#long lost theater kid

[frootbyethefoot]

you're not an asshole, mark. you're just trying so hard to be.

[black-brained]

Here something for ya!!!

[tonycries]

Dream A Little Dream - G.S.

Synopsis. For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you. 

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. fem! reader, established relationship, implied sex, fluff, soft and sleepy Satoru, very slight manga spoilers, just Satoru loving on you and your future together.

Word count. 0.8k

A/N. Probably gonna delete. Art by @_3aem on X.

It’s times like this - when the quiet morning sun is just peeking in through your window, in the still haze of your naked body peacefully intertwined with his that Satoru allows himself to dream.

He dreams of everything - from the strawberry lollipops he snuck into the Gojo Estate as a kid to the time when he forgot Megumi at the mall. 

But mostly, he dreams of you.

Eyes still veiled with sleep, wandering the expanse of your face, a hand tenderly running along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Thumb softly catching on the corner of your mouth, slightly quirked up, he wonders what you’re dreaming of. 

Do you dream of him too?

Because Satoru’s favorite dream will always be the one with you. 

Your laughter in the morning light as he smothers you in kisses, how it rings in his ears and carries through his day. If there’s one thing Satoru knows, it’s that he would burn this entire godforsaken world down to keep it there. Even in the face of violence, his favorite song.

Reaching out to softly kiss your fingers, the hands which hold his heart and his future. 

Unhurriedly, he caresses that empty spot on your ring finger. Soon. 

Little black box burning a hole into that hidden corner of his dresser, Satoru absentmindedly wonders whether you would go for a flowing gown or more of a sleek design? He dreams of the delicate lace under his fingers, the gentle sway of the fabric and the blue bouquet to match his eyes. 

A huff of laughter, followed by a melancholic twinge of his heart, finds its way into the still morning air as he imagines the way Nanamin would have been crying very reluctant tears of joy.

Long fingers deftly run along the expanse of your body, drawing patterns on the marks he’s left to remember him by, resting on your stomach. He dreams of a world where he is there to see you run around with a few white-haired bundles of joy. All of them with your personality of course - he couldn’t handle having to fight with some mini versions of himself over you.

And they may be closed for now, but he dreams of the twinkle in your eyes as they meet his, the promise of a beautiful day ahead. 

He can only pray that they always look at him that way. Even when the shine of your eyes dim with age, the chapters of your story showing on your face. The dream where you two complain about your first gray hairs - him cackling about you finally joining the club. 

It might not seem like it, but in the blood and merciless gore of jujutsu, a part of the strongest always thinks back to the heaven he’s found in you. 

The heaven where you both cry over your kids leaving the nest, and later he’d fervently deny his teary eyes - secretly wiping the tears off his glasses. 

Where you spend quiet evenings on the porch, wrapped in blankets and reminiscing about the adventures of your youth. Did he ever tell you that story where he lost the tickets to a movie and had to sneak into the theater with Shoko and Suguru? Boy, did he get an earful from Yaga that day.

The dream where he’s surrounded by you and all your warmth. In the cold pain that comes with being the strongest, he can only hope that a day will come where his strength - rather than being used to kill - holds your future with ready arms. 

Ripping his eyes off of your face, they wander the room bathed in the soft morning glow. Mapping the empty spaces which you two would fill with pictures. The walls which would echo with laughter and whisper tales of serenity.

First days at school, graduations, all the friends and foes lost along the years - and one big picture of you in that beautiful white dress, right in the middle. All beauty and grace. His beautiful bride. A dream where his last name is a melody not a death sentence.

He dreams he’s there to fetch your walking cane to stroll through your little garden with a cup of his famous morning tea. He’d hold your hand as he always does, both trembling and frail with age. He dreams he would kiss the beautiful wrinkles on the corners of your eyes, only for you to push him away bashfully complaining about the grandkids seeing.

Blue eyes faded and the joy of the years showing on his face, not as strong or as vibrant as he once was, limitless nothing more but a trick to make his grandkids smile. Not a weapon, but just your Satoru. He hopes you’ll still be there to love him.

And he dreams he’s there.

He wants to be there. 

“Satoru?”

Satoru’s heart lurches as those beautiful eyes crack open, still foggy with sleep. A glimpse of that smile he found heaven in, and you pull him closer. Understanding. Skin heated against his, no one but you two in this quiet world.

All is well in your little heaven.

Today, the strongest will face Ryomen Sukuna, the fate of the world burdened upon his shoulders. But for now, Satoru is held fragilely in your arms.

For now, he is yours. 

He only dreams he can be forevermore. 

A/N. Tony writing something that isn’t smut??? The world is coming to an end.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[halfmoonaria]

to see you

pairing: sam carpenter & reader

summary: sam sleeps so she can see you, 'cause she hates to wait so long.

word count: 3.1k

Sam had never had nightmares.

Not as a kid, not after watching scary movies with Tara. Not after Richie's betrayal, or even after facing multiple Ghostfaces.

In fact, there were times she wondered if she was living in a nightmare instead of just having them. The terror and chaos of her life often felt surreal, like something out of a twisted dream.

Sleep had always been her refuge, a place where the horrors of her waking life couldn't reach her.

But a few weeks ago, that changed.

The nightmares crept in, so vivid and intense that she could no longer tell where reality ended and the nightmares began. The terror felt as real as any Ghostface attack she had faced, blurring the lines between her waking life and the horrors in her mind.

It started subtly at first—restless nights, an uneasy feeling as she drifted off. Then, the vivid dreams began.

Dark, haunting, relentless.

They felt different from anything she had ever experienced, filled with an unshakable sense of dread that lingered long after she woke.

Each night, the dreams grew more intense. She would find herself back in the old theater, shadows stretching out like claws, and a gnawing fear she couldn't place.

It was as if the nightmares were trying to tell her something, dragging her back to a place she wanted desperately to forget.

During the day, she could push the thoughts away, bury herself in distractions. But as soon as she closed her eyes, the darkness would pull her back in, forcing her to confront the memories she had tried so hard to suppress.

Sam had always prided herself on her strength, her ability to face any challenge head-on. But these nightmares were different.

They felt deeply personal, laced with guilt and regret. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape them.

Just like now, as she lay in her bed. The room was dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows that only seemed to deepen her unease.

She stirred slightly, her mind caught between the lingering dream and waking reality.

And then, she saw you, sitting on the side of her bed near her feet.

You looked just as you had the last time she saw you; eyes wide with fear, your clothes soaked in blood.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she blinked, trying to clear her vision. Slowly, she pushed herself up, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of you.

Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, she was lost in them. Those eyes, so hauntingly beautiful, were the first thing she had fallen in love with. They held a depth and emotion that spoke volumes, even now in the quiet of the room.

She remembered how they used to change shape when you laughed or smiled, crinkling at the corners in a way that made her heart flutter. She hadn't appreciated those small details when you were actually still here, too blinded by her own fears and suspicions.

But now that you were gone, those memories were all she had left. The light in your eyes, the warmth they held when they met hers, the soft wrinkles that formed at their edges—these were the things she cherished and missed the most.

She glanced around the room, searching for something to anchor her to the present.

The walls were lined with reminders of the past—photos of her with Tara, mementos of happier times. But all they did was remind her of what she had lost, of who she had lost.

Sam reached out, her hand trembling, but the closer she got, the more distant you seemed.

The room around her felt like it was closing in, the shadows growing darker, more menacing.

She wanted to speak, to say something, anything, to make it right, but the words caught in her throat. The silence between you was deafening, filled with all the things left unsaid.

Then, the silence shattered as you spoke, your voice a soft, chilling whisper.

"Sam." The way you said her name, cold and distant, sent shivers down her spine.

It almost looked as if you were looking at her, your eyes piercing through the veil of sleep and dream, anchoring her in this chilling reality.

The sound of it, so familiar yet not at all, twisted the knife of guilt deeper into her heart.

Sam's breath hitched as your gaze seemed to penetrate her very soul. Her mind raced, a whirlwind of regret and desperation.

"Y/n?" she finally managed to whisper, her voice cracking under the weight of the single word. "What are you doing here?"

Your expression remained unchanged, unreadable. The shadows around you seemed to pulse with each beat of her heart, enveloping you in an otherworldly darkness.

"I'm here because you need to remember," you replied, your voice echoing with an eerie calm.

"Remember what?" Sam asked, her fingers clenching into fists at her sides.

"You know," you said, the air around you growing colder. "Remember what happened that night."

Sam's mind flashed back to that fateful night, the memory she had tried so hard to bury. The old theater, the blood, the terror—everything came rushing back in a flood of overwhelming emotion.

"I remember," she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling. "I remember everything."

Sam didn't want to remember. She wanted to forget.

She wanted to forget about how she'd hesitated, about how she'd treated you, about what had ultimately happened to you.

But in moments like these, as your image haunted her dreams, she realized she never would. The memories were a relentless tide, surging back to drown her, reminding her that some things were impossible to bury.

In truth, she shouldn't have expected anything else. Life had a cruel way of reminding her of her failures.

The horror of that night, the way she had turned on you, suspected you, left you alone—it was all too harsh a reminder of her own shortcomings.

She had pushed you away, driven by fear and mistrust, and now she was left to face the consequences of her actions.

Your eyes never left hers, filled with a sorrowful intensity that made it impossible for her to look away. "Do you remember why I was alone that night?" you asked, your voice cutting through her defenses like a

How could she not? The echo of that night was a constant, cruel reminder, reverberating through her mind with every moment of silence.

The argument, the distrust, the way she had pushed you away—it replayed in her thoughts, relentless and unforgiving.

Every time she was alone, the memory surfaced, an insidious whisper in the quiet. It lingered in the gaps of conversation, haunting her when she was most vulnerable.

"I was scared and I screwed up," Sam said quietly. "I thought I was protecting Tara." She paused, her voice barely above a whisper. "And myself."

The words felt bitter on her tongue. As soon as they left her lips, Sam felt a wave of self-reproach wash over her. It sounded like she was admitting she was scared of you, as if you were the threat all along.

But that wasn't true; she had never truly been afraid of you. She felt foolish for implying it, knowing deep down that her fear had been misplaced, and now it was too late to make things right.

She noticed your expression change, the sorrow in your eyes deepening. Panic welled up inside her, and she began to ramble, desperate to explain.

"I was afraid," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I thought... I thought you might be Ghostface. I left you alone because I didn't trust you."

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt a deep sense of shame and guilt, wishing she could crawl out of her own skin. The weight of her mistakes pressed down on her, almost suffocating.

She dared to meet your gaze again, and for a moment, she saw the eyes she had once loved.

They were captivating—deep pools of warmth and vulnerability that had always drawn her in.

They held a beauty that made her heart ache, a softness that had once been a refuge from the chaos of her life.

But then, as she stared, the familiar tenderness seemed to twist and darken.

The eyes she had always known began to harden, the warmth replaced by an unsettling chill. What was once an intimate reflection of love and trust now seemed distant and cold, as if an impenetrable shadow had taken its place.

They looked nothing like the eyes she remembered, and she couldn't bring herself to think that it really was.

"Maybe a part of you wanted it to be me?" you said, your voice tinged with a sharp edge.

"You never fully believed in me," you continued, the harshness of your new gaze cutting through the room. "In your fear, you wanted to prove yourself right. Is that right?"

Sam's heart pounded in her chest, guilt tightening their grip.

A part of what you said was true, and that realization hit her like a punch to the gut forcing her to gulp.

She had trouble trusting you ever since you first got together, haunted by the betrayals of her past. Despite her hope that she'd eventually warm up and love you the way you deserved, the walls she had built remained firmly in place.

Throughout your relationship, her cruelty had taken many forms. She remembered the harsh words she had thrown at you in moments of insecurity, accusing you of things you never did.

The cold stares she gave you when you tried to get close, the way she dismissed your acts of kindness as if they were nothing. She had pushed you away, not just that night, but constantly, making you feel unwanted and unloved.

You had always been so kind, always doing little things to show you cared. She recalled the times you made her coffee in the morning, the meals you cooked when she was too tired, the small gifts you gave just to see her smile.

But instead of gratitude, she met your efforts with cold indifference. "I didn't ask for this," she'd often say, brushing you off as if your gestures meant nothing.

She recalled the nights you stayed up late to comfort her, only to be met with indifference. The times you planned thoughtful gestures to make her smile, which she brushed off with an unkind remark.

Every time she shut you out, every time she made you feel less than, it all came crashing down on her now, the weight of her actions suffocating.

"I never wanted it to be you. I just...I didn't know how to love you the way you loved me," she finally whispered, her voice breaking.

"Scared?" you replied, your voice a mix of anger and sorrow. "I understand fear, Sam. But I never understood why you directed it at me."

You looked at her with those haunting eyes, now filled with a pain that mirrored her own. "I loved you, and I only wanted to be there for you. But you pushed me away, treated me like an enemy."

The room seemed to grow colder as your words hung in the air. "I needed you, Sam. And you left me alone to die."

Sam's heart clenched painfully at your words, the truth of them striking deep. The weight of her guilt pressed down on her, almost suffocating. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, memories flooded her mind, pulling her back to the night that haunted her.

The fight had been fierce. Her mistrust was baseless, a projection of her own insecurities. She had accused you of being distant, of hiding something. When in reality, she was the one who had been acting off, but admitting that felt impossible. She blamed you, as she always did.

Her voice had been sharp, cutting through the air with cruel accusations. She remembered the way you had looked at her—hurt, confused, and trying to calm her down. You had reached out to touch her arm, your voice soft and soothing, but she had pulled away, anger flaring even more. She accused you of betraying her, of secrets that only existed in her mind.

You tried to reason with her, your eyes pleading for understanding. But she was too far gone in her rage, too blinded by her own fears to see the truth. You had stepped back, shoulders slumping in defeat as you realized she wouldn't listen.

Later, after everything had happened, she would remember the look in your eyes during that fight. The way you had looked at her with so much pain, so much confusion.

It was only after, in the quiet moments when she was alone with her thoughts, that she realized how deeply she had hurt you. You had looked at her as if trying to understand how she could even entertain the thought that it could be you.

Then after she had made the mistake of leaving you alone with a serial killer on the run. After she had fought off the Ghostfaces; who were revealed to be Quinn, Ethan, and Detective Bailey—and managed to escape with Tara, the relief of surviving felt hollow and incomplete.

She had been desperate to get to safety, to find a way out of the nightmare she was trapped in.

Eventually, she had found you,but the sight that greeted her was more harrowing than she had ever imagined.

The blood was everywhere, pooling around you, staining your clothes, and smeared across the floor. The sight was horrifying, a nightmarish tableau that she couldn't erase from her mind.

Your eyes, once so full of life, were bloodshot and terrified, darting around as if looking for help that wouldn't come. You were barely breathing, each shallow breath a struggle.

Your pretty clothes, which you had worn for the evening, were soaked in crimson, a stark contrast to their original color.

She had dropped to her knees beside you, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she tried to stop the bleeding with anything she could find. Her voice, usually so strong, had broken into desperate sobs as she called your name, begging you to stay with her.

But it had been too late. Your eyes had looked up at her, filled with pain and fear, before closing forever.

The horror of that moment, the overwhelming sense of loss and guilt, had never left her. It was a scene she replayed over and over, a reminder of her failures and the consequences of her distrust.

She had pushed you away, driven by fear, and in the end, she had lost you. And you never made her forget.

You made sure of it. Every single night.

She blinked, realizing with a jolt that you were still in front of her.

Usually, in her dreams, you'd be gone by now. You never stayed long. But here you were, your presence as haunting and real as ever.

Her throat felt dry, almost as if she was being choked, the suffocating sensation of the nightmare gripping her.

She swallowed hard, trying to find the strength to continue. "I'm sorry you don't get to be here.. I know how much you wanted to."

You had always found joy in the little things, always had a smile for her, no matter how cold she had been.

"I love you," she said, her voice barely audible. "I always did. I'm so sorry."

A tear slid down your cheek, glistening in the dim light, as you gazed at her with a sadness that seemed to encompass the entire room.

Sam's heart ached as she looked at you. Seeing you cry now, in this haunting, surreal moment, filled her with a profound regret. When you were alive, she had brushed off your tears, indifferent to your pain.

"Sam," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of sorrow and frustration, "Why didn't you tell me this when I was alive?"

Sam's bottom lip began to tremble. She truly didn't know that to answer, if she said she did; she'd be lying. If she tried to excuse herself she would feel disgusted by her own words, and if she'd be silence, you'd say something else.

Although she didn't have time to answer, before you began to disintegrate. The edges of your form blurred, and your figure grew increasingly translucent.

Panic surged through Sam as she watched you slip away. "No, please," she begged, her voice cracking. "Don't go. Please, stay."

Her pleas were desperate, her hands reaching out to grasp the empty air where you had been. But it was too late. You vanished completely, leaving her alone in the cold, dark room.

She jolted awake, heart racing, drenched in sweat. The room was silent and still, the early morning light casting soft shadows on the walls. She sat up, gasping for air, her mind reeling from the vivid terror of the dream.

With a start, Sam woke up, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. She sat up, gasping for air, her mind reeling from the vivid terror of the dream.

The room around her was silent and still, the only thing being heard was her panting and the morning birds chirping outside her window.

The air felt heavy with the remnants of your presence. The warmth and scent that lingered in the air, traces of you, became a haunting echo in the emptiness.

As if you'd actually been there.

Everything had felt so real. It always did.

Which was why most nights, she slept to see you. She couldn't bear to wait until death's cold grip might finally reunite you, however distant that might be.

She went to bed in hopes of seeing you, to beg for the forgiveness she couldn't ask for in life.

Even though it was nightmares, and even though it wasn't the real you, she saw you.

And it felt real.

[weemssapphic]

I've looked around enough to know that you're the one I want to go through time with

Larissa Weems x f!reader

It's been years - decades, even - since Larissa Weems broke up with you. Running into the shapeshifting principal at the Weathervane all these years later, she's just as striking as you remember.

This is sort of a part two to my fic do you get deja vu when she's with you? but it can definitely be read as a standalone (which is why I ultimately decided to post it this way).

Words: ~2.7k | ao3 link in title Hurt/comfort with a little angst but a happy ending

For all of the times you ran into Larissa in the year or two after your break-up, you somehow managed to completely lose sight of her in the years to come. Years have passed without so much as a whisper of the woman you once loved - the woman you’d have once given up everything for turned to nothing more than a distant memory.

Moving helped, of course - no longer feeding your daily caffeine habit at the Weathervane, giving up your Jericho library card, taking up a new job out of town, spending your summers traveling and trading your usual haunts for theaters in New York, cafés in Paris, parks in London - never stopping, always looking ahead. Towards a better life, you told yourself, towards something new and exciting. Towards a future worth living for.

You didn’t realize that you were actually running away. Away from heartache, away from her.

A failed relationship and a wave of nostalgia has brought you back to Jericho. It's fall, and there’s a pleasant chill in the air, and you’re craving a latte - for old time’s sake. You haven’t been back here in years, and you’re almost shocked at how time seems to have stood still for the sleepy little town. The interior of the Weathervane has been renovated, but just barely, looking so similar still to how it looked the last time you were here that it sends an uncomfortable chill down your spine. You ignore the overwhelming wave of deja vu threatening to pull you under and step up to the counter, ordering a latte from the teenage boy at the till.

“For here or to go?”

You shouldn’t stay. You shouldn’t indulge your nostalgia. You shouldn’t risk running into anyone you used to know. 

“For here.” 

If you hadn’t been so lost in your thoughts, you might’ve noticed her sooner. 

As it stands, you’re watching the kid steam some milk, watching him pour it into a glass - the espresso at the bottom of the glass mixes with the milk, creating rich brown swirls that wind their way up the walls of the glass. You thank him and take your coffee, heading back to the corner booth you used to sit in - old habits die hard. You’re so preoccupied looking around the little café, taking in the change in upholstery that had apparently taken place at some point during your absence, that you don’t notice that someone is already sitting in the booth until you’re right in front of it, until it’s too late to turn around.

Thin, white eyebrows raise in shock, blue eyes go wide before she’s able to school her features into a look that you’ve seen on her face before, usually when dealing with difficult parents - a polite but vaguely disinterested smile, seemingly relaxed yet with an undercurrent of irritation, evident in the way the muscle between her brows twitches. It’s truly been ages - how long, 10 years? No, definitely more like 15 - but the years have been kind to Larissa. Of course they would be, you think, unable to help the twinge of bitterness pricking at your tongue at the realization. You wonder, vainly, if Larissa will think that the years have been kind to you, too. You hate yourself for caring in the first place.

She’s clearly aged though, you note, the wrinkles at the outer corners of her eyes more pronounced, fine lines etched into her skin - skin that’s a bit looser around her neck, her jaw. Her nostrils flare slightly, and you can tell she’s uncomfortable beneath your scrutinizing gaze. You’re sure she’s growing self-conscious - it brings you a fleeting sense of satisfaction before the guilt sets in, a heaviness deep within your bones. It shocks you to realize that you’re nearly, though not quite, the same age that Larissa was when you first met her, and that she, in turn, must now be nearly old enough to retire. 

Retire. Is Larissa capable of such a thing? Surely she’s still at Nevermore. Surely she must be married by now - surely she must have children of her own, like she once admitted to you she’d dreamed of having. She’s alone, you note, but you quickly remind yourself that that doesn’t have to mean anything. 

“Larissa.” You hate how smoothly her name rolls off your tongue, like the melody of a beloved nursery rhyme, not sung since childhood yet stubbornly ingrained in the recesses of your memory. “I almost didn’t recognize you.” It's a flimsy lie - Larissa knows it, and you know it, but neither of you addresses it. 

“How fortunate I am that you did,” she replies with a bit of a sardonic bite behind her words, no doubt a reaction to your own distant tone. To both your shock and hers, it makes you grin. 

“You haven’t changed a bit,” you retort, your smile wide, and Larissa's mouth twists at the corners as she lets out a haughty chuckle - she can’t tell if you mean it as an insult or not and, honestly, you’re not too sure yourself. 

You’re expecting her to wrinkle her nose in disdain and tell you she must get going, or perhaps even have the audacity to tell you to leave. Instead, she utters the words “care to sit with me?” with a look of surprise in her own eyes, as if she hadn’t meant to ask you to sit with her at all.

She has, though, and she doubles down on her offer when you hesitate by arching an eyebrow and gesturing to the seat across from her. 

“Why not?” You shrug and sit opposite her, annoyed by the way your hand trembles as you place your glass on the table, by the clumsy way your knee bumps against the edge of the booth and sends a shooting pain through your leg, making you grimace. Larissa pretends not to notice.

Her own hands rest on the table, her fingertips grazing the porcelain of a large, white coffee cup. The backs of her hands show her age more than her face does, and a lump rises in your throat - you look away, focusing instead on the faint print of deep red lipstick on the edge of the cup, watching as those hands raise the cup into the air, towards pursed, painted lips, with fine lines stretching out into pale, incandescent skin. 

Everything about Larissa reminds you of how much time has passed since you last saw her, and you quickly look out the window to your left instead, taking a strange solace in the fact that the view is exactly the same as the last time you’d sat here.

“You don’t live here any longer, do you?” Larissa asks, her voice a deep, soothing rumble, her accent smooth and pleasant as ever, and you chuckle in response, focusing your gaze back on her face.

“Astute observation.”

“I haven't seen you here in a very long time.” Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but she sounds a little bitter, as if displeased that you had the audacity to try and move on.

“Well, I haven't been here in a very long time…” You sigh, taking a sip of your latte - it burns your tongue. “You’re right, I moved.”

Larissa nods, sapphire eyes mapping out your features, no doubt assessing the visible passage of time against your own skin. Her expression remains neutral - it borders on disinterest, though the twitch of her lips betrays her. At one time, long, long ago, she might’ve asked you why you’d moved. Where you’d moved to. What brings you back. Something, anything, that shows an interest in you, in your life. Today, she doesn’t. And you don’t even think it’s because she doesn’t care, but because you both know it doesn’t matter. You both know that you left Jericho because of her, and no amount of small talk is going to erase the past. It doesn’t matter if she cares now or not - not anymore.

“You still at Nevermore?”

Larissa smiles - it almost upsets you. You wish that she’d smiled at you when she first saw you, as she once did - instead it takes a mention of her career to get her lips to curl up into that familiar grin you once coveted.

“Yes,” she replies, both pride and fondness evident in her tone.

“I don’t suppose you’ll retire soon…”

Larissa’s mood seems to sour a bit. It's a fragile thing, her mood - it always has been, but it seems a little more so today. You can’t blame her, you suppose, not when her ex is ruining her lunch break. 

“I don’t think it’s quite time for that yet,” she says bitterly, and you realize that she’s self-conscious of her age, of you recognizing that she’s gotten older in the time you haven’t seen each other. You can see the resentment slowly growing in her gaze, a tiny flame that could turn into a roaring inferno at the slightest gust of wind and burn down everything in its path. Turn you, yourself, to ashes. You smile in spite of yourself. 

“Nevermore wouldn’t be Nevermore without you anyway, would it?” you hum thoughtfully, placating her, and it works. A calm washes over her features and her knuckles unclench and she cocks her head to the side as her gaze sweeps over your form. 

That gaze makes you feel so small. It makes you feel so worthless, because it reminds you of that time she looked at you in the bar on New Year’s Eve, the first New Year’s Eve after she’d broken your heart - like she was looking at a stranger, like she was looking straight through you, like you didn’t exist to her. And it’s been 15 years and you shouldn’t feel that way, still, after all this time, but you do. And you can tell that she knows. You can tell by the way something in her expression changes that she can see the subtle way you shrink down in your seat, the anxiety swirling in your pupils even as you keep your own expression as impassive as you can. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to sit with me,” she says in a sudden, uncharacteristic bout of honesty. The words are so matter-of-fact, said so abruptly, that they go through you like a cold shower.

She’s probably right, though it angers you to admit it.

“Then why did you?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I wanted to know how you were doing,” she says, after a long period of silence. 

“You haven’t asked,” you grumble.

Larissa looks down at her cup, twisting it this way and that on its saucer, seeming to study her own lipstick print for a moment. “I don’t suppose you think I deserve to know.”

Her answer infuriates you even more, because, once again, she’s right. She doesn’t deserve to know. But she has a lot of nerve assuming how you feel after all this time. 

“Do you think you deserve to know?”

Larissa doesn’t answer - you clench your teeth.

The silence that befalls your little corner booth is almost too heavy to bear. Except it’s not a silence, not completely - there’s music playing over the radio, and the song that’s just started hits you like a punch to the gut. 

It’s “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel, and for a moment you think Larissa hasn’t made the connection. That’s what sets you off - that what you and Larissa had could mean so little to her that she barely remembers any of it - barely remembers something that shoots straight through you and makes you feel, for a single, fleeting second, as though you’re still madly in love, as though you could just reach out and grab her, kiss her and feel her smile against your lips as her arms wind around you and shield you from the world.

“How’s your girlfriend? Or is she your wife now?” you ask - you might as well start asking her questions until you find one she’ll answer. This question is a bit childish, a little petty - you know that before you’ve even opened your mouth to ask it, but you can’t help yourself. You can tell Larissa thinks so, too, by her raised eyebrow. To your surprise, she answers.

“I don't have a partner.”

You’re not sure if the emotion bubbling up inside of you, licking greedily at your insides, is glee or pity - surely it’s a strange, ugly mixture of both seeping into your expression at her admission.

“Did you get bored of her, too?” 

Larissa’s lips part ever so slightly as a blush colors her cheeks - a faint pink hue that’s gone faster than it came. You hate that you know Larissa well enough still to immediately recognize what she’s done: shapeshifted away the visible evidence of an unwanted emotional reaction. You hate that you can’t shapeshift away the redness in your own cheeks.

“That isn’t fair,” Larissa says quietly.

You don’t know what’s more interesting - the fact that she doesn’t deny your statement, or the fact that her eyes are swimming with guilt, even as she frowns at you.

“Isn’t it?”

Larissa doesn’t answer - again - and the song seems to get louder and louder as it goes on, filling the space between the two of you, and your hands clench into fists on the table.

“This fucking song…” you mutter bitterly, and Larissa freezes as a flicker of recognition crosses her face.

“You really liked this song,” she says, as if it’s some sort of revelation to her as she sounds, for the first time, a bit regretful.

You can’t help the hollow laugh that vibrates in your chest at her words. “I really liked you, Larissa.”

Larissa seems taken aback at your statement. She runs a hand over her pristine updo, smoothing down imaginary fly-aways, turning her head to look out the window as tension seems to grip her at the shoulders.

“I know I don’t have much of a right to say this,” she says finally, her voice just a bit softer than it was before. “But I liked you, too. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

You’re stunned into silence. In a way, it’s more of an apology than you ever dreamed you could get. On the other hand… she’s making it sound a whole lot like she hadn’t had a choice in the matter, like she didn’t leave you as if it were the easiest thing she’d ever done.

“You’re sorry it didn’t work out?” you repeat, your voice strangely hollow, and Larissa shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “You’re the one who left, Larissa. You’re the one who made it seem like I was nothing to you.”

“I know I did, and there’s no excuse for that.” Larissa pauses, deliberating. “One thing I never did get the hang of was being in a stable relationship.” She pauses again. “I regret hurting you in the process.”

“But do you regret leaving me?” The words tumble out of you before you can stop them, and you could choke yourself to death, you really could, for sounding so helplessly pathetic after over a decade of unsuccessful mourning.

To your surprise, Larissa doesn’t laugh or shrug off your comment. She tilts her head, meets your gaze. “Yes, I do.”

Larissa takes one final sip of her coffee and stands. Red-tipped fingers slowly disappear into a pair of tan, leather gloves that fit snugly around her wrists. One hand reaches for her handbag, lying on the bench beside her, as the other is placed firmly on the table, used to steady herself as she rises from the booth.

It’s not that you’d necessarily forgotten how tall she is, but you’re somehow struck with the realization anyway, as if seeing her for the first time. Her kitten heels add an inch or two to her already towering height, and she tilts her head down to look at you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“Where are you going?”

Larissa smoothes a hand nervously over her hair. “I need some fresh air.” Her voice sounds the slightest bit hoarse. “It really was lovely to see you.”

“You’re not leaving again?” you ask incredulously, pushing yourself to your feet and stepping up to Larissa, craning your neck back to get a good look at her face. Her eyes widen and, to your surprise, her lips quirk up at the outer corners.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to go for a walk, then?”

“I would, actually.” 

Something within Larissa seems to relax, and she leads you out of the Weathervane with a hand on the small of your back.

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @pro-weems-places @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @fictionalized-lesbian @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @http-sam @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @niceminipotato @thevillagegay @barbarasstar @jadewolf22 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @lilfartbox1 @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @daydream-cement @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @ilovetlcc @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen

[sunseed-fandump]

Every good circus needs a Big Top! And this here is the tent used by the Liar's Circus! But don't be fooled by its small size, the interior is guaranteed to blow any circus fan away! All forms of entertainment can be found within!

Nobody can put a price tag on FUN! So everything is free for the taking! Just step through the door!

Eat, drink, be merry! Let your emotions fly as high as the trapeze!

All that energy will soon be put to better use...

More information about the individual areas under the cut!

ARENA

This is the central area where most performances are given. From clowning around to acrobatic feats that boggle the mind, it's all done here! All paths around the circus lead back to this area, so it is also typically considered "the crossroads" of the circus.

The path to the Arena from the entrance runs through a gauntlet of concessions and gift stands. So many wonderful treats on display almost makes it feel like a dream.

Zoo

All manner of strange creatures are kept within the cages. Summoned from the great beyond lie beasts twisted by shadows and kissed by the forbidden reaches. Lions? Tigers? Bears? Those are nothing compared to what lurks behind the steel bars...

Games Square

Up for a challenge? The Games Square is the perfect place to show off one's skills. Tests of strength, dexterity, and intelligence can be found here. And don't worry about losing, everyone is sure to walk away with a wonderful prize! Just.. Be careful not to get lost in the hall of mirrors.

Playground

This area is for those who crave some good old-fashioned fun. The map really doesn't do it justice. A beautiful carousel spins all day long, filling the air with joyous music. Slides, swings, and various other pieces of equipment offer plenty of ways to play, play, play! So run around! Scream and shout! Let out all that pent-up energy!

Theater

Beautiful tear-jerking performances and awe-inspiring tales are spun on this stage. There's never a shortage of stories! All of them were written by the world's finest playwright, poet, director, actor, clown-- Huh? Who is he? Our beloved Ringmaster of course!

Staff Area

This is where Gingerbrave, Strawberry Cookie, and Wizard Cookie stay. Each performer gets their own tent, filled with all the basic comforts a hard-working cookie needs. Of course, they're tailored to the individual interests of each child as well. Wizard has a cozy little tower filled with books. Strawberry has all sorts of games to keep her occupied. As for Gingerbrave, he's got toys, crayons, and even a whole trampoline in there! The kids are certainly comfortable.

Ok, that's all cool but what's ACTUALLY going on in there?

The answer to that is simple, this plane exists to gather energy for Shadow Milk Cookie. Magic is tied to emotion. So the more excited the guests feel, the more life energy Shadow Milk collects from them. Everything here is perfectly harmless (to guests), as the point is to only illicit strong emotions of thrill, excitement, and joy.

Guests are free to come and go as they please, but when they do leave, everyone feels especially drained.

And if the circus faces a tough crowd? Well, fear is also a viably strong emotion to gather energy from.

The only Cookies in the tent who Shadow Milk Cookie does not collect energy from is the kids. As they need their strength to perform and complete whatever tasks are given to them.

Cookies who are labeled as "Intruders" will have a horde of phantoms, animals, and puppets come down on them from all sides, and that's not even counting how Shadow Milk can control everything and anything inside. So it's best not to pick a fight unless one is prepared...

[elikajinnie]

I Love You To The Moon And Back - S.J

P: Lycan!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive Content, Minor Angst, Possessive Behaviour, Feral Behaviour, Minor Injuries, Falling In Love.

Synopsis: You and Jake have been best friends since childhood, but as you grow feelings for him, you notice changes in his behavior, leaving you to wonder what happened to him. And you’re determined to uncover the truth

a/n: idk, i honestly dont know. i have been digging the horror au tbh.

𓃦

The swing creaked beneath you, your legs dangling, feet brushing lightly against the woodchips beneath. It was your first day at this new school, and you didn’t know anyone yet. The other kids seemed to already have friends, running around the playground, laughing in groups. You had wandered over to the swings to avoid feeling completely out of place, gently kicking your feet to push yourself higher, but not too high. You didn’t want to stand out too much, after all.

Then, out of nowhere, you felt the swing jerk forward, a gentle push. Startled, you gripped the chains tighter, turning your head to see a boy standing behind you, his small hands still on the swing. He was smiling, a carefree grin, his messy brown hair falling slightly over his eyes.

“What are you doing?” you asked, trying to sound braver than you felt.

“Playing,” he said simply, giving you another push.

You blinked, unsure what to say at first, but his easygoing smile made you feel less nervous. As the swing gained a bit of height, you found yourself smiling too, the butterflies in your stomach slowly settling. After a few more pushes, he ran around to the front, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “I’m Jake,” he said, squinting slightly in the sunlight.

You told him your name, and without missing a beat, he asked, “Wanna play?”

It wasn’t long before the two of you were running across the playground, chasing each other, laughing. You climbed on the jungle gym, played tag, and pretended the ground was lava, hopping from one safe island to the next.

By the time the bell rang, calling everyone back inside, you had a new friend. And as you walked back to class together, you knew that somehow, this day didn’t feel quite so scary anymore.

𓃦

Years passed, and you and Jake stayed inseparable. Even as you both grew up and started exploring different interests, nothing ever seemed to drive a wedge between you. While other childhood friendships faded, lost in the chaos of school, new hobbies, and changing social circles, you and Jake never drifted apart.

Middle school came, and with it, new groups of friends. Jake found his way into the soccer team, while you got into art, spending hours after school in the art room. You both made new friends along the way, but no matter how busy life got, there was always time for each other.

After practice, Jake would wait for you outside the art room, kicking a soccer ball against the wall while you finished up a drawing. Some days, you'd sit together, your sketchbook on your lap as he tried—and often failed—to draw something that wasn’t a stick figure. You’d laugh, telling him it looked like a "weird, sad robot," but he’d always insist it was "modern art." He would tease you endlessly about your doodles, and you’d remind him how bad his drawings were—but you’d still show up for his games, cheering him on from the stands.

High school brought even more changes. Jake became more popular, his team winning matches, and he started hanging out with the soccer crowd. You found your own little circle with the art club and theater kids. At times, it seemed like your lives were taking different directions. But it didn’t matter. After every win, after every school event, after every late-night study session, the two of you would find each other.

Sometimes, you'd meet at the old playground, the same swings still there, creaky but familiar. It became your spot, a place to talk about everything. Jake would tell you about his latest soccer game, the pressure he felt from his team and coach. You'd talk about your art, about the projects you were working on and the ideas you had.

When things got hard, when life felt overwhelming, it was Jake who’d be there. He’d show up at your door after a tough day, throwing pebbles at your window just like in the movies. And when he needed a break from the noise of everyone else, you’d sit together in quiet understanding, whether it was in your room or out by the swings, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

Even with different interests, different friends, and different paths, one thing never changed—you always had time for each other. It didn’t matter how busy life got, or how much things changed around you. You both made the effort, the little moments adding up over the years, a constant reminder that some friendships are just meant to last.

Because at the end of the day, Jake wasn’t just your best friend. He was home.

𓃦

It was one of those quiet afternoons, the kind where the world felt just a bit slower, perfect for getting lost in a book. You were sitting on the bleachers, absorbed in the romance novel you’d been devouring for the past few days. The plot had you hooked—an unlikely love story full of tension, banter, and those heart-fluttering moments that made you wonder if such things actually happened in real life.

As you flipped a page, you heard the familiar sound of sneakers scuffing the pavement. Jake came strolling up beside you, twirling a football between his hands, a mischievous grin already spreading across his face. “What’s this?” he asked, peeking over your shoulder. “Another one of those sappy romance novels?”

You shot him a playful glare. “It’s not sappy! And it’s not cliché like you think.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Prove it.”

Without thinking, you flipped to a scene you’d just read, your finger hovering over the paragraph. It was a moment where the main character, after teasing the heroine endlessly, finally leans in close, says something flirty that catches her off guard, and leaves her completely speechless.

You handed him the book. “Here. Read this.”

Jake skimmed the passage quickly, his grin widening as he realized what it was about. "This? Really?" He set the book down on the bleacher and leaned toward you, his face only inches from yours, just like the scene. You could see the amusement dancing in his eyes as he lowered his voice, mimicking the character. “You know,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing, “if you wanted me to flirt with you, you could’ve just asked.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your face instantly flushed. You hadn’t expected him to actually do it. Jake, noticing your reaction, let out a soft chuckle, his smile widening even more. He lightly nudged your shoulder with his own, that boyish charm never far from his teasing. “Wow, didn’t think I’d get you all flustered,” he laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “Guess the book’s rubbing off on you.”

Before you could recover, he gave you a playful wave and jogged off toward the field, calling over his shoulder, “Catch you later, romance expert!” He had no idea how those simple words left you sitting there, your heart racing, your mind swirling with thoughts you didn’t quite understand.

In the days that followed, things began to shift ever so slightly between you two. Jake seemed to take notice of how easily he could make you blush, and he started teasing you even more. He’d drop little flirty comments when you least expected it, his tone always playful, but there was something in the way he’d look at you that made your stomach flip. Whether it was during lunch, on the walk home, or just hanging out after school, he’d find ways to make your heart race.

Like when he’d lean close to you in the hall, his breath warm against your ear, and whisper something like, “Careful, someone might think you’ve got a crush on me,” before laughing and leaving you speechless. Or how he’d casually drape an arm over your shoulder, his touch light but lingering just enough to make you feel flustered. You tried to brush it off as just Jake being Jake, but something inside you was starting to shift.

One afternoon, sitting with your friend Wonyoung during study hall, you finally let it slip. “I don’t know what’s happening,” you admitted, staring down at your notebook but not really seeing it. “Lately, Jake’s been teasing me more, like… flirting teasing. And it’s different. Every time he does it, I get these… butterflies. It’s confusing.”

Wonyoung looked at you for a long moment, her smile widening like she had been waiting for this. “Girl, you’re not confused. You’ve got a crush on him.”

Your heart dropped at the realization. “What? No, I mean… we've been best friends forever. It’s just Jake.”

But as soon as Wonyung said it, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The butterflies, the way your heart would race when he teased you, the sudden flush of heat whenever he got close. You were starting to see him differently. Maybe, somewhere along the way, between the teasing, the years of friendship, and those moments where it felt like he was more than just your best friend… maybe you had started falling for him without even realizing it.

After Wonyoung’s words that day, something shifted inside you, even though you tried to ignore it. You didn’t say anything to Jake, of course. How could you? The idea of bringing it up felt terrifying, like crossing an invisible line between what you had always known and something completely new and uncertain.

Still, her words stuck with you. No matter how hard you tried to push them aside, they lingered, sneaking up on you at the most unexpected moments—when you were with Jake, especially. It didn’t matter if you were at his house playing video games, or on the football pitch, where he would call you over, grinning as he tried to teach you how to kick the ball properly. Even when he waited for you after art class, leaning against the wall with that easy smile of his, chatting about his day or teasing you about your latest drawing, you couldn’t help but feel it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the flutter in your stomach whenever he looked at you a certain way, or the warmth that spread through your chest when he laughed at your jokes. The feelings were suffocating, growing with every interaction but always kept hidden behind the careful mask of friendship.

Even in the library, when you sat across from him at a table—him with his head buried in textbooks, you with your nose in a novel—you were painfully aware of how close he was. You could hear the scratch of his pen on paper, the occasional sigh as he concentrated on his work, and every now and then, his foot would brush against yours under the table, sending a shock of awareness through you. But you said nothing.

On the bus to and from school, when you sat together in your usual spot, Jake would always lean his shoulder against yours, sharing his earbuds or cracking jokes that made you smile despite the growing knot in your chest. His presence was comforting, as it had always been. And yet now, it felt like there was something between you that you couldn’t name, something that made the air feel thicker, harder to breathe. Still, you kept it to yourself.

Science class was no better. You were partners, as always, sitting side by side during experiments, laughing at Jake’s terrible attempts to handle the beakers and test tubes. His hand would brush against yours accidentally as you worked, and every time it happened, you’d tense up, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered you were becoming. But he never seemed to, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He’d just continue on, the same way he always had, making you laugh like it was the easiest thing in the world.

The worst was the mornings, though. Jake had always shown up at your door to walk with you to the bus stop, like clockwork. He’d stand there with his backpack slung over one shoulder, grinning as you made your way outside. You’d talk about everything and nothing as you walked, your footsteps in sync, and it felt like you were both stuck in this perfect little bubble, where nothing had changed. But inside, you felt like you were suffocating. The unspoken feelings weighed on you, heavy and constant, and every time Jake smiled at you, it made it harder to keep pretending everything was the same.

And then there were the swings. The old playground had always been your special place, the spot where everything began, where the world had felt simpler. You’d sit there together after school sometimes, talking about your days, your dreams, your lives. But now, even the swings felt different. You’d sit beside him, your feet barely touching the ground, and all you could think about was how close he was, how easy it would be to lean just a little closer. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

So you stayed quiet, never saying a word, not even when the tension inside you became too much to bear. The feelings built up, day by day, moment by moment, until it felt like they were choking you. You wanted to tell him, to ask him if he felt it too, but the fear of ruining everything—the friendship you cherished so much—kept you silent.

And so, you kept pretending. Kept playing along, even though it was slowly suffocating you.

𓃦

You were sprawled across your bed, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls as you watched your latest obsession—a series about werewolves. The plot had taken a dramatic turn, and you were completely absorbed, leaning into the tension on the screen when you heard your door creak open.

Without tearing your eyes away from the show, you huffed, “Mom, I’m not hungry right now.”

But instead of your mom’s voice, you heard a familiar chuckle. “Good thing I’m not your mom.”

Your head snapped up, and there he was—Jake, standing in the doorway with that ever-present grin. He walked in like he owned the place, barely giving you time to react before he plopped down right next to you on the bed, making the mattress bounce beneath you. “Werewolves, huh?” he asked, glancing at the TV with mock seriousness. “And you said my interests were crazy.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through your chest the moment he settled beside you. “It’s not crazy. This show’s actually really good.”

Jake smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s next? Vampires? Maybe some shirtless brooding guy who’s half-wolf, half-whatever?”

“Shut up, it’s not like that,” you muttered, but before you could say anything more, Jake’s fingers found your side, poking you playfully.

“Oh, really?” he teased, continuing to poke you until you squirmed away, trying to bat his hands off. “C’mon, what is it? Secret romance between the werewolf and the girl? Or does she turn out to be a werewolf, too?”

“Stop!” you laughed, trying to shield yourself from his jabs. But he didn’t stop—he never did. His pokes turned into full-blown tickling, and you were soon in fits of laughter, squirming on the bed as you tried to push him away. Jake, of course, was relentless, his fingers digging into your sides as he grinned down at you.

“Jake!” you gasped between breaths, your laughter uncontrollable as you twisted and turned, trying to escape his attack. “I swear—stop!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stopped, flopping down beside you with a triumphant grin. You caught your breath, glaring at him, and landed a light punch on his arm. “You’re the worst.”

He laughed, rubbing his arm dramatically like you’d actually hurt him. “Hey, just keeping you entertained.”

You both lay there for a moment, the sounds of the werewolf series filling the room, the earlier tension from his teasing melting away. Without thinking too much about it, you shifted a little closer, and Jake, ever comfortable, wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side. It felt natural, familiar—like you’d done it a hundred times before.

You settled into the warmth of his embrace, your head resting on his chest as his fingers absently traced circles on your arm. The weight of his arm around you was comforting, grounding, and for a second, it felt like nothing had changed between you two. Just like it always had been—best friends, close as ever.

“Alright, I’ll give this show a chance,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now, more relaxed. “But if there’s some cheesy love triangle, I’m out.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even though your heart was still racing a bit from the tickling—and from the way you were curled up against him. “Deal,” you murmured, your eyes drifting back to the screen, though your thoughts were far from the drama playing out in front of you.

As the episodes continued, the two of you lay there, cuddled together, and for a while, it felt like everything was normal. Like nothing had changed. Like it was just another day with Jake, watching TV, laughing, and being wrapped up in each other’s company.

But beneath the surface, the feelings you had been pushing down—the butterflies, the warmth, the way your heart fluttered whenever he touched you—were impossible to ignore. You told yourself it was just the comfort of your friendship, the way it had always been. Just like friends do… right?

But deep down, you knew things weren’t as simple as that anymore.

𓃦

Graduation day came quicker than you expected. You stood in the sea of caps and gowns, clutching your diploma, feeling a mixture of pride and dread. While everyone else seemed thrilled about what was next—about new beginnings and new places—your heart was stuck in the in-between, not ready to let go of the familiar. Jake found you after the ceremony, that wide grin on his face, as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“I can’t believe we’re going to the same uni!”

You smiled back, trying to match his enthusiasm. He looked so happy, and of course you were glad—relieved, even—that he’d be there. But deep down, something felt off. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had been building over the past few years, the growing feelings you still hadn’t found the courage to face. Being with Jake every day, pretending like things hadn’t changed between you, felt both comforting and terrifying. You nodded and said, “I know Jake! I’m so happy.”

The smile you gave him was genuine, but the anxiety underneath it was real too. You weren’t ready to unpack it, so you buried it deeper, pretending everything was just like it always had been.

Summer vacation arrived, and for a little while, everything went back to normal. The usual hangouts, lazy afternoons, and spontaneous adventures. But then one afternoon, while you were at Jake’s house, he broke some unexpected news.

“Hey, so… I’ve got something to tell you,” Jake said casually, tossing a soccer ball up and catching it as you both lounged on the couch.

You looked at him curiously. “What’s up?”

“I’m going away for a few weeks,” he said, grinning like a kid with a secret. “Family trip. We’re flying out in a few days.”

Your stomach dropped, but you tried not to let it show. “Oh… wow, that’s amazing,” you said, forcing a smile. “You’ll have the best time.”

Jake seemed oblivious to the little hitch in your voice. “Yeah, I’m really excited. But don’t worry,” he added, his smile softening, “I’ll text you every day. I’ll send you a million pictures, and we can still video call, okay?”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “Of course. Every day,” you agreed, giving him a playful nudge to keep the mood light.

The day he left came too quickly. You stood in front of his house, the early morning sun casting long shadows on the driveway as Jake loaded his suitcase into the car. You knew you’d see him again in a few weeks, but the thought of not having him around for even that short time felt strange.

When he finally walked over to say goodbye, you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. You felt him hug you back just as firmly, his chin resting on the top of your head for a moment. “I’ll miss you,” he said softly, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak right away, so you just nodded into his chest, squeezing him a little tighter. “Miss you too,” you finally murmured.

As he pulled back and grabbed his bags, you forced yourself to smile again, waving as he got into the car. “Text me when you land!” you called, your voice a little too cheerful.

“I will!” he shouted back with a grin, giving you one last wave before the car pulled away, taking him to the airport. You stood there long after the car disappeared, feeling like something was tugging at your heart, pulling you in two different directions.

𓃦

For the first week, things went exactly as Jake promised. Every day, without fail, your phone would buzz with messages from him—pictures of the cobblestone streets, snapshots of old buildings, random selfies where he’d make some goofy face just to make you laugh. He’d text about everything he saw, about how much fun he was having, but how he still missed home. How he missed you.

You’d text back just as eagerly, sometimes staying up late to video call when he found a quiet moment between exploring and family dinners. Seeing his face on the screen, hearing his laugh, made the distance feel smaller, like he wasn’t halfway across the world. Even though your feelings for him were still swirling in that confusing, unspoken space, you were content.

But then, something changed.

At first, it was small. Messages taking a little longer to be delivered. You didn’t think much of it; after all, he was traveling and probably busy. You told yourself it was fine. Normal, even.

Then the delays became longer. His texts would come hours late, and when you’d reply, your messages would sit there, marked as "Delivered," but no response would come. You’d send a couple more, asking if everything was okay, but still—nothing.

The video calls stopped altogether. You’d sit there with your phone, waiting for that familiar ringtone, hoping for the notification that never came. You started calling him, hoping to catch him during a break, but every time it went straight to voicemail. You listened to the same generic message over and over until you stopped trying altogether.

Days passed, then a week. The silence was gnawing at you, growing heavier with every unanswered text, every missed call. You told yourself it was just because he was busy, that maybe his phone wasn’t working properly. But deep down, you knew something felt wrong.

Sitting on your bed one evening, your phone in hand, you stared at the last message you’d sent him. It had been two days. Two days of nothing but silence from the person you talked to every single day for as long as you could remember. You scrolled up through the chat, rereading the messages you’d exchanged—the jokes, the casual “I miss you,” the pictures of his trip. But now, everything felt distant, as if the closeness between you was slipping away.

With a sigh, you sent one last message, a simple, “Are you okay? I miss hearing from you.��

You watched the message shift to "Delivered" once again. And just like the others, it sat there, unanswered, as your chest tightened with the weight of the silence.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and after days of silence, you decided you had to reach out to someone who might know what was going on.

With a deep breath, you dialed Jake’s mom, your heart racing as the phone rang. You felt a wave of relief wash over you when she finally answered, her warm voice a comforting sound amidst your anxiety.

“Hello?” she said, and you could hear the faint sounds of life around her—distant chatter, the clinking of dishes.

“Hi, Mrs. Sim, it’s me. I was just checking in on Jake,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach.

“Oh, hello, dear! I’m glad you called,” she replied, her tone brightening. But then, you noticed a shift, a slight hesitance in her voice. “Um, Jake hasn’t been feeling very well. He’s been locked in his hotel room for a few days now.”

Your heart dropped at the news. “Oh no, I—I didn’t know. Is he okay?”

“He’s just been a bit under the weather. Nothing serious, but he’s been resting and trying to recover,” she explained, her voice laced with concern. “I think he might just be feeling overwhelmed. Traveling can be a lot, especially for someone like Jake who hates missing out on anything.”

You felt a mixture of relief and worry. At least he hadn’t decided to cut you out of his life completely, but the thought of him feeling unwell and isolated made your chest ache. “Is there anything I can do? I’d love to talk to him or help in any way.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll let him know you called, and maybe it’ll lift his spirits a bit,” she said kindly. “He loves talking to you. You’re a good friend to him.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Sim” you replied, your heart warming at her words. “Just let him know I’m thinking of him, okay?”

“Of course. I’ll keep you updated. Take care, sweetheart,” she said before ending the call.

You set your phone down, a whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind. You felt better knowing he wasn’t purposely ignoring you, but the worry still gnawed at you.

For the next few days, you kept your phone close, hoping for a message or a call from him. You tried to focus on other things—hanging out with friends, reading, and enjoying the last of your summer—but your thoughts kept drifting back to Jake. You wondered how he was doing, if he was feeling any better, and if he’d return to you once he was back in the groove of life.

That night, as you lay in bed, you found it hard to sleep, thoughts of him swirling in your mind. You wished you could be there, to comfort him and remind him that he wasn’t alone, even if he was miles away.

𓃦

One afternoon, your phone rang, jolting you out of your thoughts. The screen lit up with Jake’s name, and you felt a rush of relief and excitement. You answered quickly, your heart racing.

“Jake! How are you?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could even think.

“Hey! I’m… I’m okay,” he replied, his voice slightly strained but attempting to sound casual. “Just had a bit of a stomach flu, that’s all.”

Your heart sank at his words. “A stomach flu? Is that really all? You sounded… rushed.”

He hesitated for a moment, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his mind. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a few days to rest and get better. You know how it is.”

“Are you sure? You don’t sound fine,” you pressed gently, trying to keep your voice calm. “Have you seen a doctor? I’m really worried about you.”

“Really, I’m okay! Just a little weak, but nothing I can’t handle,” he insisted, though the slight quiver in his voice gave away that he wasn’t as reassured as he wanted you to be.

You could hear faint noises in the background, muffled voices and the sound of footsteps. It made your stomach churn. “Where are you right now?”

“In the hotel,” he replied quickly. “Just had to step out for a second. It’s not a big deal; I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Your heart ached at how much he was trying to downplay it. “Jake, if you need anything… I mean, I wish I could be there with you. Just tell me the truth. You don’t have to act tough for me.”

A pause stretched between you, filled only with the sound of his shallow breaths. “I know, and I appreciate that. But really, I’ll be okay. I just need to take it easy for a bit, and I’ll be back home before you know it.”

You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and lingering concern. “Alright, but if it gets worse, promise me you’ll see a doctor. I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice, though it didn’t quite reach his tone. “I’ll keep you posted, okay? Thanks for worrying about me.”

“Of course I worry about you! You’re my best friend,” you said, your voice softening. “I just want you to be healthy and happy.”

“Trust me, I’ll get back to being my usual self soon,” he reassured you, though you could hear the weariness beneath his words. “And then, we’ll catch up like crazy. I’ve got stories to tell you, and you’ll be sick of hearing me.”

You laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. “I could never get sick of you. Just focus on getting better.”

“Will do. I’ll text you later, alright? I might need a distraction from all this hotel room boredom,” he said, and you could almost picture him leaning back against the wall, trying to play it cool even while you knew he was still feeling unwell.

“Okay, I’ll be here,” you replied, hoping to convey your support through the screen.

“Talk soon!” he said before hanging up, leaving you with a lingering worry in your heart. You stared at your phone, feeling a mix of relief and concern. While you were grateful to hear his voice, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still holding back.

In the days that followed, you couldn’t help but check your phone constantly, hoping for another call or message from him.

After all, that’s what friends were for, right?

After what felt like an eternity, Jake finally returned home. You could hardly contain your excitement as you made your way to his house, your heart racing at the thought of seeing him again. You knocked on the door, and when it swung open, you were greeted by a familiar face that felt both comforting and disheartening all at once.

Jake stood there, looking a little rough around the edges. His hair was messier than usual, longer than it had been when he left, and he wore a faded t-shirt that hung loosely on his frame. Dark circles under his eyes hinted at the exhaustion he must have felt after his ordeal, and your heart ached for him.

“Hey!” he said, a tired smile breaking through as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light. But you couldn’t hide the concern in your eyes as you took in his appearance. “Wow, you look… different.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I’ve been through a lot these past few weeks. Just trying to catch up on sleep and everything.”

You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, your eyes never leaving him. “Are you good? Really?”

He paused for a moment, meeting your gaze. “I’m okay,” he reassured you, though the way he said it made you wonder just how much of that was true. “Just a little tired. Traveling takes a lot out of you.”

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “It’s more than just traveling, isn’t it?”

Jake sighed, glancing away for a moment. “Yeah, it was tough over there. I didn’t expect to get sick, and then I just… I don’t know. It kind of hit me hard.”

You took a step closer, feeling the urge to comfort him. “You should have let me know. I worried about you, you know.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for the radio silence,” he said, his voice softening. “I didn’t want to worry you more than I already had. I thought I’d bounce back quicker, but… it just took longer than I expected.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you fought back a wave of emotion. “I’m just glad you’re back now. That you’re okay,” you said quietly.

He smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across his face, even as it faded quickly. “Yeah, it feels good to be home. And to see you.”'

You glanced around the living room, taking in the familiar space. “Can I get you anything? Water? Snacks?”

He shook his head. “I’m good for now. I just want to hang out and catch up. It’s been too long.”

With a small smile, you settled onto the couch, and he joined you, sinking into the cushions.

𓃦

As you both settled into university life, the first few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of classes, social events, and late-night study sessions. Everything felt exciting and new, but as the days passed, you began to notice small changes in Jake that made you raise an eyebrow.

For starters, there was his appetite. You had always known he liked to eat, but now, he seemed to be craving meat more than ever. He'd pile on burgers and chicken during lunch, his eyes lighting up at the sight of a plate full of food. “Are you trying to bulk up or something?” you teased one day as he loaded up his plate again.

“Just hungry, okay?” he replied with a laugh, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it.

Then there was football practice. Watching him on the field, you noticed how he had an intensity that was different. He was stronger, more aggressive, effortlessly sending other players flying with just a slight push. You had seen him play before, but now it felt like he was operating on another level. It was impressive, but a part of you felt uneasy—he seemed to have tapped into some hidden reserve of energy and strength that wasn’t there before.

And then there were the crowds. You had always known Jake wasn’t a huge fan of loud places, but it was as if his sensitivity had amplified. You could see him tense up during busy events, his eyes darting around as he tried to find a way to escape the noise. The first time you noticed it was during orientation week, when the crowd of students became too overwhelming for him. He started to look pale, and you instinctively reached out to take his hand, leading him to a quieter corner.

After that, you decided to get him a pair of noise-canceling headphones, and the smile that lit up his face when you handed them to him was one of the best moments of your week. “You really didn’t have to do this,” he said, beaming. “But thank you. This will help a lot.”

You also started to see how protective he was of his belongings, especially around others. If someone asked to borrow his jacket or a book, he would hesitate, giving them a wary look before declining. But when it came to you, it was a different story. He’d drape his jacket around your shoulders without a second thought, his expression softening as he did so. “You need it more than I do,” he’d insist, a playful smirk on his lips.

But then there were the moments that made your heart race. Jake seemed to have developed a stealthy ability to sneak up on you. Whether you were in the library, waiting for a class to start, or hanging out with friends, he would appear out of nowhere, catching you off guard. One day, he crept up while you were reading, and before you knew it, he had his arms around your waist, pulling you into a quick embrace.

“Gotcha!” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

Yet, there were also those times when Jake would go quiet at night, his responses to your texts dwindling to a halt. It worried you, but every morning, he would greet you with a bright smile, as if the late-night silence never happened. “Sorry, I fell asleep,” he would say with an easy laugh, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something deeper.

And during lunch or class, you discovered a new side of him when you absentmindedly played with his hair while chatting about your day. His cheeks would flush, and he’d lean into your touch, practically melting under your fingers. The sight of him so relaxed, so vulnerable, made your heart race.

But the most puzzling change was his protectiveness whenever he saw you talking to other guys. It would start with a small frown, then a quick, almost possessive stride toward you. “Hey, what’s going on here?” he’d say, slinging an arm around your shoulders or wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Just chatting!” you’d laugh, but there was something deeper in his eyes, a flicker of jealousy that made your stomach twist with both excitement and confusion.

As the weeks progressed, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, trying to decipher the layers of Jake that were unfolding before you. Each small change, each interaction seemed to pull you deeper into a storm of feelings you weren’t sure how to navigate.

𓃦

As the semester rolled on, more instances of Jake's behavior began to pile up, each one both endearing and perplexing. You often found yourself caught off guard by the small things he did, but they all hinted at a change in your relationship dynamics.

One chilly afternoon, you were waiting outside your art class when you spotted a group of guys laughing and joking nearby. You knew them from a few classes, and they were friendly enough, so you struck up a conversation with them while you waited for Jake. As you laughed at one of their jokes, you suddenly felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Jake standing there, arms crossed, a frown etched across his face.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his tone slightly guarded.

“Yeah, we were just talking,” you replied, a little confused by his sudden seriousness.

“Right,” he said, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. He shifted closer, placing himself between you and the other guys, a protective wall. It felt both amusing and oddly comforting, like he was silently claiming his territory.

Then there was the day you decided to join a study group for a particularly challenging class. You were excited to meet new people and tackle the material together. When Jake found out, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure you want to do that? What if they’re not nice?”

“Jake, they’re just a group of classmates. It’s fine,” you reassured him, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. “I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, but if they give you any trouble, you let me know,” he said firmly, his expression softening as he added, “I don’t want anyone messing with you.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how protective he had become. “I promise, I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”

During one of your late-night study sessions at the library, you noticed a few guys at the table across from you trying to get your attention, making silly faces and cracking jokes. You rolled your eyes and focused on your work, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Jake, who was sitting beside you.

He had been quiet for most of the evening, but as the teasing escalated, you felt him tense beside you. Suddenly, he stood up, stretching out as if he were getting ready to leave. “Hey, I need to grab something from my bag,” he said, but you could see the determination in his eyes.

As he walked over to the other table, you felt a wave of confusion wash over you. You watched him lean over and say something to the guys, who immediately straightened up, looking taken aback. You couldn’t hear what he said, but you could see their faces drop, and they quickly turned their attention back to their own work.

When he returned to you, he sat down with a satisfied smile, as if he had just completed some important mission. “You okay?” you asked, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice.

“Yeah, just thought I’d remind them to keep it down,” he said casually, but you could tell there was more behind it.

“Thanks, I guess?” you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. “But you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “But I didn’t like the way they were looking at you.”

Another instance that stood out was during a group project for one of your classes. You were paired with a few other students, including a guy named Alex who seemed to take a particular interest in you. Jake, who had been working quietly at the other end of the table, suddenly cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself.

“Hey, can you help me with this part of the project?” he called out, shooting you a look that practically screamed “rescue me.” You couldn’t help but smile, recognizing his attempt to reclaim your attention.

“Sure, what do you need?” you replied, eager to help him out.

As you leaned over to see his notes, you felt Jake’s knee bump against yours, and he shifted closer, as if to shield you from the rest of the group. You caught Alex’s curious gaze and felt a mix of amusement as Jake shot him a pointed look that said, “Back off.”

But it was during one of your routine coffee runs that his behavior really hit home. You had both decided to take a break between classes and popped into a nearby café. As you waited for your drinks, you noticed a girl from your sociology class come up to Jake, smiling brightly as she engaged him in conversation.

You watched as Jake’s demeanor shifted. He went from being relaxed to immediately on guard. He answered her questions politely, but you could see the way his shoulders tensed and how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When she asked if he wanted to join her table, he glanced at you before shaking his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’m here with my friend,” he said, motioning towards you.

As soon as she left, he turned to you, an exasperated look on his face. “I don’t know what it is, but something about her just rubs me the wrong way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his overprotectiveness. “Jake, she’s just being friendly!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to take any chances,” he said firmly, crossing his arms again.

Each of these instances piled on top of one another, weaving a complicated tapestry of feelings that left you questioning the nature of your friendship. Jake’s protective instincts made your heart race, igniting a spark of something deeper that you couldn’t quite define. The way he cared for you made you feel special, but the intensity of it all left you wondering where the lines between friendship and something more began to blur.

𓃦

One evening, as you were lounging in your room, scrolling through social media, a message from Hyerin popped up on your screen. “Hey, you need to check the news,” she wrote, and your curiosity was piqued. Clicking on the link she sent, you were met with a local news report that sent a shiver down your spine.

According to the report, several residents had reported hearing loud howls echoing from the nearby forest at night. Some claimed to have even spotted a large creature lurking at the outskirts of town—something that resembled a wolf, but much larger. The local authorities had dismissed the reports, attributing the sounds to normal wildlife, but the article featured alarming witness accounts that painted a more sinister picture.

You felt a rush of adrenaline mixed with unease. The thought of a creature prowling just outside your town was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. You quickly typed out a message to Jake, sharing what you had found.

“Did you see this? There are reports of howls coming from the forest, and people say they saw a giant wolf!”

His reply came almost instantly. “It’s probably just a normal wolf, nothing to worry about,” he typed back casually, as if the news was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

But you weren’t convinced. The stories echoed in your mind, and a sense of adventure began to bubble up within you. You felt the urge to explore, to see for yourself what was going on in those woods. The idea sent your heart racing, but you hesitated. You knew Jake would be against it if he knew, and you didn’t want to worry him.

After a quick glance at the clock, you grabbed a flashlight, bundled up in a warm jacket, and slipped out of your dorm room. The night air was crisp, and the stars shone brightly overhead as you made your way toward the edge of the forest. With each step, the excitement mingled with a hint of fear, but you pushed it aside, determined to uncover the truth for yourself.

As you approached the tree line, you could hear the rustling leaves and the distant sounds of the night, but your resolve remained firm. The forest loomed before you, shadows dancing between the trees. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was just a hike, just a bit of exploration.

You ventured deeper into the woods, the beam of your flashlight cutting through the darkness. You moved quietly, listening intently for any sounds that might confirm the rumors. As you walked, your imagination ran wild. What if there really was a creature lurking in the shadows? What if you stumbled upon something extraordinary?

But as the minutes passed, the forest seemed eerily still. You stopped occasionally to listen, straining to catch any sound, but all you heard was the faint rustling of leaves. After a while, doubt began to creep in. Was this a fool’s errand? Were you just chasing a ghost story?

Just when you were about to turn back, a loud howl pierced the night air, echoing through the trees. Your heart raced, and you froze in place, eyes wide as you turned toward the sound. It was unmistakable—a chilling howl that seemed to resonate from deep within the forest.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through you, and instinctively, you stepped further into the shadows, driven by curiosity. You followed the sound, drawn deeper into the woods. Each step felt like a leap into the unknown, but you couldn’t turn back now.

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was a text from Jake: “Where are you? You’re not out there, are you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. The worry in his text was there. You hesitated, debating whether to respond. He wouldn’t understand your need to explore, your desire to see if the stories were true. But you didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily.

“Just out for a walk,” you typed back, keeping it vague. You silenced your phone and tucked it away, pushing on into the dark.

With every howl that echoed through the trees, your fear grew. What would you find in the heart of the forest? Would you encounter whatever creature was rumored to roam these woods?

But deep down, a small part of you wondered if you should have listened to Jake, if maybe it was better to stay safe at home instead of chasing shadows.

𓃦

Jake’s heart raced as he read your message, panic setting in. “Just out for a walk.” Those words echoed in his mind, mixing with the chilling howls that pierced the night air. He felt a wave of urgency wash over him, and without thinking twice, he leaped from his chair, pulling aside his curtains to reveal the moonlit night outside.

The silvery glow bathed him in light, and he clenched his fists in the fabric of the curtains, fighting against the instinct to leap into action. He could hear it clearly now—the haunting howls from the forest calling out to him, echoing through the stillness of the night. The sounds tugged at something deep inside him, a urge that he could no longer ignore.

With a final groan of frustration, he dashed out of his room. He sprinted down the stairs, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he burst through the front door and into the night. The air was cool against his skin, but he barely noticed, his focus zeroed in on the forest where you had ventured.

Something deep within him stirred, a deep-seated calling that urged him to heed the instinct to protect and defend. The weight of the moon hung heavy in the sky, and as he ran, he could feel the change beginning to take hold. His body was alive with energy, crackling under the moonlight as it beckoned him to transform.

As he neared the edge of the forest, he stumbled momentarily, the first wave of transformation coursing through him. Pain and exhilaration intertwined as his muscles began to stretch and contort beneath his skin. He gasped, the sensation overwhelming him as his bones shifted and restructured, the very essence of his being reshaping itself under the moon's watchful gaze.

The first change came to his face. His jaw elongated, teeth sharpening as a low growl escaped his lips, mixing with the howls echoing from the forest. The ground beneath him felt closer as his spine curved and reshaped, forcing him down onto all fours. He gritted his teeth against the pain, feeling his senses heighten further—each scent more vivid, every sound clearer.

His skin tingled as the transformation progressed, a strange sensation as he felt his human form shed like an old coat. Fur erupted across his body, dark and thick, a protective layer that replaced the skin he had known. He felt bigger, more powerful, muscles rippling under his new pelt, gaining strength with each passing moment. The world shifted around him as his vision sharpened, hues of colors blooming before him in vibrant clarity.

He could feel the ground beneath him, cool and firm, and the smell of the earth was intoxicating. The forest called to him, the trees whispering secrets only he could understand. As he dropped fully onto all fours, his new claws dug into the soil, grounding him in this new form. Jake howled into the night, a sound that reverberated through the forest.

With a final surge of power, he bounded forward into the woods, his senses alive and alert. Each footfall was lighter, quicker, as he raced through the trees, branches whipping past him in a blur.

The howls continued, a symphony of sound that guided him closer to you, his mind focused solely on your safety.

𓃦

At this point the thrill of exploration slowly began to ebb, replaced by an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. The howls had become louder, echoing through the trees with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You gripped the flashlight tightly, shining it around, desperately searching for anything out of the ordinary.

But then, in the distance, you spotted them—eyes gleaming in the dark, watching you intently. A chill ran through you as you realized you had wandered too far into their territory. Panic surged as you turned to flee, but the sound of rustling leaves behind you made it clear you were being pursued.

You stumbled into a small clearing, breathless, but the moment you looked back, dread washed over you. A pack of wolves emerged from the shadows, their eyes reflecting the moonlight like tiny stars. They circled you, growling low, their powerful forms tense and poised for action. You felt trapped, your heart racing as they advanced slowly, their jaws snapping in warning.

Desperation surged within you, and you quickly scanned your surroundings. In your panic, you spotted a long stick lying on the ground nearby. Grabbing it, you held it out in front of you, your hands shaking as you attempted to keep the snarling pack at bay.

“Stay back!” you shouted, your voice trembling as you brandished the stick, trying to appear more intimidating than you felt. The wolves paused momentarily, their heads tilting as if considering your resolve. You knew that bluffing wouldn’t hold them off for long; the pack was far more powerful than you could ever hope to be alone.

They growled again, a low rumble that vibrated in your chest, and as they lunged forward, you swung the stick wildly, desperate to fend them off. The closest wolf dodged your swing, its fur brushing against your arm as it darted past. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you took a step back, trying to gauge their movements.

“Get away from me!” you yelled, your voice echoing in the stillness of the forest. But they were undeterred, their eyes locked on you, the alpha leading the charge as the others flanked it, their growls growing more intense.

You couldn’t let fear take over. You swung the stick again, aiming for the lead wolf. It snarled and snapped, but you managed to land a glancing blow against its shoulder, causing it to yelp and momentarily back off. But the other wolves seemed emboldened by its pain, their growls intensifying as they began to close in.

You backed away, your mind racing. You needed a way out. Just as the wolves lunged again, you heard a powerful howl pierce the night, echoing through the trees and causing the pack to hesitate.

Suddenly, a massive form leaped out from the shadows of the trees, a silhouette framed against the moonlight. The huge wolf landed gracefully in front of you. You stood frozen, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the size of the creature. Its fur was dark and sleek, rippling with muscle.

The wolves seemed to pause, studying the bigger wolf, their growls wavering as they assessed this new threat. Before you could fully process what was happening, one of the smaller wolves lunged at the big one, teeth bared and claws extended. But with a swift, graceful movement, the larger wolf sidestepped the attack and retaliated, raking its claws across the attacking wolf's side. The smaller wolf yelped in surprise and pain, tumbling backward into the underbrush.

More snarls erupted from the pack as they charged in tandem, but the massive wolf stood its ground, fighting valiantly. It was a whirlwind of fur and fangs, gracefully avoiding bites while delivering powerful blows to any wolf that dared to get too close. You watched in awe, feeling a mix of admiration and terror as the larger wolf defended you with ferocity, every growl reverberating in your chest.

Just as one of the wolves bit down on the big creature's front leg, you felt a surge of panic. It clawed and snapped, trying to gain the upper hand, but the larger wolf retaliated with a deep, rumbling growl, shaking off the smaller wolf like an annoyance. With each strike, the pack began to falter, sensing they were no match for the sheer power and tenacity of their adversary.

The battle raged for a few intense moments, the sounds of snarling and growling echoing around you, until, finally, the remaining wolves began to back off, realizing they were outmatched. With one last menacing snarl, the pack retreated into the shadows of the forest, leaving behind only the echoes of their howls and the fading rustle of leaves.

You stood there, your heart racing, watching as the larger wolf turned its attention to you. Its yellow eyes locked onto yours, and for a fleeting moment, you felt a connection that was both surreal and profound. You tilted your head, curiosity bubbling within you, and the wolf mirrored your gesture, tilting its head in return.

But then, your gaze shifted, and you spotted the blood trickling from a wound on the wolf’s front leg. Concern flooded through you, and without thinking, you reached out a hand, wanting to help this magnificent creature that had protected you so fiercely. But the wolf recoiled, stepping back from your outstretched fingers, its posture shifting to one of alertness.

With a powerful howl that shook your entire body, it filled the night with a resonant sound that seemed to resonate in your bones—a call to the wild, a statement of presence. And just like that, it turned and dashed back into the dark depths of the forest, vanishing into the shadows as swiftly as it had arrived.

You were left standing there, heart pounding, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The adrenaline of the encounter coursed through your veins, mingling with the confusion of what had just transpired.

What had just happened? Who—or what—was that wolf?

𓃦

The next day at university, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement and whispers. As you walked through the crowded halls, snippets of conversation floated around you, each more curious than the last.

“Did you hear the howls last night?” one student remarked, eyes wide with intrigue.

“I thought it was just a dog or something, but it sounded so… different,” another chimed in.

You felt a flutter of unease at the memory of your encounter in the forest, but you brushed it off, focusing on the bustling energy of campus life. Classes went by in a blur, your mind wandering back to the massive wolf and the bond you felt in that fleeting moment. You needed to talk to Jake about it, to share your thoughts and worries, to find some sense of normalcy again.

As you made your way to your usual meeting spot, you spotted him leaning against a wall, chatting with a couple of his friends. He looked as handsome as ever, his dark hair falling just above his eyes, a smile gracing his lips as he joked with them. But there was something else there, a tension that you couldn’t quite place.

You approached him, a smile breaking on your face. “Hey, Jake! Did you hear what everyone’s talking about?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Seems like everyone’s a wolf expert now.”

You laughed, trying to keep the mood light. “Right?”

Before Jake could respond, one of his friends, Sam, came up and playfully hit him on the shoulder. “Hey, man! You up for some football practice after school?”

At the friendly jab, Jake flinched, a brief flash of pain crossing his face before he quickly masked it with a grin. “Yeah, sure. I’m in,” he replied, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You felt a twinge of concern but decided against bringing it up. Instead, you played along, joining in on the lighthearted banter, though your mind kept drifting back to the moment from the day before. Why had he reacted that way? Was he hurt?

As the conversation continued, you observed Jake closely, noting how he seemed to stiffen when Sam clapped him on the back and how he carefully shifted his weight as if trying to alleviate discomfort.

Concern gnawed at you, but you decided to give him some space, figuring he might need time to deal with whatever was bothering him on his own.

You left him with his friends, offering a quick smile and a wave before heading off to your next class. Throughout the day, you kept your distance, hoping he would take the opportunity to rest or confide in someone else if he needed to. But it seemed your efforts were in vain.

Jake sought you out during school, showing up in places he normally wouldn’t. During lunch, you had decided to sit outside in a secluded corner of the campus, enjoying the quiet and fresh air. Just as you were getting comfortable, you heard footsteps approaching. You looked up to see Jake walking toward you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hey,” he said, plopping down beside you. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

You couldn’t help but smile back, though your concern for him lingered. “Just wanted some fresh air. What about you?”

He shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “Wanted to see how you were doing.”

You nodded, deciding not to press him on.

The two of you chatted casually, the conversation flowing easily as it always did. Despite your intention to give him space, he seemed to seek out your company more than ever.

After school, you decided to stop by a small café on the edge of town, a place you rarely visited. You thought you’d have some time to yourself, to process everything that had been happening. But as you were sipping your coffee and flipping through a book, you felt a familiar presence. Looking up, you saw Jake standing in the doorway, scanning the room until his eyes landed on you.

“There you are,” he said, walking over and sliding into the seat across from you. “I was looking for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Here? How did you know I’d be here?”

He shrugged again, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Lucky guess, I guess.”

𓃦

The quiet hum of the evening filled the room as you and Jake worked on homework together at his house, papers and textbooks scattered around you. The familiar scent of his room, the soft music playing in the background, and the comfortable silence between you two felt like old times.

But then, as Jake reached out for his notebook, you caught a brief flash of pain in his expression. His jaw tightened, and his hand faltered just slightly before he pulled it back. The small moment didn’t escape you; you could see something was bothering him, more than just physical discomfort.

“Jake,” you said softly, breaking the silence, “are you… okay? You look like you’re hurting.”

He looked up, caught off guard, and quickly brushed it off, frowning. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Jake,” you pressed, feeling your worry bubble over. “I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s wrong. Please… just talk to me.”

His eyes flashed with a hint of irritation. “I already told you, I’m fine. You don’t need to keep worrying about me.”

“I care about you, Jake,” you replied, frustration seeping into your tone. “It’s not like I can just turn that off when I can see you’re in pain.”

He clenched his jaw, looking away. “You always do this, you know? Acting like you’re supposed to fix everything for me.”

Your breath caught at the sharpness of his words, and you felt your heart crack just a little. “I’m just trying to be there for you, Jake. Isn’t that what friends do?”

His eyes met yours, but instead of softening, they grew colder. “Maybe that’s the problem,” he said quietly. “Maybe I don’t need you trying to solve all my problems.”

You sat back, stunned. His words felt like a punch to the chest, knocking the wind out of you. “I didn’t realize… that’s how you saw it,” you whispered, your voice wavering. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you grabbed your books and notebooks, your heart pounding with hurt and anger. “Fine, Jake. I get it.”

“Wait—” His hand reached out for you, panic flashing in his eyes, but you pulled away before he could touch you. You didn’t want to hear his apologies, didn’t want him to see the tears that were already beginning to slip down your cheeks.

You bolted for the door, your vision blurry as you forced yourself not to look back. Jake called your name, his voice tinged with desperation, but you didn’t stop. You stepped out into the night, your heart breaking with each step. You didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear him apologize for something that had already cut too deep.

Lost in thought, you hadn’t realized where your feet had taken you until you looked up and found yourself standing at the edge of the forest. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, fading glow over the trees as the shadows lengthened, creeping out toward you.

You sighed, staring into the darkness that stretched ahead. Your day had been ruined—by Jake, of all people. Jake, your best friend. The one you trusted, the one you cared about… the one you loved, even if you hadn’t ever admitted it out loud. You knew he didn’t mean what he’d said, deep down. You’d seen the look of regret in his eyes as you’d left, and you could imagine he was probably beating himself up over it even now.

Still, the words stung, and the distance between you now felt unbearably real. Maybe, you thought, you’d just give him a few days to cool off, let things settle. And hopefully, like always, it would be okay again.

For now, though, you needed space—a place to clear your mind. You took a few steps into the forest, staying close to the edge but just far enough in to feel the peace of nature wrapping around you.

You kept your steps light, careful not to venture too deep; the last thing you wanted was to accidentally wander into wolf territory. Even the memory of last night’s encounter sent a shiver through you, though you pushed it aside. The forest was peaceful enough, and it wasn’t long before the tension in your shoulders began to ease, your breathing slowing as you took in the fresh air.

But, as you ventured just a little further, a strange feeling crept over you—a prickling awareness, like you were being watched. You turned slowly, peering back the way you came, but saw nothing beyond the dim light filtering through the trees.

"Probably just my imagination," you murmured to yourself, hugging your arms against the chill that had suddenly settled over you. The forest felt heavier now, somehow… like a place holding its breath, waiting.

As you took a deep breath to steady yourself, a low, menacing growl echoed from behind the trees. You froze, your heart racing as you slowly turned to find a lone wolf stalking toward you, its fur matted and eyes gleaming with a wild, hostile glint. The wolf’s coat was streaked with dirt, and you could see small wounds marring its side and face—scratches and cuts that looked fresh, as if it had recently fought for its life.

You held your breath, hoping it might lose interest if you stayed still, but it took a step closer, teeth bared and eyes locked onto you with a predatory intensity. The wounded creature seemed to be caught between fight and flight, each shallow breath a reminder of its pain and anger.

Your mind raced, frantically searching for what little you knew about wild animals. Don’t run. Stay calm. Don’t look it directly in the eyes. But it was hard to keep your gaze from the wolf as it crept forward, snarling, its muscles tensing as if ready to lunge.

You raised your hands slowly, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, your voice barely a whisper. “Hey… it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The wolf didn���t seem to care. Its eyes narrowed, lips curling back further as it let out another snarl, the sound raw and desperate. You took a tentative step back, your heart pounding, the weight of the forest closing in around you.

The lone wolf’s snarl grew fiercer as it sized you up, its gaze fixed and threatening. You took another cautious step back, your pulse racing with fear and adrenaline, when, out of nowhere, a massive shadow streaked through the trees. The large wolf from last night leaped between you and the lone wolf, teeth bared in a fierce snarl.

What followed was a brutal clash—snarls and growls tore through the forest as the two wolves fought. They snapped and lunged, claws and teeth colliding in a flurry of movement. The lone wolf yelped, wounded and humiliated, and staggered back, casting a resentful glance at you before limping off into the trees, bloodied and beaten.

In the sudden silence, the larger wolf turned toward you, breath heaving, blood and saliva dripping from its bared teeth and maw. Its eyes were wild, gleaming yellow and intense, locked onto you. You froze, swallowing hard as it took a single step closer.

But something within you stopped you from backing away this time. You took a steady breath, raising your hand slightly. “Hey, it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The wolf’s intense gaze softened, its body visibly relaxing as it crept closer. It lowered its head, breathing heavily, and your pulse quickened as its warm breath washed over you, its massive frame towering above. Just when you thought you might be out of luck, it gave a strange, almost playful yip, leaning forward and swiping its tongue from your stomach up to your chin in a single, sticky lick.

You cringed, wiping your face. “Ew, oh my god.” The wolf leapt back, its eyes seeming almost… amused, as if it had understood your reaction. It started to bounce around in a way that almost looked like playfulness, pawing at the ground and glancing back up at you, the wildness in its gaze replaced by a warmth, an odd spark of familiarity. You stared, studying its eyes—they looked so human, so gentle.

You tilted your head as the big wolf came around, its presence both powerful and strangely comforting. It nudged your hand, its head pressing softly against your palm, and you hesitated before slowly reaching out, letting your fingers sink into its thick fur. The wolf let out a low rumble, leaning into your touch, its eyes closing as it nuzzled closer.

Then, with a quiet huff, the wolf rolled over, exposing its stomach. You couldn’t help but smile, realizing it wanted you to rub its belly like some kind of overgrown dog. As your fingers brushed through its fur, something caught your attention—a small scrap of fabric caught near its shoulder. You reached over, fingers tugging it free, only to stare in shock at the familiar material between your fingers.

It was a piece of Jake’s jacket.

You froze, your eyes darting from the scrap of fabric to the wolf’s face. The wolf’s gaze met yours, and you saw something there, a flicker of emotion that wasn’t just animal instinct.

“Jake?” you whispered, voice barely audible.

The wolf let out a soft, almost pitiful whine, its ears flattening as it looked down, its expression suddenly filled with shame. Your heart raced as the realization sunk in fully. This creature, this powerful wolf who had saved you—it was Jake.

You knelt beside him, reaching out slowly, your hand hovering before you let it rest gently on his head. “It really is you, isn’t it?” you murmured, the shock of it all making your voice tremble. The wolf closed his eyes, leaning into your hand, the shame melting away for a moment as he accepted your touch.

You stayed there, your hand resting on his head, letting the surreal reality sink in. Jake—the Jake who’d grown up beside you, who teased you endlessly and made you laugh, who’d been distant and guarded since his trip abroad—was here in front of you as a massive, powerful wolf. A whirlwind of emotions washed over you: shock, worry, relief, even an odd sense of awe. But above all, there was something oddly comforting in the way he leaned into your hand, his massive frame somehow still familiar despite his transformation.

The wolf let out another low whine, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to communicate what words could never convey. Gently, you moved your hand from his head, resting it against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath thick fur. He was still Jake. Somewhere beneath the wild exterior was your best friend, the person you cared about deeply.

Without saying a word, you sank down beside him, and he curled around you protectively, his body a warm, solid presence in the cool forest.

After a while, Jake moved, his head nudging your hand again, almost in a comforting gesture. And then, with a soft huff, he pressed his nose to your cheek, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“Jake…” you whispered again, feeling a lump form in your throat. “You don’t have to hide this from me. I’m here. I’ll help you, no matter what.”

The wolf met your gaze, his eyes shining with an emotion so raw and vulnerable it made your heart ache. He stepped closer, his gaze steady and intent, before letting his head rest on your shoulder, leaning into you as if accepting that promise.

As you stayed there, holding onto the warmth and strength he offered, you understood: whatever had changed Jake, whatever he had gone through, it hadn’t taken away the person he was. And you’d be there with him, every step of the way.

𓃦

The quiet of the house felt almost fragile as you tiptoed your way to your room, Jake trailing closely behind. Sneaking a full-sized wolf inside wasn’t exactly easy, especially with a few close calls as you both bumped into things along the way. You held your breath every time something clattered, tensing and listening for any sounds of your family stirring. But, to your relief, the house remained silent.

Finally, you managed to usher Jake into your room, closing the door quietly and locking it for good measure. When you turned around, you found him standing by the window, his large frame silhouetted by the pale moonlight. His eyes were fixed on the full moon, an otherworldly shine glinting in them as he let out a low, almost trance-like whimper. His head tilted back, as if instinctively drawn to the sight, a soft howl rising in his throat.

You quickly slipped past him, tugging the curtains closed and pressing a finger to your lips. “Shhh,” you whispered, and Jake quieted, lowering his head, though his gaze remained on the closed curtains for a long moment as he reluctantly turned away.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back,” you murmured, slipping into the bathroom to change. When you returned, you saw him sprawled out by your bed, his head and front paws resting on your mattress while his hind legs remained on the floor. He looked surprisingly at ease, a bit of his usual calm replacing the restless energy that had him fixated on the moon moments earlier.

You rolled your eyes and let out a small groan, clambering into bed beside him, his massive head just inches from yours. Even as a wolf, Jake managed to take up far more space than should’ve been possible.

As you lay there, his warm breath against your skin, you could feel your nerves beginning to settle. Slowly, you reached out, your hand moving to rest on his head, fingers tangling in the fur at his ears. His tail gave a slow, contented thump against the floor, a quiet thank-you in his own way.

When you drifted off, Jake stayed still, his eyes fixed on your peaceful form beside him. The soft rise and fall of your breath, the way your hand had relaxed against his fur, all held his gaze, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Even with the strange pull of the moon, the wild energy simmering under his skin, being here beside you made him feel…normal. Like he could set aside the instincts and chaos, if only for a little while.

He watched the way a small smile played across your lips, almost as if even in sleep, you knew he was there. His head tilted slightly, and he let out a soft exhale, careful not to disturb you. In his wolf form, he couldn’t say what he felt, couldn’t explain the relief that flooded him at seeing you safe and sound after the danger in the woods.

His ears flicked toward the window, catching the distant sounds of the night, the rustle of branches, the faint whisper of the wind. Normally, his senses would pull him toward every little sound, every flicker of movement, but not tonight. Tonight, they all faded into the background as his gaze lingered on you, steady and unwavering.

Eventually, with a gentle rumble that sounded almost like a sigh, he lowered his head beside you, his eyes closing slowly, only allowing himself to rest once he was sure you were deeply asleep. Though he knew the morning would bring questions he wasn’t sure he could answer.

𓃦

You jolted awake, your eyes snapping open to the unexpected sensation of warm, familiar arms wrapped around you. The soft fabric of your sheets clung to your skin, but it was the figure beside you that made your heart race. Turning your head, you were met with the sight of Jake—human Jake—curled into your side, shirtless, his messy hair falling over his forehead. For a split second, your mind raced with confusion before realization hit.

“Jake!” you screamed, and before you could process the panic in your voice, he bolted upright, his eyes wide with shock. In his haste, he miscalculated his position and tumbled off the side of your bed, landing in an undignified heap on the floor with a loud thud. “Whoa!” he yelped, a look of sheer bewilderment on his face. You could barely contain your laughter at the sight—his expression, a mix of shock and embarrassment, made it all the more amusing.

“Oh my god, you should see your face!” you said, trying to catch your breath as you leaned over the side of the bed to see him sprawled out, looking both flustered and slightly embarrassed.

“Okay, okay! Not funny!” Jake huffed, shooting you a mock glare as he scrambled to his feet. The flush creeping across his cheeks only made you laugh harder.

As you got up and made your way to the bathroom, you heard him rummaging around in your closet. When you returned, he had managed to find some extra clothes—an oversized T-shirt that hung loosely on his frame and a pair of sweatpants that made him look even more comfortable. He glanced at you, a sheepish smile breaking through the earlier embarrassment. “Hope this is okay,” he said, his voice slightly shy.

“Looks good on you,” you replied, giving him a playful nudge as you both made your way downstairs.

To your relief, the house was quiet—your family members had left for the day. You went into the kitchen, and together, you began preparing breakfast. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything as you and Jake worked side by side.

He cracked a few eggs into the pan while you sliced some fruit, and the comfortable silence between you both was laced with the occasional teasing remark about your culinary skills—or lack thereof.

After breakfast, you settled into the living room, the cozy couch inviting you both to sink into its cushions. Jake stretched out, leaning back with a relaxed sigh, while you curled up beside him, pulling a blanket over your legs.

“So,” you said, looking at him, “about last night…”

Jake turned his head toward you, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, but before he could respond, you continued, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. You… you really are a wolf.”

He nodded, his expression serious now. “I know it sounds crazy, but there’s a lot more to it than just the transformation.”

You could sense the weight behind his words, the implications of what he was saying. It was clear that whatever had happened, he was still processing it himself. “You can tell me when you’re ready, Jake,” you said gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “I’m here for you.”

Jake took a deep breath, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he gathered his thoughts. “During my vacation,” he began, his voice steady yet tinged with the remnants of anxiety, “I went for a jog one night. I thought I saw a stray dog lurking in the shadows.” He paused, his expression darkening as if the memory was a physical burden.

“It wasn’t just any dog. It was a wolf,” he continued, shaking his head slightly as if trying to shake off the gravity of the moment. “I didn’t realize until it was too late. It lunged at me, and I felt this sharp pain. I didn’t think much of it at first; I just brushed it off. But then, I got really sick. I spent days locked in my hotel room, feeling like I was losing my mind.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together as he searched your eyes for understanding.

You remained silent, letting him speak, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fit together. “When the full moon came,” he went on, his voice dropping to a whisper, “that’s when everything changed. I transformed.” His eyes flicked to the floor, the weight of his words heavy. “When I woke up, I was in my hotel room, and I had no idea what had happened. I just knew I felt… different. My body was stronger, more aware, but I didn’t understand why. It was like I was… a stranger in my own body. I would feel a need to transform again, to run, to let out whatever this thing is inside me.”

“I called you because I needed to hear your voice,” he admitted, his eyes locking onto yours, filled with sincerity. “But when I got back, I realized something. The moment I saw you, all those instincts— the wild urges, the confusion— it all calmed down. Just being around you made it easier to breathe. But when you aren’t here, the need to transform is overwhelming. I don’t really remember much of what happens when I go under, just flashes of darkness. But when you’re with me… it’s like I come back to myself. I can control it.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing at the implications of his words.

He sat up a little straighter, “When I shouted at you… I didn’t mean it,” he began, sincerity in his voice. “I was confused. Everything I felt for you clashed with what was happening to me. This thing inside was overwhelming, and I was terrified. Terrified of losing control, of hurting you.” His voice trembled slightly, the raw honesty making your heart ache for him.

You opened your mouth to respond, shock flooding through you at his admission, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you could only gaze at him, wide-eyed and taken aback. “Jake… I—”

He rushed on, misreading your shock as rejection. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he stammered, panic rising in his voice. “You don’t have to like me back. I get it. I’m a mess right now, and it’s not fair to put that on you. I just—”

Before he could spiral further into his own uncertainty, you lunged forward, tackling him gently to the couch. Your lips found his in a swift, urgent kiss, silencing his rambling. The kiss was like a balm to both your hearts. Jake’s surprise quickly melted into warmth as he kissed you back, his hands finding their way to your waist, holding you close.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you looked into his eyes, searching for something—assurance, maybe, or confirmation.

“Jake,” you breathed, your heart racing. “I love you too.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, a grin slowly breaking across his face. “You… you really mean it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he feared that saying it out loud might make it disappear.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve liked you for a long time, even before all this happened,” you admitted, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “I was just too scared to say anything.”

“God, I thought I was going crazy,” he chuckled, the tension melting away as he pulled you in for another kiss. He held you close, as if you were the anchor he’d needed to find his way back to himself.

His hands rested firmly on your waist, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you desperately needed. You could feel the gentle roughness of his fingers, each touch sending a soft flutter through your heart.

You slipped your hands to his cheeks, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin, feeling the slight stubble that had begun to grow. It felt intimate and electric, as if every lingering doubt and worry from before melted away with each gentle caress.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, you both stayed close, your foreheads pressed together. Relief washed over you, like a wave sweeping away the remnants of confusion and fear. There were no more secrets, just the two of you, open and honest.

With a soft chuckle, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. Jake melted into the hug, his strong arms encircling you tightly. The moment felt right, like coming home after a long journey. You could feel his heartbeat steadying against yours, matching your own rhythm.

“I’m so glad we finally talked about this,” you murmured into his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him that made you feel safe. “I was worried about how you felt.”

“Me too,” he confessed, his voice muffled against your hair. “I was scared I’d mess everything up. But now, it feels like… like I can breathe again.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression earnest. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at his words. “I do now,” you replied, warmth flooding through you.

As Jake pulled you in for another kiss, the world around you faded away once more, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine, and you surrendered to the moment, feeling every worry slip away. Yet, beneath the sweet intimacy, you began to notice something different—deep, low rumbles emanating from his chest, vibrating against your body.

Curiosity tugged at you, and you tried to pull back slightly to gauge what was happening, to make sure he was okay. “Jake?” you murmured, but he didn’t let you go. Instead, he tightened his grip on your waist and pulled you back into the kiss, deepening it with an intensity that made your heart race.

But then you felt something sharp graze against your lip. You gasped and pulled back, eyes wide. His canines had elongated slightly, pressing against your skin. Your heart pounded as you looked at him, noticing how his form seemed to swell beneath you, muscles shifting and growing larger as he transformed.

“Jake!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with concern as you took in the sight before you. His hair had grown fluffier, tousled and wild, and his eyes glowed a striking yellow, reflecting the light with an otherworldly sheen, you could see the subtle signs of his transformation taking hold.

He looked at you, panting softly, his breaths coming in heavy, almost desperate gasps. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he fought to control the change happening within him. “Jake, you need to stop,” you urged, trying to maintain a calmness you didn’t entirely feel. “You’re—”

But before you could finish, he whined softly, his expression pleading as he pulled you back into a kiss, the warmth of his body overwhelming you. Despite the rush of emotions, you could sense the struggle in him—the way he wanted to hold onto you, to keep you close, even as the wolf inside threatened to take over.

Your heart raced, and panic bubbled within you. “Jake, please!” you gasped against his lips, desperately trying to catch your breath. “I don’t want to lose you to this.”

He paused, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mix of longing and confusion. For a moment, it felt as if the connection between you was all that tethered him to his human side. “You won’t lose me,” he promised, his voice barely a whisper, yet it carried a conviction that soothed the fear clawing at your chest.

You swallowed hard, your gaze steady on his. “We can face this together. Just… don’t let it take control, okay?”

Jake nodded, his gaze softening as he leaned in closer, the distance between you two disappearing. The rumble in his chest quieted, and you could see the flicker of the boy you loved shining through the fierce exterior. “I won’t,” he assured, his voice warm and earnest.

As you watched Jake begin to transform, every instinct in you urged you to step back, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. His body, once solid beneath you, started to shift, muscles rippling under his skin as if they were being pulled by an unseen force. It was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

His back arched slightly, and you could see his spine subtly elongating, each vertebra shifting as his form adjusted to accommodate the changes. The sound of his bones cracking and reforming echoed in your ears, primal and raw, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you felt a strange sense of awe at the beauty of it all—the way he seemed to be caught between two worlds, the boy you loved and the creature he was destined to become.

His hair thickened, the strands transforming into a soft, plush fur that shimmered in the dim light of your room. You reached out instinctively, fingers brushing against the silky fur, and Jake leaned into your touch, as if it anchored him to his humanity.

His face began to elongate, the jawline widening and reshaping into a more pronounced muzzle. His nose transformed, darkening and broadening, taking on a canine shape. You watched in fascination as his lips curled back, revealing those sharp canines that had grazed your lips moments before.

With each passing second, Jake grew larger, the muscles in his arms and legs expanding, powerful and sinewy. The way he filled out beneath you was a reminder of the strength he possessed. His fingers transformed into powerful paws, claws extending and retracting with a grace that seemed both dangerous and beautiful.

Finally, with a deep, rumbling growl, he shifted onto all fours, the final stage of his transformation complete. His body was now a magnificent wolf, towering and powerful, with a coat that glistened like the night sky. You could hardly believe this majestic creature had once been your best friend, the boy who had made you laugh and smile, who had always been by your side.

As he crouched before you, the wolf’s eyes softened, the wildness within them momentarily quelled by the bond you shared. You reached out again, fingers brushing along his fur, feeling the warmth radiate from his body. The wolf leaned into your touch, letting out a low, deep rumble.

“I love you, Jake,” you said softly, the words spilling out as easily as your breath.

Jake responded with a low whine, his eyes shimmering as he nuzzled closer to you. He licked your hand gently, the roughness of his tongue sending a thrill through you. It was a simple gesture, but it was clear that he understood you.

This was not how you had imagined your life would unfold at all, but it felt undeniably right.

[astroboots]

Omg please continue with the Miguel fang prompt!!! It’s too cruel to stop there!!!!!

HIDE AND SEEK

Summary: Miguel and you plays hide and seek.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Content: Hunter predator kink (I think that's what we're calling it?) anyway explicit. Miguel is a bit rough.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

It's all too easy to get lost in the crowd in a city as crowded as New York. You slip in among a throng of tourist standing around like a flock of pecking hens, their faces dipped down at their phones, huddled over google maps as they try to figure out how to get to Broadway as if it's not within goddamn walking distance, right down the street.

In a nervous habit, you fiddle with the watch on your wrist. Your eyes flick over the bright light that tells you it's 11:28pm.

Which means, there's still 32 minutes left.

God this is the slowest hour you've ever lived through in your life.

You squeeze yourself in the back, behind a woman with a large hat and larger sunglasses, even though it's evening and the sky is near black. The only things left illuminating the sky now is glaring shop signs, aggressive LED lights, and the mega-spectacular ads display that is brighter than the goddamn sun.

Peering over the madness of the crowd, you try to spot the familiar sight of his all too recognizable build looming over everyone else.

But there's nothing.

He's not here. You let out a long held in breath, your chest sagging with relief. Of course he wouldn't be here.

Times Square has over 300,000 visitors passing through every day. 300,000 sweaty, exhausted individuals drenched in perfume and deodorant that would make it impossible to pick up your scent. Thousands of people speaking all at once, over the angry noise of honking traffic that would make it impossible, even for him, to pick up the sound of your distinct footfall.

No, He won't be able to catch you here. That's why you came here after all.

You glance down at your watch again. 11:31.

Shit! How has only three minutes gone by?

Shaking your head, you look up at the sea of people.

You'd better get moving. Even in a crowd, if you stay still for too long, it won't be safe.

Walking briskly down the wide street, it's a struggle to squeeze through the ever moving crowd as the glaring lights change from makeup ads to theater marquees. You're peering over your shoulder with every three steps you take, constantly expecting the familiar sight of his messy curls to peek out a foot above the crowd.

He's so damn tall there's no fucking way you'll miss him if he's found you. You'll get plenty of advance warning, you reassure yourself as you continue to move forward.

Your eyes settle over your watch again.

11:46. Fuck you sideways.

You know you shouldn't keep checking it every two seconds like this, because all it serves to do, is to ratchet up your blood pressure so high you're going to need to start taking medication for it.

How is time moving so slow. You shake your head in exasperation, and for a fraction of a second you swear you see it.

A flash of unmissable dark navy glowing with red.

You freeze. Your back feels like ice, cold damp sweat breaking out along your spine. You snap your eyes back but there's nothing there now. Nothing but an anonymous crowd.

What the-- How could he have just disappeared into thin air?

He's 6 feet and fucking 9 inches. Taller than your refrigerator back in your tiny studio apartment. The top of his head beats out your fucking Christmas tree. If he was here, he'd be impossible to miss. You don't fucking miss a giraffe when you visit the Brooklyn Zoo, so why are you having such a fucking hard time spotting him? How the fuck does he move so inconspicuously?

Was it just your imagination?

You glance at your watch: 11:46. Gotta be kidding. Is time standing still now? Has it just decided to stop moving altogether?

You force yourself to step forward and ignore how your knees seems to cave at your own weight as you sink into the pavement with every step.

In the corner of your eyes you spot him. Clearly this time. Real. Not a figment of your imagination. He's only a few steps away from you. The familiar pair of glowing scarlet eyes fixed on you.

Oh fuck, shit. Shit! Your heart races at the sight, beating so hard you think you feel it in your lungs. You're already sprinting in the opposite direction without thought and the only thing guiding you is the pure impulse to escape.

You push through the crowd, sprinting forward without taking in your surroundings. All you care about is to get away as your gaze is fixed on your watch.

11:52. Eight more minutes. You just need to stay away for eight more minutes.

You keep running as the crowd seems to thin, and the colorful lights and noise of traffic fades away. Then you finally stop, catching your breath to look up at your surroundings.

It's empty and void of people. A large empty van is blocking the narrow alley from view of the main street, and there's an unlocked gate that you've come through.

On the other side from where you've come from there's a tall bricked up wall as far as the eye can see-- a dead end.

How the fuck did you manage to find the only deserted dead end alleyway in central New York?

Shit you need to get out of here, you won't be able to run away if you're trapped here.

You glance one more time at your watch.

11:57. Three minutes. 180 seconds. It's all you need and then you'll win.

You turn your heel back towards the gate. But it's too late.

The dim light of the alley is eaten up by a large and imposing shadow.

He's already here.

The familiar navy blue and the menacing red sprawled across his chest fills your vision, blocking your only path to escape. All you see is red eyes glowing so bright it lights up the dark alley with it.

"Time's up," he says, mouth curled into a mocking smile so wide that you can see his fangs peek out from his upper lip.

That's when you realize you are well and fully trapped like the helpless prey you are in his spider's web. You're right where he wants you.

God you're so damn stupid. You were safe in the crowd. But one sight of him had you spooked and running into the only alley to be found in all of New York.

Shit.

He'd planned this all along. The bastard's must've been the one who opened the gate. And you had ran in here like some scared witless rabbit straight into his trap.

You could try to escape him. Some vain, silly leftover pride in you, is adamant that you still have at least two whole minutes to get away.

He steps closer, and you can't help but instinctively step back as he does.

You know it's a game. Know that he would never hurt you, but that hungry and predatory red glow in his eyes has fear spiking along your spine all the same.

"Miguel, wai--"

The rest of your futile plea dies in your throat. His broad palm covers your mouth and jaw, and even your startled squeak is muffled into silence as he presses you up against the wall.

You whimper into his hand, but he doesn't relent. Doesn't ease up, even as he leans down and hushes you. Despite the soothing tone he uses with you, it isn't comforting at all. It drips with condescension as he press his lips to your bare throat.

"I'm gonna take my prize now, nena," he murmurs into your skin and because your brain is broken, with no sense for survival instincts, every part of you tingles at the amused threat in his voice.

"You promised remembered?" He reminds you.

And of course you do. It's hard not to, when the bastard's got you pinned against a brick wall in an abandoned alley like something out of a horror movie.

Fuck. He's taken this way too seriously. You don't know why you had suggested the world's dumbest hide and seek with this competitive and unreasonable man.

He presses you into the hard brick behind you, like there's anywhere left for you to go. And you can feel it. The proof of his excitement pressing up against your stomach, pinning you against the wall. He's hard.

Any residual resentment at your loss gives way for excitement when you feel his cock twitch and jerk against you.

The edge of his teeth rests on your bare shoulder as goosebumps breaks across your skin, and you feel dizzy. Anticipation swirls in your stomach with an intoxicating warmth.

You can't fucking breathe.

His hand snakes up your dress, wedging your panties to the side, until you can hear the fabric rip and tear. Shit, you're going to kill him for that.

The thick head of his cock presses in and stretches you open, as he forces his way inside of you, in time with his sharp and whetted fangs sinking into your flesh. Electricity pings across your nerves, sweet and euphoric and you feel drunk with it.

He's filling you, inch by hard and relentless inch, until you swear you can feel him lodged in your stomach. You feel so fucking full. Full of Miguel until nothing else fits anymore, but he doesn't stop.

His cock nudges along an impossibly deep spot inside you that has you losing orientation and makes the space around you spin, and he's still not fully inside.

White blinding pleasure streaks through your every nerve and crowds your vision, as he sinks you down further on him, until your vision goes blank. He's so fucking big. Always is no matter how many times you take him like this.

Pleasure pool with heat in your stomach as he holds you in place, impaled on the thickness of him.

Your limbs go boneless, unable to hold up your own weight, and for a moment you're not sure if that's the venom released to your bloodstream or just the effect he has on you. You only remain upright because he's propping you up with his body.

His mouth skims along your throat, dragging his teeth up until his fangs tease along the shell of your ear, with the threat of sharpness. The edge of them barely graze your skin, completely unlike the feral impatience he'd sunk into you with, as he whispers into your ear.

"Found you, Nena."

Dedication and credits: This piece is dedicated to @foxilayde for her completely deranged (and amazing) post that had me SALIVATING. Thank you for putting this brainworm into my head. I am shooketh.

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆ Who Is This Diva✦

｡⁠☆Content: Shouta Aizawa BF headcanons

｡⁠☆Cw: swearing, pregnancy mention, threesome mention (still sfw tho !), no use of y/n

✦ Not the sweetest boyfriend or husband, at least not in most people's opinion. He's quiet, blunt, a bit of a tease as well, and all of these things kinda make him look like an asshole. These qualities don't change when you're together either, you just get really good at reading Shouta.

✦ Incredibly observant and somehow remembers everything you ever tell him. You could slightly hint at wanting to go to some fancy ass restaurant, and 6 months later when your anniversary rolls around all of a sudden he's taking you there, hell you don't even remember mentioning it.

✦ The man is blunt, but still a little shy, especially with overly lovely PDA. He can do handholding, hugs, pecks on the lips, but anything more than that and he'll push your face away like he's annoyed. He knows damn well he's flustered and embarrassed, but he absolutely refuses to let you see that. Heaven forbid you see your big strong man weak for you.

"What the hell is wrong with you, we're at the school... No you can wait till we get home you aren't dying, stop being dramatic.... My face is NOT red and I'm not into it either, get away from me. You're such a pervert."

✦ A little insecure. He doesn't feel good enough for you. If you left him or fell out of love with him he wouldn't beg for you back, but I can't say he would just accept it either. He'd probably just... Grieve. He would want you back so bad, but would hate to make you stay when he fully believes there's way way better than him out there.

✦ shit texter. Terrible texter. Horrendous texter even. He's so dry and he deplores talking on the phone, half the time he just leaves you on read. He just don't even try to reply.

✦ a cuddle bug, but only behind closed doors. As soon as the lock on your front door clicks his arms are wrapped around you and his head is on your shoulders. He trails around the house behind you like a lost puppy (and if you don't let him in the shower with you ? Oh Lord you'll never hear the end of it)

"I don't care about whatever the hell an everything shower is. There's no reason why you won't let me in, I've literally been inside you, I don't care."

✦ possessive. Wants to know where you are and what you're doing at all times. Slightly controlling, but will back off if he's over stepped.

✦ scruffy but hygienic. Showers at least once every two days, but most of the time twice a day because of teaching and patrol. He buys antibacterial everything in a generic scent, but if you have preferences for anything he doesn't mind changing it as long as he still gets clean

✦ a worrywart. If you stub your toe and don't tell him he's pissed. An injury is an injury no matter how minor. He just wants to make sure he's taking care of you. If you do the same and try to help him with any cuts or bruises from patrol he'll pretend to get fed up, but in reality you make him feel so incredibly warm inside he feels like he might burn to death

✦ secure in his masculinity. If you're a fashion guru (or if you're Eri) he couldn't care less if you picked his outfit. You can put him in strawberry perfume and a skirt and all he would ask is that you make the outfit school appropriate

✦ speaking of Eri, that's his daughter, straight up. He loves that little girl like he birthed her himself, and the minute you two start bonding is the minute he figures out what heaven looks like.

✦ Shouta never really wanted kids, not to say he doesn't love teaching the brats at his school, but that really was enough time spent with children for the day. Until Eri came, and then when you came. I think he'd love to give Eri a little sibling, though I don't think he wants more than 3 kids. 4 at most.

✦ don't try to watch movies with him, don't bring him to the theater either, he's just gonna fall asleep as soon as the title screen comes up. He will beg and moan to watch some shitty movie with you and fall asleep before the main character even has their first line

"Hmm, what? No I wasn't sleeping... My eyes were closed because I was training my spacial awareness, I promise I'm still watching the movie... When have I ever lied to you ?"

✦ doesn't have a big presence and has a staring problem, people who don't know you're together think he's a stalker. Between his overall rough looking appearance and his hard focus on you he looks like a serial killer, there's a good chance you won't have to worry about a lot of other women bc of this tho (not that he would ever cheat, he'd fall upon his own sword first), so good for you !

✦ jumpscares you forever. He claims he isn't doing it on purpose, but for how often it happens it's gotta be malicious !! It's gotta be !! You turn around in the kitchen, when the hell did Shouta get there ? You're at the store, when did Shouta follow you out the door ? You wake up, good lord Shouta why are you staring at me like that ? There is no escape from how often he scares you either.

✦ starts referring to you as his wife before you're married, but he only calls you wife behind you're back before you're engaged. Since I don't see Shouta as the type to really yearn for marriage, I think if you don't have a want for it either he's calling you his wife a year into the relationship

"Yeah, my wife is at home with my daughter. They hate publicity as much as I do so I left them at home.... We've been together for a year, but known each other much longer. I'm incredibly lucky to have her."

✦ a very soft man. To outsiders he's cold and prickly but he's actually the sweetest blueberry in the basket, he's like a huge cat. All of his touches are gentle, he would never forgive himself if he hurt you, he'd spend his whole life atoning for something like that.

✦ I would like to end this post by saying if you ever convince him to do a threesome it would be with Hizashi. That is all.

Also, what character would YOU like to see next ? Thinking Mina or... Maybe I'll work on my Hawks characterization... Decisions decisions....

I kinda wanna make another post like this but it's erasermic + y/n. My fav polycule besides for tdbkdk if I'm honest. Should I do a Mic intro and then the poly post or just skip straight to the poly post ?

Slow posting as well 💔💔 made this blog and immediately got hit with the Too Busy To Post Beam, but I stare at it longingly before I go to bed every night

｡⁠☆Requests open

[koimethehorizon]

Amazing Digital Circus Theory: Gangle is an NPC

Sooo, I wasn’t expecting to talk about this show. I was perfectly content to just enjoy Digital Circus as is.

It’s a show that invites theories as to what exactly’s going on with the setting and characters, but I didn’t have much room to think too hard about it. Who’s Abel? Is Pomni really a human? Why is this VR game emulating an N64 game at the start? I like the show plenty, but it just wasn’t as interesting to go hard on any of those questions at the time.

But with this recent episode… a single, perhaps throwaway line got the brain nagging. And it’s kind of a bizarre one to waste hours analyzing.

Okay, so yeah, it’s a joke on submissive and breedable. (Don’t give them ideas) But try taking it at face value.

What does he mean by this? Sure, Jax is an asshole, and being a bullied kid is Gangle’s whole archetype… but what if it means a little more than that?

Gangle’s trapped for all eternity this asshole and she’s just letting him boss her around. Zooble can choose not to participate, so no one has to. Why does Gangle listen to Jax at all?

Let's entertain a thought: Is Gangle an NPC?

With Episode 2 bringing so much attention to the autonomy of NPCs, it seemed natural to start pointing fingers at characters being this or that. But this isn't just a random crackshot, I feel that there is a story to tell here.

Look back at Pomni’s “orientation” with the other humans. Ragatha, Zooble, and Jax ease her by saying that they’ve been trapped in this world for years and then bring attention to Kinger being the oldest.

But Gangle… she’s isolated from the peanut gallery, busy moping about the broken comedy mask instead.

Every character has been given some hints as to how they’ve been coping with the situation. Jax no longer empathizes with anything, Ragatha once had trouble adjusting but now tries to stay happy, Zooble picks and chooses her involvement, Kinger is the eldest and just exists for the hell of it, and Pomni is new to everything.

With Gangle, it’s a blank. No opinion, no hints of her human side, how long she’s been here, no thoughts on the games, nothing. She’s just Jax’s punching bag.

Even Kinger gets a potshot on Gangle in a rock-paper-scissors game…. and he likely forgot that she doesn’t have hands!

And that brings me to another detail. Doesn't Gangle look different from the others?

Unlike everyone else, Gangle's just a mask and a ribbon. No hands or legs, or just any limbs in general. She stands out as looking a bit simpler than the others.

Gangle's most interesting design trait is that she's based on comedy and tragedy masks. The ones used old Greek theater to dictate the emotions of their characters.

The first episode seems to imply that with a broken comedy mask, Gangle literally can’t stay happy. Hence why we see her sad most of the time. That's a strange limitation if Gangle's human mind is supposed to be completely intact, especially with how expressive the other characters can be.

It's not delved into too much but does Gangle actually rely on these masks to "feel" emotions?

The obvious hole is that Caine would’ve just killed her a while ago if she was an NPC, but he's not exactly omniscient.

He even admits that he has to kill them off because it’s possible for him to lose track.

Now normally I could just stop here, but I’m all about the grand statements. You know, the retroactive readings of an episode once you get a theory going. Why does Gangle being an NPC matter at all? How does Ep 2 change?

While deep diving, I realized that the thematic core of Episode 2 is Pomni and Jax’s approaches to surviving the Digital Circus.

In Pomni’s A plot, we see her connecting with Gummigoo, the NPC that Caine pitted their group against. After discovering him lamenting his new reality, she finds a strange comfort in being existentially lost together. Because in the end the NPCs and the humans are just as displaced and frightened in this meaningless world.

In Jax’s B plot, he forces Gangle to follow some insane orders. Sabotage the game to let the big chocolate turd monster destroy the Candy Kingdom. To Jax, he is the main character. Helping or displeasing this giant population of fake people doesn’t have any consequence for him, so why humor anyone but yourself?

A bit of a stretch, but what if Jax already knows Gangle is an NPC and is keeping it quiet as long as Gangle follows orders, hence the “submissive” comment? He’d be a way more unpleasant character with this reading, but it doesn’t seem off the cards with how he treats everyone anyway.

This dichotomy already plays out well within the episode, but when reframing it as Pomni and Gummigoo vs Jax and Gangle, the parallel is a lot more interesting.

Make an NPC an equal, they die. But keep an NPC under wraps as long as they continue to obey you… they live.

The episode ends with a grim conundrum that NPCs can’t be together with the humans, not because of their differences but because they're just... not allowed to be. But what if one already in the group, proving that they’re just as capable as the humans to play the games and grieve loved ones together?

PS. Despite knowing everyone else's name, I actually forgot Gangle's until I started finding evidence for this intrusive thought. Sorry Gangle.

PSS. I couldn't fit this anywhere, but Gangle's door frame doesn't work as evidence against the NPC theory, because even the mannequins have their own rooms in that hallway.

[midnightstar-90]

A Damsel In Distress

Georgie Cooper x Fem! Reader Taglist | Request | Wattpad Main Masterlist | Other Actors/Characters Masterlist Requested Anonymously: "Hi, i was wondering if you could do Georgie cooper x reader who has an abusive father or smt and he helps her, tries to get her to move in with him to his family house and after his begging for weeks she finally agrees? Thank you if you do." Summary: When Georgie finds you on his porch bleeding and bruised, he finds the need to avenge you. Warnings: Abuse, Slut Shaming, Angst, Protective! Georgie, Not Proofread Words: 2.4K

Georgie Cooper may not be the smartest man alive, but when it came to the people he loved, he was protective of them. So when you showed up at the Cooper residence all beaten up, you were nervous.

About a year ago, your dad lost his job and ended up spending his days and nights drinking his life away. Since then, he'd found a new job, but the drinking never stopped.

As time went by, drinking led to harmless fits of rage to you and your mother hiding away in a room until your father fell asleep. Trying your best to get away from your father, you joined after-school clubs and helped tutor kids.

That's how you met Georgie.

Georgie was failing almost half of his classes, and if he wanted to stay on the football team, he had to get his F's to at least a C. So, he asked around, and everyone he talked to said that besides Sheldon, you were the one to go to. And he did.

Surprisingly enough, you and Georgie got along. The two of you worked hard, and as his grades got to where he needed them, you still kept in touch. You would have lunch with him and his friends, and sometimes join him at the movies. You two even became each other's wingman, with him giving you advice on boys and you vice versa.

All was good until the day you allowed Georgie to walk you home. Being the gentleman he was, Georgie walked you home every day, but the home he was walking you to was actually a few blocks down from your own. You told him that was your house because you didn't want to risk your father finding out that you were friends with a guy.

But today was different. You and Georgie had just left the movies and you both couldn't stop talking about it on your journey home.

"Did you see that alien?" Georgie laughed.

"Yes, oh my goodness. When it first came onto the screen I was so scared," You said, with a soft laugh.

Georgie looked over at you. Still holding the theater popcorn, he popped a handful into his mouth and began making weird creature sounds, which startled you a bit. You jumped and released a scream.

Georgie laughed harder than before and shook his head. "It's so easy," he said, talking about how easy it was to scare you. You teasingly punched him with a long grin before grabbing some popcorn.

Unknowingly, you and Georgie had passed up the house you had told him was your house and were quickly making your way to your actual home.

When you arrived at your house, your smile was gone as you quickly realized your mistake.

"Oh, dang it!" Georgie said, flinging his arms in the air in disappointment. "We passed your house."

You worriedly looked at the door to your house, ignoring the boy next to you. "You should go," you told Georgie as you noticed the living room curtains abruptly shut.

"What?" Georgie asked, confused.

Georgie looked over at you to see that the playful smile that you once wore was replaced with a sunken frown and a look of fear in your eyes. He followed your line of sight to see your home.

"Y/N, this isn't your home. I'm not leaving you to walk the streets alone at night."

Your lip quivered as you continued to stare at the window. "Georgie, go home," you muttered, but Georgie just shook his head.

"Y/N, what's going on. This-"

"This is my home, Georgie! Now please... leave."

Your fear overwhelmed you as you watched a dark figure walk past the window. Georgie looked back at you confused. He knew you wouldn't move until he left, so even though he didn't want to, he did as he was told and left.

He turned and left, only looking back when he got to the end of the street. He looked back and watched as you entered the dark house. An uneasy feeling washed over Georgie, but he continued home, waiting till tomorrow to ask his questions.

———

Georgie had only been home an hour when he heard the doorbell. He ignored the door and continued reading his magazine. He questioned who would be coming over at 10 o'clock at night. His door was cracked open as he heard his mother answer the door.

"Y/N?" he heard his mother ask, slightly worried, making his head poke up from behind his magazine. Georgie slowly stood from his bed as he wondered why you would be here after he left you at what was actually your home.

Georgie walked into the living room and froze.

You stood at the door with messed up hair, a black eye, and ripped-up clothes. Your eyes met his, and suddenly, he understood why you were so scared, earlier.

"Y/N?" Georgie called out your name as he walked over to you. You were shaking, which Mary had quickly noticed.

"Here... let's get you out of the cold and inside." Mary softly grabbed your arm and moved you into their home before closing the door. She led you to the couch and Georgie followed close behind you.

"George!" Mary called out for her husband.

A few seconds later a slightly annoyed George Cooper exited his room. "What," he said, a bit aggressively, causing Y/N to flinch.

"Oh dear," Mary said after seeing Y/N's reaction. "George, grab the first aid kit. I'm gonna put some soup on."

"Why?" George said, confused, stepping into the living room. His eyes shifted from his wife to the figure on the couch. He moved closer to get a better look at who was on the couch. When he saw it was Y/N, George was in shock. "Y/N? What happened?"

"I would like to know that as well," Georgie said, standing behind his parents with his arms crossed. He kept his gaze strictly on Y/N. Georgie was angry. Not at Y/N, but at whoever did this.

"Yes, I would like to know that as well, but can we at least stitch her up first," Mary said before leaving for the kitchen.

"Oh, right," George agreed, leaving to grab the first aid.

With his parents gone, Georgie took the opportunity to talk to you alone. He slowly stepped forward, joining you on the couch. Georgie opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, you laid your head on his shoulder as you silently cried.

"Who did this to you?" Georgie asked in a soft tone.

On the outside, Georgie was prepared to do whatever to help you feel better, but on the inside, Georgie was angry. He wanted to kill whoever did this to you. You were everything to Georgie. If he could, he'd give you the world.

You closed your eyes and sniffled before answering the boy. "My dad," you whispered. Your cries became louder, making Georgie tense up. Unsure what to do, he placed a loving kiss on your forehead and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

He did this for a few minutes before George came back with the first aid kit and a wet cloth.

"Okay. It took me a second, but I finally found it," George said, kneeling down in front of you. "Mind telling us what happened?" George asked, as he grabbed her arm and started wiping off the blood.

You hesitated. Just thinking about what happened brought you into a spiral. But Georgie quickly calmed you down by calmly running his fingers through your hair, trying to fix what your dad messed up.

"My dad is an alcoholic," you started. "He has been for a year. And it wasn't until recently that he started getting... physical."

"Your dad did this?" George asked. You nodded, and George went back to cleaning you up.

Mary soon came into the room with a bowl of soup. "Here you go, darling?" She placed the bowl on the side table and stood next to her kneeling husband.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cooper," you gave her a small smile, before continuing. "Anyways, I started joining after-school activities to get away from all the chaos. That's how I met Georgie."

"Wait. So this has been going on since before you met Georgie," Mary asked with a frown. You nodded.

"I didn't want Georgie to get hurt. So, when he asked if he could walk me home, I told him a fake address, so my father wouldn't see him. But today, the night got ahead of us and we passed the house we were supposed to stop at."

Georgie was livid. You were so scared of your father that you lied to protect him. No one should have to avoid their own home.

"We stopped in front of my house, and my father saw."

You paused and suddenly, more tears started flooding your eyes. You tried to speak, but your throat felt tight. Georgie rubbed your back and calmly waited. It took you a minute, but you were finally able to talk again.

"I made sure Georgie left before going into the house, where I knew he was waiting for me. My dad can be unpredictable when he drinks and I didn't want him to attack Georgie."

You wiped your eyes as you kept your gaze down toward your lap.

"When I entered he was just sitting there in the dark... Waiting. When he started talking to me, I knew by his soft voice that I would be in trouble, so I did exactly as he said and answered all his questions truthfully."

You paused, taking a deep breath.

"He grabbed me by the throat and called me a "slut". But it didn't stop there..."

"Oh, lord," Mary muttered to herself.

"When he finally let go of me, he punched me so hard that I fell to the ground. Then he climbed on top of me and began to rip up my clothes. He said that if I was going to be a slut, then I needed to look the part. As he tore up my clothes, I could feel his nails ripping into my skin, hence the scratches."

You paused again, sobbing into your hand.

It took everything in Georgie not to go to your house and teach your father a lesson about treating girls, especially daughters, but he kept his composure.

"I tried to scream for help, but no one came. I saw my mom standing in the doorway, but she didn't do anything. She just stood there... watching. When my dad was done, he dragged me out of the house and locked me out. That's when I decided to come here."

"Oh, you poor thing," Mary frowned with a hand over her chest. She moved toward you and pulled you out of Georgie's arms and into hers. She held you tight as you sobbed loudly against her shirt.

"It's really terrible that you had to go through all that. You don't deserve that. No one does," George said, throwing in his two cents.

Georgie stood from his spot on the couch. "I wanna kill him!" Georgie said, making his way to the door, but he was quickly stopped by his father's grip on his arm. "We're not killing anybody," George said, but that didn't stop Georgie from wanting to go over to your house and beat the living daylights out of your father.

"I think it's been a long night for all of us, so we should all get some sleep. I'm gonna grab some blankets. Georgie, you want to help get the couch ready?" Mary asked, giving you a smile.

"Actually, can I sleep with Georgie? I don't feel comfortable being alone."

Mary was unsure if letting you sleep with Georgie was the right move. She looked over at George, who just shrugged, and then back at you. You looked so sad, and Mary just couldn't say no to someone who's been through all that.

She nodded and sent you another sad smile, which you thankfully returned. "Georgie, take Y/N to your room, and i'll be in their soon with some spare pajamas and blankets. I want to talk to your dad about something."

Georgie's eyes widened, "You aren't seriously thinking about sending her back there, are you?"

Mary was taken aback by her son's outburst. "No," she shook her head. "No, I would never say that. Just go help Y/N so your father and I can talk alone."

Georgie let out a huff, not in the mood to go back and forth with his mother. "Come on, Y/N," He beckoned you to follow him, and you did just that without any hesitation.

———

You entered Georgie's room and made a quick B-line to his bed. You carefully removed your shoes and lay down. It was safe to say that after the night you had, you were exhausted.

"I know it's a mess, but I wasn't exactly expecting company," Georgie said from across the room. He picked up some of his clothes from off the floor and threw them into an empty hamper. When he was done, he turned to see you knocked out on his bed.

Someone knocked at Georgie's door, making him flinch before turning to see who it was. Mary stood at the door, still wearing that same smile from earlier as she held onto a folded blanket and nightgown.

"I just came to drop these off," Mary spoke in a slightly hushed tone.

"I think you're a bit late for that," Georgie responded, pointing back at you as you slept soundly in his bed.

Mary nodded. "Okay, then I will just leave these right here," she placed the folded blanket and piece of clothing on the corner of the bed next to the bed.

"Thanks, Mom," Georgie smiled, making Mary's smile grow wider.

"No problem, honey," she said before making her way out of the room.

With his mom gone and you sleep, Georgie quickly got ready for bed and joined you. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"I swear. Next time someone even thinks about hurting you, I won't hesitate to kill 'em." Georgie knew no one was listening, but he still continued express his feelings toward you.

"I love you," he said to you, leaning over to place a kiss on your forehead before turning off the lights and falling asleep.

If your User is in orange, I could not find you. Please feel free to contact me if you’d like to be re-added. Taglist:@buckysmainhxe , @esposadomd , @natalia12700, @siriusstwelveyears , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @countrymusiclover , @bellarkeselection , @alexxavicry , @xivilivix, @idontknowwhat2type , @ietss

[facts-i-just-made-up]

What's the scariest thing you ever did see?

In 1997, late summer I think, I was with my mom as she ran some errands and then we were gonna see a movie, as it was a Saturday.

We left the house and she drove to the bank. I stayed in the car while she did something indoors really quick. Outside the car they had one of those wallside ATMs, nobody was using it but there was a guy standing next to it. He had a brown jacket on, which was weird because it was like 90 degrees out. He was coughing, a loud one I could hear through the car window. Horrid wet cough like a little kid’s cough where you could hear the clack of the spittle, but grown up and harsh and loud.

Mom came back, we headed to the tack shop where she was dropping off some saddle decoration stuff she did for them. The tack shop was maybe two miles away. Not far but we drove there. Made it in only a few minutes.

But that guy in the brown jacket was there. I told her I thought I saw the guy before at the bank, but she knew of course this was impossible and said so and headed in. Again I waited in the car. I was pretty sure it was the same guy. He didn’t cough yet so I wasn’t certain but the jacket was at least the same kind and color of jacket. Mom got back and as we pulled out, the guy coughed a massive hack and spit out black stuff on the white stucco wall. It looked like one of those rubber goo sticky hands, a long strand of shiny black with a big glob on the end, it looked like a part of an organ or something. It was sickening and I was now sure it was the same guy. My mom didn’t see him cough it up.

We headed to the movie theater. Maybe five miles away but it took a while to get there because of traffic and stuff. Parked way out because it was crowded, and walked up to the multiplex to get tickets.

I heard coughing. The same sick loud cough. I was looking around for the guy but didn’t see him there. But I heard him, the cough that made that gross damn thing on the white wall.

We got tickets and headed in. We got popcorn and as they put the butter sludge on I kept hearing the man coughing and thought I saw his brown jacket briefly at the ticket counter but wasn’t sure. We headed in toward the theaters.

We went in and sat near the back, we always sat in back so my mom wouldn’t get seasick if the movie had a lot of camera movement. We were seated between people and couldn’t get up easily to leave. And I heard the cough at the entrance. I saw the man in the brown coat coughing before the movie began, and then the lights went down as he walked in to sit.

Trailers played and I lost track of the guy. Movie started. The movie was Event Horizon, and yeah to answer your question, Event Horizon is the scariest thing I ever saw. That movie is horrifying.

[another-lost-mc]

imagine some bittersweet angst where MC ends up with someone in the human world because she wasn't able to go back to the devildom, so the brothers look after MC's children and future descendants. Like imagine belphegor appearing in front of mc's daughter who calls him "uncle belphie", or lucifer and "mr Luci,". Basically being the guardian they couldn't be for lillith's descendants

a/n: okay that's a little sad to think about, but it's sort of precious too.

protecting what matters most | the demon brothers [dateables version]

1.2k words | sfw | gn!Reader

content/warnings: family dynamics and slice of life. fluff and angst, mention of character death and passage of time, mentions of raising children, platonic relationships with the demon brothers.

— Living in the Devildom for a year forged bonds with the demon brothers that can't be broken. You don't return, but they keep in touch with you however they can, starting with regularly scheduled phone calls and group chats over text, until eventually they surprise you with a visit to the human world.

— Asmo's the first one to find out that you met someone after you rebuilt your human life. The others didn't believe it until the day you formally introduced them to your partner. They hid their disappointment or anger or jealousy as best they could, but they had to admit that your partner was perfect for you. They'd never seen you so happy.

— Human lives are fleeting moments in time, and it wasn't until you told them about your engagement and upcoming nuptials that they realized your life would pass by in a blur. You'd be gone before they knew it, and they didn't want to take you for granted.

— They came to your wedding and gave you gifts, and they promised that their long-lost sister's future generations would be protected and cherished by them no matter what.

— Years pass and your house fills with family photos of your children's very eccentric uncles.

— Uncle Luci is the nicest. He bonds with your oldest child the most, but he teaches all your children the importance of family and patience and loyalty. Showing emotion and asking for help aren't signs of weakness, but signs of strength. He's also the one who gifted your family a puppy when your children were old enough to help care for it. He's in fewer photographs and videos than the rest of his siblings because he's usually the one volunteering to hold the camera. Watching your family stand intertwined with his fills the aching parts of his heart with love instead of pain and regret, and he wants to capture these special memories to look back on. His study and bedroom in the House of Lamentation are filled with these photographs too.

— Uncle Mammon is good at so many things. He shows them card tricks and he teaches them how to play games, too—Go Fish and Crazy 8's at first and Poker later. He tells them the importance of restraint and responsibility and that sometimes you need to make your own luck. He comes trick-or-treating on Halloween, and he'll even go into the haunted house attraction once they turn their puppy eyes on him. He helps the kids with math homework and science projects, and he helps each of them pick out and learn how to care for their first car. (He's twisted around their fingers the way he's still twisted around yours.)

— Uncle Levi is one of their favourites to invite for slumber parties. He brings lots of costumes and toys to play with, and he likes to watch cartoons and play video games as much as they do. He encourages them to be creative and unique no matter what anyone else thinks (but reminds them to call him or talk to their parents if they get teased or bullied). He takes the kids to opening day showings of the latest superhero movie they want to see, and they all come back with plastic collectible cups from the theater after eating way too much sugar. He gives some of the best gifts on special occasions and their birthdays.

— Uncle Sully fills your house with books. As your children grow older, he replaces their children's books with things more suitable for their ages and reading levels, and he delights when one of yours is as much of a bookworm as he is. He tries to teach them all about the power that comes from knowledge, and how books are not only a glimpse into the past but a hopeful peek into the future. He wants them to explore the world with an open mind and vivid imagination. He teaches them that family gives them strength and love and as long as they have each other, they can do anything.

(They start calling him Uncle Satan when they learn the truth about their beloved uncles. It was only a matter of time and you had years to prepare an explanation, but it still catches you off-guard: your children sitting very seriously at the kitchen table, looking at each other before one of them starts to speak. They ask tough questions about why their uncles don't seem to get any older, and why they can do all these amazing things they learn later is because of magic. Your youngest still calls him Uncle Sully; the others save that nickname for special occasions, just to get a rise out of him.)

— Uncle Asmo is so much fun! He helps you organize birthday parties and graduation parties, and when your children grow into adulthood and begin to live their own lives, weddings and honeymoons and baby showers too. He loves to be involved because he wants them to feel special and celebrated for all their achievements. It's also an excuse for him to spoil your family with clothes and gifts that you know can only be purchased in the Devildom. He helps you navigate their challenging teen years, talking to them about love and sex and healthy relationships. He makes sure they all know that he's there to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on, or any other support or help they might need. He feels blessed to watch your family grow up because your love for them is so pure and beautiful; your impact on this world will linger long after you're gone.

— Uncle Beel and Uncle Belphie are the ones that take your children on some of their most cherished childhood adventures. They just happen to come by for a visit when traveling carnivals and theme parks open for the summer season. They all eat a ridiculous amount of food and come back with armfuls of souvenirs (which Beel happily pays for and refuses your attempts to pay him back). They suggest camping trips on long holiday weeks or ski vacations during the colder winter months. They like helping your children connect with nature and the stars and each other. Beel and Belphie tell the best stories, even if some of them are a little sad.

(They don't know until they're older that Uncle Belphie used to visit at nighttime and help care for them as babies. Sometimes you'd wake up and check on them to find them fast asleep in his arms while he rocked them in the chair beside their crib. Other nights, he visited when you'd already gotten up, but you always invited him to stay and listen while you hummed a lullaby.)

— Your children grow older and so do you. The demon brothers aren't ready to say goodbye—how could they be? When you're gone, it feels like they lost Lilith all over again. Death haunts them like shadow, but this time it's different because they realize that their family's not broken. It's stronger, and bigger, because you gave them that gift. In return, they promise to protect the descendants of Lilith that bear your name and have the same potential for greatness that you did.

— Your children's homes, and their children's after that, remain filled with photographs of their quirky uncles. The names and faces of the demon brothers are passed down along to each generation with a growing collection of impossible stories. It's your family's precious secret that each child is told when they're old enough to understand, because it's only a matter of time before the uncles arrive to visit them too.

[sheisjoeschateau]

misha's masterlists

Hi, I'm Misha. Thank you for diving into my stories and supporting my writing :)

My fanfics [+this blog] are dedicated to Steve Harrington, along with Gator Tillman. All fanfic series, one-shots, blurbs, etc. listed below are written by me. Do not repost or share anywhere without proper credit. Thank you muchly.

SERIES MASTERLISTS:

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..."

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

[PART I] | [PART II] [PART III] | [PART IV] | [PART V] [PART VI] | [PART VII] | [PART VIII]

[Part IX - blurb] | [Part IX - full]

[Part X] | MORE COMING SOON

SUMMARY: WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU.

HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU...

BUT WILL HE?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

"You're there. You've always been there."

Steve Harrington x OC!fem!reader Childhood friends to lovers. Sloooowburn. Angst. Romance. Smut with plot. Action. Told from second-person view, reader is Nicole (character from S1), different POV, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, pre-S1-S4, eventual post-S4 universe.

[PART I] | [PART II]

Summary: Steve Harrington was six years old when he met you: Nicole St. James, the girl who carries the other half of him. Since 1972, the two of you have been inseparably tethered by the soul. You give Steve a home in his big house with no parents, and he gives your introverted heart a longing for someone. The King of Hawkins High and princess of this small town, you tell each other absolutely everything...except that you are in love with each other.

Everything changes that one afternoon at school, when you catch the school's social outcast -- Jonathan Buyers -- has been stalking Steve, his posse and his girl, Nancy. Little do you both know, the monsters in your favorite fairytales are real. And you're both going to have to fight them together.

You both share the best days and worst days, through childhood and teen years, until you both find yourselves roped into the perils that exist beneath your feet in Hawkins.

But through it all, despite all the doubt, Steve knows one thing: you're there. You've always been there.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

"At the Chateau, We'll Be Alright."

Steve Harrington x Jonathan Byers x fem!reader A crossover au inspired by Saltburn and Call Me by Your Name. Additional Inso from Joe's theater performance as in Spring Awakening. Song Inso: "Chateau" by Djo

Strangers to best friends to lovers. Slowburn. Angst. Romance, with polyamory themes and schemes. Smut with hella plot.

[MULTI-PART SERIES] COMING SOON. Click here for a preview.

Summary: The reader lives with her parents at a fancy chateau, in France.  This year, her father offers their home as a housing sanctuary to a select student or graduate.  He decides to invite two graduate students to live with their family over the summer, coming from different working class backgrounds, and help with their academic paperwork as a professor of archaeology.

Steve Harrington: a rich kid from a swanky boarding school with a bad boy reputation and too much charm for his own good.  Surprisingly, his grades say otherwise.  A’s and B’s, his parents claim that is seeking one-on-one tutoring so that he can progress in his studies — but it sounds more like an excuse to ship him off for longer periods of time, giving them an out for having their son around during the summer.  The pretty boy’s all about ladies…but that’s only because he hasn’t met a boy who awakens his bisexuality.  Yet.

Jonathan Byers: a kid from the lower working class, excelling in his studies and AP programs at the same boarding school as Steve which he only got into because of community sponsorship and grants.  Quiet wallflower, little to no friends, a bit cynical.  A closeted gay, he’s more determined to stick with being perceived as “ace” than come out of the closet.  Until he goes to stay at a chateau with a handsome boy, and a beautiful girl who understands him.

Twists, turns and terrifying risks, you all put your hearts on the line that summer at the Chateau. Add the reader's cousin Eddie into the mix, along with her best friend Robin, Steve's ex-girlfriend Nancy, Jonathan's estranged mother and your progressive parents alongside Steve's absent parents -- it's a cruel summer.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

American Teenagers

Read the synopsis here:

Gator Tillman x fem!reader A slow burn romance fueled by angst, dark comedy, unhinged thrill-packed action and heavy smut with even heavier plot. Inspired by and based on Fargo. Song Inspo: "American Teenager" by Ethel Cain

📁 {browse my fic file}

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... | Dr. Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary| She's the detective assigned to investigate one of Gotham's top villains, Falcone, but as she follows her leads, she uncovers a new suspect: Dr. Jonathan Crane. His charisma and good looks won't stand in the way of justice, or at least that's what she thinks.

Warnings| Mentions of self-harm in the beginning in accordance to the movie (Batman Begins 2005). Not explicitly discussed but implied sexist and misogynistic work environment. Some archaic language when discussing psychiatric hospitals bc I tried to follow the language that the movie used. Violence with needles, drugging someone. Gun is mentioned but not used. Knife is mentioned a lot but never used to inflict pain. Smut, dubious consent, unprotected sex, restraints.

word count: 6757k (long-ass story bc I didn't want to make separate posts)

Song for a Guilty Sadist- Crywank 🎶

Butch 4 Butch- Rio Romeo 🎵

IFHY (feat. Pharrell)- Tyler, The Creator 🎶

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks <3

i 

She had been following him for weeks, stealing into the shadows at every turn as Jonathan Crane walked through Gotham City’s Police Station. She’d been suspicious of him for months and with the men in the police force finally working up the nerve to investigate Gothem’s leading henchman, Falcone, she’d uncovered a theory that pointed simultaneously at the notorious psychiatrist. Of course, the men in her force had refused to believe her, reminding her of Crane’s long history with the department and work to establish Gothem’s Psychiatric Hospital for the Criminally Insane: Arkham Asylum. But the real reason why Crane had never been investigated was because of his status in the department of justice, and it didn’t hurt that the man was charismatic. He knew how to work the system to get what he wanted. 

Jonathan Crane had a reputation of declaring criminals insane after mere minutes of deliberation, especially those who happened to work with or for Falcone. She’d been in charge of carrying out Falcone’s case and taking him to trial as a detective for the prosecution. After being put in jail, Falcone had managed to slash his wrists just enough to draw attention and a little bit of blood. He was immediately flagged for psychiatric evaluation, bringing Jonathan Crane once again into the basement interrogation rooms to administer an interview. When he clamored down the steps onto the basement floor, she was waiting for him by the door into Falcone’s interrogation room.  

“Dr. Crane,” she greeted him with a smile, drawing every ounce of her long lost theater-kid days into play. 

“Miss —,” he remembered her name and shook her hand with a serious glint in his blue eyes, covered by harsh rectangular glasses. His handshake was firm and strong, and he made eye contact that still shook her even after speaking with him so many times before. She didn’t let it show, however, and nodded towards the door. 

“He cut his wrists last night during the changing of the guard but we don’t know how he even got access to the weapon that he used; and I’ve spoken with him numerous time since we processed him and he’s never given me any reason to suspect that he was mentally unstable, but of course, you are the professional. It’s better that he be evaluated anyway-”

“In case anything were to happen,” he finished for me and clenched his jaw. He gave a curt nod of his head and went inside, shutting the door behind him and drawing the blinds on the door closed. She scoffed quietly beneath her breath and clenched her fists. Don’t be fooled by his good looks or superior smile, she told herself, Jonathan Crane was capable of things that she didn’t know of yet. He was not someone to admire, he was someone to distrust. 

After only ten minutes of quiet murmuring, she could hear clear and blood curdling screams through the door. She knocked on the door, “Dr. Crane?” She called through the door but it opened in her face before she could do anything. He stood in the doorway, his dark hair falling into his pale, angular face. 

“He’s definitely what I would classify as mentally unstable,” he chuckled calmly as he side-stepped her and closed the door. He ran a hand through his hair and fixed the glasses perched on his nose. “I can’t treat him here, I’ll need to move him to Arkham.” 

“Are you sure?” She asked, more surprised than anything. He had started to walk down the hallway to the stairs when he turned around, stopping right in front of her face, his breath fanned across her face. 

“Are you questioning my diagnosis, detective?” He smirked, an underlying tone of warning below his wide-lipped smile. His blue eyes were unwavering as he studied her face, she swallowed to steady herself. 

“No, sir. Of course not.” She apologized and crossed her arms across her chest, ducking her head nervously. When she looked back up, his eyebrow was cocked. 

“Do I make you nervous, detective?” He smiled and she could tell he was setting a trap, attempting to make himself more likable, more trusting. As if he could be anything of the sort. She laughed lightly and met his eyes, holding his eye-contact defiantly. 

“No, sir.” She answered and he nodded. 

“Good day, Miss —.” He called with his back turned, walking to the stairs and climbing them quickly. She watched him leave and finally released a sigh of relief. There was something about him that unsettled her, but it was something that also attracted her with a devious strength, ripping factual and independent reasoning from her head. 

She had started following him when one of Falcone’s men had been moved to Arkham two weeks before. She switched her assignment for the day to escort the man to Arkham, getting a chance to see the asylum for herself. It was a large gothic building with a modern facade in the center of Gotham. The attendants at the door led the prisoner (or patient now) through the heavily guarded door into the hospital’s main ward that was closed to visitors. Even police or other officials had to obtain a special license that granted them clearance into the institution. The second time she’d stepped inside, she was following a few yards behind Crane, studying how he actually entered the building. They had a separate entrance for the asylum’s psychiatrists at the side of the building by the alley. She waited a few minutes for Crane to enter the building before she approached the guard stationed at the door and flashed her badge. He’d allowed her in but warned that he’d lose his job if he did it again. The next time she followed him, she would need a new method of entering the building, one that didn’t alert Crane that she was in the building in case he got suspicious. When she entered it was easier to blend in so she followed the maze of hallways until she reached a small hub with arrows guiding attendants to the different wards of the hospital. Dr. Crane’s office was included in the psychiatrist ward (funny they had their own ward). 

The psychiatrists each had their own labs, whether or not they used them was their own business, but she knew for sure that Crane used his but for what, she didn’t know. Walking down the hallway to his office, she peeked inside the wide panel of glass into his lab. He had one assistant who was copying his notes into a binder for Crane but quickly left when Crane shooed him away from the set of beakers and vials of powders he was working with. She flattened herself against the wall and pretended to answer a call on her phone as the assistant passed her in the hallway. She hurried to leave the institute, leaving through the same door she entered, thanking the security guard discreetly. 

This time as she watched Crane climb the stairs, she pulled aside a police officer and explained Falcone’s transfer. The officer nodded and left to initiate the transfer to Arkham, Falcone’s hysterical screams still audible through the thick steel door. Crane tugged at the starched collar of his shirt as he crossed the lobby of the police station, sighing in relief. Falcone had tried to corner him. Him! Falcone may have been powerful but he was stupid and Crane didn’t have patience for stupidity especially from someone who was supposed to be a criminal mastermind. News flash: he wasn’t. Falcone was sloppy and arrogant, he didn’t take his own threats seriously. He’d threatened to tell the police about Crane’s experimental drug concoctions but in reality, he still didn’t know the full extent of what Crane was planning to do to Gotham. 

“You don’t know anything,” Crane said pointedly, tired of Falcone’s attitude. 

“I know that half of the drugs we moved belong to you and the police still don’t know what they are or what they can do.” Falcone scratched his greasy nose. Crane almost laughed. He removed his glasses and sighed, reaching into his open briefcase. 

As soon as the words, “would you like to see my mask,” left his mouth, Falcone was done for. The only thing that had inspired a shred of panic for Crane was hearing the girl’s voice through the steel door, calling his name. He expected her to open the door and see his mask, and while he had an explanation that a normal officer would believe, he knew that she was different. He didn’t trust her but something about her made him laugh. She was good looking and smart but too invested in his work and he didn’t like that. He’d have to keep an eye on the young detective, Miss —. In fact, he’d like to strap her down… hide her away in his asylum and play with her head like he did with his other playthings - - - oops - - - patients. Same thing.

ii 

She pretended that her plan was straightforward, it was the only way that she could convince herself to go through with it. No one else in her department would have had the balls to sneak into the asylum where once you went in, you may not be able to leave, that is- if Dr. Crane diagnosed you accordingly. She left a note on her desk in her office, explaining where she was going and the evidence she had already collected. Photos, “destroyed” medical records, and recent missing shipments from cargo ships including one micro-wave machine meant for warfare. She made copies of everything and hid them away in a special box directed to the only person she really trusted in her department, Sgt. Gordon. Even if someone dumped the notes on her desk, Sgt. Gordon would find the box of evidence, she knew. Falcone had been transferred the day before and was nearing his second night in the institution, now was her time to investigate what he was planning to do to him and why. 

She stashed a small knife at her thigh, having learned that a woman had to carry multiple weapons in this city if she wanted to protect herself, which unfortunately, happened often. She checked her weapon and put it in her holster at the small of her back. She was wearing a gray quarter length top tucked into a black skirt. She pulled on her straight black leather coat and closed the door to her office, locking the door. She knew that Crane would be in his office, he almost never went home, and with Falcone there and at risk to disclose sensitive information, he would be sure to stay close by. 

The sun had already set hours before when she approached Arkham Asylum. Each window was bright with light but it didn’t make the building any more welcoming. She shivered as she approached the side door, seeing a different security guard at the door. He stood when she approached, not recognizing her.  

“Stand down, officer. I’m detective — on police business,” she showed him her badge.

“You’ll have to check in at the front, detective.” The officer sat back down with a nod. 

“My business here is strictly confidential; Dr. Crane said I could enter in this way.” She pointed at the side door and the officer looked nervously at her. He reached for his walkie-talkie. 

“I’m here about Falcone. I am the detective assigned to his case, he was transferred here two days ago. I’m supposed to meet with Dr. Crane about some of the things Falcone has said during his initial treatment. Because of the sensitivity of Falcone’s case in the department, as I’m sure you know, the department has asked that we keep this confidential. No one inside can know that I was here to meet about Falcone. We haven’t told the public yet that he’s been transferred here. Your compliance is necessary for this.” She lied out of her ass but the officer nodded slowly when she finished, his eyes widening at the mention of Falcone’s name. 

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry for delaying you. It’s just business.” 

“I understand completely, thank you officer.” She smiled kindly as the officer scanned her in. Once she was inside she hid her police badge and followed the path she had scouted days before, following the black arrows to the psychiatrist ward (again, funny that they had their own ward- almost as if they were patients themselves). Her black mary janes squeaked quietly as she finally turned onto the hallway where Dr. Crane’s office was located. A row of fluorescent bulbs flickered ominously and she rolled her eyes, silently cursing the asylum for its additional eeriness. His lab was empty and dark and his office was empty though the lights were still on. An assistant passed her, coming from a different lab with a pile of boxes in her arms. 

“Excuse me, do you know where Dr. Crane is right now?” She asked the assistant who shuffled the boxes in her arms to answer. 

“I saw him in the ward with the new transfer patients just before I picked these up, so he’s probably about to start a sit-down with a patient. Do you have an appointment with him?” She asked curiously, knowing it was too late for a business meeting. 

“No, I work in the office and I was going to request a few files to finish a transfer of a patient but it seems that he’s busy. I’ll try tomorrow morning. Thank you!” She smiled and the assistant nodded. 

“Have a nice night,” the assistant hurried off down the corridor into the hub. She wasted no time in checking the door to Crane’s office which was miraculously unlocked. She hurried inside and closed the door, making sure that she left everything as she had found it. The door to the lab was located inside Crane’s office, so she entered the lab through the office. The blinds were closed to the outside so she opened the flashlight on her phone and scanned the dark lab tables for the powders she had seen before. The room smelled heavily of chemicals and cleaning solution and it was hard to breathe normally already because she was nervous. The first table was empty of anything but the second was set up for what looked to be his next round of testing. A box that looked like a closed mouse trap was set up on the table. There was a single switch on the top of the box which she knew better than to turn but she examined it nonetheless, hoping to see what it may contain. A tray of petri dishes full of powder sat beside it. Each was marked with a different series of numbers and letters, denoting their different status, she assumed. She recognized the series on one of the dishes: F7jw009. The number had appeared on the list of drugs recovered from Falcone’s drug transport. It was one that hadn’t yet been tested to see what it was composed of. She didn’t recognize the two other dishes but she assumed the powder and the mousetrap device were used for the same thing.

There was a small bookcase attached to the base of the lab table and she crouched, scanning the spines. The books on the top, free of dust, were on phobias. A bound scientific paper on the chemical structure of fear sat on top of the textbooks. She picked it up and flipped through the pages, noticing strokes of pen and notes on many of the pages. In the centerfold of the paper, she saw a picture of a cartoon scarecrow, one from a halloween decoration. It looked like it had been ripped from a kid’s storybook. She stared at the picture, struggling to place where she had heard about a scarecrow before in the precinct… she flipped farther through the pages and landed on a second photo shoved between the pages. It was a drawing of a mask made of burlap. The mask resembled a scarecrow’s face, she furrowed her eyebrows, more uneasy. Finally, she flipped to the very end where she found a clear note detailing what Crane thought the synopsis of the paper had been: 

Fear can be constructed using a series of complex compounds and put into an admissible form. They have already invented serums that temporarily remove the presence of fear by blocking certain receptors in the brain that receive signals of distress or pain. By doing the very opposite, temporarily numbing the receptors that calm the nervous system when danger has been averted, fight or flight is heightened and the human mind is more susceptible to the suggestion of danger and terror. Fear merely needs to be suggested to elicit a response after the brain is prepped for the reaction. Fear can be weaponized. Building the compounds of fear into a powder, the drug can be administered immediately into the air and receive a simultaneous reaction. Pills? Water? How can we distribute this powder? What is the easiest way to administer fear to the entire population? 

iii 

The distinct click of a door opening and closing shocked her back to attention. She put the bound paper back onto the shelf and switched off the light on her phone. In the dark she scrambled into a hidden alcove inside the lab behind one of the hooded chemical boxes. She was pretty sure that the lab’s closet would be shared with the lab next door but she couldn’t remember which side of the room it was on. Dr. Crane had gone into his office and removed his suit jacket. He was too excited by Falcone’s reaction to his fear serum in powder form and he needed to get a handle on himself. It was nearly midnight when he checked his watch. Most of his colleagues would be gone by now, just the night staff remained to look after the patients. Night was the perfect time to work undisturbed in his lab, especially because his assistant couldn’t know the full extent of his research into the chemical compounds of human fear. He slipped his coat over the back of his desk chair and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. 

He exhaled slowly and removed a stack of papers from his desk, flipping through them as he opened the door into his lab and kicked the door closed with the heel of his shoe. His elbow flicked on the lightswitch and he spread out the papers on the first lab table, seemingly absorbed by the chemical structures his assistant had prepared for him to review. He scribbled a note in red pen on the corner of the document, berating his assistant for his obvious mistake with one of the compound structures. What was this? High school chemistry class? He licked his thumb and turned the page, writing another note in the margin. 

“I know you’re here, Miss —.” He smiled, not looking up from his notes. He tossed the first set of pages further down the table and moved to the next one. “You and your perfume… I can always tell where you’ve been by your scent. I don’t think you’re naive enough to wear perfume in your field, especially when on your little jaunts into other people’s business. So, the lovely smell is from your shampoo, I venture. You use an expensive brand of shampoo because you think that your hair is your best attribute, and I agree, it's one of the best. Your job makes you feel dirty too, doesn’t it? This city makes you feel dirty and so you wash your hair every night with the same sulfate-free shampoo to get the smell of our city out of your system. Your shampoo smells like mint and you like it the best because it makes your head feel cleaner, tingly,” he laughed and moved to the next stack of stapled papers. “And that’s why you chose this job, a detective, because you feel like you’re cleaning up our streets; removing all of the bad blood of Gotham but it’s been a disappointment to say the least. The system is backwards, though you knew that from the beginning, you thought you could fix it. You want things to be right and I don’t blame you, so do I.” 

Dr. Crane finished writing a note on the last paper and capped the pen. He circled the table once before moving to the second table. 

“I’m cleaning the city in my own way, I guess you could say. This city needs a restart button, a way to begin everything again and start fresh. Fear can do that, fear can be controlled and it controls.” 

She could barely breathe, her back was pressed against the wall of his lab. She was scared and she knew that he knew. Fear was his thing, his kink and she anticipated the absolute worst as she waited out her fate, wondering how long it would take for him to find her or if she could manage to escape. 

“This machine can diffuse the compounded form of fear. I’ve used it on most of your suspects, all of them Faclone’s men. I even used it on Falcone himself. Oh, I wish you could have seen his face! The second the powder entered his system he abandoned the arrogant criminal persona, he reverted back to who he was at his very core. He was suddenly controllable and easy to manage. So you see how this could be used to clean up Gotham. It’s a way to seize back control of our city, take it away from the people who run it now; the sycophants and billionaires.” 

Crane pulled a needle from the drawer at his hip and flicked the glass tube. Her chest rose and fell in a state of panic. Dr. Crane leaned against the counter calmly. 

“That’s why you like me. I’m clean. I’m orderly and smart. I’m the opposite of the criminal justice system that reminds you of this dirty city. And, Y/N, that’s why I like you.”

She tensed at his use of her first name. She’d never heard him use it before and it sent a chill down her spine. She reached for her gun. Dr. Crane rounded the corner and stabbed the needle into her neck, pushing the tranquilizer into her bloodstream. She wobbled before slumping back against the wall. She managed to push past him and run for the office door but the drugs worked almost immediately and her legs began to go numb. She couldn’t feel anything below her waist and she worried that he would break her legs running without being able to feel which bones she was using to get away. She collapsed on the floor of the lab and looked up at Dr. Crane who smiled down at her, his hair disheveled. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he cooed and crouched at her feet, “I applaud you for your efforts. You may have succeeded had I not recognized the smell of your shampoo. I know you’ve been here before. You’re a smart girl but I won this game, and the victor gets the spoils. That’s how it works, Miss —.” He crawled over her and pulled the needle from her neck. She didn’t even feel it. Her hair that he loved so much was fanned out on the floor, falling in loose curls. He twirled a curl between his fingers and nodded approvingly. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat you with the utmost respect. Afterall, you are my colleague, of sorts,” he shrugged and stood up, straddling her. “It’s a pity that you became a detective. You would have done well in this bloodthirsty field because,” he disappeared for a moment and returned with a set of keys which he slipped into his front pocket, “you’re like me.” 

He pulled her up and put one of her arms around his shoulder, supporting the brunt of her weight that way. Though he was small and lanky, he was muscular and strong. He dragged her through the door in his lab that connected to a separate room that she hadn’t even noticed. He flipped the light switch with his elbow and sighed with pleasure when the room was lit up with light. 

“Here it is. This is where the real fun happens, Y/N. This is where I test my new treatments on our most psychotic patients. Falcone will be here soon, perhaps tomorrow once you and I finish our discussion.” The room was smaller than the lab and housed what looked like a mortuary slab. She tried to scream but her mouth was numb. He dragged her to the table and lifted her onto the flat surface. The numerous straps he buckled around her waist, her wrists, and her feet. When she was secured onto his table, he pushed a peddle at his foot which titled the table forward, propping her more upright. 

“Ah, and now I can finally see you,” Dr. Crane smiled and moved her hair so that it was caught behind her back. He straightened her hair against her chest, running his fingers through the strands. He moved a stool in front of the table and sat on it, his legs spread and his arms across against his chest. “Do I make you nervous now, detective?” He smirked and chuckled darkly when she couldn’t respond. “It will wear off soon. It’s one of those doses that act quickly but then wear off just as quickly. I wouldn’t do anything to you while you were in this state. What kind of man would I be if I did that?” 

He watched her for a few minutes, his bright blue eyes trailing up and down her body. She knew what that look meant from men. Her gun was so close and yet she knew she wouldn't be able to reach it even when she regained control over her body. While he waited, he arranged numerous tools and vials around the room, humming softly to himself. She could feel herself starting to get feeling back in her stomach as the blood recirculated from her heart. Her hands and her feet took the longest to twitch awake. She dropped her head from left to right, groaning in the absence of words. Dr. Crane came back and checked her pulse, pinching her wrist and counting the seconds on his watch. 

“Good girl, you’re coming back. Can you speak yet?” He supported her chin with his hand and when she didn’t answer he nodded. “That’s all right. You’re all right.” He soothed her and she couldn’t help but relax as his eyes checked over her. “Now, Miss —, where are your weapons?” He posed the question theoretically and touched her, she flinched beneath his hands. He felt around her waist and inside her jacket. “There aren’t many places to hide it.” He whispered and wrapped his hands around her waist, finding the gun at the small of her back. “Ah, here it is.” He smiled as he took the gun from its holster and tossed it onto a small lab table. “You have something else, don’t you. You’re smart so of course, you have a second weapon.”  He licked his lips, thinking but it didn’t take him long to trail his hands up her thighs, glancing up into her eyes as he did. Her skirt rose as he felt below it and soon, his fingers were on top of the knife’s handle. 

“What do we have here?” He lifted her skirt, showing the knife’s hiding place at the top of her thigh. “This is honestly almost funny so forgive me if I laugh.” He ripped the knife from the holster and she cried out as much as she could, terrified by his quick movement. He let her skirt fall back into place and twirled the knife in his hand, examining the small blade. “You’ve just made my night so much more interesting, Miss —.” He smirked darkly. 

iv 

She finally regained her ability to speak though her words were jumbled and hard to get out around her tongue.

“Use your words, honey.” Dr. Crane frowned frustratedly. 

“Please…” she managed, “don’t… hurt… me.” She pushed the words out and he listened carefully. 

“Oh but it’s so hard to resist when you so willingly came here and with your own weapons. Can you see how this might be hard for me?” He furrowed his brow as he spoke and she couldn’t tell what was sarcasm and what was real. 

“It was nothing personal… I had a job to do.” She whispered weakly and he cocked his head, his lips parted. 

“You know it's funny because Falcone’s men all said the same thing. I know you didn’t work with them… but I can make it look like you did.” He whispered close to her face and her chest clenched with fear. “I can do whatever I want, do you understand? I have the power to say that you checked yourself in and I evaluated you. I found you on the verge of a psychotic breakdown because we all know you were already prone to hysterics. But your office shouldn’t worry because I’ll be your psychiatrist. And so what if you happen to disappear- go missing? No one comes in here, except for you, and that was stupid.” 

“You might die tonight, detective. I’m sorry to say it because you are one of the most attractive women I have met in Gotham and I fear that you have ruined our chances of continuing this to a second date.” He studied the curvature of her clavicle as it dipped above her sternum. Not knowing what else to do, she kissed him. Dr. Crane stiffened as her lips met his. He pulled away, stopping short a few inches from her mouth.

“What are you doing?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“If I’m going to die, I might as well make the most of it,” she shrugged and kissed him again, her head leaning as far forward as she could reach. She hoped that she sounded truthful enough. He pulled away again and stared at her, his forehead creased as he watched her. She panted softly, straining against her restraints. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest had broken out into hives from the stress. Fear made her even more beautiful. Going against his better judgment, he leaned forward into her and kissed her hesitantly. Slowly, he began to kiss her more aggressively, his tongue dragging against the roof of her mouth before he captured her top lip in a deep kiss. Her hands instinctively went to reach for his hair but they snapped back against the table. He broke away, panting, and took a few steps back, resting his back against the wall. 

“I don’t trust you,” he put his hands on his hips, still holding the knife. 

“What can I do, Jonathan?” She tried using his first name and he raised an eyebrow again, “I can’t move, no one can hear me scream, you’re going to kill me… what reason is there left to trust me? So, either kiss me or go ahead and kill me.” She nearly cried, overwhelmed and terrified. Her plan had been to seduce him, to use most men’s fatal flaw against him, but she worried that it wouldn’t work with Dr. Jonathan Crane. In a way, she had planned for this. The evidence was back in her office waiting to be discovered. She hadn’t gotten a chance to take pictures of the lab but maybe depending on how far he went with this, she could get away. But God, even though she was terrified and held on a slab against her will, he was beautiful. He was looking at her with his aquamarine eyes, his black hair gelled and falling around his face. Even his glasses looked perfect on his face. 

“Jonathan…” she started with a shakily voice, “despite why I came today and what you’ve told me about what you want to do to Gotham, right now, more than anything, I want you to come here and kiss me because while I may hate you and you may be the cause of my death, I want you. Give me some comfort if you’re going to take everything away from me.” 

“Freud would have some things to say about you, Y/N.” He pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and studied the edge of the knife. “Your psychology is so interesting,” he flicked his eyes up to her’s and set the knife down on the table. “To study you…” he trailed off as he loosened his tie and ripped it from his neck. He approached her, standing far enough away that she couldn’t reach him with her mouth. She exhaled, waiting. “I almost studied anatomy,” he pushed a hand against her navel, holding her even more in place. 

“Why didn’t you?” She whispered. 

“I loved the human mind too much to abandon it,” he smiled and drew a hand up her thigh. Her muscles spasmed beneath his hand. He leaned in against her ear, “I know you’re scared of me,” he whispered calmly, “and isn’t that incredible? That you can be so afraid of something that you want so much?” His hand pulled down her underwear and it stretched between her open thighs, held apart by the restraints. His hand went further still, gently tracing the folds of her labia. She knew that she was wet and it embarrassed her, though she knew it helped confirm her story that she wanted him, he didn’t seem to care either way. His thumb rubbed her clit as he slowly inserted his middle finger into her, pushing past the initial resistance. She always hated fingering because it didn’t feel like how people pretended it did. That being said, she sighed as he gently inserted a second finger and pulled against the top of her cunt, fingering her slowly. 

“The body holds fear because our bodies hold memories,” he explained as he pressed her clit harder. “I can find what really scares you and I can fix it.” 

“I’m scared of you,” she whispered, her breath escaping in a sharp pant. 

“I can fix that.” 

He pulled his fingers out of her and held her neck still against the table as he kissed her. The sense of urgency to fight and escape melted into an afterthought when the back of his hand slid slowly down one side of her neck, making the tendons flex. He held her neck still as he kissed down to her collarbones, licking their shelves and tracing the bone with his tongue. His free hand groped her breast over her tight shirt and then surrounded her waist. She started shifting her hips back and forth, wishing that she had something between them to relieve the pressure she felt. He smiled against her skin and clicked his tongue, pulling away from her. He pressed the pedal again with his foot and the table reclined once again as it had been. He climbed onto the table and sat above her on his knees, looking down at her as she panted. 

“Look at me,” he told her and made sure that her eyes met his. “I have no plans to kill you tonight and I know this act is solely for the benefit of your own survival. But knowing that I will not kill you, would you like to change your mind?” He put both hands around her waist, showing the pale flesh of his forearms. She tried to weigh her options, she tried to think clearly but it all felt like a dream. It didn’t feel real enough to have consequences, so she shook her head and licked her lips quickly.

“No, keep going.” She whispered, “please.” Dr. Crane chuckled lightly and trailed his fingers down to her ankles. 

“In that case, would you like to see my mask?” He smiled darkly, teasing her. 

“No, I want to see your face.” She answered calmly and he nodded. 

“Fine.” He removed the restraints around her ankles. He took the knife from the table and cut away her underwear with one strong swipe of the blade. She gasped and he smirked, “I’m a doctor, remember? I know how to use a knife, detective.” 

He put the knife aside and pulled her knees up, sitting between them. He unbuckled his pants and withdrew his erection, glistening with precum. He guided himself into her with his hand, his eyes never leaving her face. She gasped again as he entered her. He rocked his hips slowly back and forth and groaned, watching her mouth open in a silent moan. She raised her knees higher, closer to her chest, giving him a better angle at which to fuck her. His hands pressed against her stomach and his thrusts became faster as his body began to learn hers. 

“You’re getting wetter,” he observed with a sly smile, “I must be doing something right.” He teased her as he started to rub her clit with his thumb, the rest of his hand pressed against her uterus. She couldn’t even speak. It had been months since she’d last had sex and even then, it wasn’t good sex. “I’m going to go harder but you can take it,” he told her matter of factly and placed either hand by her hips on the table. Leaning forward he shifted his hips slowly but harder, going deeper without much care for how her body adapted to the thrusts. “There you go,” he grunted as his hips bucked rhythmically into hers. She cried out, her body sliding up and down against the table, hot with her perspiration. Holding onto the top of the table, he moved farther up, pushing more inside of her, and started thrusting fast. He was suddenly in so deep and only backing away a few inches before snapping back in. Her hips bounced off of his and she gripped the excess material around her wrists to help her stay stationary. 

“Slow… God, please! Slow down… its so much, fuck.” She whimpered and smiled down at her face, flushed and angry with red. He slowed his hips, squeezing his glutes together whenever he thrusted inside. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, still rocking in and out of her. Her body shuttered from the high and started to build a more even climax. She hummed against his lips, her voicing getting higher as she started to orgasm. 

“And here comes the orgasm,” Jonathan smiled and sped up slightly, leaving hickies up and down her neck. She orgasmed with a shuttering cry that she couldn’t cover with her hand, but he didn’t let her finish there. “Fuck, you got so tight again.” He groaned as she panted, her system overwhelmed with waves of pleasure and exertion. She started to tighten further around him as her thighs squeezed his hips. Her breath left her lungs in short pants and she moaned beneath him like a pitiful creature. “Are you cumming again?” He laughed and stroked her cheek. She nodded weakly and he kissed her again briefly. 

“Its so tight, fuck. I won’t last much longer like this.” He took her hips in his hands and started a steady rhythm, pulling her hips onto his cock and thrusting at the same time. She came around him and he groaned animalistically, his thrusts becoming more sporadic and needy. He watched her breasts bounce inside her shirt and how he slid in and out of her, her cum collecting at the base of his shaft. Finishing with fast, desperate movements, he moaned loudly. She felt him finish inside her and it felt almost better than if she had finished herself. He pulled down her bottom lip with his thumb and admired her fucked-out face. Her pupils were shot and she shook slightly from the high. Finally, he pulled out and stuffed himself back into his pants. He sighed as he straightened his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. He took the gun and the knife and stuffed them both into a drawer and locked it with a set of keys from his pocket. They stared at each other for a while until Jonathan broke the silence, clearing his throat. 

“You’re coming home with me tonight, Miss —. We’ll decide what to do with you later.” 

[hermitw]

All my JJK character playlists (what I think they listen to) in one post (will be edited to add more when they are longer)

Every playlist is best shuffled, unless stated otherwise.

sorry these are in no particular order! pls lmk if there's any issue w the links. there are more in progress for ships/characters etc so if there's any you want, I can prioritize working on them but I take these too seriously and some have had 1 song for like a year bc it has to Feel Right

I work rly hard to have these be just my own hcs and not copying anyone elses, so I don't take recs but if you want me to hear any song I'll probably listen and maybe add it to some of them <3 I just love it when our hcs are unique and I like to see others and be like, oh that would never occur to me but I see the vision! it's more interesting to have different interpretations I think. but everyone is welcome to listen/save/share these <3

Satoru Gojo before prison realm (perfect for 2am mental breakdowns when u gotta dance and cry at any moment)

Gojo Satoru - prison realm, just prison realm (I tried to hold back forever on this. Yes, it's his 3rd playlist. 5th if u count the ships)

Gojo Satoru - prison realm and after

Satosugu's blended playlist gives me chest pain

Suguru Geto (such a vibe especially when it's raining)

Yuuji Itadori (actually in chronological order)

Itafushi blended playlist

Megumi Fushiguro

Tokyo first years' aux (Yuuji and Nobara control it but Gojo is living his best left and Fushiguro is just there like 😒 📖)

Ino Takuma (I think he'd listen to full albums)

Miwa's (cried while making this tbh)

Choso (over 50hrs, so it's vibes and emotion and chill, everything)

Kenjaku (can't cry to this one)

(only 10 images fit in a post so if you want the colored panel lmk idk if they've all been posted here atp)

Mai Zenin - The cuntiest playlist to cry to

Toji Zenin / Fushiguro (is in chronological order)

Shiu Kong

Toji & Shiu - this is like, when they were close before Toji was lost to the brain eating worm

Mechamaru's aux (I'm content w the order, no significance. Mechamaru's colored manga panel here)

Hanami's aux & colored manga panel (I did the heat stroke trend for this)

Yuuta Okkotsu - obv he listened to La Dispute

Shoko Ieri - yes her temporary cover is from the burger king video. I laughed at that thing every day for like 2 weeks.

these feel unfinished so but are going up before I forget to share (some of them are hours long I'm just a bitch)

Nanami Kento - guess I subconsciously think he's a closet theater kid?

Sukuna - includes songs that sound like his domain expansion.

Sukugo's blended playlist

The merger - Maybe not a character but deserves its own playlist

Mahito - tbh this is fun to listen to (my character analysis on him is irrelevant dw)

Toge Inumaki - resident troll

Junpei Yoshino - sorry but you know his hair is greasy

Nanako & Mimiko Hasaba - a compromise between their style

Mimiko Hasaba - morute

Nanako Hasaba - gyaru

Hakari Kinji - a lot of Japanese and Russian ig? Junji ito's music taste influenced

Kirara - she has the best taste probably idk

Hakari & Kirara

Ijichi Kiyotaka - should I apologize to him? I made this in sincerity.

Ijichi's 2nd playlist - for when he's driving and doesn't want to get bullied for putting everything on shuffle again 😔

Nobara Kugisaki - the first 2 songs are the duality of her I love it

Maki Zenin - chronological I guess

Nishimiya

Yu Haibara

Utahime - this is just vibes idk

Todo Aoi - should I apologize for this?...i could find an artist like that idol he's obsessed with and fill it out better (idk much about that scene so it's... Everything else rn)

Noritoshi Kamo - the one we meet at the exchange event, not kenjaku or the Noritoshi he possessed 150 years ago.

Naoya Zenin - I hate this bitch w my whole heart but just looking at him? good taste I fear 😔

Hiromi Higuruma - this hits so good when ur rly rly tired or late at night.