huffing. I smile and rub my hand up and down his nose, “...needy, aren’t we?” I whisper softly. 

   “Ya gonna give him a name?” Reiner asks, patting his hand against the horse’s neck. 

   Peeking down under the horse’s neck, I squint up at him. “You didn’t answer me.”

   Reiner rolls his eyes and walks away, sighing. “You didn’t ask anything.”

   “I asked if you were thinking about why we weren’t being filled in on Eren’s location in the formation.”

   “Technically, you didn’t ask,” he shoots back. 

   My eyes lock with his in an intense stare. “...we really gonna do this right now?” I ask quietly, still petting my horse.

   Reiner sighs and looks away, running a hand through his hair. I turn back to my horse, letting my forehead rest against his cheek. Reiner sighs again. The three of us stand in silence- only my horse breaking the silence with occasional huffs and flicks of his tail.

   “...I have been thinking about it,” Reiner finally mumbles. “But… not like you have.”

   Here we go again with him being all cryptic and skittish and avoidant. I am so sick of this game. 

   “Then how have you been thinking about it, Reiner?” I hiss, lifting my head off my horse and looking into his large grey eye. “All the time- just when I think you’re gonna open up to me about what’s going on in that…” I sigh frustratedly, “That… that… stupid, thick, adorable, blond head’a yours you just… you shut me back out again. And it’s so goddamn irritating, Rei,” I admit with a slight squeak in my voice. 

   Slowly, I turn to face him, gaze dropping down to the ground. “...I’ve been… I’ve been so open with you. More open than I have with anyone in my whole life- except, I dunno... Sasha- but I just… It’d be nice to have some’a that returned.”

   I can hear him get closer to me. Gently, his arms wrap around me and tuck me into his chest. I’m swallowed in his embrace as he runs his fingers up and down my back. “...okay,” he whispers, “okay, darling… I’ll… I’ll try and open up to you, okay? I’ll…” he trails off and sighs, tightening his hold on me as he places his chin on the top of my head. 

   “I know how hard it is, and… I… I’m not trying to force it out of you or anything… I just… I want to help you,” I whisper quietly. “And I promise you, Rei...I’m not going anywhere.”

   There’s a coldness in his laugh. It leaves his lips like ice and falls to the floor like daggers. “Thank you, darling. Just…,” Reiner takes my shoulders, pushing us apart. His gold eyes have slightly lost their luster as they peer deep into me. I squirm slightly in his stare, eyebrows furrowing. “You have to understand that there is a lot happening- something... bigger, darling.”

   I blink and tilt my head slightly to the side.  “Did you… did you get another assignment?” I ask quietly, “Something under the table?”

   Reiner is quiet for a moment, eyes flicking between mine. “...yes. Something under the table- from people higher than the Captain.”

   My eyes widen slightly. Is this what’s been weighing on him for so long? That’s why he’s been missing at times? What he’s been trying to tell me? Another assignment that he can’t talk about, even with me-

   Oh gods. 

   I feel like a total ass.

   “Who…?” I ask quietly, taking note of the way he straightens up to scan around us before shrinking back down. 

   Reiner scoots us back, tucking me up against the stable door. “I… I can’t tell you but… you understand that, right, darling?” He asks hopefully, a small lilt to his voice. Gently, his fingers trail my face and a small smile crosses my face. His lips mirror mine. 

   “I understand that, love,” I hum, leaning into his touch. “I do… I do have another question.”

   Reiner smiles wider, lovingly staring down at me. “What is it, darling?”

   Nervous claws at my stomach. 

   I shouldn’t ask this.

   Why? He’s finally being open with me- willing to at least tell me what’s wrong. Shouldn’t I-

   No. There’s something bigger here. Don’t. Ask. 

   “__________?” 

   I swallow my fear and meet his gaze. “...I heard you the night after the first clean-up operation,” I admit quietly, “with Annie and Bertholdt.”

   Reiner’s eyes darken, dropping down and avoiding my gaze. “...how much did you...?”

   “Not much,” I laugh nervously, “Just you guys arguing about telling me… and Annie saying to only tell me when you’re sure of how I’d feel.”

   With a sigh of relief, he closes his eyes and smiles. He quickly presses his lips to my forehead. “Okay, okay… Okay… Sorry, I just… I don’t need t’get... chewed out for that.”   I chuckle softly, “So… that big’a deal, huh?”

   Reiner laughs, “Yes. That big of’a deal.”

   “...so… it’s you, Annie, and Bertholdt,” I mumble, picking at the leather strap running down his chest. “Anyone else that I know?”

   “No, just us three.”

   “Am… am I in danger?” I ask jokingly, “All this secrecy- it makes me wonder.”

   Reiner doesn’t laugh with me. 

   “Rei?” I call, looking up at him. “...am I?”

   His eyes slide down to me, a small smile on his lips. “...stick with me, darling- I’ll keep ya safe.”

   “...what?”

   “There’s a lot at work here, __________,” Reiner sighs, his eyes going hazy for a second as he relives whatever is ‘at work’. Blinking, he focuses back on me. “But I can keep you safe. I’ve been keeping you safe.”

   What does this even mean? Are there people I can’t trust? If that’s true, then what? What am I supposed to do? Be some tiny little doll cowering in fear behind him? I hate being treated like some weak, fragile, defenseless thing. And what if he gets hurt protecting me? What then? What if something goes wrong and he ends up being blamed for something he didn’t do? 

   And what about Sasha? 

   “...what about my sister? What about her? Who’s gonna keep her safe?” I ask, clutching the fabric covering his chest, “If anything happens to Sasha, I…”

   “Nothing’s gonna happen to Sasha,” Reiner hums quietly, “We’re gonna keep her safe.”

   “And Eren? Mikasa? Armin? What about the boys? If any of them get hurt, Rei, I just… I don’t think I could…”

   “__________,” he says firmly, catching my attention. Slowly, my eyes slide up to meet his again. They’re gentle and glowing in the fading sunlight. His hand trails down my face again, leaving a buzzing wake behind it. 

   “You need to trust me.”

   I swallow and nod quickly. “Okay, yes, okay… Okay, you’re right. We… We are all gonna be okay.”

   Reiner chuckles and lets his chin rest on the top of my head as he tucks me into his chest again. 

   “That’s my girl.”

   “Oiii!” I yell, waving a hand over my head. “Ponytail!”

   Eld’s head starts swiveling around, looking for whoever called him. With a gentle kick of my horse, he trots closer. “Eld!” I call again, sliding off the side of my horse. My feet hit the dirt just in front of him as I straighten up, shaking a few stray hairs out of my eyes. “It’s good to see ya again.”

   Eld smiles and chuckles, gesturing down to the emerald green cape around my shoulders. “So you made it.”

  I look down and rub the fabric between my fingers. A smile crosses my face as I look back up to him. “Just like I dreamed I would.”

   “You’re in pretty high spirits,” Oluo scoffs as he walks by with a supply box. Setting it down into a wagon, he huffs and turns to face us. “Considering we’ll all be facing death in a few hours.”

   “Always the charmer, huh?” I mutter quietly, earning a small laugh from Eld. “And if you have t’know, I’m just happy we’re one step closer to going outside the walls…” I smile to myself, imagining the places Armin used to talk about. Fire water, ice hills, saltwater that goes on for so long even the merchants couldn’t drain all the salt from it. 

   I think that’ll be my favorite. ‘Sea’.

   Oluo scoffs again. “Bright-eyed, suicidal recruit… Just don’t get someone else killed, will ya?”

   “What the hell’s that supposed t’mean?” I snap back. 

   Oluo smiles crookedly, realisation splitting his face like a piece of china. “Struck a nerve, huh?,” he laughs, “Better get rid of those if you wanna make it.”

   “Bold talk for someone that’s too insecure to keep his own personality,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I turn my attention back to Eld- who’s gone awfully quiet as the two of us went at it. A blush is back on his cheeks and I can see him fidgeting with his gaze in an effort to mind his own business. 

   “...uhm…” He mumbles as his eyes catch someone walking behind me. “This is Petra!” Eld blurts, tugging a woman by the arm. “The one that checked on you when you were, uh… asleep.”

   “In a coma, more like,” I laugh, dipping my head to the woman. She has ginger hair cut just above her shoulders and soft, kind eyes. There’s something about her that reminds me so much of a deer for some reason. 

   Petra’s eyes suddenly light up as she looks over me again. “I remember you- you’re __________! I didn’t know you had your heart set on the Scouts. Which is surprising… considering how much Eld talks about you.”

   Eld’s face goes even redder. He stands rigidly, eyes fixated on the horizon. 

   ...I think he just went into shock. 

   “Well, thank you,” I hum, giving Petra another smile. “For checking in on me.”

   Petra shakes her head, “It wasn’t any issue at all.”

   I dip my head again and lightly punch Eld’s shoulder. “Hopefully you told her the story of how I kicked your and Oluo’s asses.”

   Petra tilts her head slightly to the side before a wicked smile crosses her lips. “...I don’t think I’ve heard that one, __________. Please, tell me.”

   “Well, I was walking down an alleyway when-”

  “That’s good!” Eld suddenly yelps, “Thank you so much, __________, for stopping by, but the Captain’s calling us!”

   Petra giggles as Eld walks behind her, pushing her by the shoulders. Captain Shortstack Jackass is watching them with his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows furrowed. He very obviously didn’t call either of them. “You’ll have to tell me when we get back!” Petra calls. 

   “Of course!” I laugh, watching as Eld goes even redder. Petra waves over his shoulder and I do the same before mounting my horse. I give his neck a gentle pat and urge him forward- back towards the stable. 

  “You... need a name, Horse,” I mutter as we trot past the various wagons and other Scouts getting their horses and gear ready. “All horses have names… I guess.”

   Horse huffs at me. 

   “Well… you’re…” I look down at his coat as we start to pick up speed. It shimmers in the sunlight, revealing the faint speckles of black and grey under his cream-colored coat. “You’re cream and you’ve got freckles. And last I checked, you have grey-” Horse looks over slightly at me, light-brown eyes glistening. “Sorry… brown eyes. And black mane and tail.”

   My eyes flick up, locking onto the figure standing just a few feet in front of my horse. Gripping the reins, I tug back to stop Horse from trampling whoever is in front of me. Instead, I feel myself being shot forward and colliding with the ground. Pain shoots out from my arm, branching out in heated flashes. 

   I roll onto my back and stare up at the clouds as they lazily float by. “Gods…” I mutter to myself, “That sucked.”

   “Told you I’m better at handling horses than you.”

   I sit straight up. My head on a swivel, I look around for the voice. It sounded just like… It couldn’t have been- no. No, I’m just-

   My eyes land on him. Standing just a couple feet away, with a green Scouts cape on over his shoulders and ODM gear strapped on. He laughs, walking closer and shaking his head. “Jeez, __________, you’ll really get yourself killed if you keep trying to keep up with me.”

   “Freckles?” I whisper.

   Marco smiles and laughs again, “Really hit your head hard, didn’t you?”

   “Freckles?” I whisper again, reaching out to touch him.

   This isn’t real. It can’t be real. He’s dead. Bit in half. Died alone. Left in the sun to rot for days. He’s dead. 

   “Ah, jeez, you really did hit your head hard,” Marco mumbles, crouching down beside me. “We gotta get you to Sasha. She’s got some experience with injuries, doesn’t she…? And I won’t even tell Reiner! It’ll just be between us, okay?” He asks, worriedly scanning my face. 

   “Freckles, you… You… You aren’t here.”

   “What are ya talkin’ about? I’m right here, remember? We were practicing horseback riding and maneuvering. Don’t you remember the bet we had?”

   Wait a moment.

   This was real.

   This… this happened already, why am I…?

   “...it was my haul from the Commandant’s office,” I whisper, “The… the fountain pen. You’d… you’d take it if I couldn’t pull off a sharp turn and activate my ODM gear while jumping off my horse.”

   Tears start to cloud my vision as I stare up at him. “You aren’t really here,” I croak, “Are you?”

   Marco shakes his head.

   “...I miss you, Freckles,” I smile, tears slipping down my face as I look up at him. My hand brushes through his cheek- like he was a colored mist- but his smile remains. “Gods, I miss you.”

   “You’ll see us again.”

   I nod, feeling my tears start down the sides of my face. “...tell Franz and Hanna I said ‘hi’.”

  “I will.”

   “And you… you stay outta trouble, you hear me?” I laugh, tears choking me at the base of my chest. 

   “You’re the one that needs to stay outta trouble.”

   I nod and laugh again, shaking my head.

   “...take… take care’a the others for me, will you?” I nod silently. Marco looks up as Horse trots closer. “It’s time for me to go. Just… close your eyes, okay?”

   My eyes slide closed before voices start to swarm around me. Bleeding into one another, it makes it so damned hard to hear what anyone is actually saying. All I can do is feel. 

   And someone’s got me by the shoulders, shaking me pretty damned hard. 

   I open my eyes to see familiar faces. “...I’ve got to stop waking up to you guys looking down at me like I’ve died.”

   The four of them sigh. 

   “If you die because of a stupid horse incident, I’ll never forgive you,” Jean mutters, getting to his feet and walking away. I can hear him muttering about ‘how stupid’ of a funeral that would be. 

   “What?” I laugh, wincing at the pain shooting from above my left eye. My fingers graze the spot- only to pull away with a scarlet coloring. 

   Ah, shit. 

   “So,” Reiner grumbles, scooping me off the ground effortlessly. “You and your horse have a bit of an issue?”

   I scoff, curling into myself as my head starts to pound. 

   “No?” He asks as we walk towards the castle. “Then what the Hell kind of stunt were you tryin’a pull?”

   “I-,” I stop and groan, clutching my temples as they begin to sear. “I… I thought… I thought I saw someone.”

   Reiner looks down at me as he pushes the castle door open with his back. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes flicking over every inch of me. It’s the same damn look as every other time I’ve gotten hurt. Which… arguably… is a lot of times. 

   The ODM incident where I almost cracked my skull open on a tree branch. 

   The time I slipped and fell in the bathroom. 

   The sparring training where I cracked three of my ribs. And my arm. And dislocated my shoulder. All because I wouldn’t yield.

   The rooftop. 

   The grocery store. 

   Various little minor accidents scattered throughout.  

   And now this.

   We round the corner and he places me onto a bed. I watch as he runs a hand down my face and sticks his head out the hallway to look around before returning to my side. Reiner sighs. “What am I gonna do with you?”

   “Love me,” I hum, closing my eyes slightly as the pain throbs and squirms beneath my skin. “Unconditionally.”

   “Gods,” he mutters, scooting closer. “I probably will.”

  “Probably?” I ask quietly. “Not ‘most definitely’?”

   A deep sigh passes his lips. It rumbles in his chest like thunder. Calming, soothing, gentle thunder. Memories of the forest running to find shelter as another storm took us by surprise. Bare feet padding the grass. Clothes sticking to our skins. Hair plastered to our faces- much like our smiles. Wiping her face as she ducks behind my arm. Telling her that the forest was telling the sky a joke, that the thunder was the sky’s laughter. Watching her peek out to watch the forest and sky talk, laughing as she swears she heard the punchline. 

   Does she remember what it was like to not be afraid?

   “Hey,” Rei mutters, shaking my arm slightly. “Don’t go to sleep on me yet.”

   “...sorry,” I mumble, opening my eyes and letting them glide to his spot beside me. “Where is she-”

  The door slams open. Sasha- with eyes wide and clutching medical supplies to her chest- pants in the doorway. “Did I make it?” She asks wearily. 

   “Did…,” I trail off, sitting up to look at her. “Did you think I died?”

   Sasha shakes her head, kicking the door closed just as Connie and Jean try to walk in behind her. “No,” she mutters. Plopping down beside me, she looks over me. “Just thought maybe you’d passed out.”

   “Check my eyes,” I remind her. Sasha nods and leans in, forcing open my eyes with her fingers. 

   “...your eye-holes seem to be fine.”

   “...my pupils?”

   “Eye-holes. Same thing.”

   I know Sasha’s joking but by the look on Reiner’s face, he does not.

   “She’s only kidding, love,” I whisper as I take his hand. “She knows the basics.”

   “Yep,” Sasha agrees, digging through the pile of medical supplies she brought in. “And you don’t have a concussion- and that thing on your head doesn’t need stitches- it should heal in a week or so... so you’re good to go after I clean it… ha!” She snatches a bottle of saline and a bandage. “You’ll be all good in no time, __________. Trust me.”

   I’m the one that taught her. Why don’t I trust her?

   “You awake?”

   I focus back in on the now. The present. My surroundings. 

   Scattered trees and hills to the right. Denser trees on my left. Two horses trailing behind me. No flares from either direction. Reiner just in front of me. 

   “Always am.”

   “Good.” He starts to pull back on his horse, levelling off with me. “How’s your head?”

   Instinctively, I reach up and graze the bandage. “I don’t feel anything.”

   “Good.”

   “...are you okay?” I ask, looking over at him. His skin is pale and flushed pink with a slight tinge to his ears. “Here. Drink some.” Unbuckling my flask, I hand it to him. 

   ...and he downs the entire thing before handing it back to me. 

   “Rei, are you sick?”

   “No, I just-”

   “Well, love, you look like you’re either about to shit yourself or vomit,” I laugh worriedly, “Are you sure?”

   “__________, listen, I…,” he sighs and looks away. He’s even more red now. 

   I nudge him with my elbow. “I’m listening.” I smirk, stirrupping Horse again. My eyes turn to the horizon, scanning for any flares or anything that approaches us.

   Reiner returns my smile and sighs shakily. “I wanna-”

   Something appears in the distance. “What is that?” I mumble, staring at the thing. “Do you see it?” I point. “That.”

    Reiner looks at the thing, squinting. “I… I can’t tell.”

   “Should we fire a flare off?” I ask, reaching to my saddlebag. “Just in case?”

   “Just… hang on-”

   He stops just as the thing changes form, moving closer towards us and faster. 

   It takes shape as it grows. Fourteen meters, blonde hair. 

   Female body type.

   My hands move on their own- throwing the canister into the gun, lifting it straight up, and firing. Red smoke fires out from the gun into the clouds. “Rei, we have to move!” I yell, turning the horses in towards the center of the formation. 

   I look over my shoulder, watching the two horses trail after Reiner. He stays going forward, heading right for it with glazed eyes. “Reiner!”

   My eyes follow his gaze as I bring Horse to a stop. They land on the Female Titan, who snatches something from mid-air and dropkicks it. Blood trails after the broken body and I watch ODM wires disconnect from the Female Titan’s body- following the body. 

   It’s… is it like Eren? A person inside it?

   “Reiner!” I scream again. 

   It gets his attention. Snapping out of his daze, Reiner makes a sharp turn. 

   As he gets closer, I press my heels into Horse’s sides. “Ha!”

   Footsteps follow after us, thundering and quivering the very organs inside of me. My breath catches in my lungs as I feel it- her- getting closer. Gods. Gods, please. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.

   Something flashes at my side. With trembling force, a foot lands beside me- crushing one of the horses before it could even make a sound. 

   We’re going to die. Right now, we are going to die. 

   I wince, waiting for her to reach down and crush me in her hand. Reiner yells something but it’s lost in the frantic whinnies of our horses, the pounding of my heart, the panting of my lungs. When it reaches me, it’s blurred together like the colors in my eyes.

   ‘I’ve gotten hurt’ is what it sounds like. 

   Gods, please. Spare us.

   My fists clutch the reins as I look up. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fourteen meters. This is what will kill me. 

   The Female Titan’s other foot collides with the earth beside me. All at once, sounds and colors and shapes retract into their determined forms. Everything flushes back into focus as the Female Titan takes another step away from us. I watch as she continues sprinting towards the center- leaving us in her wake. Her head turns to look over her shoulder before she presses forward. 

   Right to Armin.

   “Rei!” I yell, sticking Horse again. “She’s gonna hit Armin! She’s headed right for him!” 

   “C’mon!” He yells back, appearing at my side.

   “This is the job we chose, right?” Jean snaps, “So lend me a hand!” 

   The rest of us are silent. Only hoofbeats and footsteps resound around us. Silently, Armin pulls his hood up over his head. “...pull your hoods up. Over your heads- far down enough so she can’t see your face.”

   “You’re thinking she won’t kill anyone that could be Eren,” Reiner mutters, tugging his hood up over his head. “...that’s a nice, but small, consolation… Let’s hope she has bad eyes, too.”

   Jean shakes his head, laughing. “I was always creeped out the way you used to hang around Eren so much,” he mutters as he pulls his hood up. “But I always knew you were capable.”

  “...‘creeped out’ is a little harsh but thanks,” Armin mumbles.

   Feeling the three pairs of eyes on me, I tug my hood up as well. “...I always knew I’d die next to you three bastards.”

  “Well. If we don’t,” Reiner chuckles, “We’ll throw a big party ‘nd get married.”

  “Oh yeah,” I scoff, pulling my swords out from their holsters. “We’ll have a big ol’ buffet ‘nd everything. I’ll even have a live band play for us.”

   “You two lovebirds over there still squawking?” Jean barks, leaning forward to glare at us. 

   “Will you shut up for a minute?” Reiner shoots back, “I’m… Kinda doin’ something.”

   “You can ‘kinda do something’ after this!” Jean yells, “We’re not dying today.”

   “Fine!” I snap, “I’m not spending my last moments fighting with you two morons! Let’s just do this. Delay her as long as we can- by any means necessary. Got it?!”

   The three grunt in agreement. “Jean, go to her left,” Reiner starts, “Armin, you go to her right. __________, you-”

   “I’m going with Armin!” I whip my reins and follow after Armin as he heads to the Female Titan’s right hand side. 

   We level off just behind her. “She’s much slower than when she attacked me!” Armin comments, “If we’re going to do this, it has to be now!”

   “Wait for Jean!” I yell, “He’s the best out of us with ODM gear. If he can get a good angle on her, it’ll be us being his support!” 

   A flash shoots out, launching into the Female Titan’s leg. Jean flies in behind it with his swords readied. The Titan crouches down and spins- flinging Jean. Armin and I get to our feet and stand on our horses’ backs. As my wires stick into the Female Titan’s leg, I give Horse a tap of my heel that sends him running away from the Titan. 

   Something swipes just under my legs. Everything around me slows as I watch the Titan’s hand bat Armin’s horse out from underneath him. His name leaves my lips the same way it did when Shiganshina fell. Breathless. Screeching. Desperate. “Armin!”

   “__________!” Reiner’s voice carries out over my own. 

   Before I can do anything, I feel something crack against my back. I’m pushed forward- colliding with the earth and rolling for a few feet. Landing on my back, I stare up in a daze at the clouds. 

   Aching pain crawls through my veins- igniting my muscles in throbbing, squeezing pain. My back arches as I take long, hard breaths to stop my heart from pounding in my ears. It does nothing but amplify the sound as I feel my lungs burn and the cages around them scream in agony. 

   Broken ribs. At least a few on each side. 

   Certain slices and patches of my skin burn from the contact with the ground. Minor scratches, bruises, friction burns.

   I’ll live. If she doesn’t finish me off. 

   Time begins to speed up again- her footsteps not taking so long to hit the ground as they get closer. Clouds seem to flurry past and my heartbeat begins to race once more. 

   The fight isn’t done yet. 

   I push myself to my feet, feeling every ache, every pain, every burn a million times over. 

   The fight isn’t done yet. 

   I’m not done yet. 

   The Female Titan tightens her fist, preparing to swing backwards at Jean. Breaking out into a sprint, I click my triggers and shoot my wires into the ground, allowing me to run faster. A blur of gold and green starts towards the Titan as I do- catching me attention so I stutter and stop. 

   Reiner. 

   Teeth gritted, eyes blazing, blades glinting.   He’s going for her nape.

   Armin’s yelling something. The Titan stays completely still as he continues screaming. 

   And then she snaps. 

   She catches Reiner’s body in her hand. 

   My heart stops. Blood stops. Lungs stop. 

   Everything. 

   Stops.

   “...no.” 

   Chills run down my spine- dull and weak. Nothing like adrenaline. 

   Fear.

   “No… no.”

   I shake my head, watching as Reiner’s body disappears in her grasp. 

   Someone grabs my waist, tugs me away. “No!” I scream, thrashing around as everything starts to move again. “No!” 

   “__________!” Jean yells, pulling me away. “We have to go!” 

   A blur of metal spins out from her grip, severing her fingers off from the base of her palm. Reiner pushes out and around her back. Grabbing Armin, he sprints away from her and towards us. 

   The four of us break out into a sprint as she stares down at her palm. She gets to her feet and runs away from us- her hand still steaming. 

   Something breaks inside of me. Tears start running down my face as Reiner sidles up next to me. Armin- bleeding from his forehead- is in his arms. Titan blood evaporates off of Reiner’s hair and shoulders as he looks down at me. “We’ll be okay! She won’t eat us unless she’s a cannibal! We-”

   I cut him off, punching his shoulder as hard as I can. “Don’t you ever pull that shit again, Reiner Braun!” I snap, furiously wiping the tears rolling down my face. “I swear on the walls, I… I will kill you myself if you do, do you hear me?! You scared the shit outta me! I… I thought I lost you.”

   Reiner laughs breathlessly. “I told you, darling. We haven’t gotten married, yet. I can’t die until that happens.”

   “We aren’t leaving anyone behind,” I snap, tightening Armin’s bandages. “None of that, you hear me?”

   “We might not have a choice,” Armin mutters, “If we all stay behind, we might all-”

   “I said no!” 

   The three of us go silent as Jean continues whistling for his horse. 

   But the question still hangs in the air. 

   Who’s going to stay behind?

   There’s only one horse- there’s four of us. If somehow one of us gets our horse back, we’ll be able to get out of here but until then… We’re stranded in Titan country without a means of escape. 

   “We have to talk about it,” Reiner says quietly. 

   “No,” I get to my feet and shake my head. “No. We don’t.”

   “__________-”

  I hold up a hand to stop him, “Don’t.” Turning to Jean, I gesture to his bag. “You have an emergency flare, yeah?”

   Jean nods and gets it out, loading it into his gun. Shooting it into the sky, purple smoke trails up from our location. 

   It’s a long shot, but they might get the message. 

   “We can wait three more minutes,” Reiner says firmly. “During then, we’ll decide who’s gonna-”

  “I’ll stay.” My head snaps to Armin. “Just get a message to the command section- to Commander Erwin, if you can.”

   “I’m staying, too, then.”

   “__________, no-” Reiner starts. 

   “I don’t want to hear it, Rei,” I mumble, “Please. I don’t… I don’t want to hear it but look. We’re both injured. Armin’s got a possible concussion and he’s bleeding. I’ve broken half a dozen ribs and I’ve got more bruises than I know what to do with. If anyone’s staying it’s-”

   “Neither of you,” Jean laughs, “Someone’s coming this way with three horses.” The three of us look over to him as he shades his face from the sun. “I think it’s… It looks like… Christa!”

   “Guys!” Christa’s dainty voice rings out as she approaches, “Are you okay?!”

   I huff a laugh, “Define ‘okay’, blondie!” 

   “If __________’s still cracking jokes, she’s still alive, right?” Christa laughs, coming to a stop just in front of us. The three horses surrounding her skid to a stop. 

   Horse trots up to me, nudging me with his nose. “Hey there, Horse,” I mutter, pressing my head against his. “Ya miss me?”

   “What happened to you guys?” Christa asks as she looks over me. “You look awful.”

  “Aw, gee, thanks, blondie,” I giggle, “I feel awful.”

   Christa’s soft face tightens slightly in concern. “...you’re sure you’ll be okay riding alone? Your horse… I dunno his name… but he seems to run alongside me pretty well- even without a harness.”

   “Yeah, that’s him, alright,” I mumble, rubbing Horse’s nose. “But I think I’ll be alright.”

   “...I’m with Christa,” Jean says warily, “You broke six ribs.”

   “What?!” Christa screeches. “Six?! No, ma’am! You’re riding with me or with Jean! Six ribs- what were you thinking?!”

   I shrug. “I’ve done worse.”

   “Worse?!” 

   Oops. Shouldn’t have said that.

   Christa sighs, pinching her eyes closed. “Fine. The past is the past. I can’t change it. But you- right now- are going to ride with Jean or me. Pick one.”

   “Yes, Your Majesty,” I mumble with a smirk. “I’ll ride with you. Give the boys a little show, how ‘bout that?”

   Christa turns a light shade of pink as Reiner helps me sit on top of Christa’s horse. “You behave,” Reiner mutters with a stern look. 

   But I can see it. 

   A little mischievous smirk plays his lips as he pulls away. 

   “Yes sir,” I coo, “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

   The four of us start off towards the center. “What’s your horse’s name?” Christa asks. “He really seems to like you. Before, I couldn’t get him to hold still- then, when I said your name, he calmed down and followed us perfectly fine.”

   “...I just call him Horse.”

   “...oh…”

   I sigh and turn around to watch as Horse gallops. Cream-colored coat hiding thick muscles that twitch and writhe. Dots- freckles- that spatter his coat. His black mane whips about in the wind. 

   “Freckles,” I say quietly. 

   “What?”

   “Freckles. That’s his name.”

   I groan, letting my head fall back as my legs swing off the tree branch. “Rei, we’ve been sitting here for hours and you haven’t said a word to me,” my lip juts out in a pout, “Please talk to me.”

   Reiner grumbles under his breath. His arms cross over his chest as he sits on the farest end of the tree branch away from me. 

   “Baby,” I whine, “you aren’t still mad at me for-”

   “Yes, I’m still mad at you for being a tease. And we’ve been out here an hour. Hour and a half, tops.”

   “Tch,” I groan again, “Baby, it was just a joke. I didn’t mean to drop my ring.” I hold my hand out in the sun to look at my moonstone ring as it glistens. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

   “...you dropped it three times before we got up here.”

  “I would never do anything to tease you.” Reiner raises an eyebrow and I roll my eyes. “On a mission.”

   Rei’s shoulders lose some of their tension. “...you really didn’t mean to?”

   “Of course not, baby,” I coo softly. “Not on a mission.”

   Reiner sighs and rolls his eyes before getting to his feet. Wordlessly, he plops down beside me and lays his hand over mine on the branch. “You only call me ‘baby’ when you’re guilty,” he murmurs into the shell of my ear. “...so I forgive you.”

   “Oh good, you caught on,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow.

   “Easy, there, girl,” he huffs, “you’re still on thin ice.”

  “You can’t stay mad at me,” I turn to face him and flash him a face-splitting smile. “I’m your darling.”

   “...you’re right,” Rei laughs softly. “I could never.”

   The two of us fall into a comfortable- buzzing with adrenaline but still comfortable- silence. I lean forward to look at the Titans gathered at the base of our tree, clawing and gripping the bark in an attempt to get to us. Hungrily, they salivate and stare up at us with glazed eyes.

   The Female Titan. Why is she doing what she was? If she’s human, wouldn’t she want the walls to remain? They keep us safe for the time being. The outside world isn’t ready for us to break down our walls. And if she does want the walls gone, why? 

   And who is she?

   “...are you listening?”

   “Hm?” I ask, leaning back. “No, I’m sorry, I was just…,” my eyes flick down to the Titans, “...lost in thought.”

   “I was just asking how your sides are.”

   My fingers rub against my sides. They aren’t sore, they don’t hurt. I’ve always healed fast but knowing how long it’s supposed to take to heal sometimes, it’s… a little disconcerting. “I don’t feel anything.”

   “...you’re better already?”

   I shrug, “It could just be adrenaline. Or maybe they weren’t as badly broken as we thought they were. Bruising and breaks are really similar…”

   Reiner hums in acknowledgment. “As long as you feel okay. When we get back, I’m still getting you checked out.”

   “Yes sir.”

   I lean over the side of the branch to see the Titans again. “It’s strange that we weren’t directed around the forest.” I comment quietly, leaning over more before my ODM wire locks into place.

   “...Iyeah,” Reiner mutters, “Why wouldn’t we just go around?”

   “I dunno,” I strain, slightly jiggling the wire a bit. “But do you think it was on purpose?”

   “It’s Commander Erwin,” Rei chuckles, “Of course it was.”

   “That’s true… I just… It’s so hard for us to see threats coming in,” I grip the wire and tug harder. “So why send them in?”

   “Assuming he knows of the right flank casualties, we should’ve retreated a long time ago,” he mutters, “But we’re here and the center flank is somewhere in the trees.”

   “Which is also weird, right?” I ask, yanking on the wire even harder. “I mean, if we are gonna go in, why not-”

   The wire snaps out of the branch. The force of me pulling sends me over the edge of the branch. I watch as the wire extends rapidly- reeling me down towards the Titans’ grasps. Reiner runs to the end, reaching out to grab my hand. 

   But it’s too late. 

   A hand wraps around my body and pulls, unlatching my ODM wire from the tree. It starts to tighten as it turns me around to face it. My eyes lock onto it and I scream, thrashing around wildly. My arms are pinned in its hold- trapped against the steel of my ODM blade holsters and the clammy flesh wrapped around me. 

   Another Titan stares at me hungrily. As I look at it, red light starts to pour from its eyes like fog. Without warning, it lunges. I wince and duck away- waiting to be engulfed in moist darkness. 

   It doesn’t come. It’s replaced with an unearthly howl of pain and the sound of tearing flesh. 

   The grip around me falls away and as I’m spun in a free-fall, I catch glimpses of the scene above me. Red fog pours from the Titans’ eyes as they all latch onto the Titan that grabbed me. Bite by bite, they tear into the searing flesh of the Titan and devour the steaming chunks of bleeding meat. 

   They’re… eating it. 

   The red fog. 

   It was real. 

   My body stops, swinging up before I hit the forest floor. As we land on another branch, Reiner hugs me to his body tightly. “You scared the shit out of me,” he says raggedly. I feel tears drip onto my shoulder. But I don’t look at him- even as he pulls away, gripping my shoulders. 

   My eyes are focused on the fog swirling through the bodies of the Titans.

   What the Hell is it? 

   Why does it keep following me?

   Why does it keep saving me?

   “...__________!”

   I’m pulled back into my body- away from the grasping hands of the Titans that force muscles and tendons and organs down their throats. Blankly, I stare at Reiner. “What happened?” he asks quietly, looking over his shoulder at the Titans. “Are you-”

   A scream rips out of my throat as I look down at my hands. My fingers start to rake through my skin, clawing for the source of the red fog. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get. It. Out. 

   Reiner’s hands fumble with mine as they try to stop me from continuing the hurried slicing of my skin. “Darling, darling,” he says calmly as he grabs my wrists, “Darling, hey, look at me. Look at me.”

   Wildly, my eyes fly around my surroundings. 

   Get it out. Red fog. Red fog. I have to get it out. I have to find it.

   Red fog. I have to get it out. 

   Red fog. 

   “__________!” Reiner snaps, shaking me by my wrists, “Look at me!”

   My gaze settles on him but I can feel myself twitching and writhing in place. 

   Red fog. 

   Get it out. I have to get it out. 

   “...you’re okay,” he mumurs, “You’re okay now, okay, darling? You’re safe.”

   Tears burst from my eyes, leaking down my face as I roll my hands around from my wrists. Trembling violently, my body falls to the floor. Reiner catches me before I fall, scooping me up under my arms and holding me to him. 

   “There’s something... inside of me,” I strain, keeping down the screams wanting to claw their way out. My nails rake his back- threatening to rip through the fabric. “There is... something inside of me, Rei. I don’t know what it is. And I’m so scared, Rei. I just… I don’t… I don’t understand it. I… I don’t know... what it is. There’s… There’s something inside of me, Reiner, please! Please, Rei! Take it out! Get it out of me!”

WHEW 

a doozy like i said. if you made it this far, i am so proud of you. my short attention span could literally never. as always thank you so much for reading and i hope to hear your thoughts and comments! 

[homogrimoire-archive]

Kingfield's Fourth Anniversary - Day 2

Escapism / Memory & Wish

Dwight and David spend some peaceful time alone, and contemplate their future together.

AO3 Link

It was quiet. The sky was clear, imitation moon and stars bright above and an unnatural darkness 'round them. They were away from the campfire, laying together in the middle of a clearing of flowers.

They weren't cuddling together for warmth. The mistress of this simulation made it so they were never too hot or cold, unless by her or the killers' hands.

They were cuddling because they wanted to. Their fellow survivors wouldn't have known that though. They probably would have seen two good friends huddling for warmth, because maybe it did sometimes get at least little chilly. That's what they probably would have told themselves to avoid thinking the worst. David didn't care what they thought of him at the end of the day. Dwight did, and David understood why. Dwight was their leader. He was a rare boon to their lives, just as he was to David.

Either way, sometimes you just wanted someone to hold, wanted to be held. This place did that to even the coldest, toughest, and hardest of them. David was proof of that. There he was, curled up against Dwight, head resting on the shorter man's chest.

He just wanted to know that Dwight was alive with him, that there was someone who loved him. As Dwight mindlessly combed his fingers through his short hair, that feeling was reinforced.

David always thought he'd one day find a wife and settle down or something along those lines. Or die before that. He was living a rather dangerous life.

Dwight kinda though he'd maybe find a wife someday. Statistically, it was more likely. And also a safe move since he'd never have to out himself. He could keep his secret forever and ever. Even so, he wanted to be able to find a husband if he wanted to. Hell, just even having a boyfriend would have been nice.

Such was the world.

And somehow, this hell hole was slightly better. There was no grand society with cruel laws and high expectations to worry about. Just friends and acquaintances who Dwight didn't want to disappoint. They were his friends. He didn't want them to think less of him.

David didn't think of them as friends. They hadn't proven themselves to him yet like Dwight had first. He wanted them to be friends though.

So aside from that, there wasn't much to worry about compared to what they might've had to deal with back home for being who they were.

This place granted them this freedom in which they could be together without fear of retribution. But, they didn't want to stay in this place forever, for obvious reasons.

Thus, David's mind wandered to what they would do if they escaped. When they escaped. Dwight's efforts to instill that way of thought were working.

"Dwight?"

"What is it?" the leader wondered, slightly shifting his head down to look at his beloved brawler. David could feel the vibrations of his love's voice through his chest as he spoke.

"When we go back, what're we gonna do?" David asked.

"Oh. I… hadn't thought that far. Sorry." he apologized, suddenly taking his fingers out of David's hair.

"Don't be. I honestly 'aven't either. … You didn't 'ave to stop."

"So bossy!" Dwight chuckled as he went back to stroking the top of David's head. He never would have imagined David to like such affection so much.

A moment of quiet followed before David spoke up again.

"I think I know wot I want t'do first."

"And what's that?"

"Kiss you. I don't care who's around. The first thing I want to do when I see you again is kiss you."

"I... I'd like that." Dwight responded. The idea of such a thing terrified him. Yet, he'd love nothing more than for that to happen. He had a feeling he'd get caught up in the moment and kiss David too anyhow.

"Also wanna move in with ya. I'd like a fresh start somewhere new."

"We could get an apartment. We could move somewhere westward. I could use a new start too." Dwight said. Sure, he'd moved around a bit, but never really strayed away from the northern eastward states. He was used to colder climates, so he figured some place also north would be easy for him and David to adjust. Washington, the Dakotas, Montana, something like that.

"What kind of flat would you want?

"Something cheap, it doesn't really matter to me."

"No, what kinda flat do ya want ?"

"Oooh. Hmm… I want a place with at least one good sized bedroom. It has to be big enough to fit a huge bed. I'd like to have a bathroom that doesn't have mold on the ceiling for once, and neighbors that don't argue all night." Dwight listed with growing frustration. He than took a breath to calm himself. "Sorry. I'm just kinda venting now, aren't I?"

"I don't mind, luv. You've gotta 'ave someone you can talk to."

"Thanks David." Dwight smiled. He could never be so open with the others. They were his friends, but he was also their leader. Sure they'd all seen each other bloody, bruised, crying and mutilated, but still. "I think I'd also want a decent kitchen, and maybe a guest bedroom."

"And when there's no guest, it can be our sex dungeon." David joked. Dwight laughed as he lightly berated his boyfriend for his crudeness. He'd be lying if he said he hated it though.

"What about you? What do you want?"

"Nah, there isn't much I want. Long as I got you, I'm good."

"Oh come on! There has to be something else you want." Dwight pestered as he shifted to he and David were lying next to each other on their sides, face to face.

"Well… a bloody steady job'd be nice. Preferably not too dangerous this time around."

"I second that, a lot, actually. So, what else?" Dwight asked, looking lovingly at David and eager to hear what he had to say.

At that moment, David knew what he wanted more than anything. He felt himself blushing, and quickly turned away from Dwight. Shame, fear, embarrassment, he wasn't sure what made him do so.

"I… I'd like to… get married. Not right away of course. But someday. Have a home together. A family together." he admitted. It was said, the words he'd kept deep down in himself out in the open now like freshly blossomed dandelions in the wind.

He heard Dwight shimmy his way up against him, and felt Dwight embrace him from behind. He kissed David on his tattoo. He held onto one of Dwight's hands with his own, feeling a loving warmth.

"I'd like that too."

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 21

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Nothing much, just the usual. 

A/N: Hey, so, Saturday, also known as Halloween just so happens to be my birthday. So, naturally I will be taking that day off from writing to celebrate. Just as a warning! 

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer widened his eyes and rushed to the receiver, standing beside Hotch as the call was put on speaker. 

"Morgan-! Morgan, w-where are you?!" He asked hastily, his hands finding the edge of the table and gripping harshly. 

"Nngh… I… I think Charleston? The concussion I got from his damn gun isn't helping my vision much. I know we're in West Virginia. I got somebody to send Garcia some coordinates." Morgan explained in a tired voice. 

Spencer felt a heavy and relieving sigh leave his chest. Morgan managed to get free. That meant they had a good fighting chance to find you. 

Hotch nodded and began to gesture to JJ to talk to Garcia. "Thanks Morgan. Keep in touch and get some help-" 

"Hotch, that isn't it. She… I wasn't able to get out on my own. She… she made a deal for my freedom. She said she'd… consent." Morgan revealed, sending a shiver of shock running down his spine.  

Spencer’s eyes widened at Morgan’s reveal, feeling his heart break in his chest for you. If he wasn’t already showing it on the outside, he was grieving for you and the pain you had to go through.

"...what?" He asked. 

"You know what I mean, Reid. He already raped her once. Right in front of me and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. Just… just get here dammit. She doesn't have too much longer."

Hotch sighed. "Alright. We're on our way now. Just get some help for those injuries. We're unfortunately going to need you as a guide." 

Spencer was still in shock, his anger growing slightly as he made the promise to kill Peter if he got the chance. He had done the worst thing he could do to you. And Spencer was pissed. 

"Got it Hotch." Morgan replied, hanging up shortly after. 

"Wait!" 

Spencer looked up at the stairs, still seething from what he’d learned of your experience, and saw a frantic Garcia rushing down the stairs. "Wait! Did-Did he already hang up?" She asked. 

Prentiss nodded. Garcia whined and groaned. "Damn it. At least he's okay. I got the coordinates. It does in fact center in on the Charleston police station." Garcia informed. 

Spencer looked down, took a deep breath, and began to think, the gears moving in his head. Rossi looked up and raised an eyebrow. 

"I know that look. What you got, Reid?" He asked. 

Spencer bit his lip for a moment before he quickly opened his satchel bag. "Garcia, did you run those properties? Everything Peter’s ever purchased?" 

Garcia raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. But nothing stands out." 

"Well, narrow that down to properties bought in the last 5-6 months and near the Charleston area." Spencer urged. 

Garcia's eyes widened and she smiled at Spencer. "Goody gumdrops, this is why we call you the resident genius, g-man." She says, hurrying back up the stairs. "I'll call you guys with the info on the jet. Just get down there and find our other genius." Garcia insisted. 

Hotch nodded. "Right. Wheels up in ten. We need to get down there and fast. Like Morgan said, (Y/N) may not have much time before he relocates her. Or worse." 

At Hotch's final statement, the team dispersed to get their go-bags and gear to get on the jet. Each of the members had a determined look on their face. Spencer would be lying if he said that didn't comfort him even just a bit. 

Spencer hurried towards his desk and slung the strap of his go bag across his shoulder, rushing towards the jet before anyone else. But who could blame him? 

The rest of the team joined him one by one on the jet, each giving him their version of a look of pity. But Spencer wasn't paying attention, all he was doing, was trying to figure out how they planned to find you. 

"Hey…" Spencer heard. 

"Hey." He said quickly, never looking up from the seemingly interesting wood pattern of the table in front of him. 

"We're here if you need anything." JJ smiled down at Spencer as the plane began to take off. Spencer, still not looking up, just nodded and mumbled an incoherent form of 'yeah' 

JJ frowned, but didn't push it, taking her seat quickly. Prentiss sat a seat ahead of him, Rossi and Hotch being a few seats away across the walkway.  

Spencer never broke his concentration on the table, his mind wandering to each and every possible outcome for this. He didn't want to lose you. He'd already lost too many people. He couldn't lose you too. 

A single tear fell from his eye, encouraging him to close his eyes tiredly. He sighed gently, rubbing his thighs. 

Then, the thud of a chess set case echoed in front of him, jolting him from his concentration. Spencer quickly wiped away the tear, blinking a few times as he looked up to see who had dropped the set. 

Rossi leaned against the seat in front of Spencer and gestured towards it. "Mind if I join you?" He asked. 

Spencer took a moment before he nodded silently, trying to re-focus on reality. Rossi took the seat in front of Spencer and opened up the set, setting up the pieces with white in front of himself and black in front of Spencer. 

"You know, we can all see right through you." Rossi spoke casually, continuing his set up. 

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked. Rossi hummed for a moment, finishing up his set up. 

"We can all see how much you care for her. It's almost like you like her or something." Rossi teased gently, flashing a knowing look and a smirk at Spencer. 

"T-there was never an attempt to deceive you all, I-I do like her." Spencer answered, fumbling with the king piece he had subconsciously grabbed. 

"Oh?" Rossi replied, pausing for a moment. "You didn't say anything." 

"T-that's because statistically only 60% of all relationships end up working out. Especially those that start with very little time in the beginning to get to know each other. And… adding the fact that I am socially awkward, unable to flirt properly like Morgan has tried to teach me, and that I am increasing in age, the probability of anything working out between her and me are slim. I didn't want to rush into anything without being sure." Spencer rambled, gesturing with his hands as he nervously went through all of what he thought were aspects of why he wasn't made for you. 

Rossi raised an eyebrow as he took his first move. "Kid, you always listen to those statistics but never your heart. That's your problem. You know," Rossi began, beginning to talk in his story-telling tone. Spencer took his turn, trying to focus on both the conversation and the game. It was a little tough.  

"My second wife, she always told me that I worked too much. Wrote too much and never spent that much time with her. Though my heart kept saying I wanted to. I never listened. And now here I am, three wives down and a dozen books added to my collection. Don't be me, Kid. When we find her, you're gonna run to her, and hold her in your  arms again. If that feels right, holding her like that, she's the one." Rossi encouraged, taking a second move.  

Spencer’s eyes wandered over the board before quickly taking his next move and tanking three of Rossi's pawns. Rossi widened his eyes and nodded to Spencer, impressed. 

"I… I know I want to be with her Rossi. But I also know that, after traumatic events, it takes 6 months or more for a victim to recover and get back into their daily routines. Let alone start anything new. I don't want to add to her pain, or start our potential relationship on her thinking I'm using her. Or her just using me for comfort and then leaving me after she's better." Spencer debated, watching as Rossi took another turn. 

Spencer then spoke up. "Check." 

Rossi raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Reid, do you know her to be that type of person? To use someone for her own benefit?" He asked, taking his next move. 

"No…" he replied, taking his as well. 

"Then should you be worried about her doing so?" 

"No…" Spencer sighed, shaking his head as he watched Rossi take another turn. 

"Then don't worry about it. Just trust your gut. And follow your heart before it betrays you." Rossi says, taking his hand off of his piece. 

Spencer then moved his, and called out. "Checkmate." 

Rossi chuckled. "Well, you are the undefeated champion of the BAU. I should've expected that." He laughed. Spencer’s lips curled into a gentle smile.  

"You could do it, you just have to focus on the logic." Spencer says, smiling at Rossi. 

"Eh, who needs logic when you've got aged wine and some good pasta? Solves every problem." Rossi teased, beginning to get up. 

"Rossi, a-actually…" Spencer began. 

Rossi turned his head, facing Spencer and encouraging him to continue. 

Spencer sighed. "Would you mind playing one more round? It… it's helping me clear my head." 

Rossi smiled and nodded. "Sure. I haven't gotten my butt kicked enough yet today." 

Spencer chuckled gently, and helped Rossi begin another game. He was still worried about you, but you were going to be okay. He… had to trust his heart. 

○●♡●○ 

You bit your lip as he finished, exhaling long and hard. He sounded satisfied. You knew he was. You hadn't fought him. You hadn't moaned either. Sure, you still felt the effect of what he was doing to you, but the horror and the pain overwhelmed the faint pleasure you had felt. 

Peter pulled himself from you and fastened his pants back, leaving you against the wall. "That was amazing… better than the first time. Such a slut for me." He slurs, causing a painful shiver to run down your spine towards your bruised core. 

You looked towards the wall, refusing to look at him or let him see you cry. He didn't deserve to. Nor would he get the pleasure. 

"Oh come on, you liked it." He insisted, standing up and rebuttoning his pants. 

You still refuse to reply, your bottom lip quivering softly. Peter rolled his eyes and kicked your shin, causing you to cry out in sudden pain. 

"Such a weak thing. Big ol' FBI agent? Pathetic." Peter snarled as he pulled a gun from his back pocket. You looked up at him, fearful of your life. 

"W-what… what are you going to do with that?" You ask, trying to mask your fear. 

"What do you think, bitch? I had to let that bastard go so I could get you to listen. Now, I gotta go kill him so nobody ever finds you. Just relax, I'll be back for round two." Peter grinned, not missing the crack in your voice or the sob that came from your throat. 

The cellar door slammed, and you curled up your weakening body. You then began to silently cry. All of this would soon be for nothing if Morgan didn't get somewhere else in time. You felt hopeless and alone. Not even thinking of the dance you had invited Spencer to was able to calm you. All you could do was cry, and hope to whatever God there was that you'd make it to see the other side. 

○●♡●○ 

Morgan sighed and winced as the medic bandaged his leg properly. "Watch it man, I still need that leg to find my friend." He hissed. The medic nodded his apologies and continued his first aid. 

It wasn't long after that the doors of the police station opened, and in walked his entire team. Hotch and Reid were the first ones to approach Morgan. 

"Hey… how're you feeling?" Hotch asked. 

"Eh… like I got hit by a semi truck. Twice. But I'll live. What do you all got?"  

"Garcia and I narrowed down Peter's properties and found he purchased a large portion of land nearby in the last 5-6 months. He also had work done on it to build a cellar." Spencer explained. 

"That's gotta be where he held us. I was only able to see the way we got there from the car. Couldn't tell you the directions to the place though. I can take you all back to the cellar though. If I retrace my steps." Morgan assured, adjusting his position. The medic continued to fuss over Morgan, trying to keep him still so that they could work. 

"Morgan, if you can't walk or are unable to help us, you'll be the best help here getting as much rest as you can-" Hotch began. 

"I ain't a vegetable Hotch! If I can get up and I can walk, I'm gonna go with you. I want to help you all get justice served to this bastard on a silver fucking plate." Derek seethed, his hands forming fists at his sides. 

Hotch sighed and nodded, knowing it would be of no use to argue with Morgan now. "Alright, just let us know if you need to take a break." He assures before he begins getting the police and the SWAT team ready to search the woods. 

Spencer began to turn to do the same, before Morgan grabbed his hand, pulling him back. Spencer raised an eyebrow, a bit confused by the action. 

"Reid… kid… I gotta warn you… she's not in the best mental state. She's gonna try and get away from you at first. She's...not going to look her best is what I'm saying." Derek sighed, letting his hand fall. 

Spencer nodded. "Of course. I-I'll try and calm her before I approach her. Promise." He says, flashing Morgan a gentle smile. 

"And… one more thing…" Spencer added, sighing gently. Morgan looked up at the younger man, encouraging him to continue. 

"Is she… does she blame me at all? Is she injured fatally? Anything I need to know?" He asked, beginning to ramble his worries. 

"Pretty boy… calm down for a minute. No, she doesn't blame you. She's gonna be hurt, but not that bad. She's sick though. Probably an infection causing her fever." Morgan answered, rubbing Spencer’s lower arm. 

Spencer sighed in relief and closed his eyes. "Thank you." 

"'Course. Now come on, let's go find her and bring that asshole to Justice." Morgan enthused, slowly rising to his feet and beginning to limp towards the exit. 

○●♡●○ 

"Are you sure it's nearby, Morgan?" Hotch asked, aiding Morgan in walking through the woods. Spencer was ahead of them, looking for anything that resembled a cellar door that Morgan had described. 

"Yes, I recognize the gravel trail. There was a ton of it, that's how we knew he was coming. The rumble of the gravel." Derek insisted, wincing as he put all of his weight on his bad foot for a moment to climb up the slight hill. 

Spencer urgently looked to and fro for any sign of a cellar or even some brush that looked out of place. He heard the feet of the search dogs behind them, breaking his concentration for a few moments. 

Spencer shook his head and sighed, wishing he had better navigation skills. Then, he spotted an area of gravel that began to collect together. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before he slowly advanced towards the northside of the rock that prevented him from seeing the rest of the gravel. The team thankfully followed behind him, preventing him from having to instruct them on where he was going. He pulled out his gun slowly and aimed it in front of him as he advanced forward. 

It took him a few minutes, as the rock had turned into a large hill that was just on an incline. But as soon as he reached the bottom, he saw the wooden door. He rushed over to the door, trying the handle only to find it locked. 

The team met up with him and saw his struggle. "Is it locked?" Hotch asked. 

"Yes, just… Hotch?" He asked, looking to his boss pleadingly. He was so close, so damn close. One door couldn't be the dividing force. He wasn't going to lose you over a damn locked door. 

Hotch sighed and rolled up his sleeves, nodding to Spencer. "Move out of the way, Reid." He says. Spencer does so, and not a minute later Hotch kicks the door in and the cellar is soon filled with the team. 

"FBI!" Hotch called. 

You shrieked and began to shrink into the corner as much as you could, pulling on your chains as they came in. "P-please! P-please don't do it again! I-I don't want it! I don't want to, please!" You beg while sobbing, holding up two hands in front of your face to prevent being hit. It broke Spencer’s heart to see you so terrified. 

Hotch shared a glance with Spencer, earning a gesture from Spencer that meant 'wait'. 

Spencer then slowly approached you, not even trying to keep his tears from falling. "Hey… I'm not going to hurt you, (Y/N/N). Promise." 

You slowly moved your hands, shivering in fear. Spencer finally reached you and gently touched your hands with his warm ones, finding yours extremely cold. "See? You don't have to be afraid of me." He tightened his hold on your hands, rubbing his thumbs against your cold fingers. "Let's get you out of here, okay? I'm a doctor, you can trust me." He looked into your eyes with hope that you would see the truth in them. And he thinks you did. 

You bite your lip and finally give him a good look. You saw his tear-stained face and his worried eyes, feeling a deep realization fill your body. Your mind's haze finally began to lift, and you recognized him again. You felt your eyes fill with tears, blurring your vision. You then immediately pulled him closer to you, albeit slowly. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, as much as the chains would allow. 

"S-spence… y-you found me…" you whisper hoarsely, trying not to sob. Spencer bit his lip and smiled happily, holding you close to his chest. He held a hand to your back and cradled your head with the other. 

"Yeah… I did…" he whispered. He turned his head towards Hotch and gestured towards your shackles. He mouthed the word 'keys' before he turned back to you. Hotch nodded, and quickly found the keys on the hook. 

Morgan took the keys from Hotch and came towards Reid and you. 

You turned your head and let out a relieved gasp and sob as you see Morgan approach you, still holding onto Spencer as you did. 

"Y-you're alive…" you whispered, smiling gently. He nodded, taking the key and unlocking both of your shackles. 

"I am, kid." He says. 

Once you felt your heart stop pounding, you also felt an exhaustion wash over you. You slowly close your eyes, laying in Spencer’s arms as you fell into a healing sleep. 

Spencer smiled down at you, the smile quickly fading as he saw the numerous injuries that littered your body. He adjusted your form and began to carry you bridal style. Your head immediately leaned towards his chest, making his heart swell for a few moments. You were extremely warm to the touch other than your fingers and feet. He knew he'd have to get you to a hospital for medical attention quickly. 

But for right now, you were safe. Even if Peter was still out there. But you were safe. That was all that mattered to him. 

[aro-culture-is]

terf spotting part 2

okay, so I figured it’s time to upgrade your terf-spotting toolbox. Pro-tip: apply these to EVERY POST ABOUT FEMINISM and you'll catch 90% of the TERFs on your dashboard

binary language is the biggest red flag. if a post refers to only men/women, you need to check it. seriously. anything that has “men are like...” “while women are...” is so so likely to be a terf.

check the urls. a huge amount of these assholes are obvious. look for words like “rad”, “womyn/wombyn”, “terf”, “female”, anything related to vulva/vagina/etc, and to a lesser degree goddesses, typically named, such as aphrodite or artemis

step one: look at their description.

does it include terf, swerf, radfem, tradfem, gender critical, nonbinary skeptic, or anything like that? at minimum they’re a transphobe. swerfs are very rarely not transphobic but like... do you really think they’re better than terfs? it’s just a slightly different pathway into being a terf usually. also, 2nd wave feminism = feminism minus trans acceptance (this is simplified). if they’re a “2nd wave feminist” they’re transphobic.

if it seems to give off a huge “women are superior” vibe, that’s more suspicious than not. words like misandrist pop up, and it might seem innocent to someone who isn’t used to terf-hunting

lastly, if anything else flags your attention, take note. a lot of “baby radfems” so to speak are exclus or mention “cishet” in the aphobic way.

step two: search their blog

whatever words you think will give you an idea of their attitude, look for that. common: “trans”, “transgender”, “gender”, “radical feminism”, “feminism”, “terf safe”, etc are tags you can check. if tumblr refuses to search for whatever reason, skip to step two and a half

look at the posts with a critical eye. sometimes this is easy - they reblog a transphobic comment that is easy to recognize as such (esp if you are trans. cis people, i’ll list more ways to recognize it), comment it, etc. sometimes, this is harder. does every post not directly imply transphobia, but constantly criticize trans people? hmm. what could that imply? (hint: transphobia) does every post involving a trans person talk down to them, describe them as confused, refer to how sad transitioning is, etc? or maybe there’s a shocking number of posts about detransitioning with some “good” looking sources? (detransitioning is, statistically, almost always because the person in question experienced so much transphobia after beginning to transition that they stopped for their safety. most of these link to a shitty study that labeled non-answers as detransitioned people). be critical of patterns.

step two and a half: searching for transphobia didn’t give a clear answer

if searching didn’t clunk out, look for other bigotry; these people rarely choose one minority to hate. often they tend to want a straight/gay only view of the world, so biphobia, panphobia, queerphobia, aphobia, and such are other avenues to check. search terms relating to those - “bi”, “pansexual”, “queer”, “asexual” - and read them critically. ask yourself what tendencies are shown in these posts.

if searching clunked out: try briefly scrolling through their blog. the easy avenue is that they reblog from a variety of blogs that do have these sorts of things clearly labelled - if every post includes a url that you’d want to check according to step one, it’s safe to assume this is a feminism to terf pipeline blog. 

if nothing continues to jump out, decide where your instincts lie - if you’re wary despite this, don’t reblog a post they’re in! 

step three: do something about it

okay, they’re a bigot. now what?

if there are other people on the post who seem suspicious, and there often are, do this for each. you’ll get good at doing it quick.

you’re gonna take a deep breath with me first. try breathing in for a count of 4 (however fast you want), hold for 4, out for 4, and hold for 4. repeat 4 times. 

you’re gonna send this post to whoever reblogged it via messaging / asks / submit if you can, and tell them what you found. ask if they can delete it, or if you’re a little concerned about the person you’re sending it to, leave it with that. see how they respond. if you’re feeling especially brave, ask them to do the same for the person they reblogged it from. destroy the distribution of the words of a terf at their source.

hopefully they delete it or offer to - if they don’t, ask if you didn’t, and if they refuse, be cautious. don’t assume they’re transphobic or get defensive - explain that this is how transphobes on tumblr recruit. they sneak onto posts about feminism to target new feminists and convince them that trans people are destroying feminism, and that it’s important to give them no platform. if someone consistently gives transphobes a platform to speak on. as a trans person, I will assume that you are not an ally at best and one of them at worst. feel free to quote me on that. 

if they delete it - great! good job :) offer resources like this post if they seem friendly and genuinely interested in no-platforming transphobes

if they don’t - okay. you’ve got a decision here. check their blog from step one first, and unfollow and block them if needed. if it seems like this is the only type of suspicious post, go with your instinct. unfollow for your health, send it directly to whoever they reblogged it from and see if you can bridge that gap, or a bunch of other options. do what you think is best, but NEVER send threats, never send messages from a place of anger, and never interact with someone who drains you on tumblr. 

This is a basic formula I follow, and it works pretty damn well. If you have the Shinigami eyes extension for chrome or firefox, right click on the bigoted post where their username is, or on their title if the description speaks for itself, and mark them as transphobic. exercise caution - if you are a minor, don’t interact with blogs you aren’t comfortable interacting with especially. 

and remember: posts about feminism are where they hide. feminism =/= good if it’s transphobic garbage masquerading as feminism now. 

if you are someone who used to be in some way transphobic or otherwise bigoted, please double check your blog for those posts, delete them, and post that you did so because you no longer agree with those views.