#feels like nothing has ever mattered either

[hencheri]

make you mine

18+ mdni.

You've never suspected the evil would have taken the form of Jay, a hot guy from your college, but when he takes interest in you, you rapidly discover the secret he's been hiding.

pairing: jock!jay x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k

warnings: graphic description of gore (mention of blood & injuries), dubcon, implied inexperienced!reader, unprotected sex, jay's kinda mean but hey he's evil so ain't my fault lol.

a.n.: jennifer's body au cause why not. old fic from an old blog, but it's still my fav of all time <3

Jay thinks he never felt that much pain in his whole entire life. It’s like his soul is screaming from the inside out, as if someone stabbed him in the stomach, tearing his guts apart. 

Oh, but that’s what actually happened…

How can he still be alive? He swears he was dead seconds ago, losing liters of blood through the cut in his stomach. But he’s very much conscious right now, getting out of the woods he was brutally murdered in. 

Well, is it still even murder if he survived? 

It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. All he can think about at this moment is how hungry he is. He would devour anything he can put his hand on, and god, why does the person on the other side of the street look so… edible? 

He feels the dried blood that dripped from his mouth stick to his skin as his hands are stained in the same red substance, holding his stomach where, surprisingly, he is no longer bleeding from.The pain is atrocious, but he needs to fucking eat, and so he approaches the person faster. 

The moment they notice him, their eyes grow bigger and they let out a strident scream, but Jay gives them no time to leave.

He doesn’t know what in the hell possesses him to jump on that poor human, his teeth becoming sharper than they ever were, shredding their neck in pieces, their screams slowly dying down as he eats like a starved animal.

The fresh blood is coating the dried layer on his chin. He feels like an uncontrollable beast, and he’s literally acting like one right now. No one with a right mind would have ever done this… but it’s like he isn’t a human. 

He was revived from the dead, there’s nothing human about him anymore. Nothing.

He has an idea as to why this happened. 

Those girls — that girl band who he seemed so enthralled by — sacrificed him, and for what…? For fame? For money? Whatever it is, they killed the wrong person because obviously the sacrifice didn’t fucking work. He’s still very much alive. 

He’s cursed now, that’s for sure. Or whatever the hell is happening to him. 

He looks down at his victim; it’s a man. 

He suddenly feels nauseous, vomiting what he had so far swallowed. A dark liquid comes out of his mouth, and god, it’s even more painful than the cut in his stomach. 

He feels disgusted by himself — why isn’t he full? Eating felt so good, considering how starved he was, but it’s like he ate something … expired. 

What’s wrong with him… He ate someone’s guts, of course it doesn’t taste like a 5 stars meal. Then why did his instinct tell him to do that? 

That’s fucked up. 

The next few days are horrible for Jay. 

After that night, he doesn’t eat anything except for raw chicken and other types of meat that are just not enough to satiate him. It doesn't taste good either. 

He lays in bed most of the time, having no energy, skipping the gym and his practices, which he usually never does. He gets texts from his friends, but he doesn’t bother to check his phone. 

It’s on Sunday night that he decides to leave his bed, going to look at himself in the mirror. He has big dark circles under his eyes — not particularly flattering. He’s still very hungry, but none of the food in his fridge makes him want to eat. 

There’s one thing he’d want, though… 

It’s when he receives a text from a specific person that he knows what to do. 

iseul: hey, jay. wanna study together for the finals?

—-

“Hey, man,” Jay’s teammate, Jungwon, greets him. “Heard about Hana? That’s fucked up,” he says, walking beside his friend. “And right after Iseul… My parents refuse my sister to go out alone now.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Jay replies, not really caring, but still listening. 

It’s not like anybody liked Hana before, he doesn’t understand why everybody suddenly cares now that she’s dead. She needed to die to finally have some importance. How sad. 

She wasn’t that good of a laid either, so really, what’s the matter? Sure, it’s tragic, but who’s going to miss her besides her family. 

“Can’t be an animal at this point,” his teammate says under his breath, “Do you wanna know what I’m thinking?”

Not really…

“What?”

“I’m thinking it’s gotta be some ‘Jack the Ripper’ kinda guy. You know those freaks who wanna be the modern this or that.”

Kind of offensive… 

Jay rolls his eyes without Jungwon noticing, snickering at his words.

“The police’s saying it’s a bear or some shit,” Jay explains, reaching his class. “That’s more believable than your ‘modern Jack the Ripper’.” He mimics quotes with his fingers, stopping in front of the classroom. 

Jungwon still doesn’t seem convinced, but it’s not Jay’s job to make him less stupid. He can believe what he wants, he’s not an investigator even though he thinks he is. 

“See you at practice, alright?”

“Yeah, later, man.”

Jay has never been very attentive in class. He doesn’t care about a lot of things and college is one of them. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for his parents and their high expectations of him. 

He’s looking outside the windows, noticing the grey clouds, heavy rain pouring from the sky. A flash of lighting breaks through the sky, hearing the thunder a second after. 

Nobody seems attentive either, all interested in the thunderstorm that’s starting. It might be the strongest they’ve seen in a couple of years. 

“Crap,” the teacher says as the electricity is cut off, surely because of the thunder. 

Girls are gasping, some of them whispering to each other about how creepy the situation is while the professor waits for the power to get back on.

Jay’s phone lights up as he gets a new notification. He takes a look, reading the text he just received. 

jungwon: practice’s canceled.. 

Great, Jay thinks. He really needed to get some steam off, but it won’t happen today. 

“Sir!” A girl raises her hand, catching the attention of the professor. “All classes got canceled. Can we leave? Apparently the power isn’t coming back for a few hours.”

The professor seems quite disappointed, but he lets everyone go back home, seeing no point in staying if he can’t teach. 

While exiting the classroom, Jay gets bumped into by someone. He doesn’t move much, but the person drops their books on the floor, bending down to pick them up hurriedly. 

“Shit… Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you apologize, standing back up when you have all of your books in your arms.

“It’s fine,” Jay mumbles and you give him a straight smile.

He recognizes you from highschool, a girl he never talked to, but who he knew the name of. Then, he watches you walking away for a short moment, eyeing the curves of your silhouette, memorizing it. 

—-

You’re in the cafeteria, sitting with your friends, waiting for about a good 30 minutes now. The storm from yesterday is still ongoing, and the power is very unstable, cutting off every now and then.

The finals are scheduled for today and the administration told the students to come regardless of the storm, thinking it would stop during the night. So you’re waiting to be sent to the gym where the exams are usually taking place, but seeing the electricity goes off and comes back every second, it isn’t the best time to start an exam. 

People are free to go, it’s college after all, but most of the students are staying in case a decision is made. You know you wouldn’t want to skip your exam, that’s why you’re staying, even though it’s starting to get really long. 

No murder has happened since the beginning of the storm, confirming the police suspicions that it might be a wild animal doing this. A bear wouldn’t come out during a thunderstorm, hence why no bodies have been found or anyone going missing. 

You don’t really know what to think of the whole thing. You never really experienced anything of the sort before, only ever seen it in the news, taking place in a far away city. Now, it’s really different to be a witness of it.

You don’t understand how an animal would do such a thing, especially since they aren’t known to attack humans, or… eat them. But everybody is kind of desperate to find a culprit. 

As you’re looking through your notes, you notice that you’re missing a piece of information that you absolutely need to know for your test. You would ask your friends, but none of them are in this class with you. Plus, you forgot your book so the only solution would be to go to the library. 

The place is lit up by candles and oil lamps. The power doesn’t seem to have come back here either. 

The librarian isn’t even here, so you can’t ask her for directions, which would be really useful, but you’ll do without. You go to the biology section and start searching for the book you need. It takes you some time, carefully looking through the shelves until you notice an older edition of the book. You hope what you need is in there.

You start flipping the pages to the right chapter, but you jump out of surprise and drop the book to the floor at the sound of someone else’s voice. 

“Aren’t you supposed to attend your exam?”

It’s the guy you bumped into yesterday; Jay. 

What’s weird is that you didn’t hear him at all, you could have sworn you were alone in the library. You suppose he’s a really quiet walker.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer out, furrowing your brows. You bend down to pick up the book, his eyes following your movements closely. “Just had to come here for this,” you say and show the object in question in your hand. “What about you?”

He leans on the shelves beside him. 

“Didn’t feel like wasting my time back there,” he explains and you nod, not really sure what he wants exactly… It’s not like you’re friends or anything.

You can’t see much of him with the low lighting in the library, but you still catch on the way he’s looking at you intently. It makes you slightly uncomfortable, considering he’s towering over you with all his height. And Jay is very tall compared to you. 

“Is- Is there something else you wanted to ask me…?” You manage to let out, voice a bit shaky and uneasy. 

“Are you scared?” he asks casually.

He steps closer to you, and you don’t understand why you don’t step back. It’s like you don’t dare.

“What?”

“The storm. Pretty intense, right?”

Is he really interested to know if you’re scared of storms or is he playing with you? Why would he even play with you in the first place, that’s what you wonder. 

His behaviour really confuses you. It’s true that you don’t know him, but he isn’t the type of guy to just… creep girls out. Maybe it’s not his intention though?

“Oh, yeah… it’s nothing I've ever seen before,” you confess in a small voice. 

“Me neither,” Jay replies. 

You hold the book against you tighter like it’s some sort of protection, or just as emotional support. You don’t know what’s up with him, but it has you feeling some type of way… 

You feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter as he gets even closer, trapping you between him and the bookshelves. 

Yes, you’re scared, but not of the storm… of him.

And… there’s a part of you that likes it — likes the attention he gives you, the way his dark eyes look at your body. His gaze makes you think of a carnivore, a predator. 

You’re the food he was looking for. 

“It’s really loud, isn’t it?” he observes. “I wonder… if you had to scream, would anybody hear you?”

That startles you right away. 

“Jay-” Saying his name seems to catch his attention, his eyes looking directly into yours. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t break eye contact, and you’re destabilized by how long he can hold your gaze, a shiver running down your spine, making the hair on your arms stand up. 

It’s only to whisper in your ear that his eyes leave yours. 

“Stop what exactly?”

His hot breath hits the side of your neck, hearing your heart pounding in your chest, the knot in your stomach becoming heavier and heavier. Your hands clasp around your book, holding onto it for dear life as you gulp down the excess of saliva in your mouth. 

You scrunch your eyes shut when you feel his hands on your hips, fingers sneaking under the hem of your top. Your core heats up, blood rushing to your cheeks.

“What do you want?” You breathe out, opening your eyes when Jay faces you again. 

He takes the book from you, putting it back onto the shelves, not caring if it’s the wrong placement. 

“Just a little bit of fun,” he answers, “wouldn’t you like that, hm?” He slips his index finger under the band of your skirt then, pulling you closer to him, his lips only centimetres away from yours. “I know girls like you are too shy to ask for it… So I’m making the first move.” 

“No, I-” You begin, but don’t have the time to finish your sentence. 

“It’s fine, I’m gonna take the lead. You don’t have to worry about anything, pretty,” he tells you, tilting his head and pressing a light kiss to your lips. Surprisingly, you reciprocate it. He pulls his hand away from your skirt, putting it around your neck instead. “I knew you’d be into it, you’re a little freak, aren’t you?” 

You don’t know what to answer. Is there even anything you can say back to him? What’s the point of lying when he has you trapped between his large body and the bookshelves, his slender fingers gripping your neck, his lips brushing over your face. 

But would that be really a lie saying he’s wrong about you? He doesn’t know you…

He kisses you again, this time sloppier, his tongue dominating yours easily. He nudges your legs open with his knee, his other hand swiftly diving under the hem of your skirt, groping your flesh in a lewd way that keeps you out of breath — apart from the fact that his tongue is currently exploring your mouth. 

He graces the bump of your pussy with his knuckles, making your knees buckle at the unexpected contact. He rubs the pad of his middle finger over your clit, a whine escaping your throat, muffled by his mouth on yours. The moment is brief until he slips his hand into your underwear. 

You try to make him stop by grabbing his wrist, pulling away from his lips to pathetically whisper a ‘please’ that makes him chuckle. 

“Already begging for me, sweetheart?” He softly laughs, smirking at you. “Excited by the idea of a guy’s fingers in your little cunt instead of yours? Is that it?”

You frown because that wasn’t the reason why you begged him, but now that he said this… your thoughts are going into a completely different way. What’s wrong with you?

“Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? How it’s like to have your pussy stuffed by someone else’s fingers…” 

He’s not waiting for an answer as he starts stroking your bud of nerves in slow circular motions, applying some pressure to really make you feel it. You let out another whine, this time of pleasure. 

Jay then shifts down to your entrance, circling it with a lot of delicacy, but this gentleness of his doesn’t go on for long as he pushes a finger into you. You bite down on your bottom lip — the size of his fingers are in no comparison to yours. Your eyes well up in tears, little cries escaping your mouth when he adds a second digit. 

“I know, I know,” he whispers, “must be uncomfortable, hm?” You nod your head, confirming his words. “It’ll feel good soon, I promise. You’re used to the feel of your tiny fingers, it’s normal…”

When he says this, you have a hard time believing him. How could it feel good when you weren’t at all prepared for this — when it’s not what you wanted. 

He begins to move his fingers inside of you, slow and long strokes at first, circling your clit with his thumb at the same time. He curls his fingers, making a little hook, patting your sweet spot. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but it progressively gets so much more pleasurable as he thrusts into you at a regular pace. 

Tears are still falling down from your eyes, eyelashes wet and sticky, but they aren’t the result of your pain… 

“You’re pretty when you cry,” Jay murmurs beside your ear, butterflies in your stomach when he tells you this. 

He unwraps his hand from your throat to instead grab your thigh, placing your leg around his hip. You now feel his fingers way deeper inside of you, gently and deliciously stimulating your g-spot. You dare to look down where his left hand is operating between your thighs, sliding in until he’s knuckles deep into your pussy. This makes you breathless, head rolling back on your shoulders and hitting the shelves behind you. 

“Oh, my god-!” You exclaim when Jay’s ministrations bring you so close to your orgasm. Your legs are twitching, your body warning you of your approaching high.

You’d probably be more aware of his hard cock trapped in his baggy jeans, but you literally cannot focus on anything else other than Jay fingering you, hitting your sensitive spot each time he thrusts in. 

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, moving faster. “You feel it? Huh?” He asks and you croak out a weak ‘yes’. “Tell me how it feels.”

You hate his questions — you hate them so much. He knows how you feel, but he wants you to say it, he wants you to say that you enjoy it, and… your body really does. 

“G-Good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out, fucking your cunt with his fingers, enthralled by the little moans you let out.

“Yes,” you confirm, closing your eyes and nodding your head. “Fuck!” You curse out when you finally reach your high, grasping onto his forearm as you ride out your orgasm, your entire body shaking. 

Jay helps you by slowly rubbing your puffy clit in circles, telling you more dirty words in your ear, all said in the sweetest voice, as if what he’s doing can be described as anything sweet. 

“Good girl,” he praises, “see, I told you it’d feel great.”

He still has his head in the crook of your neck, and you frown at the feeling of sharp teeth against your skin. It’s barely there, just brushing over it, as if hesitating to act… but Jay retrieves back, looking into your reddened eyes. 

He could stop there, but he won’t — though he got what he wanted, he needs more… 

He pulls his hand out of your panties, fingers glistening in your arousal. “Open wide for me, baby,” he instructs. 

You glance at his hand, a little repulsed. You’ve never thought of tasting yourself and it’s surely nothing you’d have ever done if not for Jay. 

You then reluctantly open your mouth and he enters his wet fingers in. 

“Suck,” he adds on, expecting you to follow his orders, and you do without a second thought. 

He stares down at you while you lick his fingers clean and he slides them a bit deeper, pushing down on your tongue. The taste of yourself isn’t what you thought it’d be… It doesn’t taste much, in fact. 

He removes his fingers from your mouth only to put them in his own after. “As sweet as you are,” he grins. “Turn around.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking at him credulously, before doing what he asked you to do on trembling legs. 

“Are you…?” You say under your breath, looking over your shoulder and seeing Jay pulling the zipper of his pants down. 

“Going to put my cock into you?” he finishes your question, “yeah, I am.”

You stop breathing at his answer, sensing his deft fingers touching your thighs and hips, going under your skirt to drag your panties down. 

He soon gets his cock out of his briefs, pumping himself a couple of times before aligning his head with your dripping entrance. His right hand keeps your skirt crumpled up over your ass, laying the other one on your hip. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says softly beside your ear, “because this might sting a little bit more than two fingers.” He swipes the head of his cock through your sticky folds and all you can do is moan pathetically at the feeling, lewd, wet noises echoing in the big library. 

You can’t see his length even with the way you contort your head to look over your shoulder, but you’re still able to see his chest and hips moving as he pushes his cock into your pussy. Though you have no idea what he looks like, the painful feeling of your cunt getting stretched out to his size tells you he’s really big. 

And he was right. This hurts way more than his fingers, the two feelings are not comparable at all. 

“Jay-,” you cry out, holding onto the shelves in front of you till there’s no more blood in your knuckles. 

He hears you, loving the sounds you’re making because of him and the way you say his name with eyes full of tears. When he bottoms out inside of you, his pelvis flushed against your ass, he lets out a low grunt and throws his head back, closing his eyes to savour the pleasure entirely. 

You involuntarily clench around him, making him tighten his grip on your hip. He then starts thrusting into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy at a slow but harsh pace. Each time he bottoms out, Jay makes sure the skin of his thighs slap against your ass, the sounds almost as loud as your little moans and whimpers. 

But the storm is so intense and noisy that he’s pretty sure nobody else in the library could hear you — if there was anyone else here apart from the two of you anyway. 

Your wetness allows him to fuck his cock into your pussy back and forth, welcoming him so perfectly without any restraint. It’s almost impossible for him to not hit your sweet spot, and he reaches so much deeper when he lifts up your thigh with the hand that was previously placed on your hip. 

You don’t know how long you can stay in this position, especially when Jay’s drilling his cock into you like nothing else matters. It’s like he needs it from you, and as the pleasure only builds up in you, you start thinking you need it desperately, too. 

You’re breathing heavily, and so is he, feeling his hot breath on your neck when he tilts his head down closer to yours. You can clearly hear his breathing now as well as his deep grunts that leave his mouth every time your walls close tightly around his girth, literally sucking him in. 

“Shit,” he curses out as he pushes lightly on your back, deepening the arch of it so your ass is flushed against his pelvis. “How could I have ever missed out on you… You’re so- fuck,” Jay chokes out, not finishing his sentence, but you have a guess on what he wanted to say. 

He then kisses your neck pretty messily, but it only raises the temperature of your body, your skin boiling hot under his soft lips. He leaves a wet trail behind, going up to your ear, down to your shoulder. 

Telling him to stop isn’t even possible anymore, it wouldn’t make any sense… would be absolutely stupid when you’re so close to your second orgasm. 

As he thrusts into you, his balls slap your pussy, and the sounds are just too vulgar, but it’s honestly arousing you so much. Jay lets go of your thigh to take a hold of your jaw, turning it around so he can look at your face. 

Your mouth is ajar to let out big puffs of air, and it’s the same for him, his breathing being irregular and heavy. He didn’t think he would ever need something that badly, which is making you his, surprisingly enough. 

Making you his in whatever way possible; whether it’s by fucking you or eating you — or both. Jay doesn’t care, he just wants it. 

It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to pass through you, arms and legs shaking as the knot at the pit of your stomach snaps. Jay feels it very clearly, your walls hugging his cock terribly tightly, bringing him closer to his own orgasm as well.

“Holy fuck,” he hisses, his hip thrusts accelerating, literally burying his cock in your cunt until he slips out. He rapidly strokes himself and cums on your ass, strings of white cum falling on you. “Oh, god…”

He stays in this position for a couple of seconds, catching his breath. He then slightly backs away, making sure to keep your skirt crumpled up over your butt, looking at the mess he made of you. 

Suddenly, you both catch on the voices entering the library, making you rush to dress up and clean yourselves. 

—-

You’re in your bedroom, studying and writing down in your notebook while lying on your bed. It’s relatively quiet in your house, hearing the TV downstairs playing and the ceiling fan above your head running. 

The ringtone of your cell phone breaks the silence, buzzing on top of your bedsheets. It’s a number that you don’t recognize, but the first digitals show that it’s a number from your area, so you pick it up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, pretty.”

“Uh, who is this?” You ask the person on the other side of the line because you have no idea who would call you like this. They must know you.

“Take a guess,” they say, and their tone is oddly flirty. 

You frown, starting to remember where you heard this voice for the last time… And in which situation exactly. 

“... Jay?” 

He laughs at that and you can imagine the cheeky smile he’s sporting right now. 

“You got it,” he replies, “see, I knew you’d remember me.” 

You immediately feel uneasy despite the fact you’re just talking through the phone, but things have happened since your encounter with Jay.

Things such as more dead girls, all brutally murdered by this supposed ‘animal’. 

You suspected nothing until you noticed how tired looking Jay was a day or two after what happened in the library. Normally, you wouldn’t have looked at him, but you literally couldn’t get him out of your head after how intimate the both of you had been. 

Every time he was in the same hallway as you, you’d give him a glance and nothing more as you were too shy to talk to him or even look at him for too long. 

But sometimes you dared to watch him a little longer when he didn’t know you were there. 

And you saw the dark circles, the bad attitude he had with his friends, and the disdain look he seemed to give to everybody. You also saw him get in his car with a girl. You were jealous for a second, but you felt totally different the next day when that same girl went missing and that Jay was doing fine again. 

At first, it was just silly thoughts, but it was too strong of a coincidence, you couldn’t think about anything else. 

Jay’s an incubus.

“Yeah…” You say back, shoulders tense as you sit up on your bed. “How did you get my number?” 

“Asked Jungwon for it,” he simply explains. “You did a project back in highschool together. Remember?”

You do remember. You were so stressed out about it. Paired with a popular jock? You believed the teacher was against you, but it turned out that Jungwon was way nicer than you thought.

“Luckily, you didn’t change numbers.”

Lucky for who?

“Right,” you huff out, looking through your window, a shiver passing through you at the thought of Jay hiding somewhere.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“Uhm, just studying… Why?” 

“Wanna go out with me?” Jay proposes after a few seconds of silence. 

You look through your window again. It’s dark outside. This would be such a bad idea… 

“It’s 9 p.m. on a Thursday night,” you begin, sounding way too bitchy for his liking, “where would we go? And why would I even go out with you…”

“The park’s always open,” he adds.

“What-”

“Relax. Nothing bad gonna happen, alright?" his voice resonates through the phone, hearing a slight laugh after. "I miss you, that's all."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to get all of your stupid thoughts away. As much as you hate to admit it, you love hearing that from Jay. That’s all you wanted him to say since he left you in the library… tell you he needs you as much as you need him. 

But this isn’t the time for that — there won’t ever be another time anyway. 

You respond nothing and so he takes it as a yes. “Send me your address, I’ll come pick you up in 10 minutes. Put something pretty on,” he chuckles, hanging up. 

—-

The park isn’t an open space with benches and a fountain. It’s basically the woods where you go for hiking. There are paths you can follow that will all lead you to the same place at the end. 

You could have thought of something smarter, or less dangerous, but you didn’t have any time. Jay showed up at your entrance precisely 10 minutes after he hung up and you weren’t exactly ready to see him just yet. 

You had to get in his car anyway, the whole ride being quiet until you arrived at your destination. Your stomach churned up the moment you entered the woods, Jay behind you. 

Your heart is still beating super fast right now, whether it’s because you’re absolutely scared or because Jay is kissing you feverishly, it doesn’t matter. You can’t do this, and you don’t know how it might end for you if you let yourself be distracted by him. 

“Jay,” you manage to say between kisses. You push harder on his chest, making him stop from putting his tongue in your mouth. “We need to talk,” you say firmly. 

“About what?” he chuckles, diving back down to the crook of your neck where he plants wet kisses, his hand sneaking up under your dress while the other holds your hip. 

You squirm, fighting hard to not let yourself give in to his touch. 

“I saw… I saw Kazuha and you getting into your car the other day,” you confess and he backs away from your neck when he hears that, looking intently at your face. 

“And? You were jealous, is that it?” He questions, lifting one eyebrow. 

“No! I mean-,” you answer right after, thinking about what to say and how to say it. “She went missing the day after you saw her, and-”

Jay gets visibly annoyed, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. He lets go of you, still looking at you, but not with lustful eyes anymore. 

“What? What are you trying to say, huh?” He huffs out. “That I killed her? Fucking crazy.”

Is he really guilty? He has to be. You know he is. 

“Back in the library,” you begin to say, “were you… did you intend to kill me?” You eventually say it all, breath caught in your throat as you watch Jay registering your words. 

He sighs, “why would it matter?” You frown at that, about to respond, but he steps closer to you, trapping you between him and the tree again. “Just let me take care of you, gonna make you feel so good, baby…” 

He slips his hands under your dress so rapidly that you don’t have any time to react, immediately overwhelmed by his groping and his lips all over you. 

But you get back to your senses, using all your force to push him away. You succeed to have a safe distance between the two of you.

“So you’re admitting it!? You wanted to- to do the same thing to me!”

“No,” he disagrees, his voice harsh, sounding quite annoyed. “I just wanted- Fuck!” he exclaims angrily, but it’s like he doesn’t know what to say. 

“You could have had everybody you wanted, Jay,” you state, looking him into the eyes, “why me?”

He looks back at you and you wonder how you couldn’t have seen it before… The evil. 

“Why not? You’re hot, kinda stuck-up, but I had to try it, you know,” he chuckles. “For a nerdy girl, you sure know how to take dick.”

This angers you to a point… 

“Fuck you!”

And without thinking twice, you reach down to pick up the pocket knife you hid in your boot before. 

You open it and you rush toward Jay, stabbing him in his lower stomach. You retrieve the knife a bit too hastily, resulting in you dropping it and falling down on your butt to the ground. 

Jay also falls down, holding onto his stomach, red blood dripping out of his cut onto his hands. He yells out many curses, sucking air through his teeth to appease the pain as much as he can. 

You watch him, startled and out of breath, eventually turning around and searching for your knife through the dirt and dead leaves. When you find it, you get back up and to Jay, but he isn’t there anymore.

He has completely disappeared. 

[puckinghischier]

i’m having soft quinn thoughts today and i have to shout them from the rooftops so everyone else can suffer with me.

but i absolutely cannot stop thinking about how quinn would always want to spend time with you, but feel guilty for how occupied he is during the season. every second of downtime he has is spent watching game film in your living room, studying tactics and plays. not that you ever complain. you’re content simply being in the same room as him, not taking for granted any amount of time you can be in his presence.

quinn’s attention is always half on you, no matter how hard he tries to focus. he steals more glances at you than he cares to admit, worried that one day you’ll get sick of sitting in silence while hockey occupies the space between you. but you never do. you keep yourself busy scrolling through your phone or reading the most recent book he bought you, never uttering a complaint. he’s tuned in to every fidget or movement you make, not wanting you to remove your always cold feet from under his warm legs to occupy yourself with something—or rather someone—better.

it surprises him that you never do. you never utter a word, not wanting to disrupt his work. every so often he’ll catch you looking back at him during one of his ‘quick’ glances, absorbing the warm smile you give him. sometimes you’ll quietly ask him if he wants anything from the kitchen when you stand to go fill up your water cup, but seem content to simply sit there with him as he mumbles to himself, jotting down notes as he watches.

tonight, he can’t help but notice—during his million and one glances at you—that your eyes are glued to the tv. your phone is laying, locked, in your lap, eyes following the puck as it’s shuffled across both screens from player to player. your body’s subtle reactions to the game aren’t lost on him either. the twitch of your foot anytime someone shoots the puck, the raise of your brow when a player on either team scores, the hitch in your breath anytime the two teams start to fight.

you can feel his eyes on you more than usual tonight, his (not so) subtle glances lingering longer than normal. you turn your head to meet his gaze, brows furrowed and a puzzled look on his face.

“what?” you whisper, flitting your eyes between his own and the tv, not wanting to miss any important moments.

“are you watching the game?” he looks at you like you have three heads.

you giggle in response, amused at his expression and surprised tone of his voice. “yeah, kinda. don’t really know what’s happening, though, if i’m honest.”

there was never a home game of quinn’s you missed. you went to support him every time you could, and loved seeing him in his element. but you can’t even pretend to understand the sport past each player wanting to get the puck into the opposing net. you didn’t understand the positions, the penalties, or anything surrounding the ins and outs of professional hockey. you never watched it growing up, and probably still wouldn’t watch it if you weren’t dating the captain of your new city’s team.

you had moved to vancouver for work, and knew nothing of the prominent hockey culture before you arrived. the sports presence buzzed all around you as you figured out the ins and outs of your new home, but it had no place in your daily routine. that is, until you hit it off with this insanely attractive stranger that seemed to frequent the same coffee shop as you. you accidentally cut him in line one day, offering to pay for his coffee to make up for it, but he paid for yours instead. a ‘pay it forward’ war was started between the two of you until he was stood waiting at the door with your usual order one morning, requesting more than just a name and the fact you drank a large, vanilla iced coffee with chocolate syrup lining the cup every morning.

when he realized you were likely the only person in the city he now calls home that doesn’t know who he is, it only piqued his interest in the pretty coffee shop stranger further. the morning meetings at the shop turned into an exchange of numbers, which developed into him meeting you for lunch on your break when he was in town, that then escalated into dinner dates and spontaneous outings, and now it’s found its permanence in you moving in with him a few months ago.

you were…indifferent, when he revealed to you who he was and what all his career entailed, uttering out a simple “oh! that’s cool! makes sense why you’re always at the gym, now” later explaining that you thought he was just really into fitness and maybe worked as a personal trainer or some equivalent. when he first invited you to games he tried to tell you a little bit about the rules, but assumed you’d catch on as you watched (hopefully) more and more of his sport. you always told him how much you enjoyed watching him in his element, but never asked many questions past if the other team was supposed to be good or not. he assumed you understood enough to keep up, knowing how intelligent and observant you are, but he tried to refrain from talking about work too much with you. when he’s with you, he wants to be present with you, not hockey.

which is why he feels so guilty at times like this, watching film while you’re sitting next to him. it feels like you’re two people who happen to be in the same room, completely in your own worlds. until tonight.

“you…never watch the games with me. you always have a book or something,” he reaches over to pause the game, still a little shocked.

you shrug at him. “didn’t feel like reading tonight. not really anything new on my socials, either. so i figured i’d just watch with you for once.”

“and you weren’t gonna say anything?”

this earns a real laugh out of you, not understanding why this is such a big shock for him. it’s not like you’ve ever told him you don’t like hockey. you just have never really cared to watch it if isn’t the one playing. but you’ve been wanting to learn more about it recently, tired of not being able to participate in the games like the other women do when they’re watching their husband or boyfriend play.

“why would i? you’re trying to work, i’m just trying to learn a little bit,” you reply, the hint of a laugh on each word as you say it.

quinn just blinks at you, trying not to get his hopes up at your expression, not knowing just how far you want to go with your quest for knowledge.

“since when do you want to learn about hockey? why now?” he questions, trying not to sound accusatory or snarky, but genuinely curious as to what you’ll answer.

“i’ve always wanted to learn, ever since that first game i went to, but you don’t seem to like to talk about it outside of the rink, so i don’t really ask much. me and google have become very good friends as of late,” you shrug out another answer for him. “plus, when you’re watching games at night like this, i don’t want to keep talking and asking a million questions while you’re trying to work, so i force myself not to watch to keep from distracting you.”

quinn sits a little straighter, now worried he’s made it seem like hockey is this forbidden subject between the two of you.

“sweetheart, i don’t like talking about hockey outside of the rink because i don’t ever want you to think that’s all we ever talk about, not because we can’t talk about it,” he tries to defend himself, even though there’s no accusation. “if you want to learn about the game, please, ask me questions. i- god, i’d love nothing more than to teach you about it. i hate sitting here in silence every night i’m home, worried you’re going to eventually get pissed at me because all i do during the season is watch old games.”

you grin at his slight panic, endeared by how worried he was about your feelings this whole time, appreciating his intention with the unspoken rule.

“q, i never asked about it because i didn’t want you to be upset because i kept bringing up work when you’re away from it all,” your smile only grows at the fact you were both worried about upsetting the other for no reason at all.

the slight tension in his shoulders fades at your words, relieved that you’re not upset or feel like he made it seem like you had no place in that part of his life.

“alright, well, fire away, then,” he gives you the floor, pressing play so the players on the tv screens move once again, now glancing at you every few seconds to catch any looks of confusion or interest in any particular play or action.

the rest of the night is spent playing and pausing the game over and over again, question after question flying out of your mouth. anything from why the faceoff is from a certain spot on the ice to what a particular penalty looks like is spoken the second the thought enters your brain. quinn takes his time explaining every answer to you, even rewinding and pulling up other examples to make sure you understand what he’s telling you.

at the end of the night he realizes just how much more he caught of the game while answering your questions. there’s several times you picked up on things he never has before. like why one player seems to always place his stick so close to another player’s skates while he’s chasing him. or why a certain goalie seems to lean left everytime instead of right, no matter where the puck is coming from.

he’s been able to add several tells about players in his notes, ready to take them to practice the next morning and change his game to accommodate his opponents habits. and when they win their game a few days later, thanks to your observations during the impromptu hockey 101 class in your living room, he revels in the fact that even though you know so little about his sport and his job, you ended up being one of the biggest parts of their success.

from then on, the nights of sitting in silence while he studies film are nonexistent. every time he brings work home with him, you’re right there next to him, enthralled in whatever opponent’s game they’re facing that week. he loves that you’re so observant, paying attention to the smallest of details someone who’s been playing for years becomes blind to. and he really loves turning you into a bottomless pit of hockey information, seeing how you absorb each ‘lesson’ from day to day.

when they break through their slump, a big part of that accredited to your nights spent questioning quinn, and he sees you start really participating in his games, he can’t help but fall that much deeper in love with you. watching you scream and complain about bad calls with the rest of the fans in rogers arena, and reading your texts to him about your thoughts on his away games you watch on tv, swells his heart in a way he never thought to be possible.

plus, he always knew it was only a matter of time before you fell victim to the hockey atmosphere of the city. no one can really resist the pull of vancouver hockey, especially not when it’s captain has anything to do with it.

[suiana]

you're a fairy, they're a human

thats something no amount of potion is ever going to change

how many times has he heard that already? give up, look for someone else, just simply stop thinking of you. humans and fairies could never be together no matter how hard he tried after all. especially because he was your guardian fairy, meant to watch you from afar and bless you with a happy life.

and that's the problem.

he's tried. god, he's tried everything to forget that you even exist. to stop this disgusting feeling that crawls up his chest at every mere sight of you. you have no idea how many times he's been scolded by his supervisors for not looking after you and skimping out on work. really, this is your fault. he's tried to tell them.

you think he wants to feel like this? fuck no. he absolutely detests getting this fluttery feeling in his chest, the heat that rushes to his cheeks as he tries to brush his embarrassment off as the summer heat.

but what can he do? when all he wants to do is come back and see you? to hold you sweetly in his hands even though it's not possible? what can he do when this tiny fairy loves you with all his body?

the answer is: you can't. you can't do anything to stop the feeling.

in fact, every time he tries, it's like the feeling grows stronger. and that sucks. really sucks. especially because he gets so, so flustered that... he ends up treating you like shit. and it's not like he wants to either! he just can't fathom that you make him feel like this.

so he calls you stupid, pushes you away in hopes that it'll get rid of the feeling in his chest. the supervisors don't even do anything. just tell him to take some fairy dust and get with another fairy to take his mind off of you.

but really, it only worsens the feeling.

what does he do then? what on earth does he do now that he realizes pushing you away doesn't help, and actually makes him feel worse? that being with others makes him feel like he's commited a treacherous act, like you're the only person he should be this intimate with?

that's right! he violates fairy code and casts a spell that sizes him up to the size of a human. that's not something he should be doing but who cares at this point? he has nothing left to lose. at worse he'll just get killed and then he won't have to feel this disgusting feeling in his chest anymore.

however... he hadn't expected the fairies to go after you.

you of all people. the person that he cares about. the person that... that he broke a law for. you! you, goddamnit!

and he's ready to wage a war for you. doesn't matter if they come at him with an army or not. whether it's one or a hundred, he'll fucking kill them all for even daring to lay a hand on you.

he's your guardian fairy after all. he'll protect you. and he'll make sure of that even if it costs his life.

[yan-lorkai]

Hii! I don't know if you do requests like this but pls lmk if not

Platonic request for Diasomnia with a half-fae reader who is Malleus's adoptive sister from way back (war times, adopted by Meleanor) but only Lilia knows them personally. They have been either missing or believed dead for centuries before showing up once again. Maybe their reaction?

(If you don't do the whole 4 then you can choose which ones you wanna do)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ a/n: hope u enjoy!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Lilia’s ancient heart skips a beat when he sees you again, standing before him as if centuries had never passed. He had mourned your loss in silence, a secret he bore alone to spare Malleus any further heartbreak - a secret he spilled mindlessly when he engulfed in a bear hug, telling all about you to his children. To see you alive fills him with a rare and overwhelming joy, but also a darker need to keep you close this time, much closer than ever before. He becomes uncharacteristically protective, hovering at your side with a gentle smile, but his eyes carry a fierce determination. Lilia cannot lose you again — he will ensure that, even if it means bending fate itself.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ For Malleus, your return is nothing short of a miracle. You, his cherished sister, thought lost to the cruel tides of war, are suddenly here before him. He’s overcome with emotion, his usual regal composure crumbling as he reaches for you with trembling hands. His attachment borders on obsessive as he refuses to let you leave his sight, terrified that this reunion might be some cruel illusion. He didn’t know he had a sibling but now he is absolutely on cloud nine. The centuries of grief and loneliness have left scars, and Malleus now clings to you with an intensity that borders on suffocating, though he justifies it as his love for the only sibling he has ever known.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Silver is cautious but deeply affected by your return. He knows what your presence means to Lilia and Malleus, and while he is reserved in expressing his feelings, he keeps a close watch over you. Though he doesn’t share the same history, Silver feels an instinctive duty to protect you, perhaps because you mean so much to the people who raised him. His quiet vigilance is almost overbearing, but his intentions are pure. Silver silently vows to never let harm come to you again, no matter the cost.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Sebek, on the other hand, is overwhelmed with awe and confusion. You, someone tied so closely to Malleus’s past, are now a living legend before his very eyes. His respect for you is instantaneous, but so is his zealous protectiveness. Sebek practically worships you as an extension of Malleus’s legacy and refuses to allow any slight or danger near you. His devotion might come off as abrasive, but it’s rooted in his reverence and the belief that your place is by Malleus’s side, where you will be safest and where he can ensure your security personally.

[endwersed]

WIP Wednesday 🎇

Kicking off with my first WIP Wednesday of 2025 - how exciting 😄

As requested by @anon, here is a li'l 🤏 snippet of the fic I'm currently working on! It will be a high school AU with gay loser Stiles and closeted jock Derek. Derek also happens to be dating cheerleader Paige...

-

“Whoa, whoa, just – calm down,” Stiles cuts in, because Derek is dialling himself all the way up here, ratcheting to tip over the deep end in a matter of seconds, and it is really starting to freak him out. “It’s literally just some unoriginally homophobic bullying, dude. I’m used to it by now. Why the hell are you getting so worked up about it?”

A harsh breath flares at Derek’s nostrils, his earlier tirade now bitten back behind the snap of his teeth. His jaw clenches as he looks away once again, the shadow of his pale eyes sliding into the empty darkness over Stiles’ shoulder.

“I’m not,” he says tightly.

Stiles scoffs another laugh. That’s a lie if Stiles has ever heard one.

“You totally are,” he argues, eyebrows knitting together as he searches an avoidant gaze and comes up completely empty. “Seriously. Why would you even, like… care?”

His heartbeat stutters against his ribcage when Derek’s eyes snap back to his. Sharp, and piercing, and almost glinting in the moonlight that streams down from the inky sky above.

It is quiet between them. A light breeze whistles through the green of the trees around them, and distant engines rumble from the highway out of sight to them, and the music of the party still beats steadily on behind them, far away to mean nothing, nothing at all, to either one of them right now.

“I don’t care,” Derek says. “I don’t know.”

Lie. Lies, lies, all goddamn lies. It is clear as day in the break of Derek’s voice, in the nervous flash of his eyes and the hard set of his jaw and the fists he has curling into the grass they sit on. There is no doubt in Stiles’ mind that Derek is lying to him, but he just does not understand… why.

The pieces begin to fall clearer into place when Derek jolts forwards to kiss him.

Stiles feels frozen. His hands hover just above his lap, his eyes open, big and wide and stunned as they stare across at Derek’s closed ones, the dark shadow of his eyelashes against the sharp height of his cheekbones. There is a blade of grass stuck to the heel of Derek’s palm, damp where it presses to Stiles’ cheek, cool against the flush of Stiles’ skin, that shaking, gentle touch holding Stiles carefully in place for the dry match of their unmoving mouths.

A second passes before Stiles can truly catch up to what is happening to him. He breathes through his recovery, closes his eyes, and kisses back.

Their heads tilt, the faint nudge of the tips of their noses as they angle for better, angle for more. The sound of their lips catching at one another is so loud to Stiles, a deafening, repetitive smacking to be heard even above the steady roar of blood inside of his ears. Derek keeps his hand on Stiles’ face. Stiles cannot move his hands from midair.

This is his first kiss. Ever, actually – literally his very first. He really was not kidding about feeling like the only queer kid around for about a hundred miles or more. Any kind of opportunity like this has never presented itself to him before. He barely knows what to do with it.

Derek’s mouth is warm, and his hand is kind of warm now, too, but his tongue – his tongue is hot, so fucking hot. It sweeps along the seam of Stiles’ bottom lip, wet and pressing and burning at the twisting pit of Stiles’ stomach. Derek takes the chance to lick instantly inside when Stiles’ lips part with a humiliating hitch of breath.

Time passes. It’s a cliché, but Stiles truly has no idea how much, loses track entirely of even the concept of its passage as he sinks into the feeling of Derek touching him, kissing him, holy shit, Derek Hale is kissing him. Stiles’ trembling fingers clutch into the fabric of his own jeans, too terrified to even consider reaching out for Derek, too aware of how easy it would be to break whatever fucking spell is happening between them right now.

In the end, his restraint is futile. The crash of a patio door swinging into the wall from the house behind them has Derek ripping away from him so quickly it could tear a hole in the very fabric of the universe.

They stare at each other with wild eyes. Derek is breathing just as heavily as Stiles is. Stiles’ mouth feels weird, puffy in a way he has no experience with, and there is nothing he can do to stop the hand that flies up to his face, fingerprints denting into the bow of his lip.

Derek’s eyes dip down to follow the movement. They are not allowed to linger there long.

“But,” Stiles says, little more than a whisper, raw and quiet, “you’re straight.”

A beat. Derek merely stares silently back. His mouth is red as it parts around a ragged breath, and no words follow after.

“You have a girlfriend,” Stiles presses on.

Derek leaps instantly to his feet.

-

No pressure tags! 🩷 @crownofstardustandbone @dear-massacre @eevylynn @heavensenthale @like-lazarus

@lucky-bishop @nerdherderette @raisesomehale @renmackree @violetfairydust

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

A/N: Some Stoncy fluff, set after season 2.

Jonathan leaned against the wall next to Will's bedroom, his arms crossed over his chest. Nancy popped up next to him.

"What are you doing?" She asked in amusement.

"Nothing," he said casually.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me," she said.

"I just - I just want to know what Will needs to talk about with Steve that he can't talk about with me," Jonathan pouted.

"So, you're spying on your little brother and our boyfriend?" Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No. . .yeah, okay, so I am," he said.

"Did you ever think that he's trying to get to know Steve because he knows how much his brother, who he loves dearly, loves this guy?" Nancy asked.

"The thought has crossed my mind," Jonathan replied.

"Jon - ," Nancy started to say.

"Shh!" Jonathan said, and she glared at him.

Luckily, Joyce stepped in at that moment before Nancy could draw blood.

"What's going on?" She asked.

"Your eldest is spying on his little brother," Nancy said.

"Jonathan!" Joyce scolded.

Joyce was about to lecture Jonathan when Will mentioned her and she paused.

"I don't know, Steve, what if I hurt mom's feelings?" Will asked.

"I don't know, it seems like your mom is the kind of mom who'd be happy with whatever makes you happy," Steve said. "So, if you say you don't like her bowl cuts, she'll gladly let you do whatever you want with it. It's your hair. . .although, technically, she did help make it."

"Ew! Don't say that!" Will exclaimed and then laughed.

"What?! You have learned about that, haven't you?" Steve asked.

"Yes, Steve, but some people don't like to be reminded how they came into this world," Will said.

"Look, it's important to have your hair the way you want it because it's on top of your head, and that's where your personality is. You want it to tell a story that feels right to you," Steve said. "Once you start feeling that, you'll also feel a confidence that you never had before and then other people start noticing that."

"That - that makes sense," Will said.

"Your mom will love you no matter what even if you turn into a worm," Steve said.

"What?!" Will laughed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You never think about that? Like, would they still love me if I turned into a worm or a spider or a slug?" Steve asked.

"Mom doesn't like slugs," Will said.

"Well, she would definitely still love you if you were a slug," Steve said. "She would get rid of all the salt in the house."

"What about your mom?" Will asked.

"She doesn't like me now," Steve scoffed. "I mean, there's just some things specifically that she doesn't like about me."

"Oh. . .because of Jonathan?" Will asked.

"You're lucky. . .you can be honest with your mom about whatever you want, and she'll still love you," Steve said. "Anyway, come on, go through these magazines and see what hairstyle you like."

"Not that one!" Will exclaimed.

"Ew, yeah, definitely not," Steve said.

"Are we going to pretend like we're not being spied on, right now?" Will asked.

"Well, I was waiting for them to come on out on their own," Steve said and Will laughed.

Nancy, Jonathan, and Joyce moved into the room, looking rather sheepish.

"We didn't intend to spy," Joyce said.

"Yeah, we know. We heard Jonathan being all pouty," Steve said, grinning.

"Sorry, mom," Will said.

"Oh, honey, Steve’s right. You shouldn't be afraid of being honest with me," Joyce said. "And thank you, Steve. . .you guys have a good one."

"We do," Nancy smiled.

Steve looked surprised when Joyce hugged him tightly before sitting down next to Will.

"What do you like so far?" Joyce asked Will as she picked up a magazine.

Nancy and Jonathan sat on either side of Steve, grabbing a magazine of their own.

"I'm torn between these two," Will said.

"You never said your parents had a problem with me," Jonathan said to Steve.

"Not with you specifically," Steve said.

"Because I'm a guy?" He asked.

"Yeah," Steve said, looking at the magazine in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan said softly.

"They're idiots," he shrugged.

"Doesn't mean it still doesn't suck," Nancy said.

"I'm surrounded by better people," Steve grinned.

Jonathan and Nancy pressed their cheeks against his shoulder.

"Why do you have so many magazines about hair?" Jonathan asked.

"Something else I didn't tell you. . .I kind of want to be a hair stylist," Steve said, blushing.

"You would be good at that!" Will exclaimed. "This one!"

"Good choice," Joyce said.

"Mom, you don't mind if Steve cuts my hair, do you?" Will asked.

"Not at all," Joyce said and smiled at Steve.

Jonathan grinned and squeezed his boyfriend's arm. Yeah, it really needed to be Steve for this talk. Jonathan never really cared about his hair, but he knew it bothered his brother, and he loved that Steve could be there for him. He never had anything to worry about. He spent so much time 'hating' Steve, but he really did fit right into his life. He shared a look with Nancy. Their lives.

[aishangotome]

Nokto Klein: Chapter 2 Premium Story (The Fox King's Lewd Way of Comforting)

Chapter 2

Nokto: How long are you planning to stay dressed like that?

I was sitting in the chair by the window, facing Nokto, but before I knew it, I was lost in thought...

Nokto waved a hand in front of my face, and I came to my senses with a start.

Emma: Oh, right, I need to change...

I've been sitting in the chair ever since the welcome party ended, and the tea that was steaming is now completely cold.

Emma: Sorry, I was just lost in thought.

Nokto: It's fine. I like looking at you in your dress.

Neither of us has changed clothes, nor have we even taken a bath yet.

(Nokto might have been waiting for me to finish thinking... I feel even more sorry now.)

To quickly prepare for a bath, I take off the earrings and choker I was wearing and put them in the jewelry box on the table.

Nokto gave me this box as a present before we went to Benitoite.

(It's the perfect size for carrying around, so he must have prepared it for this inspection trip.)

Thinking about Nokto's feelings when he gave it to me warms my heart.

Nokto: You were frowning so much, mind if I ask what you were thinking about?

Emma: Um, it's nothing important. I was just nervous thinking about tomorrow's anniversary party.

Nokto: Oh, that's what it was.

Nokto: I thought you were frowning because of the welcome party earlier, but I guess I was wrong.

Emma: Ugh... There was no point in trying to hide it.

Nokto: Did you really think you could fool me?

Emma: I thought you might let me.

Nokto: I thought about it, but I changed my mind when I saw your face.

(That means I was that dissatisfied with today's party, huh?)

Nokto gently strokes my furrowed brow with his long fingers, as if to ease the tension.

*flashback*

Silvio: But, be a little prepared.

Nokto: Hmm?

Silvio: You're not popular in my country, King Nokto.

*flashback over*

(No matter how much time passes, I can't escape from that.)

(-- I felt like I was faced with reality.)

*Flashback to the Party*

(Ah...)

Looking around, I realized the answer to the indescribable discomfort I felt during the welcome party.

The Benitoite nobles were either glancing at Nokto or whispering something to each other.

If that was all, I could have thought that they were just paying attention to Nokto because this was his first time visiting Benitoite Castle as king.

But their eyes, filled with a mixture of anxiety and wariness, told me that wasn't the case--

(Why does Nokto have to be subjected to such looks?)

The lack of an answer made my chest tighten with unease, and I fell into deep thought.

Suddenly, Nokto put his arm around my waist and brought his lips close to my ear.

Nokto: One moment you're looking around restlessly, and the next you're looking down with a hundred different expressions? What's wrong?

Emma: No, I'm sorry. It's nothing.

(I can't worry him. I have to pull myself together.)

As I shook my head, a nobleman called out to me.

Benitoite Noble: Your Majesty Nokto, Lady Emma, how are you enjoying your night in Benitoite?

(I think he was a patron of the painter...)

I pull up the information on the participants that I had crammed into my head before attending the party.

Nokto kept his arm around my waist, a diplomatic smile plastered on his lips.

Nokto: Thank you. Thanks to you, we are having a wonderful time.

Benitoite Noble: I'm glad to hear that... But the atmosphere tonight seems somewhat unsettled.

His words seemed to contain a thorn, and my heart pounded unpleasantly.

The nobleman continued, lowering his voice as if to share a secret.

Benitoite Noble: Everyone is worried about "that."

Benitoite Noble: Is the legend of the Rhodolite court actually true?

"Twins bring both good and bad fortune"---

The moment I heard the words "court legend," my heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an eagle.

(I can't believe he would ask Nokto such a thing...)

I've seen nobles bring up the legend even before I started dating Nokto, but now that Nokto is king, this is the first time I've seen someone try to ask him about it directly.

Nokto: Even you, a resident of Benitoite, know about the legend of our royal court?

Benitoite Noble: Yes. Among some of the nobles of Benitoite, there are those who harbor concerns.

Benitoite Noble: If the legend passed down in the Rhodolite court is true, and the "calamity" is you, King Nokto...

Benitoite Noble: If we continue to be allied with Rhodolite, will disaster befall Benitoite as well...?

(So this is what Silvio meant by "unpopular.")

(Certainly, there will always be people who think this way. But...)

Anger wells up inside me, and I naturally clench my fists.

Nokto, whose demeanor doesn't change in the slightest, interlaces his fingers with mine as if to loosen my grip, and maintains his beautiful smile.

Nokto: Well, which is it?

Nokto: By the way, what kind of calamity do you imagine the twins will bring?

Benitoite Noble: Well...

Nokto: Yes, for example, a prolonged drought could lead to a poor harvest, causing hardship for the people and impoverishing the country itself—no,

Nokto: In Benitoite's case, it would be more realistic for continuous storms to rage, making the seas rough and difficult to sail, disrupting trade and weakening the national power—

Nokto: Would that be more fitting?

Perhaps not expecting such a response, the nobleman's face paled as he took Nokto's words seriously.

The same went for the other nobles who were with him, and as the atmosphere grew heavier and heavier—

Nokto gave a mischievous smile and said jokingly,

Nokto: If such events were to occur, the legend would spread as truth, wouldn't it?

Nokto: However, a legend is just a legend, after all. Our country has not fallen into such a state, and I'm just joking.

The nobles, while giving somewhat strained smiles, showed a hint of relief.

I also desperately tried to smile to match the atmosphere...

But I was filled with the urge to glare at the noble who had just asked Nokto about the legend.

*Back to present*

Nokto: You have a deep wrinkle between your eyebrows again. Aren't you going to get stuck like that soon?

Emma: ...I was just remembering what happened earlier.

Contrary to my brooding, Nokto seems somewhat pleased.

Emma: Doesn't it bother you, Nokto?

(I wonder if he's not hurt by being told such things... Thinking about Nokto's past, I'm worried.)

Nokto: Not at all.

Nokto shakes his head and gently strokes my cheek.

Nokto: Because you're brooding and getting angry on my behalf.

Nokto: If I say it can't be helped, it sounds like I'm giving up, but worrisome people will be anxious about the legend.

Nokto: It's always been that way.

Nokto: I expected that once I became king, even people who hadn't thought anything of it before would have concerns and doubts for that reason.

Nokto: But those voices arising just means that I'm not yet recognized as king.

Nokto: Even if it takes time, I'll steadily gain their trust. I don't want to make you uneasy.

Emma: Nokto...

(Since becoming king, Nokto has been attending to his official duties for the sake of the people even more than when I met him.)

(...Sometimes to the point where I worry.)

(That's why I'm so bothered by the looks and words directed at him at the party.)

Because of the legend of the royal court, the love from his mother became a blood-soaked, crimson lie, and Nokto could no longer believe in love.

Even so, he's trying to believe again, facing his past and loving me, and it makes my heart ache unbearably.

Emma: There may not be much I can do, but I want to do my best to improve the impression people have of Nokto.

Before I knew it, my heart was filled with more motivation than before our visit to Benitoite.

Nokto: Well then, let me see that motivation.

Emma: Yes...! Wait, Nokto!?

Suddenly, Nokto, with a mischievous smile on his face, swept me up into his arms—

-

Emma: Ah, whoa...!

(He said he wanted to see my motivation, so why am I in this situation...?)

(That's not what I meant by motivation!?)

Nokto places me on his lap while in the bathtub, and he begins to touch my breasts while teasing me by sliding his tongue over my neck.

No matter how much I writhed in the sweet sensation, all that resulted was the sound of splashing water, and Nokto didn't seem like he would let me escape.

Nokto: Rather than improving my impression, I want to love and be loved by you so much that you can't even think about such things.

Nokto whispered, his lips trailing up my neck to tickle my earlobe.

Emma: Hmm, but...

Nokto: If they see us overflowing with happiness,

Nokto: Surely those around us will stop paying attention to the legend of the royal court, thinking it's a lie, right?

(Since Nokto has suffered because of the legend of the royal court,)

(Even if those are his true feelings, it must hurt him.)

(He's probably saying this partly because he doesn't want to worry me any further...)

Thinking about Nokto's feelings, my chest tightens with sadness.

While truly hoping that Nokto's words will one day come true, I was effortlessly brought to the peak by fingers that knew all my weaknesses.

As I lose my strength, he softly kisses the spot between my eyebrows where I had been frowning and brushes my wet hair behind my ear.

Nokto: The long journey to Benitoite and tonight's party...

Nokto: Even you must be tired both physically and mentally, right?

Emma: You must be too, Nokto, right?

Nokto: Not really. I'm tireless because you were by my side the whole time.

Nokto: ...Though it was a miscalculation that our plans went a little awry.

Emma: Huh? -- Mmh, Nokto...

His murmured words were snatched away by the renewed pleasure he gave me.

As he plays with me with his long fingers and presses a hot, wet kiss to my lips, completely different from the one he gave my forehead, a sweet numbness spreads through my head.

The intense exchange that steals even my breath is enough to reawaken the heat in my recently satisfied body, and a throbbing ache, centered in my lower abdomen, spreads through me.

Nokto pulls away, and with a seductive smile, licks the glistening strand that connects our lips.

Nokto: I'll heal your fatigue.

Emma: I'm happy, but won't you get tired this time, Nokto?

Nokto: Being by your side makes me tireless, so there's no way I'll get tired from interacting with you.

Nokto: Besides, this place has been looking eager again, hasn't it?

In the bathwater, Nokto repeatedly stroked between my legs as if savoring the sensation.

He would graze my sensitive spots but never touch them firmly, and the frustration built up.

Emma: Ah, nn, why...?

Nokto: Hmm? What is it?

Aware that my hips were starting to sway, I could feel the heat rising to my ears as Nokto deliberately didn't proceed any further until I verbalized my desire.

Emma: …I want you to touch me properly.

Nokto: Well said.

Nokto: As you wish, I'll touch you properly and make you feel good.

Nokto had me sit on the edge of the bathtub, and then he buried his face between my wide-open legs.

With his pointed tongue stimulating my sensitive bud and his fingers stirring me up inside, I was quickly nearing my limit.

Emma: Nn, ah...!

Nokto: You're so soft and wet here. It's cute how eager you are.

Nokto, who had risen, wiped away the tears welling up in my eyes with his lips, but even then, he never stopped the fingers writhing inside me—

After shivering repeatedly and nearly losing consciousness, he finally penetrated me.

As I wrapped my arms around Nokto's neck, I had a feeling that I would be ravished endlessly again tonight.

.

.

.

Chapter 2 Premium Story

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[duskdog]

I've been approaching the riddles with the thought that Eddie is actually answering Steph's questions. I've considered each one in response to the question directly preceding it. 1. "The gift that keeps on taking. The theft that keeps on giving" is in response to "What did he say about me?"

I generally agree with something of a combination of what's been proposed before. The gift that keeps on taking is traditionally the White Elephant, a gift that causes more trouble than it's worth, and I think it's likely -- given what we know of Arthur and how he reacts to failure/being beaten (he goes on angry rants!) -- that he may have reacted the same to Steph getting in his way. Here's his child, something that's supposed to bring him joy, and all she does is fuck him over.

(He may even be, vaguely, remembering a time when she did bring him joy, maybe when she was a new baby, and it just makes him all the more bitter now. I don't know if we can fairly say that he actually cared about her even then, but I'd like to think there was a time when he and Crystal lived a semi-normal life? I'm sure it was never a healthy relationship, but they got married -- clearly once upon a time they had feelings for each other, and hopes and dreams and stuff. Maybe Arthur was happy to hold his new baby. And now look at what a pain in the ass she is.)

Regardless, something that's supposed to be seen as a blessing has been nothing but a curse -- and I could definitely see Arthur going on more than one angry rant about it to Eddie. (Last we saw him and Eddie together, after all, they were getting thrown out of the house, and it doesn't take a genius to realize that the only reason Black Canary would know they were there, or care, would be because of Steph.)

2. The bug riddle is in response to "why do you believe he had to leave clues to his crimes?".

First I have to preface this by saying that this is a weird question for Steph to ask, because as was pointed out, Arthur hasn't been leaving clues for a long time by this point. Still, it may be something that bothered Steph a lot when she was younger, and maybe still bothers her? I'm one of those folks who believes Arthur was suffering from OCD (which is never outright stated, but I believe is implied when he talks about how he was "cured" of his need to leave clues -- at the very least, this makes me think that it was psychological in some fashion, and some flavor of OCD best fits the bill, so he may have begun taking some sort of medication?), which does have a genetic component, but we've never seen any indication that Steph would be worried about anything like that, or that the thought has even ever crossed her mind, so I don't think that's a factor.

So why does it matter? I think it's just that Steph is just trying to understand her father. She's just recently found out that he's dead, and now she has all these unresolved questions, and unresolved feelings, and him leaving clues was a core part of his original costumed persona. He never changed his name from Cluemaster, either, even after he stopped leaving clues. I think the question is still important to Steph, because the clue thing had been a big part of who Arthur was, and "who Arthur was" is exactly what she's trying to resolve right now.

I think, with this riddle, Eddie may have cut straight to the heart of the matter that I just discussed -- this seemingly no-longer-relevant question that's still clearly very important to Steph even so. Digging up Arthur's metaphorical bones here makes her the bug... but which bug? Is she going to let these questions, these feelings, trap her in someone else's web -- is she going to get tangled up in the man Arthur was, in his mistakes, and let that devour her? Or is she going to cocoon in her own web instead, nurturing herself through this in a more healthy manner, and emerge better for it?

3. "Dog in a manger" is in response to "Did he ever talk about someone who hurt me? Someone named Murray?"

This one is... complicated.

To understand, it's important to note that this saying has a long, long history, and variations of it have been used in several different contexts throughout that time. At its core, it's exactly as described above -- someone who selfishly hoards something it doesn't need/can't use so that others cannot have it. But there are a lot of different shades of that thought. In one of its earliest references, it was specifically used as a commentary on pederasty -- the practice of sexual activity between a grown man and a boy/youth. And there are multiple instances later on where it's used in a similar (if less pedophiliac) fashion to comment on May/December romances -- the idea is that, when an older lover takes a much younger one, they're "wasting" the younger lover's beauty and vigor, which they can no longer hope to match themselves.

Jim Murray, a grown man, lusted after Steph, who was only 11. I don't think Eddie is trying to play games with this one, or analyze anything. I think he's just straight-up (as straight-up as the Riddler can get) answering the question. He's saying "ah yes, that guy who did that", which clearly indicates that Arthur did mention Murray.

He may also be subtly casting judgment on that, since he chose a reference that generally condemns such a thing, but it's hard to say.

4. "What day has no man lived to see?" is in response to "Do you think he wanted to give up crime?"

The actual traditional answer to this riddle is "tomorrow". No man lives to see tomorrow, because when it arrives, it immediately becomes "today".

I think this one is just really simple, and really sad. He's saying that we'll never really know. Steph herself is struggling with the idea that any possibility of her father ever changing his ways is now gone. All potential destroyed in death.

What could have, and maybe would have, happened "tomorrow" is beyond any of them. Maybe Arthur did want to give up crime, or maybe he didn't -- it doesn't matter, because he didn't live to see that day.

I think that's the answer that's most likely. However, he also might be trying to say that Arthur did want to give it up, but just didn't live to see the day when he would, if you also interpret the next riddle a certain way...

5. "The tiger envies the oxen but only understands its horns" in response to "Did he want to stop?".

Going out on a limb with this one, but given the question I think he's answering: the oxen lives peacefully on the farm, working hard but without strife or worry. The tiger envies this peaceful life, but as a creature of violence, all it understands is violence.

Eddie may be saying that Arthur did want to stop... at least on some level. Maybe a part of him did want that more peaceful life, without all the stresses associated with the life they lead as criminals.

But he would probably never achieve that, because crime/violence is all he understands.

I think, however, it's far more likely that Eddie is just following up on the previous answer, and not implying anything about what Arthur actually did or did not want to do. It doesn't really matter what Arthur wanted -- it never had a chance to happen, and frankly, it probably wasn't ever going to anyway. Because Arthur really only understands one way to be.

6. "The number you can't count on your fingers" doesn't have an associated question at all, but it's directly in response to "One straight answer and I'll leave."

Eddie struggles here before giving his riddle, and the impression I get is that it's not just because Steph has gotten violent with him at this point. What I can't decide is why he would find it difficult to continue, when he's been rapid-firing riddle responses for the entire conversation. Maybe it is just because Steph's about to beat the shit out of him and he knows it, but... I don't know. It doesn't feel that way.

As for the riddle... it doesn't really have a good traditional answer. I've seen reference to it being "11" (which is mildly interesting because that's how old Steph was when Jim Murray tried to assault her), but that doesn't actually make any sense to me -- there are tons of numbers you can't count on your fingers, not just one (or, alternately, you can count even more than that if you think beyond just counting by ones).

I think @armed-with-a-waffle-iron is probably correct here -- Eddie thinks Steph is missing the point. What she's looking for is something that can't be quantified. There are no answers. The way I interpret the previous two riddles, this one would follow naturally: none of what Steph is asking about matters. She's not going to find what she's looking for here, at the very least.

The part that throws me for a loop, actually, is the Riddler's words after Steph leaves. Steph having a question mark over her head is a pretty obvious thing to say, but why is he speculating about Arthur's "game"? It seems to imply that he thinks/knows that Arthur is alive... but even if that were true, why would he assume the man's grief-stricken daughter was part of any sort of plan?

I don't think they actually ever follow up on this, so I guess we'll never really know.

I'm gonna have a go at the riddles which The Riddler throws at Stephanie Brown in Robin (1993) #113. @a-bad-case-of-the-stephs I'm hoping you can help me out, haven't actually read Robin in well over a year.

It's a gift that keeps on taking. It's a theft that keeps on giving. Having a child is the "gift" and when Arthur was imprisoned or estranged, his child was "stolen" from him. When Stephanie came into Arthur's life, he saw her as a "white elephant", but when he no longer had her, he became driven by the idea of her.

One bug is wrapped in a web, therein to die. Another bug is wrapped in its own web, there to be reborn. In a sense, being tangled in a web can be fatal but it can also indicate introspection and growth. Arthur's obsession with leaving clues were often his undoing so will Stephanie preoccupation with her father be her's or will it actually represent reflection and change?

There is a dog in the manger, but it cannot subsist on hay. A manger is a feeder for livestock, typically holding hay; which dogs do not eat. A "dog in a manger" is a person who spitefully refuses to let someone else benefit from (or let go of) something for which he or she has no personal use (dictionary.com). But dogs cannot subsist on hay and the livestock cannot eat with the dog in the manger. If the dog doesn't relent or change, then everyone loses. Stephanie is the dog and her memory of her father is the manger she cannot let go of.

What day of the week has no man ever lived to see? Judgement day. You have to be dead to see it. And they're both very much alive.

The Tiger envies the Oxen but only understands its horns. The Tiger envies the Oxen's power but it only understands power through the language of violence. Steph easily outmatches The Riddler in a fight yet is confused how he still holds all the cards although she attacks him because she only speaks the language of violence.

I am the number you cannot count on your fingers. Edit: he’s saying Steph’s missing the point; you can’t count him on your fingers, he’s not that kind of number.

Would love some input.

[frikatilhi]

is it ok to feel hopeless sometimes

or most of the time

[lemongogo]

need 2 find myself again in 2025 . tbhwu

[lunarruled]

A sharp mind was something Kyleigh always appreciated, and she was so happy she didn't have to spell it out for Warren. Yes they wanted out and they were willing to take him with them. And maybe a few others, as long as they had the same goal in mind. Didn't matter if they couldn't fight that well, as long as they could kill those things out there and run she could make up for whatever it was they lacked. Figuring that she had said enough for the moment Kyleigh simply nodded to him, though she was a bit sad to hear that Warren thought so little of his own life. She understood why of course, but just because they were down now didn't mean they always would be.

"We're not saying bring the entire place with us man. I may not be the talkative type, but I have been observing the people here and not to be that asshole but not all of them were going to make it anyway. Pure luck has gotten some of them where they are now but that always runs out."

At the mention of this other woman, Kyleigh's eyes shifted in her general direction. If she had already mentioned wanting to get out then she would no doubt be more than happy to join them. Which was good, but they didn't need a rat among the ranks either. So they would speak to this Irina in private and hopefully their plan would be ready to launch. If Rosita was telling her that they could trust her then that's what they would do, unless she gave them a reason not to.

"Yeah he was three more words away from getting his jaw broken. Can't repair that too easily these days." The half lycan quipped back, happy that Rosita was with her on that. Warren had skills though, ones they needed so for the time being Kyleigh was going to have to keep her hands to herself.

~~~~~~~

Irina was a much more pleasant experience, one that helped to boost Kyleigh's confidence that this was going to work. A bit odd with three women and one man, but that was neither here nor there. The mention of a child and the hope that she was still alive was more than enough to let Kyleigh know this was for real, a bond beginning to form between the three of them in just wanting to know what had happened to their families.

"Then it's settled. We get out there because we are getting out there, and we do all we can to help each other. Like you said I would rather die doing something than sitting here doing nothing." Kyleigh didn't know how far they would make it, if they would ever see their lost families again. But she was tired of living with the guilt of not doing a damn thing, feeling like a sitting duck in this hellhole, and never knowing if a better life was out there.

Rosita fought the urge to let out a huff of laughter as she took note of the man’s expression, all bashful as Kyleigh scolded him.

“You… want out”, he responded quietly with something in his voice Rosita couldn’t place. Skepticism? Disbelief? Ridicule? It was hard to tell.

“I was prepared to die in this camp. I’ve obsessed over how long we could last. Taking all factors into account.. my most reasonable guess was that if we were lucky, we could last one or two more weeks. Maybe…”

He paused, shooting the half-lycan a thoughtful look, “Maybe I could live just a bit longer. Long enough to pick a better place to die than this place. It’s certainly worth it.”

Letting out a breath of relief upon her realization that this was a ‘yes’, Rosita decided to chime in.

“So you’re with us, then. We’ve been trying to find people to join us, we’re planning on leaving tonight since the guard who’ll be on duty is the least competent. Do you have any ideas that could help us, any idea who else we should bring with us? The more help we can get the better.”

Warren didn’t seem to agree with Rosita’s sentiment entirely.

“You should be selective with who you let in on this”, he chided with a hint of annoyance in his voice, “Look at the scuffles the people here are already having. Imagine how it would escalate if you put them in a high-stakes situation like having to leave a camp. No thanks. The only person I deem trustworthy enough is Irina. She, in fact, wants to leave this camp as well. Why don’t you get her, she has been sitting by those green barrels throwing a ball back and forth at a wall for hours. Just make sure Fred won’t listen in, who knows if he’ll rat you out.”

Kyleigh would probably agree to this, Espinosa thought, as she had originally intended to leave the camp with just her. Rosita couldn’t exactly argue with him either. He had a point. Internal conflicts could jeopardize the entire mission. (Although, admittedly, Warren’s demeanor wasn’t the warmest either, but she could deal with it in dire times like this.) Time to talk to Irina.

“I’ve talked to her before”, Rosita brought up, gazing at Kyleigh, “I think we can trust her. It’s probably better if we involve her in this— I think otherwise she’ll leave this place on her own. I doubt she’s gonna stay, no matter what.”

As Rosita walked away from the engineer, she couldn’t help but comment, “Well, let’s hope this guy won’t cause any ‘internal conflict’, though.”

—

Irina had reacted much differently than Warren had. The woman had seemed not only happy that Rosita had come to talk to her, but she had been curious about who Kyleigh was, as well. She had been dead set on leaving, having a five-year-old daughter named Raisa out there. Much like Rosita, she hadn’t lost hope that her family was still alive; she was willing to risk her life if it meant there was an abysmal low chance of seeing her girl again. According to Irina, her daughter wouldn’t be alive for much longer as she was in the care of her aunt, who she’d called ‘reckless and irresponsible.’

“I’d rather die trying to get her away from that horrible woman than die here having to live with the guilt that I’ve done nothing.. Everyone says they won’t make it long out there — but even if Raisa won’t make it long.. I don’t want Raisa to spend the rest of her life with her”, the mother spoke heartfeltly, breaking eye contact with both of the women.

[wesavegotham]

I think I would be more interested in stories that try to explore Bruce's mind if writers didn't use the same few memories over and over and over again.

[msburgundy]

i really need to just let it go

[devilsskettle]

i hate that this website has location based ads now like it's one thing to promote the local grocery store chain to me but i am seeing ads for my workplace now :/

[softshuji]

Sometimes it feels like my mom punishes me for things I can't control and it's actually kinda really upsetting.

[captainsparklefingers]

I'm trying to get the energy and motivation and desire to do...well. Anything. It's not really working out so well.

Like I know I need to write. I won't feel good about this stupid fic unless I work on it, finish it, edit it, etc. but I just...am drawing blanks as far as motivation.

I should draw. I feel better being creative. But there's no juice.

I should go to the gym. I like exercising, and I went yesterday after work and it was good, and with my work schedule changing again I won't be able to go on Wednesday for much longer...but I just want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.

Hell, I should actually try to find work to do at work. There's some things I could be doing; not much, but something...but what's the point? Nobody ever uses any of the stuff I work on in the catalog. Even with students coming back next week, nothing I do is going to feel like it makes any sort of difference or positive impact.

I need to catch up on CR and get excited for d20 tonight, but I just wanna lie down forever. Hell, I need to think about healthy actual food to eat and make, but all I've done is eat a sleeve of Ritz, insult myself, and decide that's probably enough food for the next few hours.

I'm really hoping the medication changes we're making are going to help, or at least cut some of this exhaustion and apathy off at the knees a little bit... I'm tired of not enjoying anything, not really, and of having things I like and want to do feel like this big obstacles that are easy to put off and ignore. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being unhappy.