#at least we did get to see the eyefucker in full but like ...

[drowsemp3]

actually tbh i'm kind of upset that they pulled back a couple of times... like the eyefucker 3000 being a dream sequence and then not getting to see henry's trap at the end? like come on man ....

[carousel-crows]

5. Slider and Goose set them up

Anything for you doomsday :)

Prompt #5: Set Up

cw: swearing, implied sex

——

“Sli, they did it again.”

“Oh god. At least let me get drunk first.”

“It was like a full-ass eyefuck, too. Ice was all up in his face ‘n shit, snapped his teeth. If this keeps happening, I might throw up.” Goose flopped down on the sofa next to Slider, drinks in hand. 

Slider sighed and took a swig. “Maybe we should lock ‘em in a room together till they either kill each other or fuck.”

Goose laughs loudly. “You know, I think you're onto something here.”

Slider turns to Goose, deadpan. “I was only half-joking, Nick.”

Oh shit, what had he gotten himself into.

———

“Ice, you gotta come see this thing I found.” 

“What is it, Sli, another plaque?”

“Well, it's in this classroom.”

Ice sighed and followed him up the stairs.Why they hadn't taken the elevator, Ice didn't know. Maybe Sli wanted exercise or something. 

Ice trailed Slider as he led him into a small classroom. “What the fuck is so interesting that it needed to be hidden away?”

“You'll see.” Slider chuckled and opened the door for Ice.

The room was just another classroom… There was nothing special about this room. What the hell?

“Sli, what—?”

“You two need to figure your shit out.”

Ice turned to see Maverick barreled through the door. He saw that Goose and Slider were standing outside the door as it closed. The lock clicked. Footsteps growing more distant.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“To hell if I know, Maverick.”

“This wasn't one of your schemes? That's a first, the Iceman himself surprised.”

Ice scoffed and turned toward the room’s window, even though the blinds were closed. “I don't know what your problem is, but it's clearly not my fault our RIOs locked us in a room.”

He turned back to Mav, who stared at him. “What?”

Mav crossed the room in a flash, eyes flaring. Ice doesn't do anything till Mav shoves him, hard. 

“What the fuck, Mav?”

“You're such a dick.” Mav tries to shove him again, but Ice catches him and holds his shirt. 

Ice snaps his teeth. “And you're a brat. You think you can get whatever you want because you're sexy.”

They're so close. Both flushed and panting, adrenaline pumping, Mav moves again and Ice thinks he's gonna punch him, but Mav just kisses him right on the lips. There's no softness, it's all teeth and tongue. A fight for dominance.

Alright, if the bastard wants a battle, then a battle he'll get.

Ice leans down and grabs Maverick's thighs, hard enough to leave a bruise. He picks up Mav easily. Mav hooks his legs against Ice’s waist quickly, pushing his lips against Ice ravenously. 

———

“Come on, man it's been 20 minutes, don't you think we should go check on them?”

“Do we gotta? I kinda like this ‘peace and quiet’ thing.”

Goose begins to pace, worried. “But what if they actually did kill each other?”

“Chill, Mother Goose, we’ll go. Just give ‘em a little bit.”

“Nope, I'm going now.”

“Fine. God, Goose, you're so dramatic.”

They walk down the hallway to the locked classroom, nervous. It's dead silent. Slider unlocks and opens the door. Ice and Mav are sitting on the floor, rumpled, flushed, and tired. They're grinning like idiots at each other. 

“Y'all good?” Slider is smirking.

“Yeah, bitch, real good.” Mav glances at Slider and Goose before getting lost in Ice's eyes again.

“Oh my god, did you guys—?” Goose pales.

“Your fault.” Ice looks dazed.

“How—”

“Y'all are the ones who locked us in here.” 

“We didn't expect you two to fuck like horny teenagers!”

Ice laughs at that. “Have you met Pete?”

Pete turns, offended. “You were the one that called me sexy!”

Slider sighs. “Oh my god if you two start fight again, I'm locking you in here over the weekend.”

 “No!”

——

[sinsandsuccubus]

Bf!Urban Things

Masterlist ☽ ☾

                                         

                                          ☽ ☾

SFW

Would have a memory card full of photos of you, and only you

“Hold on ma, let me get my camera, you look great at this angle”

“Urby, I just woke up?”

“Okay? I said hold still.”

Would have a smoke competition between the two of you (if you’re into that)

“You’re talking to the same guy who took a photo with multiple blunts in his mouth, you think I can’t out smoke you ma?”

Buys you a blunt holder so your acrylics don’t get dirty

Has a rolling tray that was a bunch of photos (that he took) of the two of you

Would love to see you in his clothes

“Okay, but ma, you look so pretty in this.”

“Why do you look so much better in my clothes than me? Shit ain’t fair.”

Would buy you both matching outfits just cus

Shoes included

“Do you like these ma? I like them. I’m gonna buy you a pair so we can match.”

Makes you do hair masks with him

“How do you think I got this shit so long? Gotta take care of your hair babe.”

Lets you do his hair

Learns how to do your hair

Always has to touch you

Likes to hold your hand, maybe even your pinky

Gets made fun of for it

“You’re so clingy to your girl, Urb”

“Jack shut the fuck up, at least I got a girl”

“Damn, bro. Shit.”

Is the jealous type

Not possessive jealous, but jealous where he’s giving anyone that looks at you all googly-eyed a stank face

Purposely smacks your ass or makes out with you in public just to prove a point

“What? Have to make sure they know you’re mine”

This leads to…

NSFW

Takes his frustration/“jealousy” out on you when you get home

“So many people were eyefucking you tonight, should have told them you’re my little slut”

Buys you lingerie

Takes photos in said lingerie

Keeps photo(s) in his wallet

“What if the guys see?”

“I’ll tell them so mind their fuckin business”

Has a sex tape of the two of you

Keeps it on the separate, separate memory drive

Has a Daddy/Sir kink

Has a bunch of toys

Like, lots of toys

Cock rings, vibrators, nipple clamps, handcuffs, blindfolds, etc

Is down to try anything with you, as long as you’re comfortable

“Hey babe, I saw this new sex position, and i-“

“I’m in!”

Would probably smoke while having sex

“I’m telling you ma, you haven’t had a true orgasm until you’ve had one while your high”

Is into knife play

Wax play

Spanking

“Your ass looks so good with my handprints on them babe”

Degradation

“You like that ma, of course you do. I know you do my little whore.”

“You’re such a slut for my dick, it’s pathetic”

Voyeurism

“Did you like Jack coming in on us? Your little pussy is telling me something different, maybe I should have him come in and watch us”

Aftercare

Offers you water

Makes sure you’re not too sore

“Did I go too hard?“

Praises you

“You did so well for me pretty girl”

Runs a bath for the both of you to get in

Puts in Epsom salt and Dr. Teal’s melatonin bubble bath soap

Massages your shoulders

Washes your body for you

Wraps you up in a big fluffy towel and makes you wait while he changes the sheets on the bed

Helps you put lotion on

Gets tempted for another round

“I don’t know ma, you’re looking “pretty right now”

“Urban, you’re literally rubbing lotion on me, how??”

“I don’t know, it just gets me going”

Puts you both in matching pajamas

His bottoms match your shirt (his shirt)

Cuddles you and rubs your back until you’re asleep

Whispers sweet shit in your ear thinking that you’re sleeping, not knowing that you’ll confront him in the morning cause you’re actually awake

“I love you so much pretty girl, you just don’t know”

“I’ve never been this happy before”

“I want you forever. You’re my forever."

Idk y’all, I really tried here. Shout out to @jackharlowsthings @jackjackharlow @creme-delacreme @hoodharlow for helping me out.

[laf-outloud]

My 2 cents on TW. It’s actually less lousy than I expected. Drake does a really good job as John. Makes me want to see his evolution into the John we know. He me reminds of a young Sam, including running away from home against his parent’s explicit wishes. Great parallel and well-acted by Drake. Mary and John having conversations and banter while travelling the back roads in a muscle car is also a great parallel and full of SPN feels. Milly Winchester is really cool, it’s great to get to know her. The music is great and the general look of things is better than I feared. BUT there is a LOT to criticize:

Dean narrating adds nothing and Jensen has forgotten how to be Dean. It would be better if this direct link to SPN was cut and TW could just stand as a show on its own in the same universe.

Too much clumsy exposition.

They stole much of the plot from the SPN Pilot. Bad manners, that. There’s a difference between adding easter eggs for fun, and just recycling old ideas because you can’t come up with new ones. Coordinates, I’m looking at you. But then again, I’ve watched the SPN pilot like 12 times. Maybe for a regular SPN viewer who watched the pilot once back in 2005, it would come over differently.

The absolutely cringe slapstick first fighting scene with John and Mary needs to go. I can’t believe they kept that in and even put it in the trailer. The rest of the episode John is shown to be capable, a quick study, and able to hold his own in a fight. Why they start him off as ridiculously incompetent I have no idea. Also, 3 punches from a trained marine a foot taller than her should have put Mary in the hospital.

They crammed an overabundance of plot and monsters and lore into one episode. Already in the first episode they arrive at a MoL chapter house. Less would be a lot more in this case. I don’t know why they did this- for the new audience it must be so confusing to keep up, and for SPN fans who will get the references and be able to follow it’s just a reminder of how much more dumb and shallow TW is compared to SPN, especially early SPN. The MoL chapter house looks as if they held Satanic masses there FFS.

They process all the clues very quickly and superficially. We are just supposed to be believe that a bunch of teenagers crack decades old secrets and codes in minutes.

Meg is an unconvincing Mary. A Disney version of Mary. They should have made her meaner and defensive, unwilling to let John tag along and certainly unwilling to tell him anything about her family. John should at first be the chivalrous sweatheart that he is towards her but eventually pissed at her for her attitude. John taking the whole season to break through her defenses would make their story much more compelling and would also be consistent with SPN lore, that they did not even like each other at first. Instead, they're already eyefucking halfway through the pilot.

Meg’s acting isn’t really good. Drake is a lot better.

I don’t know why they praise JoJo as this fantastic actor because in the pilot at least his acting as Carlos is lousy. The other two sidekicks do better.

The overall feel is really Scoobynatural with some third-rate Indiana Jones thrown in and sprinkled with moments from a young adult coffeeshop sitcom. If they want to make this work, they should scrap the scoobygang. Let the sidekicks do their own thing instead of having the lot of them band up, if they have to be there at all. Better yet, kill them off.  

There have been a few people that have said the same about the narration. Jensen was so insistent on bringing back Dean that it didn't matter if his inclusion would be one of the most awkward parts of the show.

"3 punches from a trained marine a foot taller than her should have put Mary in the hospital." LOL!

"Let the sidekicks do their own thing instead of having the lot of them band up, if they have to be there at all. Better yet, kill them off. " I think this might actually be the plan. The POC sidekicks have no critical importance to the story and can easily be replaced. Not exactly great representation there.

"The overall feel is really Scoobynatural with some third-rate Indiana Jones thrown in and sprinkled with moments from a young adult coffeeshop sitcom." I can see why hellers would like the show.

Thank you for sharing your review, anon! It's good to see a considered review that takes in the positives as well as the negatives.

[sunflowerhae]

I’m not in love 🎆🌌

Collegeboy!haechan x female!reader

->A.

⚠️Warnings *PLEASE READ!⚠️

->this story contains heavy themes including drug abuse, alcohol, drug overdose, blood, self hate, character death, and a funeral. There is also strong language used by both major characters. Please continue with these in mind.

⚠️I will put an astric (*) when shit starts getting real.

“So what, do you not love me anymore?”

If it wasn’t the deep blue and dark red lighting illuminating the hallway full of drunk teenagers and one second love stories that made y/n feel claustrophobic, it was the fact that she was currently questioning the past two and a half years of her love life with Haechan, the guilty looking boy in front of her.

This party was supposed to be good for them.

It was supposed to be a chance to temporarily escape the struggles of their everyday lives as juniors in college, and give them an opportunity to actually see each other longer than an hour or two - something that was rare for them, what with y/n’s intense school and work schedule, and Haechans priorities in his fraternity, Nu Cappa Ti, and as the tailback of the schools football team.

Y/n and Haechan met the first week of college. Haechan was rushing for NCT, and y/n’s roommate just so happened to be fucking NCT’s president. When Haechan got a cut from being punched by a guy with a ring in front of a crowd of drunk college students, y/n was there to happily clean the beautiful boy’s - that had caught her eye from across the room, not even one hour before - face. From then on, y/n let herself fall for this boy that she knew was destined to break her heart, and haechan let himself become dependent on this beautiful girl that he knew would hurt him eventually.

But, for the past two and a half years, things had been going pretty okay. I mean, as okay as it can go for two twenty year olds in love, but no time to show it. That’s why this party was supposed to be a thing good for them.

And for a while, it was.

Until the clock hit 12am, and Haechan downed his fifth shot, while y/n sat in the corner of the room, looking pissed and feeling too sober for this shit.

She didn’t understand. She looked hot, the vibe was hot, and Haechan was looking fine, like always. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t talking to her. She didn’t usually go to these parties. She had had a problem with drinking and drugs when she was in high school, and had tried to steer clear of them since coming to college. She thought Haechan understood. And he did. Y/n told him about her past when they first started dating. Haechan never pressured her to join him at the mandatory parties his frat hosted that he had to attend, once every other week or so. He never forced her to drink with him and his friends during his birthdays, or any holidays. He loved her, and he genuinely wanted the best for her.

And that’s not saying that y/n didn’t sometimes engage in a shot or two, or that she didn’t sometimes do a line of coke when she had done particularly bad on a chem test. She didn’t see anything wrong with testing the waters of relapsing, as long as she didn’t go overboard.

As long as she didn’t overdose.

But this party was feeling pretty fucking dry to her, as she watched Haechan slam another empty shot glass on the table tennis top. She saw the eyes that the other girls at the party gave him, and she didn’t miss the smirks and eyefucks he gave them back. Yeah, y/n was feeling pretty upset.

And for once, she wanted Haechan to know.

The only logical thing she could think to do was storm over to him, grab his arm, and drag him away from his dumb friends and their dumb faces and the dumb whores at this dumb party that she stupidly attended because her dumb boyfriend asked her too, and she - like a dumbass - loved him, and would therefore walk off a bridge if he asked her to.

Haechan really wanted to forget that y/n was there.

He loved her, and he was aware that he was the one that asked her to come. But she could feel pretty suffocating when she sat in the corner, with crossed arms while glaring at anyone who caught her eye. Haechan wanted to have fun with her, but y/n didn’t want to be at the party - she wanted to be in her boyfriends arms while binge watching the HBO show “Euphoria” that everyone raved about. That was her version of fun.

However, neither of them would describe fun as yelling at each other in a darkly lit hallway of a smelly frat house at 1 am. One was too drunk, one was too sober; both were extremely pissed. Haechan would have said anything to get away from her at that moment, and y/n would have said anything to get him to stay.

“Look y/n, I think we might need a break.” In retrospect, Haechan was right. They did need a break from each other. Time to re-evaluate their relationship; their needs. But unfortunately for everyone, y/n had very easily replaced the emptiness in her heart from drugs and alcohol with her love for Haechan; and addiction is unhealthy- no matter what it is you’re addicted to.

“Why do we need a break? Why, do you not want to be around me?”

“Maybe not! I don’t know, y/n!”

“Well fuck you! I’m your fucking girlfriend-“

“-fuck you too! You’re fucking obsessed with me-“

“-I’m not obsessed with you, I just love you! I just want to be with you! Hang out with you, not this drunk half assed excuse of a man-“

“-oh what? And you’re such a woman? It’s not my fault you replaced drugs with me, y/n! That’s not my fucking fault-“

“-oh that’s rich coming from you! You’re fucking drunk right now, haechan! You’re a fucking hypocrite-“

“-I don’t want to be with you-“

“-what?” The silence between the two felt so suffocating and intense and loud, y/n couldn’t help but wonder if everyone else in the room was choking like her. The music was loud, and everyone around her was in their own worlds, but y/n and Haechan were dead silent, and that felt suffocating.

“You don’t wanna- you don’t wanna be with me?”

Haechan looked down at the ground, and scratched his neck. “Fuck, I don’t know y/n. I don’t know-“

“So what, do you not love me anymore?”

Haechan didn’t say anything.

The blue lights suddenly reminded y/n of a time in her life when she would wake up feeling like she was being choked every morning. and she wondered if she had just died, and this was her own, personal hell as the choking feeling comes back up into her chest. She could feel herself walk away from him, into the kitchen, where she immediately turned on the sink and splashed cold water in her face. She could see Haechan shake his head and walk away from their spot in the hallway, and she could hear a boy who she had Environmental science with ask her if she’s okay. She could see herself ask him to hand her the fireball bottle on his right, she could see herself drink the whole thing, then do some coke, then take some pills she didn’t even know the name of. She could see herself walk through the party with hazed eyes and focused gaze on the colored walls that seemed to be moving. She could hear her friends asking her where she had been in her ear, she could feel her feet moving around the living room, dancing with her friends to the music she’s never heard before. And when she paid just enough attention and sat just still enough on the couch with the almost empty liquor bottle cold against her thigh, she could feel her heart turning into liquid itself, and falling into her acidic stomach; never to be seen again. She looked around the room, trying to find the eyes of someone - anyone - who could comfort her; hold her. But all she got for comfort and affection were the hot tears that rolled down her face and the inability to stop her chin from wobbling as she broke down on the couch of a frat house at 3am, while the purple and red lights warped her vision to picture a happy life for herself, with Haechan, that she could see dripping down the drain.

Having just enough consciousness to know she had to find her boyfriend, she used the bottle to push herself off the couch, where she then threw the bottle back down and started shuffling around the still crowded party.

She eventually did find Haechan. He was sitting in the corner of a different room, surrounded by a couple of his frat brothers, a couple other friends of his, and a couple girls that were ready to step in and take your place in Haechan’s life at the drop of a hat - or better yet, at the drop of you. He was laughing at something Renjun - a good friend of yours, as well as Haechans - said, when you shuffled up to him and put your hands on his thighs, almost falling in the process.

“Haechan, haechan, I need help. I don’t feel good.” You looked like a crazy lady. You were looking at Haechan with wide eyes, and were repeatingly smacking his thighs with every word.

Haechan was more drunk that he was earlier, and he had had a bit of Jaemin’s coke at this point. He didn’t think you were being that serious, and he figured you were being helpless for no other reason other than you didn’t know what else to do to get him back. Also, he couldn’t help but let the poison from his frat brothers mouths - directed at you - earlier get to him.

“Get off.” Haechan took your hands off his thighs and threw them by your side. Everyone who was sitting around Haechan and his friends were looking on in interest, and as you looked around, you saw that only Renjun looked worried for you in the least bit.

“Haechan, please my stomach feels really fucked up and my head-“

“Just go to my room and clean yourself up. God you’re a fucking embarrassment, y/n.” Haechan hadn’t even looked at you yet, except for when you surprised and slightly scared him earlier when you walked up. He just rolled his eyes, and started whispering in the girl sitting to his lefts ear, something funny, seeing as she giggled and started giving you slide glances. You didn’t have to ask to know that you were the punch-line.

You gave Haechan one more look of surprise, and stumbled away from the group of 20 year olds with shaky hands and bugged eyes.

(*) Something Haechan thinks about a lot, later in life, is this moment, as he finally looks up and sees your back as you stumbled out of the room and to the stairs. He thinks about what he would have said to you, if he knew it was the last time he would ever talk to you. He had eventually come to the conclusion that he would take your warm hands in his, and just hug you. Just to feel your hot breathe on his neck, and your hands in his, one last time. He would have said he loved you, just to hear you say it back once more. He would apologize for the careless words before, and he would give you all the comfort you deserved, and then some.

Sometimes, on the random nights where he isn’t having a nightmare about you, he dreams of this moment. He dreams that he got up, ran to your figure already halfway up the stairs, and pulled you into his arms. He would run his hands down your hair, and drag you to the closest bathroom, where he would shove his fingers down your throat until you threw up into the toilet all the toxins in your system. He would be crying, and mumbling, “please survive this, please survive this, please survive this...” until you were no longer throwing up. He would dial 911, and force you to down a bunch of water bottles, before you were taken to the hospital, and saved. But everytime, before he got the chance to kiss you again, he’d wake up, and he’d be alone in the dark, like always.

You had stumbled up to Haechan’s room, and slammed the door closed with all the power you had in you, not forgetting to lock the door behind you.

You’re body felt like it was on fire. It felt like the acid in your stomach had expanded, and was spreading to every part of your skin, and burning you from the inside-out. You wanted to throw up, run to the bathroom, and faint all at once. You were trying your hardest - and failing - to cool yourself down by fanning you face with your hands. You looked into Haechans mirror on his dresser, and saw that you were not only sweating like a spy being interrogated, but your face was extremely red, and your makeup was running down your face. You pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail, and ripped your shirt off as fast as you could.

You were surprised nobody could hear your moaning and whimpering from out in the hallway. You felt like screaming, felt like calling for help, but you couldn’t open your mouth without a groan coming out. You put your hands above your head and looked for something - anything - to focus your attention on. Your eyes locked on a photo of you and haechan that was taped to the corner of his mirror. It was taken over the summer before your sophomore year of college - although you remember it like it was yesterday. Haechan and your’s close friend group had a tradition of going up to Santa Cruz on the last week of summer, and staying at a friends beach house for a couple days. The photo was taken on the first night. You were all sitting on the beach at night; the bonfire you all wrapped around lit your faces. Haechan had only had one drink, and you opted for a coke. You were both extremely happy, as shown in the photo by both of yours large smiles. You remember that around an hour before the photo had been taken, you had given yourself to Haechan for the first time. You had been dating him for almost a year at this point, and you both felt like it was time. In the photo, haechan had his arm wrapped around you, and you had your head on his right shoulder. Your eyes were bright red due to the cameras shitty quality. Haechan had complained at the time about why Jaemin felt the need to bring not one, not two, not even four, but FIVE disposable cameras; but when the time came to look through the printed pictures, Haechan had a smile on his face and stole every single one with your face in it, par like four or five due to Jaemin’s yelling at him.

“We need y/n to be represented!”

“She can be represented by being here, though!”

“Haechan, she might not be here, ya know. You can’t tell the future.”

“Shut up. I’m going to marry her one day.”

You had never had a bigger smile on your face then that moment. Sure, Haechan had told you before that he wanted to marry you one day. But hearing him so willingly say to your friends that he was; that was big.

Now, you couldn’t help but fear that that would never happen.

You tore the photo off the wall, and started staring at it with tears running down your face. You were sobbing at this point. Sobbing so bad that you thought snot started coming out of your nose, yet when you went to wipe it and return your hand to the side of the photo, the blood trail on your hand let you know that it was indeed not snot.

“Shit shit shit,” you whimpered out.

You knew the signs of an overdose. You had to go to rehab when you were 17, and it was pretty fucking traumatizing. The worst part was when they filed you all into another white brick room with shitty lighting and flies buzzing around the tv, and taught you all the tell tale signs of an OD. You had nightmares after that for weeks. It was the only thing that got into your head enough to make you want to be sober. Just so that you wouldn’t have to experience that.

Looks like that plan was flawed.

You wanted Haechan. You needed him. You needed to get to him and tell him you needed a hospital. Yet, when your legs went to take a step towards the door, you finally felt it. You could feel your brain just, die. You fell to the floor - almost like fainting - and started convulsing. The last thing you felt was foom pooling out of your mouth, and the last thing you saw was the photo of you and Haechan, that day at the beach. Haechan’s wide smile brought you to a blissful sleep with open eyes.

(Please take a second to collect yourself before you continue reading. Thank you.)

Haechan was getting really fucking bored of this party. He had stopped drinking once you walked away, and that had been maybe three hours ago, so he was feeling way more sober. The sun was glaring at the mountains now, and peaking through on the town below. Upon looking at the time on his almost dead phone with a deep sigh, he saw it was nearing 6am.

Haechan regretted what he said to you. He hadn’t seen you since you walked away, and he didn’t know if you had left, or fallen asleep on his bed. He hoped it was the latter, that way he could cuddle up to you and silently beg your forgiveness for his drunken and harsh words. He finally started walking up the stairs after saying goodnight - or, good morning - to his friends; Renjun’s final words to him actually kind of scaring him.

“Dude, y/n didn’t look so good.”

“Eh, I’m sure she was fine. Probably tripping or something.” Haechan shrugged off Renjuns fear as he took another swig from his water bottle.

“Nah, man. She looked, like, really fucked up.”

When Haechan got to his door, he turned the knob, only to find that it was locked. Figuring you were asleep, he gave a couple hard knocks, so that it could jolt you awake. “Y/n, baby. Open the door. I wanna go to bed.”

You didn’t answer.

Haechan knocked a couple more times. “Y/nnnnn, wake up!”

You didn’t answer. It was quiet. Eerily quiet, actually. You were a light sleeper, and you couldn’t have been drunk, right?

Haechans knocks were a little louder, and a little faster. “Y/n!”

Haechan kept knocking for what felt like forever. He was slightly panicking at this point.

What was wrong?

“Y/n, this isn’t funny. Open the fucking door!” He was full on pounding now.

“Fuck this.” He mumbled, before turning around and walking through the party, which had significantly less people, but still quite a lot. Finally, he set his eyes on who he was looking for.

“Johnny!” He sternly called, while walking up to the drunken giant.

“Yyyahhhh?” Johnny laughed. He was surrounded by Doyoung, Taeyong, and Jaehyun, who were all older members of the frat; Taeyong being the president.

“Y/n locked herself in my room, and she’s not answering. Can you help me break down the door?” Johnny always saw y/n as his little sister. Haechan was the youngest member of the frat with a steady girlfriend, making y/n the youngest of the girls intertwined with the boys. Johnny, being the oldest member, always took a kind of protective role over her. He himself had a younger sister, and she was just a bit younger than y/n; therefore he had a small soft spot for her. At the sound of y/n possibly being in trouble, Johnny sobered up quite a bit, and gave Haechan a curt nod, before following him upstairs; the rest of the boys who were aware of the situation following him.

At the sight of the white door, Haechan’s stomach dropped like a rollercoaster dip.

What if y/n really was in trouble?

Johnny took a place on the right side of the door, while Haechan took the left. While he wasn’t the strongest out of the current men there, he wanted to be the first one in the door.

“Okay, after three. Ready? 1, 2, 3!”

Both bodies slammed into the door. It didn’t budge.

“One more.

1

2

3”

“Fuck! Y/n?”

“Baby! Baby can you hear me? FUCK! SOMEONE CALL 911!

Baby! Hey! DON’T YOU FUCKING DIE ON ME!” Haechan tried shoving his hands down your throat, he tried to give you CPR, - which he didn’t even know - but nothing worked. You had foam laying out of your open mouth, and your eyes were wide open, with your hands laying outward. Haechan caught site of the picture in your hand, and moved it out of the way, before grabbing your hand and bring it up to kiss it.

“Please. Please survive this.” He sobbed, while placing his forehead on your chest.

“Time of Death, 3:46am.” The words echoed in Haechans ears like a gunshot. He couldn’t help but hate himself. If he had actually taken her concerned words seriously, would she be alive right now? She was dead long before he got there, around two and a half hours, to be specific.

The words still echoed in his head while he stood in a bright graveyard in your hometown on a sunny spring day, your favorite season. The black suit he wore made him feel hot, but it didn’t matter to him. The huge bouquet of roses in his hands were heavy, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Not when he couldn’t stop staring at your parents broken frames. Not when your older brother and sisters couldn’t stop crying and holding their loved ones, having just lost their baby sister. Not when Johnny couldn’t keep the tears in his eyes as he grabbed Taeyongs hand. Not when the weight of Renjun’s hand on his shoulder felt heavier than any bouquet Haechan would ever carry. Not when Haechan felt like the air in his lungs left, and wouldn’t return again. Not when he refused to cry until he was alone, because if he did, he wouldn’t know if he could stop.

Not when he felt like he just lost his soulmate.

He silently placed the roses next to your grave when the ceremony was done. He didn’t want to say much. He knew he’d be back here soon, anyway. He finally snapped out of his daze when he felt a soft hand being placed on his shoulder, and turned to come face to face with the lady that raised you.

“She loved you so much. She talked about you all the time. I was always worried about her when she left for college, but then she started talking about this boy she met who changed how she thought of the world, and then I met you, and I knew she was in safe hands. Thank you, Donghyuck. For giving my daughter a reason to live.” Your mom brought her handkerchief back up to her eyes, and wiped more tears that refused to stop falling. Your father, who was standing behind your mom, stepped forward and hugged Haechan, while mumbling in his ear “don’t be a stranger, please,” before grabbing his wife’s hand and walking towards the car. Haechan wanted to take their words to heart, really. But he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head. When he had focused his attention on your moms tears, did you cry? When he couldn’t stop looking at your parents holding hands as they walked away, he would never be able to hold your hand again. When he was your father place a kiss to his moms forehead before opening her door for her, you died alone.

Haechan turned to hear his name being called by Taeil, a graduated member of NCT who drove him to the funeral, and shuffled to the car with his head down.

When they got back to the dorm, Haechan did what he had been doing for the past two weeks since your passing. He kept his eyes on the floor as he walked to his room, not being able to look at the door without going back to the last moment of blissful ignorance he had; yet he looked up when he went into his room, not being able to look at the last spot he saw you in. He flopped onto his bed with a sigh, and picked up the picture of himself and you on the beach, it being the last thing you consciously touched. He plugged in his AirPods, and put on the playlist you had made for him a year ago, that you added to whenever you wanted, like he did with yours. The intro for “Exist for Love” by AURORA came in, and Haechan finally let himself cry for the first time that day. He turned over, and inhaled the scent of your pillow on his bed. Haechan didn’t want to live this life anymore. He didn’t know what life he wanted, but this wasn’t it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it as he heard the door creak open. He knew who it was without having to look up. Wordlessly, Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno all climbed in to the bed. There was literally no room for the four boys to comfortably lay down, but they liked it like that. It meant they had to hold and hug each other, which made the pain numb just a bit.

Haechan took a deep breath. He didn’t want to exist, but he would. He would continue to exist, because you didn’t get to.

Fin.

[ihatetosayitoldyouso]

august

masterlist

content warnings: some cursing? mentions of alcohol and drinking

word count: 5,189

Chapter 1

I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try.

He was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. And I know that’s a cliche statement, but in this case, it was one hundred percent true. He walked past me with a gait that both intimidated and intrigued me. He walked as though he knew he would never falter, never trip, and never fall. He had a jawline that looked as if it were chiseled by Zeus himself. His curly brown hair fell right above his eyes, not completely masking his bold eyebrows. And his eyes. Oh my god, his eyes. The more I looked at them, the more I got lost. They were a deep hazel, with specks of green and gold, that could surely be seen from space. His hands were encapsulating, as if they had a magnetic force emitting from them, pulling me towards him. The way he briefly touched his beautiful lips with the tips of his fingertips did something to me I couldn’t explain.

I realized I was staring and quickly tried to pull my attention back to the book I was reading, but I continued to glance up at him. He walked by me, close enough that I could feel the slight breeze he caused to blow past me. It vaguely smelled like cedar, cotton, and- was that vanilla? I looked at him briefly before he walked completely out of my eyesight and let myself dream for a second. Who was that? And why have I never seen him before? Okay sure, campus is about 40,000 people large, but still. He was in my vicinity now, so surely he had a class around here.

Okay, that was enough daydreaming. I tried to inhale his scent once more before checking the time. My watch said 12:36 pm which meant that my next class was in twenty-four minutes. I spread myself out on the ground by the tree I was at and continued to read. Today was the first day of my Criminology class, so I wasn’t too nervous about getting any studying in beforehand. Plus, the class was huge, so I didn’t need to worry about getting called on to answer a question if I didn’t want to. I checked my phone before getting up and making my way to class. It was a beautiful day out, as if that boy- excuse me, man, I saw earlier created the perfect environment for him to walk in. The sun was shining but there were just enough clouds speckling the deep blue sky. The trees were a vibrant green, going perfectly with the freshly cut grass. It felt impossibly perfect, considering it was the middle of August. Shouldn’t it be excruciatingly hot? But no, the breeze felt perfect on my warm skin and didn’t cause a chill as I picked up the pace into the Behavioral Sciences Building.

As I walked through the glass door, I felt the chill of the AC hit me as soon as my foot graced the tile floor. It immediately sent a shiver down my spine, similar to the one I felt earlier when that immortal in human form glided past me. I felt myself lose focus and completely miss the elevator I planned on using. I shook it off and pretended like walking to the stairs was what I had intended all along. I opened the door to the corridor and began ascending the stairs that seemed to never end. I checked my watch one more time, to assure that I was still on time, and I was actually ahead of my own extremely strict schedule. As I reached the floor I needed, I took out my phone to scroll mindlessly while I waited for my professor. Of course, I was here before anyone else. My mom always told me “on time is late and early is on time,” so I always made sure to be early by her standards: at least fifteen minutes before any event was supposed to start. But not for parties. I promise I’m not that much of a nerd. Maybe.

Anyways, I took a seat in the third row, close enough that I could see the front without straining my eyes, but not so close that I would be able to eyefuck my professor throughout the lecture. Not that I would. But I’ve seen some try. I don’t understand why people have a professor kink, but to each their own I guess. I stuck my nose into my twitter feed and waited for time to pass. About thirty seconds later, I heard the door open. I expected to see another student, but instead I saw the God that had graced my presence earlier. I tried to stop my jaw from flying open, but I failed miserably. Trying to play it cool, I tucked my hair behind my ear and started to organize my things for class. I looked up at him, seeing that he was already, was he? Staring at me? But I managed a meek smile and basically whispered the word “Hi.” His mouth moved and he spoke the word “Hello” before taking a seat at the front of the class. This kid was the professor? What was I supposed to do? Not stare at him the whole class? I just decided to keep my head down and try to focus solely on moving around my things, whether purposeful or not.

About fifteen minutes passed and as more students strolled into the lecture hall, the man I am definitely not staring at, began to write his name on the large whiteboard at the front of the class. “Dr. Reid.” Hmm. Sounds pretty formal. I instantly began to wonder if he was going to be a hardass and to dread the drudgery that I may encounter throughout this semester. I was taking six classes with a course load that could make a grown man cry. Or in my case, a 19-year-old girl. I do my best to pay attention throughout the lecture, rather than staring at the beautiful man in front of me. The class’s material genuinely interested me, but I couldn’t get over the fact that this man, who I thought was a (gorgeous) student, was my professor. He looked too young to be a professor. Far too young to be a Doctor. How quickly was he able to get his degree? Or maybe I’m just terrible at guessing ages, which I usually am.

Before I got too lost in thought, I heard a firm voice come from the top of the room. “Hello everyone. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and I will be your Criminology professor this semester. You can call me Spencer, Professor Reid, or Dr. Reid, I really don’t mind. Before we get started today, I want to tell you all a little bit about me.” He clears his throat and leans back on his desk, laid in perfectly in the center of the room, and I see his dress pants crease slightly. I shake myself in desperate need to pay attention to the words he was saying, rather than his legs, which I could only assume were as perfect as the rest of him. I tried not to aim my gaze around his waist but it seemed to land there all on its own.

“I have a full-time position at the FBI with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They allow me time off on Mondays and Wednesdays to teach, which is how I’m here today” He chuckles lightly. “We work on serial cases and the occasional kidnapping case across the country. We use our knowledge of human behavior to analyze the serial killers we chase down. It helps us understand why they do what they do and what their next move might be. I’ve always found human behavior extremely interesting, which is what brought you all here today I hope.”

He walks around his desk and gathers a large stack of papers in his hands. Oh god, those hands. His fingers were long and slender, and his veins were so prominent, it should be illegal to have hands that attractive. I, once again, caught myself before he made his way down the middle of the row of seats, handing a small section of the papers to the student sitting at the end of each row. He made his way to the third row and handed me a portion of the papers. I took the stack from his hands and briefly looked up and found him looking right into my eyes. My breath hitched as I tried to focus myself and not fumble the papers everywhere. I collected myself and took a syllabus for myself and passed them down my row. Soon enough, I found myself looking back at him as he handed the rest of the syllabi out, hopefully not drawing attention to myself. He walked back down the steps and placed himself at the front of the lecture hall. “I understand that the majority of you will find it strange that I am handing out physical copies of the syllabus, but I have always preferred hard copies to digital ones, and I believe that should apply to students as well. In fact, direct mail requires twenty-one percent less cognitive effort to process than digital media, suggesting that it is both easier to understand and more memorable. Post-exposure memory tests validated what a cognitive load test revealed about direct mail’s memory encoding capabilities. When asked to cite the brand of an advertisement they had just seen, recall was seventy percent higher among participants who were exposed to a direct mail piece than a digital ad. Long story short, handwrite your notes.” A small wave of laughter settled over the class. I found myself smiling like a giddy schoolgirl, staring at Dr. Spencer Reid. How am I supposed to focus when he looks like that? I guess I’ll have to figure it out.

The rest of the class went smoothly. The handsome professor went over the syllabus and his expectations for us in his class. The clock struck 2 pm and I found myself writing down the reading assigned for tonight. Reading? Who assigns reading on the first day of classes? No matter, I read the beginning of our textbook ahead of time, so I didn’t find myself too worried. I stuffed my papers and my journal into my bookbag and tried not to stumble as I gathered my things to walk out of class. I walked past the man I had been trying, and failing, not to stare at for the entirety of the class period. I smiled a small smile and softly said “Thank you” as I walked out the door. He smiled back and waved softly as I melted into the hallway.

I had three classes on Mondays and I always tried to end my day as early as possible, so I walked back to my on-campus apartment; Criminology was my last class of the day. Yes, I start my day earlier than 8 am and I can probably be classified as certifiably insane. At least, according to my roommate’s standards. As I entered the cramped apartment, I found my roommate, Amber, asleep on the couch, a tv show playing softly on her laptop. I laughed at the sight of her, limbs everywhere and mouth agape, wondering how she could sleep like that in the middle of the day. It didn’t matter, she knew what worked best for her. She was one of the most accomplished people in our class. She majored in Political Science and International Studies and she seemed to ace every class with ease. I was in awe of her in that regard, as well as her ability to nap at any time and anywhere. We met each other last year in our Freshman Honors lecture and we had been attached at the hip ever since. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as close and safe with a person as I did Amber. I trusted her with all of my secrets and she trusted me with hers. I was extremely grateful to have her in my life.

Scoffing at Amber, I made my way to my bedroom and sat my stuff down in the corner of the room. I jumped onto my bed and began to scroll mindlessly on my phone. About fifteen minutes passed before Amber barged into my room. “Amber!” I jumped, embarrassingly startled by her entrance, “Jesus Christ, you scared the fuck out of me, I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” she started, “but now I’m not. Funny how sleeping works like that.” I roll my eyes at her. “Anyways,” she continues, “I heard there was gonna be a big party tonight in honor of the first week of classes and I was thinking we would go!” She bounces on the balls of her feet, smiling innocently at me.

“Amber, you know I don’t really party” I say.

“I knowwwww but… I thought I could drag you out tonight?” She clasps her hands dramatically. “Please? I just want to have some fun with you before we’re both consumed by homework. Please? I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” She smiles her stupid smile again.

“Okay fine, I give in.” I say and she jumps up and down.

“Thank you Y/N!! You won’t regret this!” She says as she exits my room. I sure hope not, I think to myself as she closes the door. I go back to scrolling on my phone before setting it down to take a nap before getting ready to go out tonight. I never stay up late so I needed to prepare myself if I was going to stay out all night. I know Amber will want to get drunk and party until at least 5 am, and I wasn’t about to abandon her just to get a good night’s sleep. This could be fun, right?

---

I stare at myself in the mirror as I put on my tightest fitting dress. It was a red bodycon dress that I never felt especially confident in, but tonight I felt pretty good! I put on a pair of simple black heels to go with it. Normally I would wear something more practical, like shorts and a crop top, or something a little more moveable, but Amber insisted we go all out. “If this is the only party you’re going to this semester, you need to look your best! Why not?!” I couldn’t argue with her, she was right. I might as well look good, who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone tonight. I hadn’t had a real relationship since, well, ever. I was never one to put myself out there. I always focused on my studies and I worked part-time jobs whenever I could. Relationships and romance were never a top priority for me. Sure, it would be nice, but I could live without it. I had much more important things to tend to. Amber was helping me forget about all of those responsibilities tonight, which I admit, was a nice feeling. I sat down at my desk to finish my makeup and touch up my hair before I presented my look to Amber. I stood up, smoothed out my dress, and walked out of my bedroom, doing a dramatic twirl for her. “Ooooh, GIRL! You look hot!!!” She squealed and I smiled wide as I bounced over to her.

“So do you!! Bitch you always look good, how DARE you!” I said teasingly as I dramatically fawned over her. We grabbed our phones with our ID’s (real and fake) and some money tucked in the cases of them, not wanting to carry much else with us. I double-checked to make sure I had everything put away and everything with me that I needed. Amber stood in the doorway, checking her wrist as though she was checking the time, silently telling me to hurry up and that I was worrying over nothing. I sighed, “Okay, okay!” and ran out the door behind her. I triple-checked that we locked the door and followed Amber down the stairs of the apartment complex.

We made our way down to the lobby and out of the building’s front doors, the temperate climate and humid breeze hitting us as we walked to the edge of the street. Amber and I turned our heads to see our Uber approaching from the left and I double-checked to make sure that the car was definitely ours and that the driver inside matched the picture from the app. Amber always told me that I was too skeptical and cautious, but I don’t think that’s even possible, being a woman in the twenty-first century. An Uber driver could be a kidnapper or a serial killer, who knows! As soon as I verified the Uber’s identity, Amber climbed over to the far side of the car as I trailed behind her. I sat down on the covered seat and looked over as Amber gave the driver the location of the bar we were headed to. A feeling in my gut started to arise but I wasn’t sure what it was. Probably just nerves, I told myself as I took a few deep breaths and looked out the window. I tend to get nervous about almost any event, regardless of the severity of the situation. Amber asked the man sitting in front of us if she could play some music from her phone and he obliged. She proceeded to put on “Party in the U.S.A” by Miley Cyrus and I looked at her and grinned. This was always our going out song. We danced in the back of the car and sang obnoxiously loud in preparation for the night.

We finally arrived at the bar in which one of the biggest parties in the school was happening. Honestly, I’m more into house parties, but the only house parties here are the ones happening in frat houses and I am not down for getting drugged and harassed by rich, white, republican frat guys. We paid (and tipped) the Uber driver and made our way into the club. The line wasn’t long at all, considering most people had gotten there as early as socially acceptable to maximize their partying time. The bouncer let us through (thank GOD because I spent enough money on that fake ID) and we danced our way through the crowd and to the bar. We met up with a group of friends from our shared freshman year English 101 class and proceeded to get a round of tequila shots. One round turned into four and into ten. One could say I was officially wasted. I don’t normally party, but when I do, I party hard. Go hard or go home, right? Thanks to my not-completely-ruined inhibitions, I made my way to the bartender and asked for a large glass of water. “Party-pooper!” Amber slurred as she grabbed my shoulder for leverage.

“Hey! I just don’t wanna be super hungover tomorrow. It’s literally-” I hiccupped and giggled as I stared into Amber’s eyes, trying to gain some semblance of solidity in my footing, “It’s literally only Monday. I have three classes tomorrow and I always start my days earlier, you know this! I don’t wanna be drunk at my 8 am lecture!” I basically yelled at Amber’s face because the music and bass were so loud, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts.

“Okay, okay!” Amber shouted back at me, “Take a seat at the bar lame-o! I am gonna dance with that cute guy over there and maybeee you and I won’t be leaving together.” She pointed to a tall, blonde-haired man who was smiling and staring at Amber. She waved a flirty hand at him and started to walk away but her hand lingered on my shoulder.

“Amber!” I grabbed her wrist before she walked away, because I was not standing up right now. “Just… Be careful, okay? Text me if you do leave with him because I do not want anything happening to you. And I expect you to update me with texts with your location when you leave and if anything else happens okay? I love you, you know that right?” My fears were sobering me up quicker than the water was.

“I know! I love you too, silly. I promise I will be careful. I’ll make sure I know he is who he says he is before we leave and I won’t let him drive, we’ll take an Uber or something, okay? I don’t even know if I will leave with him, I was just thinking about it.” She paused for a second. “Thank you for caring about me, Y/N. I really do love you.” She smiled at me and I smiled back as she walked away to go dance with the handsome stranger across the floor.

My happy feelings dwindled for a moment as I sobered up and realized I was no longer a part of any group. Mine and Amber’s friend group had dispersed across the bar and the dancefloor, all trying to go home with someone. I would make that my mission too but frankly, I was too drunk to be completely aware of the goings on around me. I took out my phone and pulled up the Uber app, ready to go home. My plans changed when I looked around me and saw a familiar face at the very end of the bar. Dr. Reid? Why is he here? This bar is mainly occupied by college students, plus today was a huge party day, it didn’t make sense. Against my better judgement, I found myself standing up and walking towards him. I tried my hardest to walk straight and keep my eyes focused. I didn’t want to make my first real impression with him, one of me being blackout drunk. I downed the rest of my water before making my way to him. “Professor?” I questioned as he stared off into the distance.

“Oh! Hi. I’m sorry, what was your name again?” He asked nervously. Why did he seem nervous? I don’t think I ever told him my name. In fact, I barely think I even said hello.

“Oh, it’s Y/N.” I smiled at him. Normally, I would extend a hand to greet someone of authority, like him, but my hands were clammy and probably dirty from being in a bar like this. I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird. He looked down, expecting me to extend a hand as well, I assume. He looks back up and meets my eyes.

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” He says.

“You too.” I say and smile. We’re both quiet for a moment and I look around, trying to think of something to say. I’m so awkward. I take a deep breath, in hopes that it would spur a thought or initiate something to come out of my mouth, but it doesn’t.

“You look very nice.” He says and I come short of shaking my head in surprise.

“Thank you! My friend insisted we dress up tonight.” I laugh softly and smooth my dress down with my hands. Should I compliment him too? Would that be weird? “Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” I continue, “why are you out at a student bar tonight? I assume you knew about the party happening?” I don’t know where the confidence came from for me to ask him a question, but I was curious nonetheless.

“Um,” He chuckles and looks at the ground for a moment. “My friend and I were out with our coworkers and he insisted on coming here afterwards. I mentioned the parties that are thrown during the first week of classes and he couldn’t resist, I guess.” He nodded his head to point me in the direction of a very handsome man, dancing with a woman who couldn’t be much older than me.

I laugh and turn back to him. “Are you not the partying type, Dr. Reid?” I don’t know where these conversational skills were coming from. I had a hard time opening up to people my own age, much less authority figures.

“Not really. I mostly teach, work, and go home, to be quite honest.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Please, sit down, you don’t have to stand. I’m sure those shoes aren’t really meant for standing.”

“Thank you.” I laugh at his comment about my shoes. “Yeah, I wouldn’t say they’re the most comfortable pair I own.” I take the seat next to my professor. “And me too, for the most part. My friend kinda dragged me out here tonight.”

“And where’s your friend now?” He questions. I point to the far corner of the club, where Amber was grinding on the man she was telling me about earlier.

“She’s a little more outgoing than me.” I laugh and ask the bartender for another glass of water. I can tell he’s looking at me from the corner of my eye. Why does that make me so nervous? I instinctually start to bite the nails on my left hand. I barely noticed I had started doing that, so I didn’t expect my professor to notice it at all.

“Are you nervous?” He asks and I pull my nails away from my mouth.

“Um, I guess so? I don’t go out too often and new places and people tend to make me anxious, I guess.” I look down at the bar and the glass in my hands.

“I get that.” He says.

“Um, do you mind if I ask how old you are? I’m sorry if that’s a little bit out of nowhere, I just remember you introduced yourself as Doctor this morning in class, and I initially thought you couldn’t be much older than me.” My curiosity got the best of me, I suppose.

“Uh, I’m 28. I have three PhDs in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” He rattles the list off as if he says it every day.

“Woah, what are you, like a genius or something? How the hell did you get three PhDs before 28?” I cover my mouth almost immediately. “I’m sorry for cursing, I don’t know, is that not appropriate?” I blush and look down again.

He chuckles, “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. And I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words per minute so, yes, I guess technically, I am a genius.” He smiles at me and- is that a smirk I see?

My jaw practically flies open. “Wow, I guess I’ll have to try extra hard in class to impress you.” I find my courage again and look into his eyes. I almost immediately get lost in the swirls of gold and green. I find myself blushing again and somehow more words leave my mouth. “Would you, um, like to go talk outside? It’s really loud in here and my throat is getting sore.” I begin to stand up after he nods. I look for Amber and as soon as I make eye contact with her across the room, I mime typing on my phone as a signal for her to text me and that I’ll text her with whatever I’m doing. What am I doing? Am I going to talk to my professor and leave? Or am I going to leave with him? No, I can’t even think about that, that’s ridiculous. Whatever, Y/N, just worry about getting outside of the bar.

I push the heavy wooden door of the club open, exiting while Dr. Reid follows. I make my way towards the edge of the building, the music muffled by the walls. I lean up against the stone wall of the building and fiddle with my phone in my hands.

“Is this weird? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt but, you’re my professor. Do you normally talk to students at bars or was this just a weird coincidence? Or is this not weird, considering we’re not too far apart in age, I guess, and I mean, we’re both adults, right? I’m sorry I’m rambling I just feel awkward I guess I’m not sure what to say, um…” I cut myself off and look away, trying to find solace in the air around me.

He laughs again. Why is his laugh so attractive? “No, I don’t think it’s weird. It’s nice to have a conversation every once in a while, even if it’s with a student. Even if it’s outside a college bar. I don’t find much time to talk about topics that aren’t serial killers or behavioral analysis.” I jump as he uses his hand to bring my face and my eyes back to his. What was that? “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t want you to feel nervous or like you can’t talk to me. I really do enjoy talking to students, and just other people in general. Most people don’t enjoy talking to me so it’s nice when I find someone that does.” He blushes. Wait, he blushed? Why are his cheeks turning red?

“Well, I enjoy a good conversation too. And it’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to touch me, I guess.” I pause for a second. “Why wouldn’t someone want to talk to you? You must have so much knowledge to share, being a genius and all.”

“I guess that’s why,” he begins, “people find my rambling to be annoying. I want to share the knowledge I have, but that’s not always what constitutes a good conversation in some people’s opinion.”

“Well, not in my opinion.” I say boldly. I feel sober but drunk at the same time. Sober me would definitely not be having this conversation in the first place. But I don’t feel drunk, I feel… grounded. And focused. But I feel tipsy, like this conversation is affecting me the same way as alcohol. Maybe I shouldn’t think too much about it. You’re blowing it, Y/N. Blowing what?

He smiles and looks down at the ground. I find myself reaching my arm out and placing a finger below his chin, gently nudging his head back up to look at me. He looks surprised. I quickly pull away and begin to play with my hands again. I check the time on my phone: 5 am. Has it really been four hours? It barely felt like fifteen minutes. “I should probably get going soon, I have class in, holy shit, three hours, and I would like to get at least a little sleep before then. It was really nice officially meeting you, Dr. Reid.” I begin to make my way back to the entrance of the bar to find Amber and get us both home.

“Please, call me Spencer.” He says and turns as I start walking away. I pause my movements.

“Okay. Spencer.” I smile and disappear into the bar.

[thehomierobbstark]

Let’s Talk About Sex: Intermission II

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Intermission I Chapter 3

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x Reader [#TeamErikDon’tDateWhiteChicks]

Prompt: Aight, so iOKnoW bout yall but… I got some mad ‘fears’ about sex 😂😂😂. I got so many questions, so many horrible imaginations, so many embarrassing ass scenarios I’ve thought of in my head about what might happen when I finally do the do. Basically, ya girl been thankin (thinking) too much, and I done fucked around and thought up this shit.

A/N: A longggg time ago a lovely anon came in my inbox spitting an idea, and my ass finally got around to making it happen.  It’s a lil modified, but I hope y’all still enjoy it nonetheless.  Thank you anon for your brilliance!!

Warnings: At the bottom 👇🏿👇🏿👇🏿.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

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You sigh, twirling the forkful of salad around in your fingers as you stare off into space, lost in thought.  Ranch dressing drips off a piece of lettuce onto your tupperware lid, splattering a little onto the table, but you don’t even notice, your mind entirely somewhere else.

“Hello?”

The voice of your best friend, Nichelle, filters through to your brain, and you irritatedly bring your mind back to the present, unhappy to be interrupted.

“Huh?”

“Damn girl! You was zoned tf out! What the hell you thinking about that got your ass stuck like that!?” She interrogates you, her eyes squinted in suspicion.  While you normally wouldn’t have wasted anytime telling her about one of the many sex daydreams you regularly found yourself having, the one between you, Erik, and a certain little razor wasn’t one you were willing to share this time.

This one was your own naughty little secret, made even more special by the fact that this time it was an actual memory rather than a fantasy.

Clearing your throat, you wave her off.

“Nothing girl, just thinking about work,” you lie, popping the salad into your mouth and chewing.

“…Uh huh.” She grunts, not buying it. “All I know is, don’t nobody ever catch me thinking bout work with a smile on my face and biting my lip. You must got some bomb ass benefits girl,” Picking up her own fork she eats a mouthful of pasta, shaking her head at you.

Your nostrils flare and you bring your hand to your mouth to keep food from flying out of it as you snort, laughing from being caught.  You didn’t even realize your face was out here exposing you like that.

“Mind your business, bitch,” you tell her after swallowing, reaching over to grab your tea and take a sip.

“I’m just sayin, if you gone be out here reliving your sexcapades you can at least try not to eyefuck the table while you do it.” She shrugs her shoulders, and you’re grateful this time there wasn’t anything in your mouth because you immediately giggle at her statement.

“Shut the hell up Chelle, damn.” You whisper as your eyes shift around the small outdoor cafe to make sure no one else overheard. “Besides, don’t you have your own man and kinky sex dreams you should be thinking about? Stop being so damn nosy.” You fuss at her, angling your fork before stabbing into her pasta and stealing some.

“Girl I would except that nigga not here” Her head falls back and she grumbles, her face sulking.  “He’s in Georgia at some stupid work ‘thing’, which means I don’t get any dick until next Friday. That’s why I gotta live vicariously through you bitch! Now pleaseee, tell me something, I’m dying over here.”

She gives you a sad puppydog look, poking out her lips at you.

You roll your eyes. “Girl you know that shit don’t work on me.  Why don’t you just FaceTime Brian and tell him you’re horny? Isn’t phone sex y’all’s thing?” You take some more pasta, savoring the delicious Cheesecake Factory takeout.

Blowing a raspberry, she leans her head on her fist.  “We had to stop doing that after he answered the phone with his mom in the car.”

“Wait, WHA-“

“It’s a long story, don’t worry about it. Anyway,” She waves her hand as if waving the cringey memory away. “How have you and Erik been?  I know y’all probably been fucking nonstop since you got your tests back, huh? Ol bowlegged ass,” she eyes you coyly with a knowing smirk that says ‘I know what y’all been doing’.

You chuckle yet again at your hilarious friend, so thankful for her ability to always keep you laughing.

“Actually, we haven’t been fucking, thank you very much. My broke ass lungs made sure of that.”  You tell her the story of how you almost choked and died from seeing Erik’s dick, and when she finally stopped cackling at you she grabbed your hand, patting the back of it.

“Oh you poor, poor bitch,” Her face turned down into a faux look of pity.  “You might as well reserve your burial plot now because from the looks of it your ass not gonna survive him dicking you down.”

You snatch your hand from hers, glaring at her.

“I mean let’s be honest here,” she continues, ignoring you, “your ass talk a lot of shit, so you’re mad trippin if you don’t think he won’t obliterate your walls given the first opportunity.”

You pick up your phone, opening your messages while you let her words go in one ear and out the other. It was bad enough you had to live with the knowledge that the mere sight of seeing Erik naked had you hyperventilating, you didn’t need to think of what other ridiculous responses your body would have once he actually started putting use to it.

She continues roasting you as you click on a new message from Erik, seeing a link to a video attached.  A message accompanies it.

Put in your headphones before you watch.

You fish your earbuds out of your purse, completely ignoring your friend now.  Clicking them into the audio plug, you put the buds in your ears before clicking on the link.

The video starts with a view of Erik sitting at what looks like his home office desk, clad in a red T-shirt and a pair of black sweats.  The top of his face is cut off, but you can tell its him by the signature keloids sprinkled over his arms and the telltale smirk on his face displaying his gold fronts, letting you know he was up to no good.

“Hi baby, I miss you today,” the audio plays, and you hear his smooth voice bleed into your ears, sounding so sensual.  You almost forget that it’s a video and respond back, wanting to talk to him and tell him you miss him too.

“I can’t wait till you get home, but I wanted to show you something first before you got here.”

He pushes himself away from the desk, rolling back in his chair, and you’re able to see more of his lap now that it’s uncovered.  Lifting his shirt, he takes the bottom of it and tucks it between his teeth, giving you a peep of his uncovered chest and the long thin gold chain hanging under his shirt.

Leaning a little bit closer, your eyes focus on his belly button, thinking you see something odd there when he takes both his hands and pushes his sweats down, revealing his gorgeous, thick cock standing at full attention, the head of which stops just below his navel.

Your mouth drops and your eyes grow wide, completely entranced by the view of your man stripping down for you.  You watch as he takes one of his hands and grabs his heavy member, beginning a slow stroke from the base to the tip, twisting his wrist over the head.  

You feel a slow wetness start to leak from your pussy, and you shift your legs in your seat, not wanting it to seep past your panties.  

Erik continues pumping himself, taking in a ragged breath and speaking to you again.

“You see what you got me doing, princess?” He groans as his hand reaches its peak again, picking up the pace as he continues pleasuring himself.  “I can’t wait till you get home so Daddy can teach you how to touch him. I just need your hands on me babygirl,” He sucks in a breath, moaning as his head falls back. “And that mouth. Fuckkk…”

You lick your lips and swallow as spit fills your mouth, desperately wishing you could climb through the screen and into his lap right now.

Your fingers feel the side of your phone, looking for the volume button to turn it up when you hear something behind you.

“DAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNN!!!!!” Nichelle’s loud ass voice scares the shit out of you and you drop your phone, you earbuds snapping unplugged as it clatters to the ground, and the sounds of Erik moaning at top volume fill the outside patio.

You scramble to pick it up, grateful that other than you two and another single patron in the corner, nobody was really around to hear it.  Flipping your phone to silent, you exhale a deep breath before turning your burning gaze to your friend.

“What the hell!! You scared the fuck out of me! Why is your ass behind me anyway?!” you yell at her, your heart still beating out of your chest.

“You were ignoring me hoe! But more importantly, why didn’t you tell me his dick looked like that?” She points back at your phone screen at the paused video.

You press the home button, exiting out of the video player and dropping your phone in your bag. You growl as you start packing your stuff up, dumping your unfinished lunch into your lunch bag.

“I swear Niche, if you were anyone else I’d be cursing your ass out right now, you’re lucky its you.”  

She stops you and pulls you into a hug, one you grumbly accept as she apologizes.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, I promise, but your face looked so shocked I wanted to see what you were looking at.”

You couldn’t totally be upset about that, given that had it been any other time you’d have probably showed her whatever it was that had your eyes bugging out of your head. Too bad this time it ended up being a home video of Erik.

You shake her off, pushing her away.  “Yeah yeah whatever. I’m going home, I’mma see you later.”  You grab your stuff, leaning over to kiss Nichelle on the cheek before heading out.

“Where you going? You just gonna leave me here?” She calls after you.

“Did you not see the same video I did? I’m going HOME.” You yell back at her over your shoulder, laughing loudly.

“Try not to choke!” She calls after you, cheering you on as you rush yourself to the car.

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Warnings: Baby Smut

[caranfindel]

Recap/review 15.02: “Raising Hell”

THEN: Sam shot God! Welcome to the end. Demon!Jack. Last week's non-scary ghosts or spirits or whatever. Strangely missing from the "Then:" Sam's godhole vision. It's actually a very short "Then." Maybe the episode itself is so good, so crammed full of wonderful things, that the "Then" had to be kept brief to make room for all of it.

Or then again, maybe not.

Now. We're still in Harlan, Kansas. A woman holding a scarf over her nose and mouth sneaks into the forbidden zone, and is startled by a neighbor. Or "neighbor." She's seen Close Encounters and knows the benzene story is fake (but if it was true, lady, I don't think that scarf would save you). And yet she's apparently never seen a horror movie, because the fact that her "neighbor" is silently and creepily staring at her doesn't raise any alarm bells. He stabs her a few times and then smokes out into an old-timey ghost who says "Disembowel. D-I-S-E-M-B-O-W-E-L. Disembowel." Well. Okay. She certainly doesn't look disemboweled, but I'll take your word for it. I mean, you spelled it and everything.

Title card. (BTW, you need to check out this very through breakdown of everything you're missing in the title card. It's fantastic.)

Nighttime. Harlan High School. Sam is large and in charge, but the people are restless. And apparently there are "hunters in the zone." Sam gets everyone's attention and tells them the EPA will be here tomorrow (a lie) and they need to stay out of the zone (the truth) and is adorably befuddled when he asks if there are any questions and everyone raises their hand. He's wearing a huge chain around his neck and, unfortunately, has gone back to the undershirt.

[[MORE]]

[[MORE]]

The zone. Dean and Belphagar. Dean's EMF meter is going crazy, and Belphagar says there are spirits about (are they ghosts? souls? spirits?) but they don't like him so they skedaddled. (Do we believe that?) Dean can't believe he's working with a demon again, and Belphagar can't believe he's working with a hunter, and it's the classic buddy comedy all over again. Except it's not a comedy and they're not buddies. (Do I miss Metatron?) He reminds us that his rationale for working with hunters is that he liked Hell the way it was. (Do we believe that?)

There's a fiery blast at the zone border, and even though Dean was facing it and Belphagar was facing in the other direction, Belphagar is the one who points it out and says "escape attempt, eleven o'clock." The bad guys can't cross the barrier, but rock salt can, which is convenient. Dean blasts a spirit away, who I believe is the same one from the "Then" but I can't be bothered to confirm and is relieved that the warding still works. Belphagar expositions that it won't last forever, and these ghosts/spirits/whatever are more dangerous than average. For example, the ghost Dean just shot was Francis Tumbelty, aka Jack the Ripper.

(Sidebar: Okay, I did actually rewind and use closed-captioning to confirm what Jack said, because what I heard was Francis Tomelty. And here's how my brain works: I can't remember my kid's phone number, I can't remember my license plate number, I can't remember to call the guy to fix the garage door opener, but I do remember that musician Sting's first wife was named Frances Tomelty. That's how useless my brain is. But Wikipedia confirms that Francis Tumbelty is, in fact, a Jack the Ripper suspect.)

I know, Dean, I feel the same way.

High school. It's daylight now. The citizens are still restless, someone's wife is "missing," the benzene story is wearing thin (sidebar: I'm still using captions, and they misspelled benzene,) and people are plotting an escape.

Zone. Ghosts/spirits/whatever are gathering in one of the houses. Francis Tumbelty, who does not have a British accent (but it turns out he was born in Ireland but raised in America so okay, I guess someone did their research), informs the group that they were released from Hell by God himself. And all of these spirits know what hunters are. And Belphegar's name is actually Belphegor. Well. So much to learn tonight. Tumbelty says they need to gather the spirits who are still in hiding. And they can break the warding because "Warding is a door, doors have locks, locks have keys." Actually, the analogy I would have used is that warding is a lock but WHATEVER. Their plan is to "make it as ugly as possible for those who stand guard." Well, the ineffective spooky makeup will help.

Outside. Hunters are patrolling the perimeter. Civilians sneak out of the bushes and then walk right down the middle of the dang street. And then meet a couple of very unscary ghosts. Oh no, what will happen?

I don't know, because we cut back to the high school. They found the first woman's body, and Cas thinks they need to tell her family, and Sam's all, can't do that yet, people are gonna panic. They're interrupted by the arrival of Rowena, which was a surprise to me because I covered the guest star credits. Although it shouldn't have been a surprise, since Dean called her for help in the previous episode. (See how useless my brain is?) She pretends to be more interested in Cas than Sam but I'm not fooled.

Sam says "Remember a couple of years ago when we were trying to get rid of Amara," as if that's how the conversation would go, as if that's anything either of them would need to be reminded of. What he really would have said was "You know the soul bomb you made for Amara? We need another one of those."

WHATEVER.

They don't want to use it as a bomb, they just want a way to capture the ghosts. Rowena thinks it would be too difficult, but they're interrupted by someone who tells Sam they have "a situation."

Zone. The situation is that the two civilians are facing down Dean and Belphegor. And apparently they've been standing there long enough for Sam to actually show up at the zone, which is miles away from where he was. WHATEVER. Dean explains that the guy is married to the woman who was D-I-S-E-M-B-O-W-E-L-E-D earlier and came to look for her. (BTW, we're almost 10 minutes in, and this is the first scene with Sam and Dean together.) Sam, in his kind way, tells them they need to go back to the school. Then black goo drips out of their eyes and Dean realizes they're possessed. The whole standing-and-staring part didn't clue him in (WHATEVER) but now he gets it.

Bowlegs! Hair blowing in the breeze! Something for everyone!

Tumbelty appears and tells them if they don't open the warding, the spirits are going to kill these two civilian vessels. The civilians drop to the ground, groaning in pain, and I remember back when the guys would have let the spirits out in order to save two innocent people. Or at least would have been conflicted about it. (WHATEVER.)

However, some unexpected shots ring out, sprinkling the possessed civilians with... confetti? How festive. Tumbelty zaps out and the Winchesters and Belphegor turn to see none other than Arthur Ketch. Who is also a surprise to me. I guess that gig as an insurance agent didn't work out. Dean seems ridiculously annoyed to see him. Ridiculous considering that they were working together fairly recently. (WHATEVER.)

And now, since none of my regular download sources worked out and I'm forced to rewatch on the CW app, I'm sitting through commercials. Like a goddamn animal.

Back at the school. Ketch says he just happened to be in the area when they sent out the call for hunters. Dean's still not pleased. What is his problem? Am I forgetting something? Did they leave on bad terms? His gun, stolen from the BMoL, shoots iron flakes. Which somehow expels the spirit without hurting the vessel. He and Rowena reacquaint themselves, and she holds no hard feelings against him regarding the whole prisoner thing, since he let her escape. Well, you actually bought that escape, Rowena, but okay. There is an uncomfortable level of eyefucking, as least as far as the Winchesters are concerned.

Belphegor shows up and they have to explain to Ketch that Jack is dead and oh, Sam's face, when he says "dead." This is the first time this episode has made me feel anything. Well, anything good. And it turns out Ketch was actually contracted by "an attractive female demon" (seriously, that just means a demon in an attractive female vessel but WHATEVER) to kill Belphegor. Her name is Ardat and I guess she's gonna show up later. Yawn.

At least sad Sammy is good.

Reno? I laughed and said ha ha, I wonder if Amara is here and it turns out she is! (Because, again, I covered the guest stars.) She's getting a massage. Her maseusse is replaced by Chuck, who looks about 10-20 years younger than he did the last time we saw him. (Just for Men. Find it in the men's section.) She's annoyed with his presence. He's rambling. He liked the Game of Thrones ending, which I guess is supposed to signal what an awful hack of a storyteller he is. Or to warn us that we won't like the ending of our own Show. Or both.

High school. Poor Cas has to lie to Restless Citizen #3 that they're looking for the other missing citizens. "You said you'd keep us safe!" the guys says. That cuts deep, man. Meanwhile, Rowena has given Dean a shopping list. She asks him about Ketch, even though, as Dean points out, they've obviously met. "That was more of a torturer-torturee relationship. Fun, but I didn't really get to know him." But Dean doesn't want to play matchmaker, and says she shouldn't get involved with Ketch. "I mean, Sam is right here," he says. "Why don't you guys get off high center and do it?" (No, not really.)

Cas comes up behind Dean, all rumpled and sad and wanting a hug, and he apologizes for "dropping the puck." Dean doesn't want to hear it. He's so very angry, at Cas and at Chuck and at his life being one giant rat maze. Cas doesn't think their whole existence has been a lie, because even though they were in a maze, they were still living their lives in that maze. That's what life is. Chuck sets up the obstacles, but they still run their own obstacle course. Dean doesn't accept this.

It's interesting that Dean is the one who's taking the truth about Chuck so hard. Sam and Cas were the ones who had faith, and you'd think they'd be knocked harder by the realization that there was never a benevolent God. But on the other hand, Sam's so used to being manipulated by outside forces; this is nothing new to him. And Cas has already seen how the sausage is made. So they're both just, yeah, this is how it is, let's deal with it.

However. I'm not feeling the Dean-Cas conflict at all. I don't really care. And I suspect it's going to be a Big Deal. {sigh}

I’m definitely feeling angry Dean. So much.

Zone. Nighttime. Dean and Ketch are on patrol. I mean, I guess it makes sense to leave Chief Sam in charge at the school, but I'm tired of the guys being split up. Dean gives Ketch one of the giant chains they've been wearing, and says it's iron, to prevent possession. Wow, that would be a heavy chain. They talk about God and Rowena, and then Dean gets a text message. "Trouble. Two hunters haven't checked in." Uh oh!

Meat packing plant. Seriously? There is a meat packing plant in the middle of this residential area? So many chains hanging from the ceiling. I wonder what kind of cage flashbacks Sam would have in here. (And if you fic that, I'd like to be notified, please and thank you.) Dean and Ketch search the place and then it gets cold and then Ketch is hurled against a wall. Hard. Lizzie Borden appears, prepared to take an ax to Dean's head, but an electronically altered voice says "Stop! Get out!" She zaps out and we see the voice belongs to... Kevin???

Turns out when Chuck said he was sending Kevin to Heaven, he lied. Um. Why? What's the rationale for this? I mean, he did things to make a good story, but what was the purpose of sending Kevin to Hell and not letting the Winchesters (or anybody else) know? Dean promises they'll get him to Heaven, and Kevin accept this happily, because Kevin knows that Dean always takes care of him, as promised. (Ha.) Kevin can feel the wards weakening, but he doesn't know if the other spirits can detect it. And the other spirits are afraid of Kevin because he was personally cast down by God. Um. Okay. WHATEVER. But this tells Dean they can use him as a spy.

Reno. Chuck is flipping through channels, and he spends a couple of seconds watching a cooking show where the recipe involves tripe. Which is so meta, isn't it?

He's whiny. I'm over it. So is Amara. And she suddenly detects (WHATEVER) that he needs her for some reason. She can feel his own version of the godhole? She pokes at it and it hurts. "Something happened. You're not complete. You're not at full strength."

Zone. Sam doesn't think using Kevin is safe. Well, he's already dead, so. Belphegor shows up and they're all, your wards are failing and he's all, duh, I told you that was happening, I thought you heroes would have this wrapped up by now. (Are they really fading due to the nature of wards, or is this deliberate? Discuss.) And this spell was a one-time thing - he can't do it again. Because...? We'll never know, because neither brother asks. WHATEVER.

This conversation is like some people. Stupid but pretty.

Belphegor knows Kevin and calls him a "whiny millenial" and my goodness, he gets around a lot for a low-level grunt, doesn't he? He tells the guys that Kevin can't get into Heaven because once a soul is cast into Hell, Heaven can't take it. I am quite sure that Show has forgotten about John and Bobby, who both accomplished that very thing, and I'm shocked to find Show actually address this. Belphegor says God made an exception, and that isn't likely to happen again, since God doesn't like them any more. Oh no! The only way to fix this is if someone else takes over for God!

Reno. Chuck checks out his own godhole, which looks just like Sam's. He pokes at it and winces in pain.

Zone. Sam feels pain in his own godhole. Because they're connected! He lies that he's okay and it's getting better and Dean's all yeah, right.

Sam, for a professional liar, you are so bad at it.

Zone. Spirit meeting. They know the wards are fading. Tumbelty thinks they should attack at a weak point, rather than waiting for the whole thing to collapse. Kevin shows up. They all know him, and some fear him. But Tumbelty knows he's buds with the Winchesters. Because all these spirits know the Winchesters. You know, I can understand all the demons knowing who they are. That's justified. But every resident of Hell? I'm not feeling it. WHATEVER.

High school. More heavy flirting between Rowena and Ketch. Somehow Ketch knows something she doesn't know - that a jolt of electricity will fast-forward her spell. Can we just skip this part? It makes as much sense as the Rowena/Gabriel detour when they were trying to open the rift. They're interrupted by a call from Dean, who demands she hurry. Yes, please.

Zone. Rowena shows up with a bag and runs right into Tumbelty. Who knows her. Because they used to date. All this romance for Rowena, and Sam's still sitting alone at the high school. Come on, Ro. Climb that mountain. Tumbelty tells her they've got Kevin, and sends a message for the Winchesters to meet them at their spirit house. Ketch shows up behind him, with his iron confetti gun, and blasts him, but Tumbelty whacks him with a rock. However, Rowena escapes.

{Commercial time. Zombieland 2 looks good.}

TFW is finally all together. Rowena tells them about Kevin. Dean asks if she has the soulcatcher, and for some reason, Sam has a problem with the name soulcatcher. I suppose this was supposed to be humorous. She does, but she doesn't know if it will work.

Spirit house. Winchesters show up. Tumbelty says if they shut down the warding, he won't devour Kevin. They say no. Tumbelty sticks his hand into Kevin, and this takes a really really long time, but Rowena finally shows up with the crystal and catches all of their souls. Boy, it's a good time devouring Kevin's soul took so very, very long. Rowena tells them this crystal isn't as powerful as the earlier version, and can only gather a few souls at a time. In fact, some of the souls here got away. Oooh, I wonder who.

Kevin tells them about the plan to break through the warding at the weakest point. Jump to the weakest point. There are at least 100 spirits there, according to Belphegor, and more are coming. Dean brings his gun up when someone approaches, but it's only Ketch. Oh, good, he escaped safely from Tumbelty's clutches! How fortunate. It's odd that he's no longer wearing that huge iron chain, though.

Dean tries shooting at the spirits they can't see, but Belphegor tells him there are too many. So Rowena goes forth with her soulcatcher. She still seems to be on this side of the warding, which means she's able to drag the souls through the barrier. I wonder if it would have worked better if she'd gone past the barrier. Then Ketch backhands her because, SURPRISE SURPRISE, he's actually possessed. He drips black goo from his eyes, just to confirm, and picks up the soulcatcher. Dean tries to shoot him, but is conveniently out of ammo. Tumbelty!Ketch monologues and then Dean pulls out his handgun and shoots him and he... tosses the soulcatcher to Dean? Drops it horizontally? Somehow, the thing ends up flying into Dean's hand.

WHATEVER.

(Or did Ketch toss it to him once he was depossessed? Discuss.)

Rowena takes it back and sucks up the few visible souls, including Tumbelty's. Yay! Success! Is Ketch alive? Dunno!

Time jump. Ketch is alive, with only a wounded shoulder, and is being loaded into an ambulance. Cas tells Sam that he tried to heal him, but couldn't. "You're just tired," Sam says. "We all are." Oh, I don't think so, Sam. Dean apologizes to Ketch, and lets us know it was an iron bullet, which is why it expelled Tumbelty. Ketch and Rowena exchange a longing glance. Dean stares. Angrily, maybe? Angry that Mary's ex dared to look for love again? Angry that Rowena is flirting with someone else right in front of Sam? Angry that Ketch is such a wuss that he actually needs an ambulance, and medical treatment, for a mere bullet to the shoulder? Angry that he's stuck inside a Buckleming episode? All of the above? He and Rowena exchange an uncomfortable look.

Aftermath! Kevin doesn't want to stay in the zone and hang out with the guys. He knows he can't get into Heaven, so he's just gonna ghost around and wander the earth. Sam tells him this is a terrible way to exist, and Kevin points out that it's better than Hell. And Kevin and Sam give us what might be the motto for just this episode, or maybe for the entire season:

I'm sorry, Kevin. I wish there was some way to make this right.

Me too. But there isn't. And sometimes, you just gotta accept that.

Kevin tells the Winchesters he loves them (d'aw) and they don't say it back (aw) and Belphegor quite easily makes a little opening in the barrier. So easily, that it really makes you wonder why he has so little power to keep it going. Yep, it sure does. Kevin is gone. Sad waves.

Reno. Amara is hitting the road. Chuck isn't invited. And she knows he's too weak to do anything about it. He can't leave this world without her help, and she ain't helping.

Zone. We see dozens of glowing souls flitting about. The warding won't last long. We need a plan B. "How," asks Dean. How indeed.

So. When I watched this for the first time last night, I desperately wanted to fast forward through the scenes with the spirits in the house. And the Ketch/Rowena stuff. It wasn't any better on rewatch. Some of this episode was just the usual Buckleming nonsense - badly written, stupid things happen for stupid reasons, yada yada yada. But the Kevin plot... can we blame that on the Buckleming? Or was that a showrunner master plan? Either way, it's annoying. And probably pointless. The only good thing about this episode was the confirmation of the connection between Sam and Chuck. I noticed a distinct lack of excitement on my Tumblr feed, so maybe a lot of us feel the same way. If you haven't watched this one yet, my vote is: don't bother.

Please help me stay unspoiled, thanks!

[l-ann-blog1]

Midnight Touch - Part Five

Shaun

I don’t answer her straight away. I could give her a hundred ways to change how the story she’s involved in can play out, but I get the feeling at least ninety-nine of them would result in her punching me. So, instead, I smile at her then turn my head to watch the guy . . . Sam . . . cross the street, and head in our direction. I reckon we have less than two minutes before he’s going to reach us. “Are you going to stay in your place or do you have somewhere else to go?” I ask her. “I can stay at my sister's,” she replies. She’s also watching Sam’s rapid approach. “I need to get some stuff from the apartment first though.” “How far from here is it?” “It’s right there,” she points to the row of windows above the grocery store. “I live above the store.” “Okay. I’ll come up with you while you pack and take you to your sisters,” I decide on the course of action even as I speak. “What are you going to do about him?” I incline my head toward Sam, who’s almost at the car. “I’m going to ignore him.” The prim tone in her voice makes me laugh as I unbuckle my seatbelt and hop out of the car. In a few quick strides, I’m at the passenger door and have it open before she’s even untangled herself from her own belt. Reaching into the car I unclip the belt for her and hold out a hand, offering to help her out. When she looks up at me, a question in her eyes, I smile. “It’s all about changing the narrative, remember.” Her look changes to one of determination and she grasps my hand and exits the car. “Cassie!” The guy – Sam – calls from behind us. At least I know her name now, something I probably should have found out earlier, but never mind. Cassie ignores him, continuing on a steady path toward the door just to the left of the grocery store’s entrance. I keep myself between her and Sam, angling my stance so that when she pauses to unlock the door, he can’t get to her. We go inside and I kick the door shut behind me, hopefully in his face. I follow Cassie up a flight of stairs, then another pause while she unlocks the second door and we enter the apartment. “Make yourself at home,” she tells me, waving a hand toward a couch that has definitely seen better days. It’s clean enough and covered with a bright yellow throw but it looks like if I sat on it it’d break under my weight, so I follow her and lean against the doorframe of what, I assume, is her bedroom. Her bedroom is an explosion of colour. I honestly have no way to describe it other than to say it looks like someone grabbed the brightest paint they could find and just threw it at the walls. There are yellows, greens, reds and blues everywhere. My eyes shift to Cassie who is standing in front of the dresser. The drab outfit she’s wearing doesn’t match the insanity of her bedroom. “Were you high when you decorated?” I ask, and she jumps. “I thought you were in the living room,” she says, spinning round and I shrug. “You were in my bedroom, only thought it was fair I get to see yours.” “I said I was sorry!” I hear the front door open and turn my head slightly to see another woman enter. This one’s a brunette, probably the roommate. From the look on Cassie’s face, she heard her too. “Goldilocks,” I raise my voice to make sure the newcomer hears me. “You were standing there eyefucking me, there’s no way you’re sorry.” Yeah, I’m an asshole, but if it works it works. “I was looking at your tattoos!” She gapes at me. “Sure . . . sure . . . that’s what they all say. Do you have any tattoos? Think it’s only fair you show me.”  I wink and her eyes slide over my shoulder. I’m pretty sure her roommate is standing behind me. “I only saw them because you came out of the bathroom naked, not even a towel around your waist,” she chides me, and I grin at her. “You’re welcome.” “Oh my god, get out!” She slings a pillow at me and I laugh, catching it. “Fine, I’ll wait out here. But I want to see those tattoos! Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer me.” I back out of the room and close the door, then turn to face the roommate. She’s standing in the centre of the living room, her lips turned down and eyes narrowed at me. She’s pretty enough, but there’s a pinched look around her mouth that I don’t like. “Hi,” I keep my voice casual and head over to the danger-couch, easing down onto it gingerly. “I know you.” Well, okay then. Gonna be like that, is it? “I get that a lot,” I tell her. She turns to the coffee table, rummages around amongst the magazines, then opens one and throws it onto my lap. “Like I said, I know you.” I look down at the picture of me and DJ. The photo had caught us as we were both leaving the hospital. I actually look sober, so that’s something. DJ looks tired and his arm is thrown across my shoulders. I remember the day that picture was taken. It was two months into rehab, after my collapse. DJ had got the nurses to agree to let me out for the day. “What would the papers say if I told them you were in town?” Her voice drags me out of my memories and I glance up at her with a smile. “Not as much as they’d say when I told them how I was helping out a friend whose roommate had fucked her boyfriend on the kitchen table while she was at work.” I make a point of tapping the picture of me in the magazine. “These things love a ‘bad boy does good’ story.” I lean back, draping my arms across the back of the couch. “And, more to the point, these magazines love me. So, if you want to contact them, be my guest. Just remember when the shit hits the fan, you started it.” We’re trading glares in silence when Cassie returns. She glances at me, then at her roommate, then back at me. “I’m ready,” she tells me. “Cassie,” her roommate moves to block her path. “We need to talk.” “There’s nothing you can say to me that will fix what you did,” Cassie responds. Her eyes catch mine. “Are you coming?” “Not yet,” I remark, “but the day’s not over yet.” The roommate glares at me again but Cassie… man, she just shakes her head at me and laughs and that’s when I notice she’s changed her clothes. She no longer looks like a librarian. Now she looks like a girl who wouldn’t be out of place at one of my concerts. Skin-tight jeans and a t-shirt that moulds itself to her curves . . . and, oh boy, those curves are a wet dream just waiting to happen. I’m suddenly really glad she broke into my home. Does that make me shallow? So shoot me, I don’t give a fuck.

Tune in on Wednesday for Part Six

© 2018 No part of this may be copied without prior permission from the author.  Read the full article

[everywon-woo]

SOMETIMES PLANES CRASH - chapter 1

He wasn’t stupid, he knew there would be a lot of negative reactions. But he would get to take Bitty on a real date. He would be able to hold his boyfriend’s hand- hell, maybe even kiss his boyfriend- in public. He couldn’t deny he wanted that. Fuck, he wanted that so bad, and now he would get it. 

Warnings: I probably swore a few times bc I’m me, outing without consent, violence during hockey games, homophobia, some slurs

A/N: This fic was inspired by this post but I ended up writing a whole fic about the coming out part. The HC from the original post will be in the last chapter (chapter 2 or 3, idk if i’m gonna split those up yet). Anyway, this is my first Check, Please! fic so I hope it’s not too bad. Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter 1

He did it.

When the Falcs had given Jack the A, a lot of reporters had doubted the decision. After all, he was a rookie with a turbulent past. He thought that all the fuss about his overdose had been over, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. As soon as his captaincy was announced, the same old discussions had started all over again. Could Jack handle this responsibility? Would he fall back into old habits? Was he really worth it?

But Jack wasn’t a scared teenager anymore. Sure, his anxiety was still present as always, but he had it under control. He knew he could handle the responsibility. He knew he was worth it. And tonight, in his first game with the A on his jersey, he proved it by scoring his first NHL hat trick. When he scored his third goal, which gave the Falcs a 4-3 lead, two seconds before the end of the third period, the arena went crazy and they didn’t stop chanting his name for minutes after the final whistle. On the big screen, Jack saw Bad Bob Zimmermann chanting just as loudly as the rest of the fans.

However, in that moment, right after the final whistle, Jack did not give a single fuck about his achievements or his dad. All his attention was focused on the boy next to Bob. Bitty was wearing a Zimmerman jersey and smiling one of those smiles that could make Jack melt on the spot.

He snapped out of his gaze when he felt a hand on his shoulder and Tater whispered in his ear: “I’m understand Zimmboni loves his boyfriend, but maybe eyefucking him on ice is not good idea.”

Jack quickly tore his eyes away from the stands and blushed.

When he looked back a few moments later, Bitty was gone. Probably on his way to the locker room. Jack gave himself a mental pat on the back for inviting Bitty as his guest so he could come see him after the game. Although, admittedly, when he arranged it, he was thinking of having him there as support if he fucked up, he had very different plans now. Maybe they could find an empty storage room somewhere.

 ‘Maybe’ was a bad word, Jack decided when he arrived at the locker room. Bitty in his jersey never failed to leave Jack all hot and bothered, but that, combined with his flushed cheeks from all the excitement and the way he hugged Jack close, but not close enough was plenty to drive Jack crazy. They had to find an empty storage room somewhere.

They didn’t say a word until Jack had Bitty pinned against the door of some kind of conference room.

“Jack,” Bitty breathed. Jack lost it.

He crashed their lips together and didn’t hesitate before slipping his tongue in Bitty’s mouth, which earned him a soft moan.

Jack didn’t care about the fact that he was still wearing his skates, and had to bend down a lot to kiss his tiny boyfriend – “I am average sized!” –  but apparently Bitty did, because he pushed Jack back until the back of his legs hit a chair. Jack got the hint and sat down, and Bittle straddled him before pressing his lips to that spot right below his jaw that made Jack shiver.

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” Bits said against his skin, voice already a bit hoarse.

“Bits,” Jack moaned, but Bitty didn’t stop kissing his neck. He was careful not to leave any marks, but apparently he enjoyed feeling Jack fall apart under his lips.

Jack threw his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, which was why he didn’t notice the door opening. When he opened his eyes, he was faced with one of the reporters and one of the Blackhawks D-men, who were presumably there to do an exclusive interview and were now both staring at him with wide eyes, and a camera.

Bitty noticed that something was wrong and turned to follow Jack’s terrified eyes.

Suddenly, the reporter seemed to realize that he had Jack Zimmermann, NHL star, making out with another man on camera, and his face turned into a wicked grin that made Jack feel more than a little uncomfortable.

“This is going to be the story of the fucking century,” he said, and he turned around to walk away, but not before adding “thanks for the career boost, Zimmermann.”

 By the time the door closed, Jack was shaking and starting to have a hard time breathing.

No, Bitty couldn’t see him like this.

When Bitty moved away and left his lap empty, Jack knew this was it. Bitty had finally realized what a pain in the ass being with Jack was. Bitty didn’t deserve this. He deserved a nice life with a nice, mentally stable man who was not an NHL star.

Still, the thought of Bitty leaving made Jack’s eyes sting.

However, to Jack’s surprise, he didn’t leave. He sank to his knees in front of Jack and took his hands.

“Jack? Jack, please, look at me.”

He couldn’t. He could hear the panic in Bitty’s voice, and he didn’t want to see the evidence of how he had so majorly fucked up this beautiful boy’s life. Bitty kept talking anyway.

“I love you, Jack. And I know you can’t say it right now, but I know you love me too, and we’ll get through this. Maybe the footage is blurry and you can just deny the whole thing and-”

“I don’t want to deny it,” Jack said, to both his and Bitty’s surprise, and with that realization, he started to calm down. He didn’t want to deny it. He didn’t know if the video was live or not, but the footage would be on the internet within a few hours.

In a few hours, he would be out.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew there would be a lot of negative reactions. But he would get to take Bitty on a real date. He would be able to hold his boyfriend’s hand- hell, maybe even kiss his boyfriend- in public. He couldn’t deny he wanted that. Fuck, he wanted that so bad, and now he would get it.

“Jack… why are you smiling?” Bitty asked carefully.

Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled his boyfriend back into his lap and cupped his face with his large hands.

“Eric Richard Bittle,” Bitty visibly held his breath, “will you go on a date with me?”

Bitty froze for a second, and burst out laughing.

“What?” Jack asked, “What did I do?”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Bitty said as he got himself back together, “for a second I thought you were gonna propose.”

Jack’s breath hitched.

“And… I- I mean,” Bitty stuttered, “not that I wouldn’t say yes, because let’s be real, I would definitely say yes, but-”

“What?”

Bitty froze.

“Oh fuck no I’m sorry honey, forget I said that. Hell, just forget this whole conversation. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Bits.” Jack said, and Bitty looked at him with his big eyes, full of embarrassment. “Would you really want to marry me?”

He only asked because he suddenly realized how much he wanted to marry Bitty. Okay, maybe not suddenly. He realized it when he came home to the smell of fresh pie. He realized it when he woke up with Bitty curled into his side. He realized it when he looked at his own parents and saw himself and Bitty in them. But he had never allowed himself to seriously think about it, because Bitty deserved better than being his secret. Now, though, he was not Jack’s secret anymore.

Bitty suddenly looked down to his hands shyly.

“Of course I would. I mean, maybe not now, but someday? Yeah.”

Jack’s heart did not know how to handle that. His brain didn’t either. But there were some things he didn’t need his brain for. He lifted Bitty’s chin and placed the gentlest kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” he said, “and someday sounds good.”

Bitty looked up at him in shock. Was the fact that he was it for Jack really a surprise to him? Damn, Jack needed to up his game if this boy still didn’t realize how much Jack loved him.

“But maybe we should go on that date first, eh?” he added.

Bitty smiled.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

They were quiet for a moment, just content with being in each other’s presence, until Bitty sighed.

“Fuck, Jack, this is going to be awful for a while, isn’t it?”

Jack wanted nothing more than to deny that, but he nodded. Then he got an idea.

“Hey Bits, maybe we should go on that date now?”

Bitty looked at him like he had just told him his mom had eight arms.

“What?”

“You know, I’m inevitably getting outed in a few hours. The video wasn’t live because then your phone would be blowing up right now, but that reporter isn’t going to keep this to himself. So we can just as well go out and enjoy ourselves before the shitstorm starts. Before you realize what I dragged you into.”

Jack averted his eyes to the hands in his lap, suddenly aware of the horrible situation he had put Bitty into again.

But Bitty didn’t let him. He cupped Jack’s face and forced him to look into those big, brown eyes.

“I would love to go on a date with you tonight, Mr. Zimmermann. But you need to shower first. And we need to talk to George. We can’t prevent this from happening, but we can at least give her a head start.”

Jack was still getting more and more amazed by Bitty every day. While Jack was thinking about himself, Bitty was already thinking about the team and the solutions to their situation.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go shower. Can you- can you maybe talk to George? She loves you and… you know… you’re better at this talking stuff than I am and-”

“Of course, honey. I’ll talk to George. You go take a shower and come to her office when you’re done.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jack said and then he didn’t know what to say anymore, so he pulled Bitty to his chest. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, honey,” Bittle whispered in the crook of Jack’s neck, “we’ll get through this.”

“Yeah. We will.”

 20 minutes later, Jack walked into George’s office after standing in the hall for a few moments to get himself together.

He loved Bitty. He knew Bitty loved him back. He knew they would get through this, but that didn’t make it any easier. George would inevitably be furious at him for not being more careful.

But when he opened the door, he was greeted by a smiling Bitty and George.

“Jack, there you are!” George greeted him. “Sit down!”

Jack nervously made his way over to the chair next to Bitty and sat down.

“I’m sorry,” he started, but George interrupted him.

“No, Jack. You’re not going to apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. This was an accident and if that reporter decides to share this information with the world, he’s a disgusting pig and I will personally make sure he never writes another word again, understood?”

Bitty smiled at him encouragingly to say see, it’s gonna be okay.

“Okay,” Jack said, “but what now?”

“Well, Eric has told me what happened, and he says you don’t want to deny anything?”

Jack nodded.

“Okay, that’s good. I’d rather kick the asses of anyone who dares to say a negative word about you than see you hide someone who obviously makes you very happy.”

Jack and Bitty both blushed and Jack reached for Bitty’s hand. Bitty squeezed his hand and Jack felt himself relax a little bit.

“So,” George continued, “there’s not much you can do right now. I suggest you take your boy out on that date while me and the team prepare for impact.”

Bitty laughed. “You make it sound like we’re on a plane that’s about to crash.”

George smiled, but Jack had done the media smile enough times to know that George was in fact trying very hard to stay calm.

“Yeah. I suggest you boys have some fun before the plane crashes.”

 And fun they had.

They had dinner at a small, low-key restaurant in Providence. Jack would have rather taken Bitty to some kind of fancy restaurant, but since Bitty was still wearing his Zimmermann jersey and Jack had put on his robber outfit instead of his suit, that was not really an option. They’d get a lot more chances to go out and get a fancy dinner anyway, so neither of them really minded.

As they were not used to being able to be affectionate in public, dinner went pretty much the same as any other time they had dinner together. That didn’t make it less fun, though. Jack didn’t think it was possible to not have fun when he was with Bitty. He could listen to him recounting ‘the pie recipe incident’, something that had apparently occurred last week between his mother and his aunt, for hours.

But the real fun started when they were happily walking through the city (hand in hand!) and passed the public ice skating rink.

Bitty was about to walk past it when Jack started pulling him towards the entrance.

“Jack, what are you doing?”

“I just suddenly feel the incredible urge to try out those figure skating moves you taught me. I love you, but my true love will always be the ice, and I feel like I haven’t showed my love enough today,” Jack smirked.

Bitty rolled his eyes. “I don’t even have my skates with me.”

“Me neither, I left them at the arena. We can just rent skates.”

Bitty sighed. “Okay.”

Jack’s face broke into a huge grin and he pulled his boyfriend towards the entrance.

It was already pretty late, and the girl behind the counter looked like she would commit a murder to get out of there, so he told her to keep the change.

Her eyes lit up and she even smiled a little when she said: “Thank you very much. You and your son can pick up your skates over there.”

Jack heard Bitty gasp and he was about to correct the girl, but instead, he turned to his boyfriend and said: “You can wait over here while your daddy picks up the skates, Dicky,” and he burst out laughing when he saw Bitty’s scandalized face.

“Jack Laurent Zimmerman, if you ever say something like that again, I swear I will break up with you.”

The girl then visibly realized her mistake and started apologizing.

Because Jack was still laughing, Bitty said: “It’s fine, honey. It’s not the first time someone made that mistake.”

That caught Jack’s attention. “When has someone made that mistake before?”

Bitty looked at him in confusion for a second before responding: “Where were you even last year? During the playoffs, Holster had a beard, and every time we went out together, people thought I was his son. At some point, he and Rans actually considered just adopting me. How did you miss that?”

Jack laughed again. “You know me, I lived under a rock at Samwell. Lardo even calls me the rock lord.”

“Of fucking course. My boyfriend, the rock lord,” Bitty muttered, now smiling, as he walked off to get some skates.

Jack followed, and 5 minutes later, they were on the ice. Luckily, there were a lot less people than usual because it was already late. The only people left on the ice were a few couples and a group of girls who seemed to do more standing still and gossiping than actually skating.

This was very fortunate, because Jack hadn’t lied when he said that he wanted to try a few figure skating moves. Since they came out to the team, Jack had been skating at Faber a few times, and Bitty had taught him some couple skating moves. They never succeeded, but it was fun nonetheless.

When he voiced his intentions, Bitty looked at him worriedly.

“Are you sure? I mean, I know you wanted to go on a real date but we’re in public and there’s a big chance that someone will recognize you, so-”

“Bits,” Jack interrupted. “I’m sure.”

To amplify this, he pressed his lips to the place where Bitty’s forehead wasn’t covered by his hat.

“Now, let’s skate some rounds to warm up.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Bitty muttered before taking off and skating backwards, away from Jack.

Their ‘warming up’ quickly turned into a race, and within a few minutes they were both more than warm enough, and the few people in the rink had probably realized they were not the average people that came to this rink to have some fun despite barely knowing how to skate.

Bitty decided that he wanted to do some jumps first – only easy ones, though, because the rental skates were fairly shit – so Jack just leaned back against the boards and watched.

He loved to play hockey with Bitty and he loved to watch him play hockey, but nothing would ever compare to watching him figure skate. The grace, the beauty, the way Bitty looked when he lost himself to skating for a moment, were things Jack would never get tired of.

He was almost disappointed when Bitty stopped after a while to skate over to Jack. ‘Almost’ being the keyword, because how could anyone ever be disappointed when their beautiful boyfriend suggests to skate together and try that lift that they’d attempted at Faber a few times?

 Unfortunately, Jack was a pretty horrible figure skater, so they went tumbling to the ice as soon as Bitty’s skates left the ice.

Less unfortunate was the position they ended up in: Bitty on his back on the ice and Jack almost entirely on top of him.

Jack would’ve been worried about Bitty’s fall if he hadn’t started giggling as soon as he hit the ice. At the sound of Bitty’s giggles, Jack couldn’t contain his own laughter anymore either.

After a few moments of pure happiness, Bitty turned his head to the side to look at their surroundings and he suddenly got a worried look in his eyes.

“Jack, someone is taking pictures,” he said, and he tried to wriggle out from under Jack.

Jack considered this for a moment before lifting one hand off the ice to tilt Bitty’s face to look at Jack and said, “Let them,” before kissing him softly.

Bitty gasped into the kiss, but quickly wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck nonetheless.

It was a sweet, short kiss, since Jack was not the biggest fan of PDA anyway, and when they parted, Jack whispered against Bitty’s lips: “You know, I think I love you more than the ice.”

“First you kiss me on the ice and now you outright say you love me more? Maybe we should get off the ice before it takes revenge on me for stealing you,” Bitty laughed. “You’re also getting kinda heavy,” he added.

“Oh, haha. Yeah. Sorry.”

Jack quickly got up and extended his hand to help Bitty up. He felt all warm when Bitty didn’t let go of his hand once he was back on his feet.

They were ready to leave the ice when one of the girls they had seen earlier approached them.

Bitty gave Jack a look to say ‘that’s the girl who took the pictures’.

“Hey,” she said, looking guilty but determined, and there also seemed to be… something else, “you’re… you’re Jack Zimmerman, right?”

Jack nodded. He’d rather spend some more time with Bitty than talk to fans right now, but this girl had pictures of them and she looked like she really wanted to say something, so Jack decided to hear her out.

“Uh- I, uh… just saw the news,” she stuttered, “and I... me and my friends,” she gestured to the group of girls on the other side of the rink, “just wanted to say that, uh… whoever made that video is a dick, and we support you and…” she looked at Bitty.

“Eric,” Bitty filled in.  

“Yeah, you and Eric. And I think we speak for a lot of the fans if we say we’ve got your back.”

To everyone’s surprise, Bitty stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the girl.

“Thank you. That means a lot,” he said.

Meanwhile, Jack had frozen beside them. The video was out. Jack was out. The plane had crashed.

“How long?” he asked.

Both Bitty and the girl looked up to him in confusion.

“What?”

“How long has the video been out?”

“Oh, uh… not that long,” she tapped her phone a few times, “4 minutes.”

For some reason, this was still a shock for Jack. He had expected this, but somewhere deep inside, he had still hoped that reporter would keep this to himself.

Bitty immediately noticed Jack’s panic and stepped away from the girl to cup Jack’s face with his gloved hands.

“Jack, please look at me. We knew this would happen, George and the team are ready for this. We’ll be fine. These people have your back,” he nodded towards the girl, who was watching the situation unfold.

“We really do, Jack,” she confirmed.

Jack let his forehead rest against Bitty’s for a while until his breath evened out.

No matter how much he didn’t want to be in this situation, he couldn’t deny that being with Bitty in public like this, without having to worry about being seen, was nice.

“I’m okay,” he stated when he felt like it was the truth. Then he got an idea. He turned to the girl.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Her breath hitched for a moment, but she quickly got herself together and answered: “Emma.”

“Okay, Emma,” Jack started, “I believe you took some pictures?”

Emma’s face went beet red and she started sputtering: “Yeah- yeah, I did… but I- I’m sorry and I shouldn’t have done that, and I- I can delete them right now, I promise I wasn’t planning on outing you or anything-”

“Emma,” Jack interrupted her, “it’s fine.”

“I promise I didn’t mean to-”

“I know. I believe you. That’s not what I meant to say. I just wanted to ask if you took any good pictures?”

Emma stared at him wide-eyed for a few seconds before she seemed to process his question.

“Y- yeah, I, uh… took a photography class,” Jack smiled, “so I like to think I take some decent pictures,” Emma laughed.

“Can I see them?” Jack asked.

Emma looked like she had no idea where this was going, but she complied anyway, and showed Jack the photos on her phone. There was one of Jack and Bitty right before Bitty’s skates left the ice during the lift, which made it look like Jack actually had a clue what he was doing. There was a picture of them laying on the ice and laughing. The next one, presumably taken a few seconds later, showed Bitty looking almost directly into the camera – but it looked like he hadn’t realized there was a camera yet, because he was still smiling – and Jack looking down at him lovingly. The last picture was the perfect shot of Jack and Bitty kissing. Even with her phone, Emma had framed these pictures perfectly, the light of the street lanterns shining at the perfect angle.

“These are amazing,” Jack said.

Emma blushed deeply. “Thank you. I can send them to you, if you want? I can, uh… DM them to you on twitter?” she offered.

Bitty scoffed. “No, send them to me. Jack Zimmerman can’t use twitter to save his life,” he said, and he shoved Jack playfully.

They then exchanged twitter usernames, and after that Jack and Bitty took off for real, but not before shouting, “Thank you!” to the girls who had been silently observing the whole conversation. Jack swore he could hear some of them squeal.

 “Hey Bits?” Jack said while they were unlacing their skates.

Bitty hummed.

“Maybe you could post one of those photos on, uh… Instagram? Is that what it’s called?”

Bitty looked up at him in surprise.

“Really?”

Jack nodded.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, of course. Which one do you like best?” Bitty asked while opening up the app.

Jack thought about this for a few moments before deciding: “The one where you look into the camera. You look good in that one.”

Bitty put a hand over his heart and looked quasi-offended. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann, are you saying I don’t look good in the rest of them?”

Jack knew it was supposed to be a joke, but he couldn’t resist lightly dragging his lips over Bitty’s jaw before whispering in his ear: “You have no idea how good you look. Especially in my jersey. But I think you’d look even better if you were wearing only my jersey.”

Bitty seemingly choked on nothing and he hit Jack in the chest.

“You can’t just say stuff like that in public!”

Jack smirked. “Oh, but I can now, remember?”

Bitty blushed.

“Okay, I’m just gonna post that picture now and then we can go home.”

Eric Bittle @omgcheckplease

Jack Zimmermann sure knows how to have a first date instagram.com/p/HdhJkslxv3

Chapter 2