#solitary confinement mention

[trans-axolotl]

working on this essay about solitary confinement i think i would like to submit it for publishing somewhere but i don't know how to do that 👍

[webfruit-main]

School Seclusion Rooms (and solitary confinement in general) should be banned as they are merely a tool of oppression to the undesirable mentally ill children that attend the schools.

I don't have the words to talk about the horrors I've experienced and witnessed but when I find them I will use them cause I will not stand for the bullshit they put us through

[turtleblogatlast]

Hi again, it's that person who sent you a paragraph of random questions, here with another paragraph of questions. Sorry about this, but my brain is now in overdrive thinking about implications and scenarios.

How exactly does the krang calling work? Can anyone just pick up the sword and talk to the krang? Does the krang ever initiate conversation? Can he? I can totally imagine both of them just randomly whispering "ᵇⁱᵗᶜʰ" just whenever. Would leo ever drunk call the Krang? What about butt dial him? Can the krang hear other stuff going on in the background, or is it just leos voice? Is this a controllable and togglable thing, or can the krang hear all the time?

Mmmm it's fun theorizing. Thank you for putting up with my rambling if you deside to respond :)

[ cw: death mention / trauma mention / abuse implied / solidarity confinement mention / ]

Sorry again for the late reply!

For Krang calling - it’s gotta be Leo specifically who does it, as the sword left behind is his soul. So the Krang cannot imitate conversation, and neither can anyone else but Leo. And Leo- he has a lot of untapped trauma in regard to the Krang, as the Krang is the cause of so much suffering for both him and his family, and has also literally killed him many, many times - but, the Krang was also the only person he had to talk to for years. Those few moments of peace meant everything to Leo, and it’s not easy to just overlook that. It’s also not easy for him to leave someone who he kinda looks at as occasionally being there for him in an eternal solitary confinement. He knows firsthand how awful it is, and it makes him sick to do it even to his greatest enemy.

So, he calls the Krang. And he never stops doing so. Their conversations vary wildly in length and tone, most of the time it’s bitter and exceedingly harsh on the Krang’s side (and sometimes Leo’s) but Leo can’t bring himself to stop calling.

Just as the Krang won’t stop answering.

(And yes, all he hears is Leo’s voice, and only when Leo imbues his sword with power.)

[little-peril-stories]

Febuwhump Day 2 - Solitary Confinement

From Man of Letters:

All the scholar could hear was his own ragged breath. The panicked rasping. The frantic gasp of each intake of air as he tried desperately to regain his senses.

Dead. He’s dead.

They’d thrown him inside, heedless of how his sight failed him and his feet stumbled and scrabbled beneath him. Now he lay motionless, tasting blood, pretending that this was all part of his plan. He didn’t move from where he’d fallen.

He’s dead, and I killed him.

He couldn’t move. He barely wanted to. The deed was done; the choice was made. There was no running, not for him. Not anymore.

The room was quiet, but it was distinctly unlike the soothing peace of the library where he had spent so many hours of his life. This—this was an ominous quiet, heavy with dread, slippery with promise. The promise—and memory—of death.

Leave him in there, they’d said, until the prince arrives.

The thud of a body striking rough stone rang in his ears. It was only once he was already prone—still reeling from the impact—that the scholar realized it had been his own weary, grief-stricken bones and his own torn skin scraping against the floor.

Let the prince decide what to do with the bastard.

[thefruitthatgodforgot]

The way they treat the sources in lockwood and co is crazy, like I know that they don't really understand the Problem or what ghosts are exactly but you're telling me that no one is worried they might be trapped/suffering human souls or whatever?

And then they just keep the sources as keepsakes instead of destroying them or trying to help the ghost at all? Their world was identical to ours before like the 50s afaik so they probably have a lot of the same old ghost stories as we do right? And it seemed like killing Fairfax got rid of Annie Ward's ghost so at least some of them have finishable business.

Also the ethical implications of taking an object that may contain the conscious soul of a human being and sealing it in a glass box forever are crazy? Is no one worried about this? The skull seems like it's fully conscious all the time. Lucy can talk to it during the day and it trues to talk even when they have it on mute and no one is even like "hey, sorry you've been trapped in that jar for decades completely cut off from the world with very little hope of ever again coming in to contact with a person you can actually communicate with. That really sucks."

I'm only on book two, so maybe this will come up eventually? -What if agents are just ghost cops and the ghosts are being like,, oppressed. That could be an interesting avenue to explore I suppose.

Perhaps I'm doing an autistic hyperempathy thing and that's why I feel so bad for the ghosts? I don't think so though??? I know there are people who like,, worship the ghosts and think they should be allowed to stick around but surely there are also people that are like, "we should help these people trapped in horrible limbo truely die so they can finally know peace"

My edible hit halfway through this post and I fear I have not expressed myself very cogently or even coherently.

Oh well

I am enjoying these books for the record

[kybercrystals94]

Roaring Silence

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 2 | Prompt 2: Solitary Confinement

Rated: G

Words: 180

Summary: Omega faces a test. (Character Focus: Omega)

“I don’t like this test,” Omega says quietly, stopping short of the door, resisting the hand that presses against her back between her shoulder blades.

“Growth is rarely comfortable, Omega,” Nala Se says. “It is only forty-eight standard hours. You will be fine.”

Omega can’t seem to make herself move, staring at the windowless door to the windowless room. She has grown to dread it with a deep seeded fear she cannot quite grasp. Omega stumbles when Nala Se gives her a firm push, but the Kaminoan’s hand moves to grip Omega’s shoulder, keeping her upright.

“What does it do?” Omega asks, stalling. “What does this test prove?”

“That is classified,” Nala Se tells her.

Another push, and the door slides open with an airy swish of movement. Another push, and Omega is standing inside.

“I don’t want to do this,” Omega pleads, spinning around to face the scientist. “Don’t make me do this, please?”

Nala Se blinks. “It will be over soon,” she replies, and the door closes with silent finality.

Omega is left alone with the roaring silence.

END

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Taglist: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424

[welcometoteyvat]

waterborne poetry you will always be famous

[erikahenningsen]

Nobody prepares you for the things that get dropped on your desk when you work in government

[lillianforest22]

Gillion Angsty fic

Whumptober day 3 solitary confinement

Spoilers for jrwi riptide 74 and on you know



[painsandconfusion]

Like Crying Out in Empty Rooms, With No One There Except the Moon

Whumptober Third

[Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”] (tw: murder mention, unrealistic prison, obsession)

[Whumptober Masterpost]

“Hey...Rucker?”

Jade let his head lul against the wall, eyes pointing up to the cement between their cells. “Yea?”

“..you killed someone, right?”

He sighs, closing his book. “That’s kinda what you gotta do to get in here, yeah.” Not proud of it. Not a fan of talking about it. 

The other side was silent for a few seconds. 

Jade raised a brow. “...is that the end of the conversation, orrrr…?”

“..no,” a response finally echoed. “I’m just..just wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“If…you could ever make it stop..?”

Jade blinked a few times, sitting up a little straighter. “Make what stop?”

He could practically feel the tension through the wall as his ‘solitary buddy’ (odd term, he knows) tried to pick their words. “..the….the impulses…obsessions....y’know-?”

Jade was frowning now. Book opening again. “Don’t have those. Just got real mad one time. Don’t ‘xpect it to happen again.” 

“.......oh.”

Jade didn’t respond, just getting back to his reading.

It was hours later that the other -Wilson, was it..?- was taken back to the normal block. The guard opened Jade’s door a few minutes after. “Guy left his book. You want it?”

Aaaaand Jade perked up again. He tossed ‘Alice in Wonderland’ aside. Desperate to read literally anything new. “Yeah definitely, thanks-”

The guard hummed a response and tossed the new book in before locking back up. 

Jade scooped the new book back up, taking a moment to stretch, groaning as blood moved into his apparently-sleeping feet. Pacing the small room as he opened the cover. 

He blinked, eyes catching on ink that was scribbled between each line.

Every line.

Every page.

Every square inch of available space inside the covers and along the margins and even inside the bend of the spine.

Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker Rucker (…)

Thanks @whumptober for hosting this event!

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbowsandwhumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

[little-peril-stories]

Whumptober 2023, Day 3 & 4: Solitary confinement, shock

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Read at your own risk! They're only snippets of a larger story, with no resolution that will be posted online anytime soon; they are being posted out of order; and the characters don't have names. Enjoy!

Contents: blood (barely), guilt, arrested, fear, angst (a lot—what else is new?)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 600 || Approx reading time: 3 mins

Solitary Confinement

Teaser: There was no running, not for him. Not anymore.

"They'll kill me if I'm lucky / They'll torture me if not"

All the scholar could hear was his own rapid, fraying breath.

The panicked rasping.

The frantic gasp of each intake of air as he tried desperately to regain his senses.

Dead. He’s dead.

They’d thrown him inside, heedless of how his sight failed him and his feet stumbled and scrabbled beneath him. Now he lay motionless, tasting blood, pretending that this was all part of his plan. He didn’t move from where he’d fallen.

He’s dead, and I killed him.

He couldn’t move. He barely wanted to. The deed was done; the choice was made.

I’ll distract him, he’d promised.

He’d known what he was sacrificing when he walked into their midst.

Now. Run. Please.

There was no running, not for him. Not anymore.

The room was quiet, but it was distinctly unlike the soothing peace of the library where he had spent so many hours of his life. This—this was an ominous quiet, heavy with dread, slippery with promise. The promise—and memory—of death.

Leave him in there, they’d said, until the prince arrives.

The thud of a body striking rough stone rang in his ears. It was only once he was already prone—still reeling from the impact—that the scholar realized it had been his own weary, grief-stricken bones and his own torn skin scraping against the floor.

Let the prince decide what to do with the bastard.

The scholar’s wrists stung, unused to anything harsher than the silk of his shirtsleeves. He wore metal bands now, heavy and pinching and dark, suppressing what little magic he possessed—the only weapon, truly, he had to wield. Snuffed out, as much a prisoner as he.

Magic he’d used to kill a man.

Dead. The word repeated in his mind. The commander was dead, and soon, the scholar would be, too.

Quiet.

So quiet.

Too quiet.

He loved such stillness, usually—relished it. Most of the time, it meant solitude. Solace. The tender whispers of turning pages, muffled footsteps, and contented sighs.

Today, it meant something else:

Death.

He hadn’t meant to.

But he had.

I chose this.

He’d chosen her.

Soon the prince would arrive to decide his fate. He would know what his old tutor had done. He would pass judgment and, in all likelihood, sentence him to death.

I didn’t mean to.

The scholar had written the end of his own story, or rather, he had tried. He could never have imagined that this was where his life would lead him—to an empty, airless holding room, mere corridors from the dungeon cells that would no doubt become his tomb. And what for?

I did it for her.

If he closed his eyes, he could feel the ghost of her hands in his.

Don’t get hurt, she’d said. A promise he’d known—even as he agreed—he could not keep. He wondered what she would say if she could see him now. If she—more full of fight than he had ever been—would rage and rail to see him prostrate and shaking. Or if, instead, she would merely weep.

Get up, she would urge. Please.

The barest sliver of him wished his cruel, craven mind—soaked with pain and fear and shock and terror—would let him be, that his conscience would simply rest. He almost—almost—wished her voice would just stop.

But if it did, he would be left with the emptiness and silence of the room, and in a sea of fear and foreboding, he would drown.

If it did, the scholar knew, he would never again hear her voice, out loud or in his head, so when death came for him, he would be nothing more than a wretched husk of a man, despised and heartbroken and alone.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[autistic-katara]

these would make banger titles for a 2 part fic

(ignore that the screenshots are from a lyric video on youtube amazon music doesn’t have lyrics for this song)

[badluck990]

Febuwhump Day 2 - Solitary

Previously Ziska had been trying to stay awake as to not give Storm the satisfaction of spraying her to wake her up. And meals would be missed should she be asleep when she graciously showed her head to give Ziska something to eat.

But lately the game has changed. Now, if she saw Storm at all, she would rarely look her way, almost like she'd forgotten she'd existed. She obviously wanted her weakened but what was she planning?

The only idea that came to mind was a bargaining chip, but if she had been keeping track of days right it had been at least two, maybe three weeks. She was becoming scared, even if she really didn’t want to admit it, and certainly refused to show it.

When she eventually and inevitably feel asleep was finally learned the new rules as food had been left in front of her.

So Storm is trying to remain hidden…But again. Why?

While she didn’t want her well rested by any means, Storm did want her disoriented, and that meant playing multiple games at once.

It would take a while to truly break her spirit, but she wasn’t exactly on a time crunch. Not when everyone thought Ziska was dead. Granted it might be smart to move around now and again, but she’d have to give it more thought. Wouldn’t want anyone finding her trail.

For now, the point was just to make her feel more alone, more trapped, than she already was.

To further mess with her head Storm hung a calendar outside Ziska’s cell, while she was asleep she’d mark off as much time as she felt like, a day, three days. Sometimes she’d switch out the calendar with one she hadn’t marked and watched from the camera’s as she gaslit herself. As long as her captive never caught her changing the days all would be good.

Ziska wasn’t sure if she was being drugged or if she was losing it from being alone and lack of food. Which came too irregularly to skip a meal to find out if something had contaminated it. And, despite being forced to stay up for days on end earlier in her imprisonment she still wasn’t good at it, so trying to catch Storm in the act of marking the calendar wasn’t gonna be a possibility either. No, she had been put in a situation where Storm had complete control of everything. Just like when they were friends.

She fell asleep once again to find the calendar not updated and no food left for her, was Storm once again playing by new rules or had she only been out for a few hours? She paced her cell as much as the short chains allowed before laying down and repeating it all the next day, no food, no new marks to the calendar, nothing.

Nothing on the next sleep.

Or the next sleep

Or the next sleep

Had Storm ditched the place together or was she up to something new? She wouldn’t, couldn’t go after Blaze or her Mom on her own. It would be suicide. 

So where was she? Storm had made it a point to make sure Ziska didn’t see her the past few days, and it was going the trick she’d hoped it had, confusion and visible panic. She was greatly enjoying her mortal toy trying to piece together the impossible puzzle she made for her. It was entertaining watching her drive self near mad.

She had spent the days considering the moving thing more, it would be more fuel for the gas fire of manipulation should she try to convince Ziska nothing was different. Maybe even a trip into the daemon realm, it would be risky but assuming Blaze was hunting her, she wouldn’t expect her there. And who knows.

Maybe with a mortal even just a little tamed, someone would finally see her point.

@febuwhump

[frownyalfred]

I think there’s a natural cycle where new Robins see the grandeur and luxury of the Manor and think Bruce is some spoiled orphan hopped up on his own money (they’re not entirely wrong) and then one day at breakfast Bruce will randomly mention an obscure dish he learned in a Thai prison and Alfred will lean over and say “oh yes, I do recall that one - spicy at first!” and then they’ll happily rank various prison foods together (and then the prisons themselves, then solitary confinement, then respective “enhanced interrogation measures”) while Robin is just sitting there trying to finish their oatmeal without their jaw dropping open

[foxesandfriendship]

The difference between movie Adrien and Show Adrien is that Movie Adrien knows what it’s like for his dad to love him like a parent should

And Show Adrien has always had to jump through hoops for his fathers affection

[kingkat12]

you're my drug (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, sexual imagery, foul language, mentions of drugs/tobacco

summary: after you got caught making out with Eric at rehab, everything suddenly spirals into something much deeper

word count: 5,022 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part two of draw you! enjoy!!<3

As I stood in the courtyard, kicking some rocks along during my lap around the premises, I couldn't help but wonder when I would see Eric again. It had been a week since we were caught making out in his room, and I had just gotten out of a two-day solitary confinement— it was definitely a harsher punishment than expected. Then again, I should've known; this place was an absolute shithole. 

The worst part of the ordeal was having to write down my feelings and get another check from the warden, along with questions about whether or not I was a nymphomaniac. Excuse me?

Had Eric gotten a harsher repercussion than me? Maybe he had been moved to a different rehabilitation center? I didn't want to think about it. Again, I shouldn't be worrying about a stranger I barely knew. It was a little reckless of me to care for someone who had drawn me naked— now that I wasn't in a state of arousal, it dawned on me how creepy that actually was.

But then again... I had been the one to jump him. That was on me. Had I not offered up, I wouldn't feel so attached to him. 

... Maybe I was a nymphomaniac? Fuck.

So when I eventually lost track of where I had kicked my stone, I started looking for new ones. And it was during my hunt for entertainment that I eventually spotted a familiar tall figure entering the courtyard. 

Eric's cheeks were more hollow than the last time I had seen him, and I couldn't help the guilt that immediately seeped into my system. He seemed much darker than I remembered, the green in his eyes no longer having that playful shimmer I could spot from far away. However, when he spotted me on his way through the courtyard with a guard by his side, something changed in Eric. The flush in his cheeks returned, his eyes widened, and I could see the faint remnants of the smile that had etched itself into my mind for nights on end. But when he met my gaze, he looked away in a flash-- was he afraid we'd be caught staring at each other again?

I couldn't even control the way I immediately jumped into action as the guards left Eric's side, and I made my way to him with a confident stride. "Well, if it isn't Michelangelo?" I said, approaching with a smile. Seeing him in the flesh again made the tips of my fingers tingle, a certain excitement building in my system. "Where have you been? Did they put you in confinement too?"

But the smile I had seen in him earlier wasn't there anymore-- he turned to me, face blank. Eric blinked twice, watching me as though he didn't know why I was talking to him at all, his nose scrunching up. 

My pulse quickened as my anxiety rose; what was happening? 

"We shouldn't be talking," Eric eventually mumbled, looking away. His green eyes darted towards the guards on duty, wary of their movements. It didn't take long before he started walking away from me, which in turn left me stunned. 

I wondered whether I had said something wrong as I watched him join a few guys that were working out, and I had to take a deep breath to ground myself.  Everything about this made me feel like a complete and utter idiot-- I turned away from Eric, rubbing my temples as I made my way back inside. This was giving me a bigger headache than the ones I would get after coming down from a high.

This definitely felt similar to that; the crushing feeling. Having Eric dismiss me like that after what we had done felt more painful than usual, now that I couldn't dull down my feelings with anything. 

I walked back into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Everything about this made my whole body ache, and I couldn't understand why I even cared to this degree. 

Had I been so delusional as to think Eric felt something for me too?

Later that night, I didn't care to come out for the last meal. Something told me I'd be staring at Eric again and that he'd dismiss me once more, and I didn't know if I could take it. I hadn't missed drugs as much as now-- everything about this situation reminded me of how I ended up here in the first place.

As I lay in my bed, hoping to fall asleep and wake up a new woman, I was dragged out of my sleepy state when I heard a light shuffling sound coming from my door. I sat up, rubbing my eyes before my gaze slowly darted towards the commotion. 

There it was. A note?

I went to pick it up, feeling my heart thump hard in my chest in anticipation. The paper was familiar, like rough velvet to my fingers, and the same size as a page from a notebook. The smile that crept up my lips was impossible to suppress-- I turned the paper to see a new drawing of me, made in the same scratchy style as the previous ones I had seen. 

It was an image of me laying in a bed, my eyes hidden in the crook of my arm, lips parted as though I was drawing in a big breath. The pink jumper I was pictured in was a lot bigger than mine; I suspected it was supposed to be Eric's. From the waist down, I was wearing nothing but a black pair of underwear, my legs dangling halfway off the bed. 

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my chest rise as my heart skipped a beat-- it was beautiful. Completely breathtaking. And in the corner to the upper right, there was a scribbled message with boyish writing that was hard to understand;

messy mornings. let's have those someday? xx

My smile only spread, and I let out a shaky breath of relief as I leaned my forehead against my door, pressing the drawing tightly against my chest. The joy that coursed through my veins reminded me of the same euphoric feeling I'd get from doing a certain type of drug-- I wasn't sure whether it was good for me or not to be feeling these things, but I knew I was addicted already. 

Was Eric maybe addicted to me as well? Was the incident in the courtyard just something he did in front of the guards, straying away from trouble?

I couldn't be sure. Nonetheless, I had gotten confirmation that he definitely thought about me too, and that was all I needed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I could swear it was the same as getting high-- seeing Eric, I mean. It was especially exhilarating knowing he was right in front of me, but that I couldn't say a word to him. 

We were currently in a typical meeting, a group of people sitting in a circle trying to work through why they had started drinking or using. I hated these gatherings the most; I wasn't the biggest fan of airing out my life to strangers. 

But today was different. Eric had joined my group, even though his meeting usually took place later in the evening. I felt the air seep out of my lungs the second I spotted him in the door, watching him with eyes wider than expensive plates of china as he sat down on the chair opposite me in the circle, locking his gaze on me. 

And there he sat, in a casual manspread as he twiddled his thumbs, waiting his turn. His dark mullet had grown out a little, the hair on his forehead inching closer to his eyes with each week he was here. It was easy to get lost when I stared at him for too long, hypnotized by his tall build and his green, green eyes darting right back at me. The smirk playing across his lips mirrored mine, both of us feeling the tension thicken between us despite knowing our minds should be elsewhere at this moment.

I had gotten so swept up with Eric that I nearly jumped out of my chair when my name was called. My eyes frantically ripped themselves off of him, finding the guidance counselor with a confused look. What question was I supposed to answer? 

The counselor cleared her throat; "How are you planning to change your habits once you get out of rehabilitation?"

Oh. I had no idea. Flustered, I ended up shrugging, avoiding Eric's amused gaze. "I think... I might have to work on my impulses. So I guess I will try to make sure I don't give in to bad habits by..." I realized I was completely lost, and it made my cheeks flush. "By doing, uh... Doing breathing exercises?"

My eyes snapped toward the sound that came from the other end of the room-- I watched as Eric clasped a hand over his mouth, head hanging low to hide his blatant amusement. Was that a snort I heard? I had to actively bite back a smile from forming, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip with a force I had never used before.

The counselor cleared her throat, clearly unhappy with the direction this was heading. "Yes, Eric? Do you have anything to say?"

His green eyes darted up from his lap, and it was obvious that he was biting down on the inside of his cheek. Eric crossed his arms over his chest, nodding to himself as though he was thinking. "Well, if you're asking me the same question, I think I plan to surround myself with people I love. I think that's where it went wrong the last time," 

I held my breath-- I hadn't expected him to say that. And I had most certainly not expected Eric's eyes to find me immediately after, realizing his pupils had widened the second they landed on me. 

I didn't try to suppress my smile this time. I let it happen, watching as Eric smiled right back with a shimmer in his eyes. 

Something told me I was actually going to get something good out of group therapy.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... It dawned on me a few days later that I didn't have much time left in rehab. It also happened to dawn on me at the exact moment another drawing slipped under my door, right around the time I was ready to go to bed. 

It was probably the fifth one this week, and I had laid them out neatly on my nightstand. Every image was as beautiful as the last one-- two of me in bed, one of me out in the courtyard again, and one of me during a group session falling asleep on Eric's shoulder. It warmed my heart to think that he had thought about that imagery when we had sat opposite each other a few days ago. Actually, everything about this warmed my heart.

However, today's drawing caught me off-guard. Today, it was a nude one-- deja vu. My eyes locked on the image of me in what looked like Eric's room, gripping his hair as his head was dipped between my legs. One hand was clasped over my chest, and the other one was digging its fingers into my thigh, holding me down. Everything about it made my heart stop, letting out a laboured breath at the sight. 

As always, there was a small message in the upper right corner;

in an alternative universe, there wouldn't be guards outside and there would be no stopping us.  can't wait to taste you xx

My hands gripped the paper, almost to the verge of curling it. It felt as though my body was actively on fire, a need ripping its way through my chest. And it was this exact feeling that had me rushing to put the drawing away before bolting out my door, knowing Eric couldn't have gone too far. 

Thankfully, I had been right. I spotted Eric further down the hall, towering over the people passing him. It was impossible not to notice the tattoos poking up from under his pink jumper, and something about it made my heart race even faster-- I so desperately wanted to see everything. Feel him beneath the pads of my fingertips. 

And I burned. Burned, burned, burned up. And I kept on burning as I sped down the hallway, hearing the loud clacking of my shoes echo through the space along with the thumping of my heart. "Eric!"

Hearing his name, Eric turned around, eyes wide in surprise. "Hey, you," he murmured, brows knitting together as though he was about to scold me. "Thought you were sleeping?"

I finally caught up to him, quickly scanning our surroundings, realizing we were alone. 

"... Are you here to return the drawing?" Eric asked, tilting his head to the side as he scanned the look on my face. A nervous smile spread across his lips, and he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck as his eyes flickered around the hallway. "Might've been a little much, sure, but you didn't seem to mind it the last time?--"

His words trailed off as the small hand tugging at his jumper caught his attention. Eric's eyes rounded out, immediately understanding what I was getting at. When he leaned down, I let out a shaky breath before I flung my arms around his neck, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

I had hoped it would satiate the burn ravaging my body, but it didn't. As Eric's big arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him, the fire only spread. My hands barely had time to go up into his hair, tugging softly at his dark locks, before he pulled away with an airy chuckle. "You'll get us in trouble again,"

That's true-- "Fuck," was the only thing I managed to say. 

Humming, Eric glanced down the hall before pulling my hand into his, intertwining our fingers as he led me away. I was glad it was almost time for bed, seeing as there were barely any people out in the hallway and the guards were relaxing outside on their cigarette break. A familiar dulling of my brain seeped into my system as I remembered the smell of their cigarettes gliding into my room from outside-- I missed nicotine. But Eric was better than any cigarettes. Better than anything I had ever taken before. No high could match the one I would get from locking eyes with him, getting a drawing under my door, or the feeling currently coursing through my veins as he led me into a desolate stairwell. "This will do for now," he muttered, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I'll make sure to bring you somewhere nice when we're both out of here."

As my back hit the wall, I couldn't suppress my growing smirk as Eric neared me. The last time we had stood like this, had been right before he left my room after we made out. Seeing how tall he was, casting a shadow as he towered over me, I let out a sigh of joy; I had missed this. I had missed him. There was nothing that could make me happier than being alone with him. "I'm getting out of here soon, actually,"

Eric hummed as he placed his hand against the wall next to my head, his green eyes locking with mine. I wasn't too afraid to show my burning state-- he watched my lips part as I stared up at him, and I watched his jaw clench as he tried to digest the look in my eyes.

Sex. I was giving him those bedroom eyes that always worked on every guy I had ever been with. My eyes got all glassy, my thick lashes hanging low. I was quite sure I would let him fuck me right here if he wanted to-- I was past the point of caring who caught us. 

"Soon, you say? How soon?" Eric asked, leaning down to press two separate kisses against the corners of my mouth. 

I had to control the way my breath hitched before I answered; "A week and a half,"

Nodding, Eric's fingers brushed against my lips, pressing into the skin as he watched my expression with a heated one of his own. His thumb dipped past my lips, brushing against the tip of my tongue. "I'm out in three," 

I smiled before wrapping my mouth softly around his thumb, watching a breath escape him as his green eyes locked on the sight. Eric leaned down to kiss my cheek, watching as they flushed when he pulled his finger out of my mouth. "Where can I find you when we're out?"

"You seriously think I would leave this place without giving you my address?"

"Okay, good," Eric chuckled, his eyes rounding out with a newfound softness. "Because I think I'll need you out there more than I need you now."

What? I swallowed, biting down on my lower lip. Did he reciprocate the way I was feeling these things? I wondered whether he also felt the pit of fire in his stomach, whether he couldn't breathe whenever I wasn't around, and whether thoughts of me also wreaked havoc through his mind in every waking moment. 

Eric's eyes lowered, taking in my stunned silence. "Honestly, I thought this was purely a lust thing, but... I've come to realize it's not just that. The one thing rehab has taught me, is that I need to break my habits, so here I am. Not running,"

I hadn't smiled this brightly in years. "Eric?"

A hum.

"I feel the same way," I reached out for his face, glad he had bent down a little to make it possible. "I'm quite sure I've gone mad, but standing with you here feels better than any drugs I've ever taken. And quite frankly, that drawing... Fuck, that was quite something." A breathy giggle escaped me, watching as Eric met my gaze with a smirk playing across his plush, pink lips. "That shit was hot. You're so fucking talented, do you know that?"

Eric freed his lower lip from his teeth, inching closer to gently nudge his nose against me. "Nope, I definitely don't know that. Completely oblivious. Which is why I need you around to tell me that, once in a while,"

"I'll tell you every day, if you want," I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of our closeness. 

"Good," Eric whispered against my lips, his hands now grabbing at my waist, pressing himself closer to me. "And I'll eat you out every day. Deal?"

I was quite sure I was going to faint. Remember the drawing, I couldn't wait for our time to come. "Sounds like better therapy than anything they've done for me here,"

"Definitely," 

I smiled, giving his dark hair a tug, pulling Eric against me to connect our lips in a passionate kiss. 

How we had gone from staring at each other to this, I had no idea. How it became this enormous feeling burning through my body, I couldn't guess the answer. But the one thing I knew, was that it felt right-- being with Eric like this felt right. Correct. Perfect. 

As our kisses grew with hunger, resembling that one evening on Eric's bed, my body began to grow flushed as his hands dipped beneath my pink jumper, traveling up my torso with a fiery need to be close. "Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling away, panting just slightly.

I nodded, unable to wipe the grin off my face as my sweater got discarded somewhere on the floor, licking my lips out of pure habit. Eric was quick to dip his head forward, swiping his own tongue along mine. My back arched off the wall in surprise, the movement against his body earning me a small groan. This was how I realized he was hard-- I had to suppress another hitch of my breath.

"Shit, I want to take it all off," Eric whispered against my lips. "Everything. Feel all of you." He pressed his lips against my chin, moving his way down my throat and to my neck. I could feel the cool air hitting my back as he lifted my shirt off as well-- my nipples hardened at his attention, his hands gripping my breasts through my bra, squeezing them. 

I whimpered against his touch, writhing in anticipation. I had no idea what he had planned for me, if we were going to go all the way or not; I could already feel my excitement pool between my legs, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The arousal had been in my system since the second I saw today's drawing, and I let it out by tugging at his dark hair once more, hoping for him to come back up. "Eric, kiss me-- Wanna feel you too," 

I watched Eric's eyes light up as he pulled away and met mine. And he complied, capturing my lips in a needy kiss, his big hands gripping at my hips and digging into my skin through my trousers. Realizing I was the only one with my shirt off, my hands dipped under his, hoping he'd get the memo as I tugged at the hem of his pink sweater. 

Eric's lips barely left mine as he discarded his sweater elsewhere, satisfaction coursing through my veins as our chests pressed up against each other, our hearts beating at the other through our skin. I had desperately wanted to see his tattoos, drink in the sight of the art scattered across his body, but it hit me that we didn't have time-- we didn't know when we'd be caught. I figured I'd leave it to the time we'd be out of rehab, when we'd have time for messy mornings every day, and when we had time to be buried in each other completely. 

"I don't know if I can wait three weeks," I breathed in between hungry kisses, my hands running up and down his toned torso. 

Eric hummed against my lips; "Me neither," 

And with that, it didn't take long before his slender fingers dipped down into my underwear, making my breath hitch at the realization of what was happening. "Been dreaming about this for weeks," Eric whispered, one of his hands disappearing in my hair to hold me in place, making sure my eyes met his as he rubbed tight circles around my clit. "You're all I ever think about."

My mouth was open against his, small gasps escaping past my lips, bucking into his hand as he sped up his movements around my clit. "I'm so crazy about you," I whimpered, watching the green of his eyes swallow me whole with adoration and lust. My mind still hadn't completely registered that this was happening, especially not under the blue lights of the stairwell. "You're better than drugs, I swear."

Eric chuckled against my lips, watching me moan against him as he patted the pad of his finger against the slick of my core. "Better than drugs, you say?"

"Much better," My words were barely coming out properly, and any continuation of that sentence was stopped the second Eric pressed a finger into me. My breath hitched-- fuck. 

He hummed, a sweet smile splayed across his lips; "You're my drug," 

It was almost too much-- I bucked against his hand once more, squirming in his grip as the flame spread through my body. I really couldn't remember the last time I had been this happy or aroused. I let out a breathy moan as he pumped his finger into me, the squelching sound of my wetness drawing forth a blush in my cheeks.

"I'd take my time with you," Eric whispered, capturing my lips in a short kiss before continuing; "But we don't have a lot of time. Forgive me if we make this quick."

I could barely nod, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt his thumb back against my clit, his middle finger curling inside of me. It was obvious that he had done this before. 

My mind was already mush by the time Eric slid his finger out of me, turning me around and peppering my shoulder with wet kisses. It didn't take long before he leaned down to tug my pants down to my knees, fingers eager. I wasn't sure how to explain the burning need that was currently clawing at me, but I knew it was all-consuming. Eric had consumed me-- I knew I was his and only his.

So when I felt his big, strong hands grip my hips, pushing me towards him to allow for an easier entrance, I could only moan out in complete and utter satisfaction as I felt his cock sink into me. Eric let out a breathy grunt, now snaking both hands around my body, burying himself to the hilt with the slowest stroke known to man. "Fuck," was all he managed to say, hissing slightly against my shoulder before sucking down on a spot, wanting to leave behind a mark.

I couldn't believe the strange places my mind went to-- why was I contemplating getting that hickey tattooed? I wouldn't need it anyway, if Eric kept his promise and stayed with me after we both got out. There was nothing I wanted more in the whole wide world.

All my concerns flew out the window as Eric gripped my waist for leverage as he continued to thrust into me, leaving me with my mouth open against the wall. My body was aching with pleasure unmatched anything I had ever felt before, and I knew that the difference between this time and all my other escapades was how much I had craved Eric-- and how much I knew he craved me.

My breath hitched as he nipped at my jaw, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. "Wanted this... so, so long..." Eric let out a grunt as his hands went down to my hips again, pulling away from my neck to watch his cock pump into my dripping core. I was quite sure it was glistening with my slick by the sounds of it. "Wanted this-- Wanted you."

"Me too," I cried, resting my hands against the wall, meeting his thrusts. "Every night, all the time..."

"All the time," he echoed. "Forever."

My breath hitched at both his words and the way one of his hands left my hip, ghosting over my stomach. I knew exactly where it was heading, and I had to bite back a rather loud moan as Eric dipped his hand down between my legs. Eric spread his fingers, covering my whole cunt, feeling the sides of his own cock rut into me. It didn't take long before his whole hand was practically covered in my slick, and I was quite sure I heard a drop hit the floor. Everything about it made me shiver.

Like this, I was practically pushed to rut against the palm of his hand, the pressure against my clit making me gasp-- I knew I wouldn't last long like this. Perfect.

By the sounds of it, Eric wouldn't either. He let a breathy moan escape his lips before he let go of my hips, reaching up to grab my chin, tilting it to the side so that he could kiss me. I let out a soft cry against his lips, feeling my walls clamp down around his thick cock. Feeling beyond full, I reached around to grab his dark hair, feeling his locks between my fingers as a familiar tightening in my stomach appeared. 

"You're the only one I've ever wanted this badly," Eric murmured against my lips, his thrusts becoming rushed and erratic, clearly holding back his high. "Be mine-- Fuck, be mine?"

If I hadn't been this close to my high, I would've cried. "All yours, Eric, all yours... A-Aah!--" My walls clamped around him as I was driven against the palm of his hand once more, driving me over the edge, coming harder than I probably ever had before.

Eric took this as a green light-- It didn't take long before he let out a grunt against my shoulder, gently biting down as ropes of cum decorated my walls, his thick cock twitching with its release inside of me. 

Our pants filled the stairway, and I was quite sure my legs would give out as he pulled out of me with a wet pop, tucking himself back into his trousers. I could only smile, leaning against the wall as I let out a sigh of relief. I was so incredibly glad we managed to do all of this before getting caught-- I was sure I wouldn't have been able to wait until we were both out. The burning in my body subsided, the ache turning into an all-consuming feeling of joy. 

I turned to Eric with a soft smile spread across my lips, trying to steady my breathing. He was especially beautiful now-- kiss-swollen lips really suited him. 

He returned my smile, leaning forward to capture my lips in a soft, gentle kiss. My hands reached out for him, cupping his face as my thumbs caressed his cheeks. It was such an exhilarating feeling to be adored like this, and I wasn't sure I would ever experience it until now. Meeting Eric felt like seeing a lunar rainbow-- exceptionally rare.

However, Eric's sweet smile suddenly turned back into his usual mischievous smirk. Before I could even say a word, he had dropped down to his knees, leaning forward to wrap his lips around my aching sex, covering my whole mound as he sucked at me.

I could barely breathe as I realized what he was doing-- was he sucking his own cum out of me? This was new. And weirdly pleasurable. I let out a wanton moan, gripping his hair in the exact same way I did in Eric's drawing. I could only whimper as his tongue darted out, drawing a circle around my overstimulated clit-- instinctively, my hips bucked against his mouth. Something about this felt weirdly full-circle. "Eric, wait!-- Shit,"

He hummed, looking up at me with those green eyes I loved so much. "Will you kill me if I draw this?"

I could only sigh-- bliss. 

(a/n: PART 1, PART 3 linked here!! enjoy<33)