#there is a LOT to cover next season for will

[thewickedbohemian]

there it is, the connection between the themes of the first two Librarians seasons, the Arthurian stories are real the way they are in the The Librarians universe because the same process that makes Fictionals did its work on history "enhancing" whatever the truth was because of the stories making them a bootstrap paradox where the history literally became (and not just in our perception) the way the stories show it because of the stories

If the show was still going (I don't know what topics previously addressed The Next Chapter will cover) and accepted specs I would have written something connected to some other public domain after-the-fact-addition (like the Dark Young of Shub-Niggurath or something) to not only imply that that being a case of the whole Fictional-belief-being-strong-enough-to-retcon-history/mythology would mean that's true for Arthuriana but also that (without taking away the show or the actors as this doesn't make the stories go away, perhaps it'd make it some kind of Wormhole X-Treme situation) The Librarians could bootstrap itself into becoming based-on-a-true-story in our reality by way of its own magic system.

Hey, The Librarians does apparently have Doctor Who as somehow both fictional and real in its universe and this latest era of Doctor Who does deal a lot with metafictional stuff as much as it can without making itself true in our universe

Finding out that Lancelot was apparently the invention of a french writer is absolutely hysterical to me. 12th century french poet sitting around reading arthurian romances and thinking "yeah these stories are pretty good but I think what they really need is a french guy who shows up and fucks arthurs wife"

[vampiricstoryteller]

Sleep With Me

Hey y’all 👋🏾 happy Friday, I’ve got a cute fluffy richette fic tonight. I hope you all enjoy 😊

Annette isnt having the best day. Luckily, Richter is always at her side; ready to protect and comfort her.

Read on A03 here

All mistakes are my own

Warnings: none

It’d been a particularly trying day.

To start, Annette hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, her nightmares of monsters with no faces pulling her deep into the earth and beyond, kept her from finding more than 20 minutes or so of rest at a time. Then, she’d ripped one of her favorite shirts in her exhaustion haze of trying to get dressed and nearly broken her toes on the damned leg post of the bed she got no sleep in.

When she and Richter had gone to gather the last berries of the season in the late morning; the sun felt nice against her tired face and Richter made her laugh even more than usual. So of course after Annette has filled not only her basket but her emergency previsions pouch, they were promptly attacked by night creatures.

The small meadow exploded in chaos as the creatures drive them deeper into the woods. Annette immediately starts taking out the wings of the ones that could fly while Richter skinned a snake like creature and decapitated a nine foot tall beast of an experiment. The monster flails, its tree trunk arms sweeping the area as its body gave one last great huff.

Annette sees it coming but the heel of her boot twists the wrong way in a puddle of blood and the large boulder like fist knocks her ribs just slightly. It hurts a lot but her wind is only gone for a moment so she’s quick to brush off Richter’s worry that she’s more than just bruised.

There wasn’t even time for him to try and argue with her about it because the rain showed up. Dark, ominous clouds roll in from the east and faster than they can run for cover, the rain begins to come down in icy sheets.

For hours the sky pissed down, soaking Annette and Richter to the bone as they trudged along an abandoned mud slicked road. She slips multiple times, her boots becoming water logged and the sticky mud desperate to eat the worn leather straight from her feet. Richter’s always there, hands on her shoulders or gripping her biceps to haul her up before she flops into the mess; it’s not lost on her that he purposefully avoids gripping her waist and further hurting her ribs.

Annette’s eternally grateful that he’s at her side.

When they come across an empty but sturdy barn, Annette has to bite the inside of her cheek hard to keep from bursting into tears of relief when Richter starts a small fire in a temporary pit he’d been able to build and the feeling in her fingertips starts to return.

They find blankets, clearly once used to keep horses warm, and arrange them in a sort of makeshift bed pallet. Annette takes off her shoes, socks and pants; lying them on a bale of hay next to her. Her shirt is still wet but she doesn’t care to sit in only her undergarments with just blankets between her and someone she found herself rapidly growing feelings for.

She watches the downpour from one of the windows, lightning streaking across the sky and thunder rumbling so hard it rattled her chest. Annette shivers each time, quietly elated when Richter scoots closer to her. He’s taken off his shirt, shoes and socks; his pants rolled up to his knees and a blanket draped over his shoulders.

“Are you alright? You’ve been rather quiet today.” He comments softly as if worried his voice could send her running.

Annette sighs heavily, wincing when her ribcage burns in agony. Richter turns his whole body towards her, face pinched in concern as his eyes sweep over her.

“I knew it got you more than you were letting on.” Richter reaches for her, hesitating when his fingers are inches from her own. “Do you think they’re broken?”

She shakes her head. “Cracked maybe, but not broken.”

Richter curses through his teeth, he looks around the barn for a moment before getting to his feet and padding across the floor. From her place next to the fire Annette can’t see what he’s doing so she returns her gaze to the dancing flames; leaning closer so the heat can seep into her hair.

When Richter returns, he’s holding out a dusty but relatively clean long winter coat. Annette frowns, looking up at him.

“Where did that come from?”

Richter tilts his head back towards the corner he just left. “Whoever used to live here very clearly spent a lot of time with horses. There’s two trunks full of riding gear, this was in one.”

She takes it, the fabric thick between her fingers. “You’re sure you don’t want to wear it?”

Richter shakes his head, sitting next to her again. “I’ll be alright, you should get out of your wet shirt, give your ribs some stability with the coat.”

He covers his eyes with one hand, a playful smile on is lips. “I won’t look, I promise.”

Annette chuckles softly, sitting up straighter and trying to breathe slow.

“I’m trusting you.” She mumbled, fingers already working to unbutton her shirt and pull away the sash around her middle.

It takes a few minutes, now that she’s stationary the aches of her body have come flooding in and render even the smallest of movements immensely painful. Richter, to his credit, keeps his eyes covered but asks her a steady stream of questions.

“Are any of your ribs sticking out?”

“No, they’re all still in their assigned placement.” Annette lays her shirt out on the hay bale, hissing at the jolts of pain that spike through her when she tries to twist her torso.

“Do you feel any cracks in them?”

“I’d really rather not touch them right now.” She slips both arms into the sleeves of the coat and bites her lip almost to the point of cutting the skin as she shrugs the coat up over her shoulders.

“Is it bruising already?”

“Yes, the skins already turning black and purple.”

Annette folds the coat closed over her body, sighing gently at the warmth that immediately surrounds her torso. The wisps of ice cold pain are ever present, dancing along the middle of her ribs like the lightning in the sky but at least she’s dry now.

She looks towards Richter who still sits with his eyes closed though now his hands are clasped patiently in his lap. She stares at him for a bit, eyes following the pink tip of his tongue when he wets his lips. Her gaze lowers even more and she maps out the thick curves of his muscular frame underneath the blanket.

He is so strong.

In different ways, and all the same at once.

Annette finds it hard to accurately describe just how strong he is. Usually, someone like him, a white man, being this physically strong around her would put her on edge. She’d always be on guard, ready to defend herself when they ultimately turned that strength on her. It’d happen more than once, she always expected it to happen again.

Until she met Richter Belmont.

Richter turned every thought Annette initially had about him on its head. He wasn’t useless and cowardly, he was thoughtful and brave; he’d been consistently keeping his word since apologizing to her. He protected her, he fought along side her, he found solutions to even the most insignificant of her problems. He closed his eyes when she took off her shirt even though she’d been catching staring at her like he wanted to eat her for weeks—

Heat catches on Annette’s cheeks and she clears her throat,

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

He blinks blearily, the brightness of his eyes catching Annette’s breath in the back of her mouth. He smiles at her as his gaze comes into focus,

“Better?”

His eyes stay on her face and Annette chews on her lip as she nods.

“Much better, thank you Richter.”

He nods, flopping back into their blanket bed and staring up at the barn ceiling.

They’re silent for several minutes, the sound of the rain filling the barn with a soothing tone.

Annette stares in the fire, tilting her head down a bit so that the heat can reach her locs.

She startles a bit when Richter suddenly say, “Don’t know what we’ll do about food, I lost my berries back there in the meadow, suppose we just have to wait for the rain to stop.”

Annette shakes her head, reaching across him towards her pants stretched out on the hay bale. Her ribs protest, painfully and her face pinches tightly as she hisses.

“Hey, don’t push yourself.” Richter says, one hand coming up to press against her side while the other grabs at her clothes on the bale. “What do you need?”

Annette sucks in a sharp breath at the near immediate relief she feels when Richter’s hand takes away most of the pressure and the throbbing turns to a dull ache.

“Th-there’s berries in m-my pouch.” She mumbles out, trying to find a different way of breathing. “Under my pants, I think.”

Richter nods, shifting a bit into a crunch to look through the pile of clothing, “okay, I’ll get it, you stay still.”

He finds the tiny bag with ease, setting it to the side as he looks back towards Annette and she can see that he’s thinking seriously about something.

“Richter…”

He shakes his head, sitting up slowly. “Here, put pressure for a second. Let me rearrange some stuff.”

Annette switched out his hand for her own, wincing hard at how her slim fingers do nothing to help and the sharp grinding pain of not being able to breathe returns to her.

Richter sits up, twisting his torso and arranging a blanket to drape over a hay bale. He scoots himself back against the blanket, brushing away the stray hay that flutters down into his lap.

“Okay, I can hold your ribs but it would probably be easier if you—“

Annette sees where Richter’s going with his rearrangement and she misses breathing too much to be embarrassed about the suggestion or the fact she agrees with him. Pushing up onto her knees, Annette holds her breath as she crawls gingerly into his lap.

She tries to turn without twisting, which in and of itself is hell, and not fall completely on him. It sort of works, she at least is able to situate in his lap and tuck her legs but her breaths have begun to roll out in short bursts that she can barely contain.

Richter shuffles to adjust with her, dragging one of the several found horse blankets onto her lap. Annette tastes blood on her tongue and unclenches her jaw, when she sucks in a breath the air stings her bottom lip and she knows she’s split it with her teeth. She wants to be annoyed but Richter’s hand finds her side again, cradling her ribs while the other rests on her hip like an anchor; keeping her pressed to him. The pain resides a bit and she can breathe through her nose, no where near a full breath but better than the short gasps she’d been reduced to.

Annette relaxes against Richter completely, her head resting on his collarbone. His already hot skin heats up even more and Annette knows he’s blushing.

“I-I can move, if this is uncomfortable.” She mumbles though her body hums in protest at the very idea. “Am I too much?”

“No!” Richter squeezes her hip, effectively locking her in place. “I just didn’t expect—you’re not heavy at all—this, this is good.”

Annette tries to chuckle, she turns her face into his chest and her lips brush against his skin when she replies softly, “Good, cause I’m comfortable.”

Richter lets out a slow breath, his voice low and serious as he says. “Me too.”

They sit huddled together for a long time, Richter’s need for food seemingly forgotten and Annette unwilling to bring it up just yet for fear he’ll move his hands. She tries not to think about it often but his hands are huge and the way one of them can cover a vast amount of her body makes her head spin with less than appropriate thoughts.

Richter is simply just so much more, physically, than she is. He towers over her, his biceps the size of her head and his thighs as thick as tree trunks. It’s nearly imposing how just how massive he is compared to her.

She’d originally found having to constantly tilt her head back to look into his eyes very aggravating, but now her throat always ran dry whenever he stepped close to speak with her and she would practically bare the column to him; subconsciously baiting him.

Annette shivers, above her Richter presses his cheek to the top of her head and sighs deeply.

“I’m sorry you got hurt, Annette.” His dejected tone pulls her from her inner musings. “I shouldn’t have fallen that stupid creature without making sure you were out of the way first.”

Annette pats his chest, her fingers lingering on the soft skin of his pec.

“It’s not your fault Richter.” She says softly. “Things go wrong sometimes. It’s not the first time I’ve cracked some ribs.”

“It’s definitely the last time if I can help it.” He grumbles, she can feel his thumb on her hip stroking along the coat.

Annette hides a smile against his skin and lets out a slow breath. And in turn, Richter shivers.

“Sorry,” she whispers, attempting to at least pull her head back and hold its own weight. Richter’s hand on her hip comes up, fingers weaving between her locs as he gently guided her head back to where it’d just been on his chest.

Richter shakes his head, “It’s alright, you shouldn’t move too much. Your body needs a break.”

He’s right, and she is comfortable here in his lap, completely pressed against him and trying to soak up as much body heat as he’s willing to give; which is a lot apparently.

“You should eat some berries.” She murmurs. “I know you’re still hungry.”

Between them, his stomach rumbles like it’s confirming itself that she’s correct. Annette grins into his collarbone as Richter clears his throat in embarrassment.

“Gee, how did you know?” He mutters and Annette can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of her.

It hurts but she loves when Richter makes her laugh. Being able to laugh so openly with him is such a freeing feeling, Annette hopes to spend many years getting to giggle with and at him.

“Here, I can hold the bag while you eat.” She says carefully and slowly.

Blindly she reaches down, her fingers searching the ocean of blankets they’ve made. She finds the small purse before Richter can protest her movement and pops the snap with her thumb.

“Annette,” He grips her hip, the hand on her ribs still the exact amount of gentle steadiness her ribs need.

“Shush,” She scolds, she jiggles the pouch and is pleased to find it’s still more than half full. “Eat, don’t make me force feed you.”

Richter laughs, resigning himself with a sigh and the hand on her hip eventually lifts to the opening. He plucks out a few of them, purple juice staining his fingers immediately.

Annette averts her gaze back to the fire, letting her lip run across the split in her bottom lip and trying to focus on the sting there and not the way Richter’s tongue is being painted by the fruit he’s eating.

She’s thought often about what his lips and tongue must taste like, how they would feel against her own and now she wonders even more what Richter plus blackberries tastes like together. It’s probably the sweetest, most divine taste in the entire world.

“Annette?”

She looks up, meeting Richter’s curious gaze.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his blue eyes searching her face.

Her eyes flicker to his mouth, which is indeed stained with purple from the berries.

Annette bites her lip, her gaze coming up just in time to see Richter’s snap down her lips. A blush burns at his cheeks and Annette makes a split decision.

She reaches up slowly, ignoring the sharp stitches of pain and cups his face, her fingers pressing into the space behind his ear. They meet eyes again and Annette tugs him down towards her. She holds her breath, this will definitely hurt but the pain will be worth it.

Richter moves willingly, meeting her halfway even though there’s not much distance between their faces in the first place. Their lips connect fully, the juice of the blackberries wetting the kiss for them and Annette’s tongue escapes her mouth to lick at his before she even really thinks about it

He groans, deep and low in his chest; opening his mouth to her and Annette takes the offering.

The taste of Richter warms Annette from the inside out. He is rich, like pure honey straight from the comb itself; spreading over her tongue and sliding down her throat as she drinks him in.

The hand he’s been using to eat the berries comes up to hold the back of her neck, in the back of her mind Annette is impressed that he knows not to touch her hair with his sticky fingers, and Richter breaks the kiss to trail soft ones along her jawline and neck.

His lips on her skin make her head spin, but despite his hand still firmly in place at her side, she can’t ignore the roaring hot white stabs of pain raiding from her ribs anymore.

Annette pushes on his chest, hissing like a wounded snake.

“Richter…” she breathes out, trying not to suck in a large amount of air.

“Am I hurting you?” He asks sitting back and pulling his hand away from her, his blue eyes wide with instant concern. “Shit. I’m sorry Annette.”

She jumps, her ribs expanding involuntarily and tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Her hands scramble for his, yanking it back towards her torso as she stammers out,

“O-Ow, you can’t just let go—f-fucking ow, Richter!”

He curses under his breath, the two of them fumbling to find the position they’d lulled themselves into earlier.

“Sorry, sorry!” Richter mumbles after they’ve settled again.

His hands supporting her from the side and on her back now, his muscles locked in a makeshift brace around her. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

Annette shakes her head, patting his chest as she whispers, “No, it was me. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I can barely breathe, which one needs to be able to do to kiss correctly.”

Richter buries his nose in her locs, “don’t apologize, it—I liked the kissing part.”

“Me too.” She chuckles, her body slowly relaxing against him once more. “Just should probably wait a few days before we do it again.”

“You’re right.” He mutters. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Annette nods, “Yes.” She closes her eyes and basks in the warmth of being surrounded by him, the feeling of his lips on hers still tingling at her skin.

“You should rest.” He turns his head at bit towards the wall where the window is. “It’s still raining we’ve got time to sleep.”

Her body slumps into him even more. Sleep has never sounded so good. She feels his lips brush across her forehead and she rests her hand over his heart, the steady thump underneath her calm soothing.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

As she drifts towards unconsciousness, Annette carries the feeling of Richter’s protection all the way into her dreams.

The End

I hope everyone enjoyed! Thanks so much fue reading y’all! Let me know what you think!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Middle Man: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: You're called to Indiana where a woman goes missing. Maybe it's something about this case or maybe it's all in your head, but you can't help the feeling like something isn't right. On the upside, Rossi is throwing a Halloween party, and you can't wait to be with everyone and celebrate Spencer's favorite holiday with him.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

Emily and Spencer walk into the club and ask to speak to a woman who is willing to talk. There are several girls pole dancing on stage while other women are wearing nearly nothing as they serve food and drinks. Since they have alcohol at the club, they can't be naked but they can wear clothing that doesn't hide anything. Spencer thinks it's better if Emily speaks to the woman since she is one, so he stands back and listens.

"What would it take for you or one of your co-workers to go home with a customer?" Emily asks.

"Nothing. I have a boyfriend."

"Does he know that you work here?" Spencer asks.

"Yes, It's how we met. He doesn't have a problem with it. Do you?"

"No, not at all. I'm from Las Vegas. I don't have a problem with it. I just, um, these are questions that we have to ask."

"We are not judging you," Emily says. "We're just trying to find Stephanie. Now, you said you met your boyfriend here. So, you did go home with a customer once before."

"Those were the early days. Everyone's a little wild in the beginning."

"Not the veterans?"

"We know how to play it safe."

"Was Stephanie the type of girl who played it safe?" Emily asks.

"She never really went through a wild phase. All she cared about was getting home to her daughter."

"Did anyone try and take her home last night?"

"Everyone tries every night. I know she got asked to go to a party. We all did, but she turned them down."

"Them? There was more than one?"

"Yeah, two guys. They got dances from each of us."

"What kind of party were they offering?" Emily asks.

"I never got a chance to find out. It's bad business to discuss private deals on the floor."

"Can you show me where you and Stephanie gave them their dances?"

The woman gets up and walks over to the far end of the room where small booths are. Each is a singular booth that has coverings on either end so that whoever sits next to someone can't see each other or the girls that are dancing on them.

"I was in here while Stephanie was in that one."

"Could you sit down?" Both Emily and the woman sit down so that they can't see each other, but they can both see Spencer. "I can see the whole room but I can't see my partner. If you're working as a team, you both want to see the girl you're gonna take home. Why would they do it somewhere where they can't see each other?"

"We should take a look at the club surveillance footage." Spencer and Emily get the manager of the club to show them the footage of that night. "There are only two cameras. There's a lot of blind spots. How do you keep an eye on all the girls?"

"We got the one guy in the back and one guy on the floor at all times," the manager says.

"It looks pretty full. Are you always this busy on the weekends?"

"Only on theme nights."

"The unsubs probably picked crowded nights to make sure they blend in. They're smart. They make a plan of attack before they get to the club, and then they separate and choose their prey," Spencer says.

"I doubt they were very happy when Stephanie turned them down. Alpha personalities don't handle rejection well."

"They abducted her from the parking lot just like the others. It didn't matter what she said. Stephanie was going to that party whether she wanted to or not."

The second you step foot in the cornfields, you don't feel right. You're not scared of a lot of things since you can sense who is around you. Plus, seeing the worst of the worst every single day has made you tough against jump scares and silly horror movies. However, there is something about this cornfield that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Someone is here and they're not supposed to be.

You look around the place but you can't see anything but the people next to you and a shit ton of corn.

"How the hell did they find this place? We must have taken thirty different turns to get here," Rossi says.

"We're definitely looking for a local. We should position black-and-whites in the area. We might be able to spot the unsubs before their next hunt," Derek says.

"Garcia should pull surveillance footage of gas stations, too. With all this driving, they have to be getting their fuel somewhere."

After a pause, Derek speaks. "I don't get it. These guys enjoy the thrill of the chase. I'll buy that. What I don't buy is them taking such a big risk."

"They wouldn't let their victim loose unless they were certain she couldn't get away."

"What would make them so certain?"

"Manpower," you say, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on you. "It would take one person to drive the truck. It would take another guy to handle the spotlight to track her in the field. Another one to chase her. I think there are more than two unsubs."

"Do you see more than two energies?"

"I see four. Three red and one blue."

"That's good enough for me," Derek shrugs.

After finding shit moved in your apartment, you're a bit paranoid that someone is either following you or watching you. Goosebumps appear on both arms and you rub them to try and get them to go away.

"Cold?" Derek asks.

"No. I'll be right back."

You leave their side and head further into the cornfields away from Derek and Rossi.

"Is she okay?" Rossi asks.

"I don't know."

The further you walk away from them, the closer you feel like you're getting to the person who is watching you. There might not even be a person there. It could be an animal. It could just be your paranoia getting the better of you. Still, you won't know unless you go searching for it. You travel enough so that nothing but corn surrounds you in the field. You whip around when you hear someone whispering but no one is there.

Okay, this isn't funny. Your heart is racing, sweat is forming on your hairline, and your eyes are wide. You only get like this when you feel like your life is in danger. You're not sure if you're letting the energies of the victims affect you or if this is real life.

Corn stalks move to your right and you look over to see a very tall man, maybe six-foot-six standing there. Since the stalks are very tall, you can only see this man's face. He is scowling as if he hates you. He is there but is gone the next second, making you doubt if he was really there to begin with.

Before you can go over there and see if he is real or not, someone appears right behind you. You turn and scream in terror, only relaxing when you see it's Derek.

"Whoa, mama, are you okay?"

"Was that you?"

"Was what me?" You point behind you where the man was standing but Derek looks even more confused. "Come on, the car is this way." He takes your elbow gently and leads you in the opposite direction. "Are you okay?"

"I just want to get out of here."

"Okay."

You three head back to the station after, but the feeling of someone watching you doesn't go away. It's like you're stuck in the cornfield still. Spencer and Emily are already back from the club, and he immediately walks over to you when he sees the ashen look on your face.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so." You tell him exactly what happened to you in the field. "I mean, I'm crazy, right? Someone wasn't stalking me in the field?"

"You're a lot of things, Y/N, but crazy isn't one of them."

"So, you think someone was stalking me out there?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was nothing."

"It's probably my nerves, right? Using the victims' energies to make me paranoid? It's nothing, I bet."

"Yeah, I bet it's nothing. You're okay."

Spencer kisses your lips quickly and joins the rest of the team. He sits down in front of the computer and pulls up the security footage of the club to watch again.

"We know these guys are local, so we should be looking for anybody working in the fields or agriculture."

"The only problem is that more than half of Indiana is farmland," Sheriff Jeff says.

"Garcia, were either of the other clubs having theme nights when the girls went missing?" Emily asks the technical analyst over the phone.

"All of them. Meredith was abducted on Dollar Draft night, Amanda on Ladies night, and Kimberly on Fantasy Football Friday."

"You were right, Reid. They're targeting nights that the clubs are at capacity so they won't be easily recognized by the security cameras." Spencer doesn't answer. "Reid?"

"I think I found our two unsubs." On the screen are two women giving dances to two men. "These guys have gotten dances from half the girls in the club. They're very careful to hide their faces from the cameras, and this guy seems to be communicating with someone across the room."

"If his partner is sitting in the booth next to him, who is he talking to?" Emily asks.

"Garcia, do you have another angle?" Hotch wonders.

"No. The other camera faces the door."

"If there's a third unsub, we could be looking at a pack."

"That makes sense. I saw four energies in that field. Three red and one blue--three men and one woman. If these two in the booths are underlings, they would look to the pack leader to choose the target. That's why they abduct the women from the parking lot," you say.

"Stephanie only knew about the first two men. If there was a third, she never would have seen them coming."

"Garcia, any luck with the DNA database?" Hotch asks.

"There's nothing in a five-state radius, but I am opening my parameters to nationwide. That is gonna take some time, though."

"That's the one thing we don't have. We have twenty-four hours before Stephanie ends up in a cornfield. We might even have less time than that."

"What do you mean?" the sheriff asks.

"Two unsubs working toward a common goal is one thing. Add a third and all bets are off. We only found two traces of DNA. One of them probably doesn't know about the murders. The pack hierarchy will start to break down. They'll question their leader. When that happens, the Alpha will have to reassert his authority, and Stephanie will be the object of his aggression."

"I just can't believe someone from our community would be involved in this," Jeff scoffs.

"Don't underestimate a pack leader's influence. These guys are being manipulated into playing his game. We think at least one member of the pack didn't know that the women were being killed," Rossi says.

"Why here? Why now?"

"Each of the women was abducted on Monday morning and not killed until Wednesday. Why are they working during the work week and not the weekend?"

"Maybe they're busy?"

"Or maybe they know they can do it during the work week which means they don't have a normal nine-to-five job," you say. "That also means they have limited income and they blend in with a young crowd. If one of them is from out of state, that would explain why they didn't start their killing until the summer was over."

"What would explain it?"

"They're college students. We need to give the profile now."

Jeff gathers his men and women so that your team can give the profile.

x

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[chirpsythismorning]

Eh, since Will is pretty much going to be a central character in the next season, I think it is very likely that S5 starts with Vecna contacting Will before Will has a chance of spying on him or using the connection between them. That would put the Will at the center of the story, and that interaction would circle back to S1, this time not hiding behind a Demogorgon or a mind flayer. Vecna interacting with Mike before Will doesn't make any sense as the show's start, sorry.

Will is definitely going to be central to s5! I don't disagree with that!

However I don't think Will being central stops other characters, specifically El or Mike, or even other main characters, from having their moments at the center. That's going to happen regardless of how major of a role Will plays.

And I would probably agree with you if this was just some random character, but this is Mike we're talking about...

I don't personally like how every season starts cryptically in some far away place with unknown subjects. But that's how almost every season starts, and I'm being serious when I say every season is then followed shortly after by Mike being late.

And so I would argue that Mike being late in some capacity at the start of s5, would make sense, as it would just be following the exact formula it always has.

That doesn't mean I don't think Will wont play a big part in how this could play out though, arguably he would play the biggest part, just like he did in s1!

We also have them admitting s5 is similar to s1 with the show coming full circle in a lot of ways, and so what happens could very likely feel like deja vu, assuming it's something we're gonna have already seen play out in the past in some capacity.

Honestly, I think Noah's role will be comparable to s2, either that or a lot more than that, no less though!

And yet, I do disagree with bylers that have sort of convinced themselves that Will is going to be the official main character next season...

But here's the thing, the Duffers also said this about Amybeth's character Vickie when they announced her role on the show, saying she would play a major role in events to come (only for her to get like 3 scenes in s4... praying they do her justice in s5). They even said this in an interview when asked about the significance of clocks, word for word they said that clocks would play a major role in events to come.

This is a phrase they use, which says a lot while saying nothing at all.

And so to be clear, the Duffers saying that Will plays a big role in events to come, wasn't them saying that Noah is now magically the top billed cast member. They were literally saying that he is central because he is, just like he was in s1 and especially s2, meaning he wont be 'sidelined' like he was in s3-4 at the very least I pesornally think.

However, this doesn't mean he is literally the main character, as Noah is not going to get a raise with him literally surpassing Millie and Finn... That's not happening.

What I also want to remind everyone, is that a lot of what they say and do is intentional.

When it comes to Noah being all spoilery and stuff, I do think that is intentional.

Noah, along with David, were the only cast-memers to talk about s5 post-s4 initially. And we all know David is the Duffers known scapegoat, who is known for not being able to keep his secrets to himself...

Noah has also been referred to as the Tom Holland of the show. If you guys don't know, the phenomena of Tom spoiling things eventually got to a point where marketing for Marvel took advantage of all the attention Tom got for leaking things, and created even more hype by making it seem like it was him accidentally spoiling things sometimes, even though it was entirely intentional to create hype... sound familar?

This means that full serious, if Noah wasn't supposed to be doing something, he wouldn't be. It's very likely he has been told to be unhinged because it works out well for them at this time. Seeing as a majority of the audience still aren't clued in on the likelihood of Mike and Will yet, (or even gay Will Byers for that matter), it makes sense to have Noah kind of keep people intrigued, but not enough to sound any alarm bells to the majority. They need a scapegoat rn and it's Noah (David is who they usually use as their sort of voice of speculation for what's to come, and trust me he'll be back eventually).

It just so happens that Noah is great with fanfare, and it's clear at this point he's the only one actually comfortable with doing it, and so they're letting him run wild because he IS a major part of the overall story and his character is finally going to be able to be acknowledged more fully in the story after years of being sort of sidelined. This is what everyone expects, and this is what everyone assumed after those interviews with the Duffers dropped and the reaction from fans also wasn't horrible? Like I remember there was a bunch of hype around that time when they revealed this and that's when the Will focused s5 fan posters started dropping and there was even one with Will and Mike holding hands that got like almost 500k likes on Twitter. And that was probably like a big moment for them, I'm sure in terms of feeling confident about how they should proceed with s5 promotion.

And I think this also contributed to them kind of just going with it, because it also allows them to keep a lot of s5 under-wraps, having Noah who is great with fanfare, keep reminding people of byler as a concept, while the rest of the cast is silent for the most part. It works.

And even despite that, I also think we're going to be getting byler and potentially willel wonder twin in some capacity, which are VERY big revelations to the main audience, which they don't see coming. And them only hyping up Will's role in s5 supports the audience not being prepared to see all of that coming.

Not only does there have to be closure for Will and Mike AND Will and El, we also have Mike and El's relationship to resolve, AND all their personal arcs. Will's importance to the story isn't going to prevent the writers from making sure the other main characters arcs feel fulfilled. I don't think those things are mutually exclusive and I don't know why people think they have to be?

And so even though I do agree that Will's role will be comparable to s2 (most likely more) in s5, I don't think it's going to be enough to bypass Millie or Finn in the credits. Which means that there is still going to be a major component to those characters arcs for El and Mike in the story, alongside Will's. I don't necessarily think this means that their roles will be bigger or smaller in some major way, but more likely equal in terms of how they handle it in accordance with those arcs coming together, and to ensure we actually feel satisfied with where everything ends up.

I'm not saying we won't get any Will focused promotional content like posters and stuff, I do think it will feel like the s2 era again, with him finally being seen as a major focus substantially. And yet I'm willing guess that El will still be the main focus of the main poster, with Will and Mike being more so equal to match the triangle aesthetic (also likely Noah is going to be upped to next to Finn in the credits with Millie getting her own slate, THAT would mean Noah's role is so major they're willing to bump him up over Caleb and Gaten which is saying a lot, though going any further than that wouldn't be standard because it took a lot to have Millie go above Finn, they're not going to do that again.).

What I personally think is more likely is that we'll get something similar to s2, with willel giving reflection (twin) vibes perhaps, and Mike being more secondary to that to also fit the triangle vibes.

With this being like a huge epic series, they're going to want those top first names to match with what the show started as so that it feels right. Why have Millie be above all the other kids if it doesn't feel right by the end of the story? If she's there, it will need to feel right narratively, not just based on their demand as actors by the end of this.

And this is also why I do think they have an obligation to make it more clear to the audience what Mike's arc is as a character, very likely related to him being in the closet for the last however many seasons. This would overlap with Will's arc because it also affected his ability to be his true self and El's arc because it also affected her ability to be her true self. And it also provides layers of importance to Karen's arc and Nancy's arc, and other characters arcs as well. That's what makes for a well rounded story, assuming they want us to be able to rewatch the show from beginning to end, and over and over again, feeling satisfied with how they closed everything off.

And arguably, circling back to the beginning of the show to see Mike at the center, would only really be satisfying if it ended with us feeling truly understanding of where his character ended up, making us root for him all over again.

That doesn't take away from Will being central, as he has always been central, since the beginning. Even when he was sidelined in s3-4, it was technically all preparing us for an end that would truly do him justice.

That doesn't mean they're not going to do all of the other characters justice though by any means. Both can coexist.!

[hobbitkiller]

Well, can’t say I’m surprised. I’ll definitely cover the other ones, but let’s start with the sex scene. Buckle in, ‘cause this is a long ramble.

Now, there are a lot of things to be said about this scene and some of the criticism thereof, such as equivocating going down with being subservient, the criticism a lot of people have toward Vi for not chasing after Jinx, and the argument that this was disregarding VI’s trauma from being in prison. I’m going to touch on the first and last a little here, but really have no desire to get into that Jinx-centric argument again, as I’m beyond tired of it.

For now, however, let’s talk about the narrative purpose of this scene, which is, in large part, to be a call back and contrast to when Cait and Vi first met. We know this is the intention because of how they mirrored several shots, such as Cait looking through the bars and Vi looking back over her shoulder.

Having a call back to where/how a couple first met isn’t a novel concept in storytelling. Sometimes it helps bring a couple together; sometimes it shows how they’ve drifted apart. It can be used to show how much they still love each other as well as how they’ve changed, for better or worse.

When it comes to the jail scenes, I think the main difference between the two scenes is trust. Maybe that’s not a revolutionary idea. After all, Cait says “In what mad world would I trust someone like you?” (complete with posh judgement and eye roll) in their first meeting. Arguably, their entire relationship is answering this question from both a Cait’s and Vi’s perspectives.

Trust is a major recurring theme in their relationship from Cait telling Vi they have to trust each other for this to work to their first argument about what they were hiding from each other at the Firelights camp to their argument about Jinx and Ambessa.

The first season, then, is all about building that trust between them. The second season is where it’s put to the test—and the sex scene is the final exam, designed to show how their relationship has grown and changed as explicitly as possible.

So, let’s go through a few beats.

Both start deliberately echoing each other. Cait looks through the bars at Vi who looks surprised to see her over her shoulder. However there are immediate differences. The lighting is the most obvious, but the perspective is also different. In season one, this meeting was mostly from Cait’s perspective—her going to the bowels of the scary dungeon to meet the dangerous, violent prisoner. In season two, we start with Vi—no longer framed as a caged animal but instead looking, for lack of a better word, forlorn.

So why the change?

Personally, I think it’s because the onus on who needs to prove themselves trustworthy has shifted. This isn’t to say Vi was bad or deserved to be in jail in season one, but, at the time, Cait was the one we had been following all episode on her righteous mission to fight crime and Vi was a loose canon. We didn’t know this new gown up Vi—we had yet to realize she was an adorable muscle-bound puppy.

Now it’s Caitlyn who needs to prove herself. Both had essentially agreed on that point in their argument. Just like we didn’t know what this new Vi would do in season one, we don’t know what this new Caitlyn is going to do in season two.

So let’s put a pin in that. Next beat: Vi expects to be hurt. In season one, Vi assumes this conversation is leading to a beating, and she braces herself for it by remaining guarded and sarcastic throughout—only revealing her nervousness when she rolls her shoulder hear the footsteps coming back.

Interestingly, in season two, we also get Vi hearing the footsteps, and we can imagine that, if there were going to be a trigger, that would be it. But it’s not a guard, it’s Cait. So, even though Cait hit her in the pipe works, it’s not physical pain Vi is worried about when she sees it’s Cait—it’s emotional and psychological. She is expecting Cait to berate her for letting Jinx go.

This is the tipping point. Their relationship can either completely fall apart here—doomed to fall victim to the cycle of mistrust and reprisals—or it can move forward.

Just like in the initial scene when she crosses the line—literally and metaphorically—it’s Cait’s move. In both, she is the one with the power here. In the first season, we knew Cait wouldn’t physically hurt Vi, but we don’t know her next move here. Now she has a choice, be the person Vi fears she could, or show that she can still be the person Vi fell in love with.

And what does Cait do? She doesn’t just cross the line this time; she fully enters the cell. She puts herself on equal ground with Vi, leaving the door open, and tells lets her know that she supports her—trusts her decision to let Jinx go.

When people talk about this scene giving Vi agency, this is a prime example. Vi could have turned and ran out the door after Jinx here (much to the delight of a certain part of the fandom that will never forgive Cait for giving Vi someone other than Jinx to care about). She could have restarted their argument. Cait is leaving it up to her.

She shows Vi she can trust her as she trusts Vi in return. In a violent world like Arcane, that means everything.

And so Vi is moved to act. She initiates because she is overwhelmed with love and passion and because Cait is super hot right now.

Trust and intimacy are inextricably linked, because you have to be vulnerable to be intimate. And what we get is an incredibly intimate scene where our intrepid heroes bare all, literally and figuratively, to each other for the first time. You get lovely little beats of uncertainty throughout—Cait when she first removes her top, Vi when Cait unsnaps hers.

The one interruption is Cait confessing her relationship with Maddie, but trust is one of the greatest enemies of jealousy. Vi trusts that right now, Caitlyn is hers.

For some concluding thoughts, I think what’s interesting in both scenes is that Cait sees Vi vulnerable in a way no other characters see her—caged, powerless, literally punching the wall. And, rather than take advantage as her haters would claim, she takes what power she has and immediately hands it to Vi.

Vi could have easily ditched Caitlyn after she let her go in the first season, and, as discussed, she could have done the same here. Instead, she puts herself in VI’s hands, letting her set the pace. Vi pleasing Caitlyn is not a degradation; it’s her taking the lead in one of the most intimate acts one can engage in.

TLDR: The two jail scenes are contrasting yet deeply similar explorations of vulnerability, power, intimacy, and trust. And, like any decent love story, they are about give and take.

Don’t know if it’s arrogant of me to ask. I’m obviously not the authority on Arcane, just an old nerd with many thoughts who still doesn’t quite know how to use tumblr., but I figured “why not?”

[supercantaloupe]

okay don giovanni review from last night. under the cut bc it's me. tldr the vocal performances were great, leporello carried the show, one of the most insane productions i've seen thus far but somehow in a new bizarre direction from normal. good snacks.

first of all i don't care how much wine you offer i think it's kind of ridiculous to charge $165 for a base ticket price for a performance that 1. isn't even in a concert hall or theater 2. is a concert performance rather than a staged performance (which was not advertised ahead of time) and 3. was not even a full production because they made the absolutely mind boggling decision to cut 100% of the recitative and replace it with Some Guy sitting on the stage narrating the plot between every 1-3 numbers

i did not pay that much gd bless. the student ticket was way cheaper.

the narration wasn't even good it was weirdly ungenerous to the women (like how do you even make elvira out be a "women, amirite" thing and also vaguely imply anna was into it in a production with zero acting? well they figured something out) and i don't think it even explained well enough what happens between each number to truly give a first time watcher a good idea of what's actually going on. not to mention that it absolutely kills any sense of momentum in the plot and makes the entire show drag like hell, because you have to wait between every single aria for either Some Guy to talk at you for three minutes straight, or wait awkwardly while people onstage walk off and people offstage walk on. it was so painfully clunky

they had a piano up there but since there was no recit it's not like she was accompanying much of anything. in practice what it ended up being used for was 1. the mandolin part for deh vieni (acceptable in the absence of a mandolin player; they were working with a limited chamber ensemble of musicians so i get it) 2. the party music at the end of act i (egregious fault imo because it absolutely kills the vibe of the scene and completely obfuscates the way the music is supposed to be adding to the tension and chaos with its different instrumental groups playing in different meters)

and 3. used to give singers their notes when the vocal line of their arias start on beat 1 measure 1, which they otherwise would have been able to get from the preceding recits (which is imo painfully amateurish for an ostensibly professional production)

all the numbers in act i were there although the narration was so bad i got jumpscared by fin ch'han dal vino because i forgot it was supposed to be there and thought we had skipped over that point in the plot. act ii had some really bizarre additional cuts made, notably they just entirely skipped over meta di voi and vedrai carino. it was like masetto and zerlina fuck off for the entirety of act ii save for, like, mille torbidi (they VERY briefly mentioned masetto getting beat up in the narration and i don't think they mentioned vedrai carino at all, they just skipped straight from deh vieni to sola sola. and also there was a painful awkward pause before deh vieni because i think the pianist forgot she was supposed to play there and the narrator jumped ahead to the next chunk of plot explanation too early). kept both dalla and tesoro (i'm fine with this ottavio was quite good though could've used a bit of ornamentation imo), kept mi tradi, kept non mi dir (more on that in a bit). no per queste which is probably a good thing not only for the show itself but also my head would have absolutely and irreversibly exploded if they had, probably

the whole thing kind of felt underrehearsed. like a quarter of the time it seemed like people didn't know what they were doing or had to be reminded where to be at that point in the show. and there were a few moments throughout where the orchestra struggled to keep up with the singers, but i really don't think they had much time to rehearse together, honestly.

and then, to my utter shock, the finale was actually really good?? like. insane compared to the rest of the show thus far. though it helps that 1. i absolutely love the harmonieband arrangements of cosa rara/i litiganti/non piu andrai, after possibly the draggiest non mi dir i've yet experienced it was like a breath of fresh air to hear that (and non mi dir was actually well performed i liked this anna but considering how much the Entire Show was dragging, the fact that they cut meta di voi and vedrai carino, AND the fact that they promised this act would be short, it felt crazy to me to keep it at that point.)

2. leporello and the don were by far the best performers of the night. so much so that i sought them out during the post show reception to tell them how great they were and enjoyed their performance. which i usually do not do, but in this like, high school recital ass production value. unbelievable relief that the final scene is dominated by the two actors in the show who most remembered that they can, and in fact Should, be acting. so much more movement and physicality and expression from those two compared to most everyone else. leporello especially, his actor apparently specializes in comedic bass roles and it shows, he was the standout all night

and 3. for the first time in the entire production they made an interesting decision regarding the physical space and staging! they had the commendatore sing from up on a balcony overlooking the audience in the foyer. the bar admittedly was set very low in the previous act and a half but the finale reminded me that i actually like this show again which is appreciated

though they then threw another curveball at me by Cutting the sextet at the end. which like didn't even piss me off at that point i was just baffled. like the don sinks down in agony and leporello sinks down whimpering in fear and the orchestra cuts off. and i'm expecting an awkward pause while they quietly get up and shuffle off so the rest of the cast can come back but nope. big orange title slate appears on the big screen behind them and the audience breaks into a roaring applause and the announcement of the wine and dessert reception. felt like i was in a fever dream

i will say the desserts were very nearly almost worth the bullshit that was the preceding show. they were so good. thank you austria for your dedication to pastry. and because i don't drink and couldn't appreciate the free wine offered i had to indulge in my own manner. spread contained chocolate oat bites (tasted as much like espresso powder as chocolate and coated in coconut, 4/10), almond sponge cake (classic, 7/10), cardamom apple bread pudding with caramel cream (not enough cardamom but otherwise very tasty and autumnal, 8.5/10) and honey cake (11/10. i don't know how they made this so good. i want more right now so much). i take both my mozart opera and my desserts very seriously.

anyway overall the production was. i would say frustrating. the singing quality was Really Good (leporello was the clear standout, probably followed by the don though i prefer my dons with a lighter voice but technically he was very good, then probably ottavio, then maybe masetto or anna. the commendatore was great but he's in it so little it's hard to compare)

i just wish they could have, like, actually done a full production. it would have been so great if they had gotten to tell the actual story and had been fully allowed to act. when there Was acting were the best moments of the show, and it's really unsurprising that most of that came from leporello, the absolute legend.

[onewordshy]

Wish I could bottle the feeling this gives me

[freakoutgirl]

jeff is really ride or die huh

[nkogneatho]

— 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐖, 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

—characters: gojo, toji, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso

—cw: lactation ofc, fem!reader, nicknames, aphrodisiac (the milk), intoxication, masturbation, semi-public, dry humping.

—a/n: i have officially surprised myself with how insane i can really be. ya gurl so thirsty she created her own universe where men gib milkies 🧍🏽‍♀️

introduction to the universe:

Evolution took place a little differently in this universe. A mutation caused hormonal presence that triggers monthly lactation in men for 3 to 5 days, and it usually starts in their early 20s. It is studied that it does not serve any purpose of feeding like female lactation, but might be an indicator to arousal, and even a mating call due to accurate findings of natural aphrodisiacs in the milk produced by the thin gland located in a breast. It also pains a lot and causes swelling of nipples. While scientific advancements have yet to develop a pill that might solve this problem, the most effective natural method to be proven is letting another person suck it.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

It had been quite a long day at work. You knew you were the last to arrive home when you found his boots messed on the floor.

“Toru?” You called out his name, failed to receive a response. “Toru, baby, ' m home.” The wooden door of the shoe cabinet creaked as you closed it after placing the footwear in their place.

The house smelled…sweeter, felt warmer than usual. Making your way to the bedroom, you found clothes scattered on the floor near the entrance. The door was ajar which means your eyes had quick access to what was happening.

“Fuck! Ah! Ah! Mhmm.” You watched in surprise as your boyfriend kept fisting his cock, but wait. Something was different. You moved closer and found his hands squeezing his tits, milk oozing and drenching his naked body. But his heat doesn't arrive until next week. You thought. It was not uncommon for heats to arrive irregularly. It only meant that his hormone level had increased due to sexual frustration. Your eyes scanned his position, his movements. A hand reaching down to rub the wetness forming between your legs. You couldn't take it anymore.

“Need a hand?” You asked, announcing yourself in the room to let the man know he wasn't alone.

“Oh fuck! I thought I locked the door,” he panicked, yet he didn't remove his from his cock, just another arm covering his chest.

“And deprive me of this treat? I don't think so, baby.” You walked closer until you were hovering over him, kissing softly. Heat always has Satoru acting needy and you knew it.

“Touch me, doll. Please.” You smiled at his eagerness.

“I will do more than just touch.” Slapping his wrist away that were blocking the view of his lovely tits, you pushed him until he was laying flat. Your clothed pussy grinding in his naked cock as you leaned and took one of his nipples in your mouth.

“F-fuck.” he stuttered. “Don't. I am early this month. The flow is too much—ngh—you'll get high.” As if that was going to stop you? You started sucking more aggressively. He was right. The flow really was too much because you found yourself gulping a mouthful of his sweet milk, as your other hand reached down jerked his cock.

“Baby…ah! Keep doing that. I am close.” He is so silly to think he can relieve himself on his own when it never works. “Holy fhhuuck! Gonna c—aahhh!” You watched as he arched his back, white spurts covering your hands and other white liquid wetting your jaw. You sat up, removing your top as you already felt dizzy.

“We're not done, Toru. Wan'you to fuck me nasty while I suck your milk.” And he was hard again at your words.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

You loved spring. It was your favorite season to go out. Not too cold. Not too hot. Just the perfect amount of wind and sun. Apparently, it is also a perfect season for outdoor dates. You and Toji preferred to stay in most of the time but the cherry blossoms were too precious to be enjoyed from your windows or TV screen.

“Toji, you ready?” you asked your husband, packing things in your cute pink purse.

“Uhm, princess? Think we might need to cancel the date.” His muffled voice emerged through the bedroom.

“What?” You yelled as you stomped to the bedroom. “What do you mean we might need to c—oh…" Your legs stopped, body taken aback as you stared at his shirtless body, tone muscles and triceps flexing as he squeezed his tits, squirting the milk out.

“I am over-lactating.”

“What happened to the breast cups?”

“Look at me princess. 'm leaking too much. They ain't gon' hold it. Agh fuck!” He spat angrily as you watched the milk travel down his abs, covering it in sweetness.

“Fuck the date. I have a better plan.” You winked at him.

“Shit. Calm down, ma—ugh. Y'er gonna bruise my tits." You were riding his cock, rocking your body back and forth on his crotch while sucking his swollen dark peachy nipples. Your hands struggled to hold his chest because they were bigger than it, causing your nails to dig into the skin.

“Mmh lvove yvour mwilk shwo mwuch.” Your dirty muffled comments vibrating on his skin.

“Y'er drunk, ma. Ya like to get drunk on daddy's milk, hmm?” He cooed, planting a spank on your ass.

“Lwove it.”

“Hm mhh,” he chuckled. “Nasty fucking girl. Move—ahh! Move faster. Need to cum.” You followed his orders, not looking up once to meet his eyes but busy soaking in the drug and flavor of his milk.

“Ngh—twoji, too much. Wan' a break.” You complained, but he was not going to let you stop. This was your plan after all.

“Nuh uh! Don't pull that now.” He grabbed your ass and started bouncing them up and down. You felt so insides bursting with pleasure, cheeks burning up, eyes rolling back. “Gonna cum, ma. Make sure this pussy drinks all my cum as you stuff your mouth with my milk—gahh! fhuck fhuck! fuuuuck!” He was talking as if you had a choice when one of his hand forced you down on his cock as he painted your hole in his cum, while the other hand pushed your face further against his tits. He watched as milk overflowed from the side of your lips. “Such a good girl f'me. You wan' more?”

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

Sukuna tend to get a bit crazier when he was in heat. He fucked you with more strength, came a lot more than usual. It was hard to keep his mood balanced. You tried to suggest him some diet during those days of the month, but he refused to eat greens. A big man like him fancies flesh. Furthermore, why does he need a diet when he has the most proven effective method?

“K-kuna…agh! Too biiig." You cried. Sukuna had you on top of him, his big body splayed on the king-size bed—that surprisingly was almost the same size as him—your thighs trembling, kneecaps digging the mattress as you struggled to keep hi dick inside. Your head was telling you to get off it. Yet, your tight little cunt craved more of him.

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “Your pussy has a habit of biting more than she can swallow.” His teases were humiliating. Your hands rested on his chest, tongue reminiscing the sweet taste of his milk. Even though you were not completely dominant in this relationship—it is hard to be one when you are dating a man like sukuna—there were times when you initiated the things he would usually pester you about. Your lustful eyes gave him a look he hadn't seen before. Soon, he felt your hands tightening around his tits. Now he knew what you were up to.

“Want a taste, my woman?” All you could do was give a light nod because most of your strength was busy rolling your waist on his cock. “Go ahead. Suck my milk out.”

Without a second thought, you found your lips kissing his puffy pink nipples. You could feel the veins throbbing as you were suckling his juice out. Sukuna's milk was sweet with a hint of tanginess. Nevertheless, you loved it.

“Shhit! Calm down woman. I am not going anywhere.” His words were just background noise to you because all you could hear is squelching of your pussy and your slurps on his tiddie.

“Mmghh! Don't tell me you're planning on getting drunk.” His shoulders adjusted themselves to get a better position. “If you are—fuck. Then don't expect me to go easy tonight.” You unlatched your mouth from him for what seemed like after fifteen minutes to finally speak.

“Want you to ruin my pussy, kuna. Mmh,” you jerked your hips forward. “Want you to fill my mouth with milk as you do it.”

“Get off.” His tone shifted from somewhat sweet to serious. You followed his orders anyway. You both exchanged positions so now he was on top of you.

“My dirty human. Better stick to your words, darling. I am not planning on stopping until you're drenched in my cum and my milk”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

You always knew Suguru's heat cycle. As the days approached closer, he used to become more and more whiny and clingy, arguing with you over petty things. His behavior did a 180° on these days.

Earlier today, you had a discourse over chores. He nagged at how you should keep things in place, or you won't find them when you need it. You understood where he was coming from, but the work had taken quite a toll on you that you barely had energy tonight. He just wouldn't let it go, and you grew more frustrated. You yanked him by his wrist, dragging his giant, muscular body to the shower. And here you were, stroking him off as you nibbled, and suckled on his tits. The continuous pour of warm water stimulating both of you.

“This is what you wanted, right, sugu?” you looked up, chin nuzzling in his cleavage. “Nagging me the whole day. You just wanted your tits sucked.” His brows scrunched together. A large hand approached your face, cupping your cheeks. He had his fingers digging the muscle on your face until they squished together.

“Behave,” his voice stern. “Just 'cause 'm in heat doesn't mean you hold the upper hand, baby.”

“Oh, but I do, Sugu—*spank* Ah! What was that for?”

“For teasing me. I know you love drinking my milk, princess. Get to it 'cause I can't take it nomo.” He pressed your face against one of his boobs, your nose pressured a little above the nipple, forcing the spurts of milk out.

“You gon' let it fall down the drain?” Your immediate action was to cup his tiddy with both of your hands—his chest was too big to use one—massaging all of the juice out. You opened your mouth and let it aim at your tongue.

“Fucking hell! This is why—mmghh easy, princess. 'Tis all sore.”

“I gotchu, sugu.” You eased out the movement of your hands, gently kneading them.

“Fhuuck, yes. Just like that.” Other hand travelled back down, grabbing his throbbing boner, squeezing the base as you squeezed his nipples. Geto planted a kiss on top of your head. “Holy shit. Still can't believe you're mine.” Your lips morphed into a smile, teeth still grasping his nipple. “Look at'cha. My milk's getting your high already.” He picked you up bridal style, your tongue still licking his puffed chest, as he kicked the bathroom door open that lead to your bedroom. “You got your treat. Time f'me to get mine, princess.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

Working 9to5, staring all day at a computer screen is what your life had been all about. You switched companies to think you might get something new to do, but to no one's surprise, it was the same. Except, this one man you were crushing on since day one.

Nanami Kento was a gentleman they described in those fairytales. Always so respectful, kind and damn he was a big feminist. Although, with him being the perfect husband material, you were still never going to cross the line because you were co-workers. That didn't mean you weren't allowed to crush.

“And then Mr. Sasaki from HR department knocked the beer over,” your TL chattered. Nanami wasn't the one to gossip, but Sakurako-san was your team leader and older than everyone. She wasn't a bad person but oh boy did she love tea. You fake gasped to give her the reaction she wanted, as you side-eyed Kento who looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Then he had the audacity to—”

“Excuse me,” Nanami withdrew halfway from the conversation he wasn't even participating in much, walking away abruptly.

After a few minutes, you decided to look for him to make sure he was alright. Of course, as a co-worker, you should. Nothing related to the heart eyes you give him, right?

You stomped towards the corridor almost making a left until you heard loud coughs reverberating through the walls of the men's washroom. You swore it was him. Furthermore, you shouldn't have gone in. What were you thinking? It was a men's washroom, for fuck's sake. But what if something happened to him? Sure.

Pushing the door in a hurry, you entered, almost tripping. “Nanami-san—” You did not whether you should be embarrassed, shocked or horrified. Maybe all three.

“Are you okay?”

“You shouldn't be here, l/n-san.” True. But seeing him squeeze his tits, and milking himself down the drain was the sight you were blessed to see. You locked the door behind, the clicking of the latch making Nanami hold his breath, “What are you doing?”

“You're going to let all that milk go to waste, Kento?” His dick twitched. You never called him by his first name, and now you were asking inappropriate questions along with calling him Kento.

“L/N-san, this isn't right—”

“Shhh. Just wanna help you. We're colleagues, aren't we?” He nodded.

Without breaking any eye contact you hopped on the counter, hands reaching for his nipples glistening with milk under the off-white light. You pressed your palm against his chest, feeling the liquid staining it, only starting to cramming the swell more. Kento lost his composure, hands falling flat on the counter, head on your shoulders. Couple of shaky breaths, fading soft moans leaving his lips. Pushing him back for a second to only latch your tongue on the dark pink bud, you were sure you're way past the appropriate relationship of just work buddies.

“L/n—ah! Can I?” He darted his eyes down where the tent peeked out his gray formal pants. You smiled. Knowing he needed friction, you adjusted your pencil skirt, and wrapped your legs around him, boner pressed against wet patch on your panties. Nanami felt like he was in heaven. He started humping against your clothed pussy, being rough contradictory to his gentle innocent touches to you before. But it was only reasonable given the fact that he was in heat.

He never knew the feeling of being milked from both ends, but now when he came, he ruined his whole expensive suit. The edges of the mustard yellow shirt becoming translucent with his milk, with a dark spot on his pants between his legs. He let out a shaky breath, apologizing as he slowly came back to his senses.

“What are you apologizing for? I started it,” you said as you hopped off the countertop. “Let me know if you ever need more help, Nanami-san.” A wink from is what caused his cheeks to turn red. “I'll bring you spare clothes from your desk.”

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

Most lactation in men started in their early twenties. Although, it wasn't unusual for some to start late. There was nothing medically wrong with them. But you've heard things about. How much more it hurts, and how more they leak on their first heat if they do get late.

You've been dating your boyfriend Choso for almost a year now. He hadn't start lactating yet, which is why you researched enough on this topic just in case. Personally, you've never been physical with men when they're in heat. Not because it is not your thing, but your relationships were too short to actually be comfortable in experiencing it. Of course, you would never do anything with Choso at his displeasure just because you wanna try it. You love him too much. But the thought would never leave your mind. What would he act like in his heat? Well, it was your lucky day. Because you came home to a whining lactating man.

“Cho…baby, are you okay?” You rushed to him in concern. Choso was on the bed, hair down with tears in his eyes as he pressed his chest together.

“Babyyy, It hurts. I don't know what is happening.” His hold on your wrist a little too tight. “Fuck. It hurts so bad. Make it stop. Leaking too much and my cock hurts too.” You could hear—feel the desperation in his voice. His cock was on full display as his boxers dangled near his ankles. The swollen tip shining with pre-cum seducing your mouth. But your mouth was needed more elsewhere. You remembered your first sex education class, how men in heat can be relieved if you milk and suck their tits. You discarded your clothes, getting bare and settling on his lap. Your hole rubbing against the body of his shaft as you pressed your tits against his, kissing his forehead.

“Cho shhh. Baby you're fine. You're just in heat. 's gonna be alright. 'm here, okay?” He sniffled as you pampered him. “Gonna take good care of my boyfie.” You left a trail of lipstick stains as you kissed his body, slowly trailing towards the puffy nipples. You looked up at him for consent, only to continue when he whispered a “please”. With your tongue darting out, you soaked in the view before licking a stripe.

“Shit,” Choso cursed. You do it a few more times until you're finally sucking on it like a popsicle. “Fuck. Ah!” It was indeed too much because with only fifteen seconds in, your mouth was already full of his milk, leaking from the corner of your lips. It wasn't a normal amount. But given the fact that it was his first, that too at this age, you brushed it off, focusing back to sucking. You gulped the milk, each sip making you dizzy. It made you grind harder against his cock, moaning along with him. His whimpers making you wet, and his dick enjoying your slippery pussy.

“Wanna cum. Please. Wanna cum, baby.” He begged and you started fastening your pace. The sheets were wet, along with your neck and tits as he shot spurts of sweet milk in your mouth that dripped down your body. Some of it sneaking its way down between his dick and your cunt. You held on to his shoulder, giving his chest a few slaps, making him rut harder against you that the bed started creaking.

“Cumming. Fuck, I am cumming. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ngh—holy fuuuuck!” Your own orgasming cunt could feel his dick twitch as it shot a load out. His hardened nipples turning soft. He immediately cupped your cheeks, pulling you up. “I love you so much, fuck. Thank you.” He said before he kissed you, his tongue lapping against yours, tasting himself on you.

@kiffenisstupid @pastelle-rabbit @lxnarphase @teddybeartoji @rizzmin @yuta-nation @evxelisy @hellkaiserinphoenix @ffsg0jo @princessoflalaland @baekinola @chuuyasboots @cathybarn @togamest @katsukichu @blkkizzat

[leoktzchen]

I think I’ve seen some similar takes on this already but the whole lila and five get stuck in the time line subway subplot had a lot of potential actually but they just BUTCHERED it with the whole romance thing

imo the could have just done this:

- show them bickering and arguing, fighting over wich station/line to chose next in a sibling like manner

- show lila falling asleep on fives shoulder as she keeps mumbling about some stupid thing Diego has done while five tops that story with an even more stupid anecdote from their childhood

- show five trying to shave himself without a mirror and failing miserably until lila rolls her eyes and goes “give it here you absolute imbecile” and then helping him out BUT STAYING AT A REASONABLE DISTANCE AND NOT BREATHING ALL OVER HIS FACE

- show them freezing on the subway floor, five mentioning how they could save body heat by staying close to each other, visibly uncomfortable, and lila pulls a face but they end up falling asleep shoulder to shoulder NOT CUDDLING

- show them at the greenhouse timeline, covering the walls with self-drawn maps and complicated calculations, brooding night after day after night, trying to figure this out with lila drawing little hearts on the paper with her kids initials in it

- show five finding the map on the subway, immediately rushing to tell lila whose face lights up like a supernova and as she exclaims “fuck, we’re going home!” she tries to high five him (it doesn’t really work, because five does NOT do high fives) and then pulls him in for a hug. five just about lets that happen, but he smiles a tiny smile and they arrive just in time for Christmas

basically instead of the romance that gave everyone the ick, they could have just gone for the whole sibling like dynamic between the two of them that I adored a lot in the previous season(s)!!!!

[caruliaa]

omitb spoilerss but before the season 3 finale i want to say and get out there tht i think tobert is involved in the murder some way, i do think tht donna(or maybe cliff) was involved but i also think tobert is part of it either the murder itself or covering it up

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your boyfriend doesn’t like it when you eat unhealthy food while busy with uni work.

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff. age gap (reader around early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). behavior may come off as ‘overprotective’ to some. nicknames ‘baby, sweetheart, princess’. not proofread

satoru’s at work while you’re in his kitchen, preparing a quick meal for yourself. you’ve been busy making and finishing assignments all day. you really could do with a break. though, a short one. there’s still lots more to do before you’re done with everything mandatory.

it’s convenient that satoru allows you to stay over at his apartment whenever you want to. he’s given you a spare key and told you that his home is also yours. if you need a break from your own place, you can always stop by his.

“ah, crap,” you hiss as the sauce packet nearly bursts open in your hand due to how roughly you pulled on its edges. you season your instant ramen noodles without much thought. it’s a quick meal that saves you time.

you’ve had it four days a row now—along with some pizza slices here and there. your boyfriend has been nice enough to send you money, telling you to treat yourself to some decent food while he’s away on business, but you’re really just too busy to treat yourself.

satoru’d be upset if he knew that you’re living off unhealthy crap again. the last time he caught you, he prepared you homemade meals or took you out to restaurants for weeks. he needs you to ingest your daily nutritions so you can stay healthy. you’re too important to him and he wants the best for you.

you grab your chopsticks and mix the sauce with the noodles, your spotify playlist running in the background. you walk to the fridge and grab a soda before sitting down at the kitchen table. unlocking your phone, you decide to see if anything’s going on on social media.

you’re too focused on your screen and the food entering your mouth to notice the front door opening. you catch a glimpse of a figure in the corner of your eye and your head flies up. a bit too late..

“ah, hi, satoru,” you mumble with a mouthful of ramen noodles. you’re caught off guard and you barely know what to do as the white-haired man puts his keys in his pockets. you put your phone down and discreetly try to cover your bowl, “didn’t know you’d come back so early.”

too bad you didn’t think of opening a window or throwing away the opened package of instant ramen. satoru looks over at the messy counter before walking towards you. he reaches a hand out to your cheek, brushing your thumb against your skin.

“hi, pretty,” satoru greets you with a gentle smile. he leans down and presses a kiss onto your lips, tongue stealing a taste of the sauce on your mouth. he pulls back and pinches the cheek he’s holding, “mind telling me what you’re eating, hm?”

you pout and swallow the bite of noodles you had in your mouth. you put your hands down, knowing there’s no hiding anything from your boyfriend. he dislikes the fact that you’re not taking your health seriously. “instant ramen. . .” you respond defeatedly.

satoru ruffles your hair with a shake of his head, silently disapproving of your actions. “i’ve given you money to get a proper meal, didn’t i, baby?” the older man explains in the same tender tone. he doesn’t have the heart to be mad at you. he crouches down next to the chair you’re sitting on and kisses your knuckles, each getting a peck.

“yeah, ‘m sorry,” you nod, knowing your lover did his part of taking care of you. he gave you money to spend on food or ingredients, but you still chose the easy way out. it’s not like you’ve been craving noodles—you’re eating them for the sole reason being that they’re fast and easy to make. you’re too busy (and lazy) to go out and buy stuff.

satoru chuckles, not really mad at you at all. he’s simply worried for your wellbeing. he sees how hard you work for uni while also making time to spend with him, no matter how little it may be. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” satoru coos and kisses your forehead before getting up.

the sorcerer looks down at the bowl of noodles before glancing back at you. “do you want to finish it or do you want me to make you something?” he asks whilst playing with the little hairs around your face. you’re beautiful, somehow even more gorgeous with those dark circles under your eyes.

you pout and think about his question. you’re tired of eating the same thing four times in a row and you know how good satoru’s cooking can be, so. . .

“can you make me something?” you ask carefully in a quiet tone, flashing your boyfriend your best puppy eyes, “pretty please?”

satoru grins and nods immediately. he’s always happy to help you out when you need it. “of course. anything for my princess,” he coos and squeezes your cheeks one last time. he’s got an obsession with the way you scrunch your nose up every time he does so.

he grabs the bowl of noodles and puts it away after making sure you didn’t want any more of it. sure, he wants the best for you, but he doesn’t want to be too restrictive. in case you still want to steal a bit, satoru puts the bowl in the corner of the counter.

you walk to satoru as he stands near the fridge. you rub your weary eyes and watch as he grabs the needed items to make your favorite comfort meal. he catches you staring at him and he smirks lovingly.

“oh my, i have such an adorable girlfriend,” the older man holds himself back from squeezing your cheeks together again. he holds your wrist and pulls you flush against him, his head leaning down to match your eye level.

satoru plants a quick kiss on your lips. his hand finds it way on your hips before slithering upwards. he pats your back, gently comforting and encouraging you, his other hand doing the same on the back of your head. he knows how hard it is for you these days, with the busy end of the semester and all.

“love you, ‘toru, thank you,” you smile at him and nuzzle your face into his chest. you really needed a distraction from all the hard work you still have to do. a quick break with the person you cherish most will gain you back all the energy you’ve lost.

satoru hugs you even tighter to him when you utter those magical words. if he could, he’d take care of you every single second of the day. he’d do anything to make you feel better. he places a peck to your forehead, “i love you too, sweetheart. but promise me one thing; please take better care of yourself, ‘kay?”

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Summary: Tis the season to be jolly...

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8, 417 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omegaverse, alternate universe, slight angst at the beginning, blood and disturbing imagery, nightmares, PTSD, lots of comfort, holidays

A/N: Yes, CRCB is getting its holiday episode. Something holly and jolly before Christmas, some sweet comfort for the last chapter of this year. It's kind of rough but I don't hate it. I hope everyone feels the same. Happy Holidays to everyone

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It’s quiet in the house. 

There’s a stillness in the air that seeps into your very soul. The only light is from the street light outside. Your father never allowed you a nightlight despite your fear of the dark. You weren’t allowed to show such weakness in front of him. God forbid his family have any flaws. 

You’re the flawed one. 

It’s too quiet in the house, not even your brothers’ snoring audible in the tense quiet that has settled over your safe space. It has your breathing shallow so as to not disturb the heaviness in the air. Your sister is asleep in the bed across the room, tucked under the blankets safely. Sleep evades you however, something tickling in the back of your mind. 

Something is off. Something is wrong. 

“Hannah.” You whisper, disturbing the darkness in favor of not feeling so alone in the oppressive silence. “Hannah.” 

Yet your sister does not stir, showing no sign of even acknowledging a disturbance as she sleeps deeply. You bite your lip, sinking back further under your covers. You could wake one of your brothers, but the likelihood of one of them helping ease your fear is small. They’ll just usher you back to bed and tell you to grow up. You could attempt to rouse your mother, but that runs the risk of also waking your father. If nothing is wrong, it will be your doom. 

Maybe it’s all just in your head. Some terror brought on by a lingering nightmare. 

You need to get up. You can’t lay in the darkness anymore. 

So you rise from the safety of your blankets, padding silently across the wood and out into the hallway. There’s a nightlight allowed out here to prevent stumbling in the dead of night. There’s nothing in the hallway, no silent spectre waiting to grab whoever leaves their room first. You creep silently down the hallway towards the black gaping maw of the living room waiting just beyond the edges of the light. 

You stand there at the end of the hallway, gazing into the darkness for a moment. It’s not truly dark, light filtering in through the curtains from the streetlights outside. Yet the darkness feels thicker than it ever has before as you stand there, waiting for a shadow to move. 

Nothing moves, and after a breath you turn to the left, cutting through the dining room straight towards the kitchen. It’s darker in here, cut off from the street, yet you navigate it with ease. You’ve spent many nights navigating through the darkness, creeping around the house when you can’t sleep. 

You enter the kitchen, heading for the cupboard that holds the cups. Your mother used to give you warm milk when you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes you’d rise to find her awake, sitting in the living room. Sometimes she’d be crying. Sometimes she’d just be sitting with the lamp on, staring into the distance. 

It always made you wonder what she was thinking about. 

You stand on your toes, reaching up for a glass. It nearly falls and hits the counter but you manage to catch it, preventing what would no doubt be a crisis. You let out a breath before moving to the sink, filling the glass up. You stare out the small window that shows nothing but the fence between your house and the neighbors. All the houses are the same, built after the same model with the same green grass out front. It’s like a movie set, some suburban setting for a drama or a horror movie. 

The oppressive darkness feels like a horror movie. 

You turn to head back to your room, but you’re stopped by a figure standing in the entrance to the kitchen. You can just make it out, large and looming in the darkness. For a moment you think it’s your father, awakened by something, some instinct telling him there’s something moving around in the house. It’s not the right size to be your father, though, too tall and long. 

You stumble back towards the light switch, your fingers shaking as you flip it on. 

“Phil?” You ask quietly, staring at your father’s best friend in shock. You haven’t seen him in almost two years. 

His mouth opens in a haunting grin, blood pouring down his chin. You stare in horror as blood soaks into his white shirt, dripping onto the floor below. The cup slips from your hand, shattering on the floor as his hand wraps around the knife stuck in the side of his neck, pulling it free. Blood sprays across the white cupboards, painting them like some gruesome work of art. 

“Look...what you did...to me...” Phil says, his voice nothing more than a gurgling wheeze. 

He reaches out a blood soaked hand towards you, sending you stumbling back. Glass cuts into the bottoms of your feet, sending shards of white hot pain up your legs. You don’t care, too busy trying to evade the bloody hand trying to grab at you. You slip in the water on the floor, falling backwards, the back of your head seconds from hitting the side of the counter...

“Easy, easy.” 

Arms are around you, holding you tightly as you sob. Your feet are burning as you sit there on the kitchen floor. It’s not the kitchen in your old home, though, it’s the kitchen in the cottage. Your feet are burning with sharp stabs of pain. There’s water soaking into your pajama pants. 

“You’re alright.” 

The light is on, raining down bright yellow light from overhead. You hate it, the oppressive light burning your eyes. You squeeze them closed, trying to ease the pounding in your head that pulses in time with your heart. 

“...sleepwalking I think...” 

Voices float in and out as you sit there, leaning back against something solid and warm. There’s arms around you, holding you tightly, your own arms trapped up against your chest. You tilt your head back, resting it back against the solid warmth. 

“Almost hit her head...” 

“Move her to the couch...”

“It’s not that uncommon during times of extreme stress.” 

You wince as another tiny piece of glass is pulled from your foot. 

“Even if someone has never experienced sleepwalking before, it can start at any age.” 

“Is this something we need to worry about now?” 

“It’s hard to say.” Dr. Keller dabs at your foot with a damp towel streaked with pink from your blood. “It’s one of those things we’ll just have to wait and see if it was a one-time thing or if it will become a regular occurance.” She dabs at your feet with the towel before shining the flashlight on them again. “You want to talk about the nightmare?” 

She’s talking to you now. 

“No.” You say, the word strained and weak from your lips. Your face feels tight from the tears you had shed in your confusion and delirium. The nightmare is still fresh on your mind, replaying like some sick television show, over and over in your head. 

She gives you a look, but doesn’t press anymore. She won’t ask again, not in front of your pack at least. 

She lets your feet rest on the coffee table before moving closer to you. Her hands cup the back of your head, pressing down on certain spots. “Does your head hurt?” 

“No.” You say, ignoring the throbbing behind your eyes. 

“Well, thanks to Kyle’s quick reflexes, I think we’ve avoided a concussion.” She says, turning to Kyle. “How’s your hand?” 

“Fine.” He says from where he’s sitting next to you, flexing his fingers. “I’ll take aches and pains if it prevents a hospital visit.” 

“That’s the last thing we need right now.” John says. 

You can’t help but wince at his words. 

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Thankfully there wasn’t any serious damage.” Dr. Keller says, wrapping your feet in gauze. “Just try to take it easy for a couple of days. Walking isn’t going to feel very good for a while.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really.” 

“I think it might be good to talk about it.” 

“You’re as bad as Dr. Keller.” 

“Well, she and I agree that holding everything in isn’t going to help anything.” Kyle says, taking the seat next to you. “We just want to help you.” 

“Unless you can crawl into my mind and fix my memories, I don’t think you can help with this.” You say bitterly. 

“Well, I can’t do that, but I can listen.” He gives you a look. 

You choose to ignore it. 

He continues to stare at you as you turn your gaze out the window. It’s raining again, light droplets hitting the window. You can feel yourself beginning to crack as he continues to stare at you, his gaze not sharp and prying, but instead soft and inviting. He really wants to know, not out of curiosity or need, but because he cares. He wants to help, even if it’s just listening. 

Can you be brave enough to share? 

“I woke up in bed, but not in the cottage. I was in bed at the house we lived in before I was sent to the institution.” You swallow the lump in your throat threatening to choke you and cut off your words. “It was the house we moved to shortly after Phil left. I remember feeling something was off after I woke up, something was wrong but I couldn’t figure it out.” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “I went to the kitchen to get some water and Phil appeared there in the darkness. He...” 

You trail off for a moment, the memory of what he had looked like in your dream sending a spike of fear through you. You had thought the one positive of Phil being dead was that he couldn’t haunt your dreams anymore. He’s not out there hunting you, seeking you out. He’s dead, burned to a crisp in that barn. You made sure of that. 

“He had a knife in his neck. He was bleeding.” Your voice shakes as tears prick behind your eyes. You hate it that you’re still crying over Phil and his hold on you even in death. “He said....he said ‘look what you did to me,’ and pulled the knife out. I dropped the glass of water and slipped in it. I was falling but then I woke up.” 

Kyle is silent after you finish, the quiet settling heavy between you, as heavy as it had felt in your dream. You know you sleep walked through part of your dream. You went to the kitchen for water and dropped the glass. You slipped in the puddle and nearly hit your head on the counter if Kyle hadn’t found you seconds before and cushioned your fall with his hand. Your feet still sting from stepping in the glass, even though the puncture wounds and cuts have mostly healed. 

A warm hand touches yours, fingers curling around yours. Kyle’s rough skin, calloused by handling weapons and fighting for so many years, drags against yours as he slowly lifts your hand away from the arm of the chair and up towards his face. His breath is warm as it hits your palm, his soft lips pressing against your skin. You turn to face him, tears still blurring your vision as you sit there, staring at him. 

“It was just a dream.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “No one is going to hurt you. Phil is gone and we’ll be damn sure nothing else can even try.” He presses your hand against his cheek, your fingers trembling against the smooth skin. “You have nothing to fear.” 

“Only what’s in my head.” You whisper. 

“What can we do? How can we help you defeat those demons plaguing you?” He asks, threading his fingers through yours. 

You stare at him for a while, taking in his face again. It feels like so long since you’ve really looked at them, since you’ve truly taken in their features. You’ve almost forgotten what they actually look like, your mind always conjuring up muddy images of their faces in your memories. 

You’ve forgotten just how pretty and perfect he really is. 

How...disarming his face is. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I don’t know.” 

The breeze is cold, whipping around you and biting at your cheeks. The blanket tucked tightly around you stops the wind from chilling you to your bones. You don’t care about the cold, your gaze out on the waves crashing against the shore. 

“Cold?” Johnny asks, tightening his hold around you. 

“No.” You say, fighting back a shiver as you lean further back against his chest. The last thing you want right now is to leave the beach. 

“Somethin’ tells me I shouldnae believe you.” He says, squeezing his body around yours. 

“Well, whatever it is, it’s wrong.” You say stubbornly, shoving your hands in your armpits to keep them warm. 

“Stubborn little thing.” He says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Should be headin’ back soon anyway.” 

You let out a whine in protest, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here forever.” 

“I know.” He says, letting you go just enough to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Wish I could let ye.” 

You can’t stop the shiver that shakes through you at the loss of his warmth. It is cold and getting colder as the sky gets more grey overhead. The sun is going down, the darkness of the evening rolling in earlier and earlier every day. 

“Time to head back.” Johnny says, pocketing his phone. 

“Five more minutes.” You whine, trying to lay all of your weight against him. 

“I have direct orders to get you back stat.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. 

You let yourself flop back on the blanket you’ve been sitting on, looking up at him as you lay there in the sand. The wind is picking up, blowing some of it onto your face. You sputter, pulling yourself back up to sit. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, tucking his hands under your arms before lifting you to stand. “Let’s head back before it gets dark.” 

He brushes the sand off of your blanket before picking up the other one and shaking it. He drapes it over his arm before guiding you back up the path towards the car. You take one last look over your shoulder at the water before following him to the parking lot. 

It’s dusk when you get back to the cottage, the lights from inside glowing warmly through the windows. Johnny takes your hand, leading you up the steps and into the cottage. 

It’s warm inside, the rest of your pack moving around in the kitchen and dining area. You kick your boots off, passing your blanket off to Johnny before heading into the living area. The table is all made up, many dishes sitting out ready to be served, all of them looking very familiar.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping closer to the table. 

“It’s Thanksgiving.” Dr. Keller says, stepping out of the kitchen with a tray of meat in her hands. “I thought you might like to celebrate.” 

“Oh.” You stand there for a moment. You didn’t even realize what day it was. Time has been so strange with no phone or television to give you an idea of what day it is. It’s been moving quickly, almost four weeks since the day you were taken. “Is that why you let Johnny take me to the beach?” 

“We wanted to surprise you.” John says. “I know you don’t like surprises, but this felt like a more appropriate one.” 

“I don’t like surprises, but this is really sweet.” You move towards your normal seat at the table, looking at all of the dishes laid out. 

“We made all the classics, or at least as close as we could get with what we have available.” Dr. Keller says. 

“It’s pretty close, but then again I’ve only had Thanksgiving once.” Ashley says, coming out of the kitchen. You hadn’t even noticed her car parked outside. 

“Thank you for this.” You say, still a bit taken aback by the gesture. “I didn’t even know it was close to Thanksgiving. Time...time seems so weird now.” 

“A lot has happened in a short amount of time.” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back. “That can skew how we perceive time passing.” 

“I also don’t have any way to tell time.” You shrug. 

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Well, we’ll see if we can rectify that.” 

Everyone takes their seats at the table in their usual spots, except for the extra chair next to Dr. Keller for Ashley. You recognize the strategic move, even if the rest of your pack pretends not to notice. Dr. Keller also pays it no mind, but you can’t help but notice the bashful look that flashes across her face when her hand brushes Ashleys as food gets passed around the table. 

You load up your plate, digging in almost immediately. You hadn’t realized how hungry you got down at the beach, not until you came back to a cacophony of delicious smells. It all tastes good, all of it throwing you back into reminders of your childhood and Thanksgivings with your family. While your father still had expectations of proper behavior from you and your siblings, it was tradition that he’d spend most of the day in his chair. Your mother did all of the cooking, you and your siblings helping when she’d allow. 

You never truly understood how much work she put into every holiday until you were older. 

Thanksgivings at the institute were never the same as Thanksgivings at home. You got the day off of course, and there always was a better meal that day with the classics, but it always felt so manufactured, not unlike the food on base. You never realized how much you missed home cooking until now. 

You never realized how much you missed your mothers food until now. 

Tears blur your eyes as you continue to eat, trying to distract yourself with heaping spoonfuls of food. 

“You doing alright?” 

Of course the one time John would notice your melancholic state would be right now. The entire table pauses, turning to look at you. You start to curl in on yourself, not wanting all the attention all at once on you. 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, wiping the tear that betrays you and falls down your cheek. “Just tastes really good. Reminds me of my mom’s cooking.” 

The words slip out before you can stop them, tumbling out onto the table and landing among the mashed potatoes. Things suddenly feel very vulnerable, very raw. You wish you could grab the words, shove them back in and make them all forget your admission. You don’t want the soft stares, the sympathetic looks in their eyes, the understanding. You want to crawl under the table and hide until the moment passes. 

“I-I think I just missed home-cooked food.” You try to save the moment from growing more embarrassing for you. 

“I second that.” Johnny says, the tension in the room lightening just a bit. “Easy tae forget what good food tastes like sometimes.” 

“I’ll give it to the Americans.” Kyle says, recognizing your desire for the attention to be off of you at this moment. “They do know how to do a good feast.” 

“We can do more than good food.” Dr. Keller says, sounding almost offended. 

“Like Halloween.” Johnny says. “What I wouldnae give to have an American Halloween.” 

“You just want an excuse to eat candy until you’re sick.” Simon rumbles. 

“I wan’ tae do more than that.” Johnny gives him a look. “Costumes, the parties, trick or treatin’. All of it.” 

“Maybe we’ll have to take you to America next Halloween.” Dr. Keller says. “Let you get a proper taste of the holiday.” 

Next Halloween. 

You’re not even thinking a week ahead, much less a year. You’re not even sure the others have thought much about what the next few months will look like. Where will you all be in a year? You can’t stay at the cottage forever, as much as you would enjoy it. At some point a decision has to be made. Where do the five of you go from here? 

The conversation begins to lighten, the attention thankfully being drawn off of you again. That doesn’t save you from John’s gaze, though, his eyes flicking up to you every so often. You try not to meet that gaze, keeping your eyes down on your plate as you eat until you’re stuffed full. Yet you can’t help but look up when his gaze lingers too long, when your omega shifts under the scrutinizing gaze of an alpha. He’s trying to read you like he used to be able to. You wish you could hide better from him, but you’ll never be able to truly keep your thoughts and feelings under wraps. 

Not from him. 

You’re banned from the kitchen as food is cleaned up and placed in the fridge and dishes are washed. Instead you find yourself on the couch, staring into the flickering flames of the fire. Kyle takes a seat next to you, sitting down with a quiet groan. 

“How are you?” He asks, draping his arm on the back of the couch behind you. 

“Fine.” You say, still turned to face the fire. “Full.” 

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Same. Don’t think I’ve been this full in a long time.” 

“That’s the point of the holiday.” You say. “Eat until you pass out.” That’s what your father used to do, slipping into a food coma after dinner in his chair. As much as you hate him, you do miss those quiet evenings where you could loosen up and not care about his calculating gaze. 

“Feeling tired?” He asks, and you can feel his questioning gaze hitting the side of your head. 

“No,” You respond, and it’s the truth. There’s far too much going on in your head to even nap right now. 

It falls silent for a few moments, only the sounds from the kitchen and the crackling of the fire breaking the silence. You’re far away in your thoughts, replaying the last few weeks over and over in your head. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” John asks, breaking you from your reverie. He takes a seat on the other couch, facing you. 

“Just thinking about how much time has passed.” You answer, tucking your knees up close to your chest. “It’s been almost a year and yet it feels like it’s only been a few weeks.” 

John hums. “You would have been with the CIA already by this time.” 

You nod. “Yeah. I was picked up just after Halloween. Didn’t really have Christmas last year. The CIA wasn’t exactly the most festive place. They had bigger things to worry about.” 

“Did you miss it, Christmas?” He asks. 

“Well, yeah. Of course, even if we didn’t really celebrate much in the institute either. We didn’t have any gifts to give each other outside of things we were supplied with by the institute. They didn’t really bother decorating either. We got the day off, of course, and we had a nicer meal than usual, but it wasn’t really some big festive celebration.” You shrug. “It was always a big deal in my house. It was my mom’s favorite holiday.” 

You cut yourself off before the emotions can get to be too heavy. You’ve already almost lost it once in front of them today. The last thing you want is to risk that again. You’ve spilled too many words already. The last thing you want is to spill more. 

John’s gaze leaves you to look at Kyle next to you, the two of them sharing a silent conversation. You’ve always envied their abilities to speak to each other without words. You wish you could know them that well, you wish you could understand them on that level. You wish you shared the bonds they have with each other. You’ll always be the odd man out, the outsider. You’ll never have that closeness, that ease with which they exist around each other. 

You’re beginning to see it again, the fluidity between them, moving around each other without needing to look, always aware of the others. Here you are again, on the outside of that once more. Things really have gone back to the way they were before, back when things were new and foreign and unknown. You’re an unknown factor in this dynamic again, all of them tiptoeing around you like you might explode if they get too close, if they push those boundaries again. 

Part of you hates it. Part of you likes it. 

You’re not sure what to feel anymore. 

You tilt your head back, thumping it against Kyle’s hand. “Sorry.” You quickly sit yourself back up. “Done that twice now I guess.” 

“No need to apologize.” He says, his hand dropping to your shoulder to lean you back again. His hand gently cups the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your scalp with his fingers. 

You let out a content hum, your eyes fluttering closed. It falls silent between the three of you as Kyle slowly works you into a comfortable, content state. Your omega begins to almost purr contently, and for the first time in a while, she doesn’t feel quite so out of control. 

The days start to make more sense as you now have an idea where you are on the calendar. It’s the end of November, meaning in just a few weeks it’ll be Christmas. The guys haven’t said anything about celebrating, so you haven’t gotten your hopes up. Still, you can’t hide that itch in the back of your mind, that desire to have a proper celebration for your first year out of the institute. 

“You know you can tell them what you want.” Dr. Keller says, sitting in the chair next to you. “We’ve gone over this. I’m sure those guys would turn the world upside down if you asked them to.” 

“I just...I don’t know how.” You say. “What if they have no plans for Christmas? What if they weren’t planning anything? What if this is too last minute?” 

“There’s a little under a month till Christmas. It’s hardly last minute.” Dr. Keller says. “Even if they say no, then we’ll have a celebration. Just the two of us.” 

“You’d do that for me?” You ask, turning to look at her. 

“Of course. If you want to celebrate Christmas, then we will, no matter what the others decide.” She says firmly. “If they don’t wish to participate, then they don’t have to.” 

“That’s...really kind of you.” You say. She’s done so much for you already, and here she is offering to do more. 

“It’s what I’m here for.” She says. “Whatever you want to do. Decorate, bake cookies, go shopping. All of the above.” She reaches over, squeezing your hand. “You’re in charge.”

You’re in charge. 

Your omega nearly preens at the words, starting to get excited. Yet, you’re not quite sure how you feel about that kind of pressure being placed on you. It’s not in your nature to be in charge...or at least that’s what the institute taught you. Omegas are submissive and follow their alpha’s orders. 

The institute was wrong about a lot of things, though. Maybe you do want to be in charge. Maybe if you’re in charge, things will start to get better. Maybe if you’re in charge, you can finally get your pack in line and get them doing what you want them to do. 

It’s far too early for you to be awake. It’s still dark out, no light filtering through the gaps in the curtains. There’s light coming through the gaps in the door, though, and you can hear quiet rustling. 

“It’s still crooked.” You hear Kyle’s voice through the wall. 

“I’m doin’ the best I can.” Johnny retorts. 

More rustling and quiet tinkling sounds through the wall. There’s no more hope for sleep for you now, your interest far too piqued as to what they’re doing. You slide out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you pad across the cold floor to the door. 

You’re not ready for what you find on the other side. 

All four of them pause as your door opens and you take half a step out the doorway. You freeze, hand still over one of your eyes. Johnny is standing on a stepstool, leaning over a tree. Kyle is standing next to him, peeking around him to look at you. Simon is frozen in front of the fireplace, garland hanging from his hands. John is standing between the couches, a round ornament in each hand. 

You slowly lower your hand from your eye, sweeping your gaze over the four of them once more. “What are you doing?” You ask, even though you already know the answer to that question. 

“Decorating.” The four of them say all at once. 

“We were going to surprise you when you got up.” Kyle says. 

“We were trying to be quiet.” John says. “But those two muppets can’t get the star properly on the tree.” 

“You’ve got it on the branch wrong.” Kyle says. 

“It won’t go any other way.” Johnny argues. 

They go back to what they were doing, almost as if you’re not there. You’re glad for it as tears begin to fill your eyes. They’re decorating. They were decorating to surprise you. You can’t help but wonder if Dr. Keller expressed your desire for a proper Christmas to them on your behalf, but part of you knows she wouldn’t do that. She’s pushing you too hard to take control to do that. 

Maybe they’re doing it because they want to. Maybe this was their plan all along. 

“Let me do it.” Kyle says, tugging on Johnny’s shirt. 

“I can do it just fine.” Johnny persists, still fiddling with the star on the tree. 

You roll your eyes, moving over to them. “Move. I’ll do it.” 

Neither of them argue as Johnny steps down off the stool, letting you climb up. You can feel their hands hovering as you stand up on your toes, reaching for the top of the tree. You bend the top branch, situating the star on properly for them. 

“See! I told you.” Kyle says, his hands still hovering as you climb down off the stool. 

“My way would have worked just fine.” Johnny pouts. 

“I’m sure it would have.” You shrug, patting his arm before walking away. 

You join John in sorting through ornaments as Kyle and Johnny finish adjusting the lights on the tree. They’re all brand new, sealed in the boxes still. So they went shopping for all of this. You don’t suppose a summer house would have Christmas decorations laying around. It’s touching that they did this for you, even if they didn’t know you’d want it. 

“Thank you.” You say, fiddling with the hook on one of the ornaments. “For doing this.” 

“It wouldn’t be fair to not give you a proper Christmas.” John says. “Not when it means so much to you.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips, tears starting to fill your eyes again. “I appreciate it. More than you know.” 

You don’t flinch as he reaches out, gently running a hand over your head as you wipe the tear that falls. It’s nice, feeling his touch again. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding his hand against the side of your head. You barely realize you’re doing it as you press your nose into his wrist, breathing in his fresh, woodsy scent. Petrichor, damp earth. It fills your nose like it did the first time you scented him, making your head spin. 

For the first time in a while, your omega lays comfortably in the back of your mind, settled contently back into her cage. 

You stand there nervously, staring at your alpha. He hasn’t acknowledged you yet, giving you a moment to gather yourself. You’re nervous, your palms sweaty, even if you have nothing to be nervous about. The worst he can say is no, and then you’ll have an excuse. Or he’ll say he’ll do it himself, then one surprise will be ruined at least. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that nickname spoken in such a way. Your omega rolls over and shows her belly, ready to submit to his quiet purr of your nickname. 

“I...I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. Now is the time. Now is when you have to be brave and voice your wants. 

“Go ahead.” He says, putting his phone down and turning to face you.

You almost wish he wouldn’t. You wish he’d stay turned away, attention on his phone so he can half pay attention to what you’re saying. No, instead he has to give you his full attention and put even more pressure on you. 

The words catch on your tongue, choking you as you attempt to be brave, as you attempt to take this leap into unknown territory. 

The worst he can say is no. 

“I want to go Christmas shopping.” The words come out fast, almost slurring together in your haste to voice them before you lose all the courage that led you to this point. 

He leans back in his seat and you prepare for the worst, you prepare for the no waiting to come out and put an end to your silly little request. You’ll sulk and cry about it in the safety of your room. Now you have to be strong. 

“Okay.” He says. 

You nearly turn and run in shame before the meaning of the word settles into your brain. You stand there in surprise, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Okay?” You parrot, your brain still trying to comprehend what it is he’s saying. 

“Okay.” He repeats. “You’ll have to take one of us with you, though. You can’t leave unprotected, even with Christine.” 

“I’ll go.” 

The voice makes you jump, spinning on your heel to face Simon. You hadn’t even heard him approach. You stare in surprise at the other alpha. He hasn’t made much of an effort to insert himself back into your life. You were half sure he hated you again with how he’s been acting. 

“Alright.” John says, his voice almost as surprised as you feel. 

It will be nice having the hulking alpha following you around. You think back to when you went lingerie shopping with Johnny. How long ago that seems now. People had gone out of their way not to walk too close to you and your protector. No one will want to mess with you with him around.

“Go with Christine.” John says, making you turn back around to look at him in surprise. 

“Really?” You ask in disbelief. 

He nods. “I think it will be good for you, getting out of the house. Just don’t stay out too long.” He turns back to his phone and you turn back to look at Simon, but he’s gone. 

“This might be a tad bit overwhelming at first.” Dr. Keller says as she drives through town. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in a populated place.” 

“I’ll be fine.” You say, even if you don’t really believe it. You had prepared for this possibility in the days you’ve thought about this trip. 

John wanted you to go early on a weekday, when it was less likely to be too crowded. While crowded might hide you better, it also left too many possibilities for someone to sneak up on you. 

“You say the word and we’ll go.” Dr. Keller says. “I can always come back later and finish shopping for you.” 

“Okay.” You say, still staring out the window at the buildings. It’s been a while since you’ve seen so many buildings all in one spot. 

Simon is quiet in the passenger seat, also watching out the window. You wonder what’s going through his head, if he regrets volunteering to come along. You wonder why he did volunteer in the first place. You know safety is of the highest concern now while Shepherd is still out there. Does he not trust anyone else to protect you? That’s a possibility. 

There’s another rift in the bonds. 

Dr. Keller pulls into the Tesco parking lot, many cars there even for so early in the morning. Everyone else had the same idea as John. 

“Try to make this as quick as possible.” Simon says as you undo your seatbelt. “The sooner we can get in and out, the better.” 

Dr. Keller gives him a look, something passing between the two of them before she opens her car door. You get out as well, pulling your jacket tighter around you as the cold air hits your skin. It had been warm in the car, the heat cranked for your sake. 

You’re half tempted to hold Simon’s hand as you cross the parking lot. You doubt he’d let you. He might pull away and that would be worse. That would ruin the whole trip. Old habits, you think. He’s barely spoken to you, so much as made an effort to rekindle the relationship between you. That would be pushing things too far. 

Instead you stick close to Dr. Keller, trying not to panic as you walk into the building with the bright lights and the people. It’s gross, making you squint for a moment as Simon grabs a cart, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. 

“What are you planning on getting?” Dr. Keller asks, trying to distract you. 

“I-I don’t know.” You stay, blinking at aisle after aisle of products. “I didn’t think this far ahead. I thought John would say no.” 

“Well, what do you think they’d like?” She asks. 

What would they like? What do they like? You’re drawing a blank as you think about them. How little you know about them too. 

Kyle. Kyle likes skincare. He’s always prioritized that on base. Maybe you’ll get him something related to that. 

You start for the cosmetics section, Simon following like a shadow behind you and Dr. Keller. What kind of skincare does Kyle like? You know he uses coconut oil after he showers. He always smells good. Maybe something exfoliating? Something moisturizing? Both? 

You stand in front of the skincare, drawing a blank as you look at the many options. Dr. Keller and Simon stand there quietly as you deliberate, suddenly overwhelmed by the choice you have to make. 

“Who are you shopping for right now?” Dr. Keller asks, obviously picking up on your discomfort. 

“Kyle.” You say. “I know he likes skincare.” 

“Hmm.” Dr. Keller hums, looking at the options as well. “How about something like this?” She picks up a gift set with cleanser and moisturizer. “Something to cover all the basics?” 

You nod. “Okay. That sounds good.” 

Simon says nothing, offering no words of advice as she puts it in the cart. Maybe he doesn’t even know his own pack that well. Or maybe this is his way of showing his displeasure for you. Let you flounder and get the wrong thing. You want to believe he wouldn’t be that cruel. 

You wander the aisles, looking for gifts for the other three. You pass by a spa kit, pausing for a moment. You should get one for Dr. Keller. She deserves some pampering and relaxation after weeks of taking care of you. 

You put two in the cart, grabbing one for Ashley as well. 

Johnny. What does Johnny like? Art. He likes art. Maybe something with art supplies. 

You head for that section, Simon still following behind silently, aside from the clinking of the cart as he pushes it. 

You pause as you pass by a display of teddy bears. Johnny sleeps with a stuffed bear. You know that. You’ve cuddled with it yourself. It’s probably back on base with the rest of your belongings. He must miss it. 

You grab one, putting it in the cart. 

“For Johnny.” You say as Dr. Keller gives you a look. 

Simon still doesn’t say anything, but his scent reaches your nose as you walk past him. 

The alphas. John and Simon. The two you seem to know the least. What do they like? What would they want as gifts? Simon likes knives and masks, but you’re not sure you could just buy a knife in the UK like you could in America. You could just ask him, considering he’s here with you, but that feels almost intrusive. He’ll know what you get him regardless, but asking him seems like a daunting task. 

You continue wandering the aisles, looking for something that John might want. 

You pass by a gift set of tea, pausing as you stare at it. He likes tea. He might like some other options than what’s at the house. 

You put it in the cart. 

Now Simon. The hardest of the four. 

You continue wandering the aisles before you pause in the books section. Simon likes to read. You do know that. You’ve scoured the shelf at the cottage enough to know what’s there and what’s not. Maybe you’ll get Simon some new books. Something that’s not available to you currently. 

You pick out a couple before putting them in the cart. 

“Okay.” You say, staring at the selection you’ve grabbed. “I think I’m done.” 

“You’re sure?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. I don’t want to do anything too over the top.” 

You really don’t. The last thing you want is to do too much too soon. 

You pause as you walk past the candy aisle, grabbing a handful of candy canes and putting them in the cart before heading for the checkout. 

Dr. Keller pays with cash as you load the bags into the cart. You’re ready to be out of the store with its bright lights and loud music and people. It’s starting to get busier, more and more people coming in the doors there to do their Christmas shopping as well. 

Simon loads the bags into the trunk as you climb into the car with Dr. Keller. 

“How do you feel?” She asks as you let out a breath. 

“A bit overwhelmed.” You say honestly. 

“It’s a lot going from isolation to a supermarket. I think you did good, though.” She praises you. 

The door opens as Simon climbs into the passenger seat. He’s barely said a word the entire trip, looming in silence like he used to. Part of it makes your chest hurt, that he would regress so much after what happened, but part of you understands. He had to make a big decision on your behalf, push himself past his comfort zone to save your life. Of course he’d want some distance after everything. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want anything to do with you again. 

It’s far too early when light seeps into your room before disappearing. You keep your eyes closed, willing whoever had just entered your room to vanish before they reach the bed. 

You’re not so lucky, a hand settling on your shoulder and gently shaking you. 

“Time to rise and shine.” A soft voice says. 

You let out an irritated grumble, trying to pull the blanket up over your head. 

“It’s Christmas morning, don’t you want to go open your presents?” That hand shakes you again. 

“Sleep.” You murmur, curling up in a ball under the comforter. 

“It’s already 10 am.” The voice says again, tugging the blankets down. “They let you sleep longer than they wanted.” 

Last night was a rough one. You had laid awake far too late, staring at the ceiling and then you woke from a nightmare in the middle of the night, and it had taken time to calm yourself and fall back asleep. You’re still exhausted, your eyes burning from tiredness. 

You let out a grunt of displeasure, but you know there’s no getting out of this one. You’re going to be getting up no matter what. 

You slowly stretch out your limbs, rubbing your eyes. “Fine.” You yawn, turning over to press your face into the pillow. “Be up soon.” 

“No going back to sleep.” The hand rubs your back gently. “Then I’ll have to send one of them in and they won’t be quite so nice about it.” 

You hum into the pillow, already feeling sleep tugging at your brain. Despite the warning, your mind sinks back into the comforting realm of rest as your body relaxes back into the bed. 

You’re not sure how long you get to rest before the comforter is torn off of you, landing somewhere on the floor. Hands roll you over and sit you up before your brain can even process. You blink the rapidly fading sleep from your eyes as you’re hauled up, flying through the air for a moment before you’re tossed over a broad shoulder. 

“Time tae get up.” Johnny says, packing you towards the light filtering in through the open door. 

You let out a whine as he packs you out into the warmth and the light before lowering you back down on your feet. Hands stop you from falling backwards, Johnny’s t-shirt clad chest coming into view as you blink the blurriness from your vision. 

“Happy Christmas kitten.” He says, grinning brightly at you. 

You mutter something that sounds like ‘Merry Christmas’ back to him. His hands slowly spin you around, turning you to face the tree. 

You blink in surprise as you stare at the many presents on the floor under the tree. You weren’t expecting that much, though you suppose with six people in the house there would be quite a bit. It’s one gift though that draws your attention. It’s seated on the far side of the tree, nothing but a bow on top of its head. 

“You...you got me a giant bear?” You ask in surprise. 

“Was Si’s idea-oof.” Johnny coughs as Simon hits him on the back. 

You walk over to it, pulling the bow off of its head. You’ve missed your giant bear and the comfort it brought you. That’s the one thing you wish you still had from the barracks, that you’ve been wanting for for weeks. It’s bigger than the one at the barracks, the top of its head reaching your chest when you’re standing in front of it. 

You let your hands run over the soft fur, squeezing its plush face. There’s no cameras in this one. You know they’ve checked, ensured its safety. There’s no one looking back at you as you stare into its dark eyes. 

“What do you think?” Kyle asks. 

“I love it.” You say, trying to stop the waver in your voice. The last thing you want is to cry on Christmas. “Thank you.” 

“Come on.” Hands guide you to the chair, letting you sit down. “You’ve got a lot to open.” 

The next hour is a flurry of wrapping paper and bows as presents get passed around. You open up new shoes and clothes, a set of lacy panties courtesy of Johnny, new books, strawberry scented soap and shampoo, and some other comfort items. 

You’ll never forget Johnny’s face when he opens your gift to him, his eyes lighting up as he stares at the soft bear you picked out. It gets you a big hug and a kiss to the cheek from him, and you know he’s going to be sleeping with it tonight. 

You’re exhausted by the time the last present is opened, rubbing your eyes again. You hadn’t even changed out of your pajamas, feeling underdressed compared to the others. Yet at the same time it makes you feel like a kid again, tearing into presents on Christmas morning, excited to see what you got. 

You look around the room, John and Kyle starting to bag up wrapping paper and clean, Johnny on the couch next to Simon holding his bear, Simon sitting near the fire already cracking open one of the books, and Dr. Keller and Ashley on the other couch talking, sitting very close. It brings a small smile to your face. You’re happy for them. It’s nice to see Dr. Keller getting something positive out of this stay at the cottage. 

You can’t help but think that whatever happens next, maybe it might not be so bad after all. 

“Think we should wake her up?” Kyle asks. 

“No.” John says, standing next to him. “It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen her in weeks.” 

They both stare at you where you lay near the tree, draped over your large bear. You’re sound asleep, mouth slightly parted as you snooze away. 

“I think she likes it.” 

“It was a good choice.” John agrees. “It will certainly help make her more comfortable.” 

“I can’t wait to see how she’s going to fit that on the bed.” Kyle says with a soft smile. 

“Well, you certainly won’t be joining her when she does.” John smirks. 

“I think I can live with that.” Kyle says. “Like you said, whatever makes her more comfortable.” 

“I’m glad she’s loosening up a bit.” John says, turning away from you to head back towards the dining table. 

“So am I. She deserves to feel safe and comfortable.” 

“She does. We need to make sure she feels that way all the time, no matter what.” 

“I want to help her.” Kyle says longingly. 

“I know. And we can, but we have to let her lead.” John says. “The best we can do is listen to her and give her what she needs, even if it's not what we think is best. We don’t really know what’s best for her in the end. Only she does.” He reaches up, cupping Kyle’s cheek. “We need to focus on each other too.” 

“I know.” Kyle says, leaning into his touch. “I want to.” 

John’s lips twitch in a small smile. “Good. Because so do I.” 

NEXT ->

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[celestiamour]

pls pls plsss write smth where fem reader and se-mi meet at the games and fall for one another? w the reader having a sort of bubbly and cute personality! tysm 🫶🫶

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ falling for your cute and bubbly personality┊0.7k words

contains: fluff! reader is a sweetheart, asking you out

➤ author's note: i was so in love with her this entire season like i couldn’t stop giggling every time she showed up on screen

you seem to be able to create friends even in this impossible situation, she notes as she watches you with amused eyes while you flutter around the room from group to group like a pretty butterfly flying from flower to flower. there’s at least one person in the dozens of teams who you know by name and not number, and even if you didn’t, you thought all of them were deserving of a drop of sunshine that was your personality. you made even the most difficult people crack a smile with how infectious your energy was and how sweet you were even in these murder games, and it made her indifferent heartbeat a little faster whenever it was her turn to have your attention. who wouldn’t feel that way when there was such a cute girl who reminded her of the princesses from those cartoons she watched when she was little?

“se-mi unnie!! how are you holding up?”

she hadn’t seen the real light of the sun in days, yet your smile shone even brighter than the morning star and she briefly wondered if she would be blinded if she looked directly at it. you were like a doll in the sense that it seemed to be permanent, but after seeing the look on your face after the first game where dozens died like they meant nothing, she now knows you were simply spreading some much-needed love to others as a way to cope with the traumatic experience like the sweetheart you were.

“i’m doing okay, i just wish the food tasted better— come sit next to me,” she commanded, patting her free hand against the open spot on the mattress because she wanted as much of your time as possible. 

“well, it’s kimbap, so you can’t really go wrong with it!” you obediently climbed onto the bed with her, sitting so close that she could smell the artificial flower-scented soap of the shower you took a couple of hours ago. “when we get out of here, you should come over to my place and i’ll cook you some food! i’m not as good as my grandma, but it’s a lot better than the cold stale stuff they serve here.”

“that would be great.” she liked the idea of coming over to your place, already able to imagine your room full of stuffed animal collections and lace curtains, although she would much prefer it if she came as something more than a friend— but now that she thinks about it, did you even like girls in that way like she does? you didn’t really express romantic interest in girls, but you exactly didn’t show any for guys either, being more of a little sister figure for them all rather than a potential love interest like she saw you as. 

there was only one way to tell, so se-mi did what she did best, and that was flirting with girls. 

“god, i wish this could be over already,” she sighed as she leaned over to your side to rest her head on your shoulder. “i would love to come over to your place, we could have a spa night and watch romance movies until morning.”

as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt heat start to radiate off your face. “l-like a date?”

“well, only if you want it to be a date…” 

“w-well… um… i would… really, really like that… um, mrs kang is calling for me! i’ll talk to you later!” you stuttered as you rushed off in the direction of the old lady and her son, covering your face with your hands and running away like an embarrassed anime girl. she watched carefully as you told them something in a clearly excited tone before smacking the man with the glasses when his head snapped in se-mi’s direction, but they both seemed very happy for you which made her smile knowing you were on board

“goddamn it, why is everyone pulling cute girls except for me?!” an annoyingly familiar voice from a certain purple-haired rapper started. “what am i doing wrong? i’m thanos for crying out loud, i should be getting swarmed!”

“you might want to work on your technique.”

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Because I was asked about this today:

The reason I don't have rag quilts listed is because I have no closet space to store them. They take up more space because they can't be folded completely flat. This is due to the nature of the rag side. We have no closets in this house. Just two standing wardrobes and several plastic boxes for storage. All the smaller finished quilts and all finished quilt tops are stored in my standing wardrobe. Coasters and mug rugs are in a small plastic box I use for storing some of my loose patterns. Quilts larger than 40x40 inches are stored in a larger plastic box. All this is to avoid dust and prevent my cat from gaining access to them.

Storing rag quilts can be tricky. The one I have for myself is on the back of my armchair because it's simply easier than trying to fit it in a plastic box. For buyers, how and where you store you quilt(s) is entirely up to you, though I do advise keeping them out of direct sunlight because it bleaches the colors out of the fabric.

If you have a rag quilt, would you mind sharing how you store them?

Quick question about a quick quilt...

I can finish a lap size rag quilt in less than a week, twin size in about a week, queen size in two weeks. It's three layers of fabric, quilt-as-you-go, minimal piecing, and they are heavy. Excellent for cold weather and folks who like the weight of blankets but not weighted blankets.* These quilts aren't as hot as layers of fabric plus beads/pellets, and they breathe much more effectively. For a heavier rag quilt, it's a layer of denim and two layers of quilting cotton or flannel. I have a rag quilt for myself that's three layers of quilting cotton. My house is drafty and winters are full of rain, which means the cold sinks into your bones with the humidity. My husband keeps stealing my quilt because his man-cave is the coldest room in the house. He doesn't care that it's very feminine colors "because it's warm."

As for why it's called a rag quilt, here's a sample:

The top is the fluffy side with the exposed seams. Instead of a quarter inch seam allowance the seams under the fabric, it's a one inch seam allowance and the seams are exposed. Said seams are then cut at one inch intervals. With every washing, the seams get fuzzier and softer. They're fun to touch and feel really nice. It's also why these must be dried ALONE or all the strings will end up on whatever else is in the dryer. Three layers of fabric also means two rounds in the dryer on high heat (which is why I like using flannel rather than quilting cotton) or one round of high heat and hanging to dry for a couple hours.

The back looks like a more traditional quilt top and is often the side with denim on it if denim is used. The one is three layers of flannel and was a giveaway prize earlier this year, to celebrate meeting a ko-fi goal.

These are a delight to make and excellent for cold winters and drafty homes. Did I mention they're pretty heavy? The one I have, once all folded up, weighs about six pounds, and knocks my husband out within about ten minutes of him laying over himself. It's why I plan on making a rag quilt for him. He keeps stealing mine.

For context regarding prices, these take significantly less time to make. This one, a lap size, took just 14.5 hours, and that included the quilting. A traditional style baby quilt starts at $2125 because I have a lot more cutting and sewing, and I do the quilting by hand (though it will soon change due to soon having a machine I can use on my Cutie frame and do all my quilting on it), and can take 70-80 hours start to finish. I charge $27/hour + cost of materials to come to the final price.

*A PT I know hates weighted blankets because they cause a lot of injuries. People rolling in bed with a weighted blanket on them have ended up in physical therapy because of soft tissue tears. Most especially dangerous for people with EDS and other connective tissue conditions. Other injuries they've seen are from the pockets with the beads/pellets in them tearing open. Pets and small children have been known to choke on those, and folks who are heavy sleepers can also be injured if the pockets near their face tear in their sleep. When the beads/pellets get all over the floor, people fall and end up with serious injuries from that. Not to mention overheating under all of them because the material doesn't breathe well.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ LIKE THE WAY I FUCK ('CAUSE I GET ROUGH) — an undercover mission with your superiors leads to compromised positions (in more ways than one)

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + könig

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, canon-divergence, age difference, slight power imbalance, jealous/possessive behaviour, discussions of violence, tags to be added

// NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT //

Turns out, undercover missions involve a lot more make-up, perfume and dresses than you'd anticipated.

Being a seasoned task force operator, it's been months, if not years since you've been to a party outside of your barracks. Let alone one of this calibre; CEOs, billionaires on Forbes Top 50, politicians.

It's off-putting. 

All of it; it's stressful, and it feels as though your skin's crawling, having so much skin on display, so many eyes on you at once. You feel as though you’re an animal at a zoo, being inspected by families with their snotty-nosed kids.

"Sit-rep, Diamond?"

Swallowing around a dry mouth, you reply to your lieutenant's request through your earpiece, tone low and careful. "All as planned, Lt."

Ghost hums a low sound in reply, and your shoulders loosen slightly from their tense position.

You knew that your superior was already inside, having arrived ten minutes earlier. A small, selfish part of you wished that you'd have arrived with him, if only to see how he cleaned up.

Ghost? In a suit? It's like one of your deepest, most dirty of desires come to life.

Such thoughts that you'd never let leave your lips -- thoughts too likely to wreck your entire career and any opportunity to keep your relationship with the man.

"König?" Is Ghost's next question, although it's just the other man's name alone.

Right.

König.

The other superior featured in your dreams. Thoughts. Wank-material?

Whatever they are, they're becoming all too common, all too realistic, and all too risky.

"Successful entry," König replies, heavily accented voice low and quiet -- he's amongst people.

Your limo comes to a stop outside of the decorated museum, and a suited man opens your door with gloved hands. His upper lip is covered in a well-groomed pencil moustache, and you have to stifle a chuckle. Soap would’ve appreciated it.

With a small smile, you incline your head towards him, lifting up the fabric of your skirt so it doesn't brush against the gravel. It’s so… impractical, and you really can’t help but respect those that dress up like this on a regular basis. Looking down at your outfit, you let out a low breath.

When Gaz and Soap had burst into your room with shit-eating grins and a garment bag, you had just known that your dress was going to be... extravagant at best, and downright sinful at worst.

You were correct, of course.

So, here you are, walking down the red carpet into the building, cameras flashing and paparazzi screaming, in this... dress.

Silky black, strapless, and with crossing lines of fabric across your bare back. Chiffon skirts fall behind you, with a slit rising all the way up to where your thigh meets your hip bone. A gun hides beneath, strapped around your inner thigh, paired with your right, adorning a delicate yet hefty knife.

You look... not at all like a Sergeant on Task Force 141.

You look like a celebrity, one just out of her fans' reach. It's a surreal experience, and the mere thought of your two superiors (crushes) seeing you like this... It's frightening. Maddening. And, maybe, a tad bit exhilarating.

Gaz had insisted on doing your make-up -- having so many sisters made him a fully-fledged artist, apparently. And an artist he was, talented with the brushes of eyeshadow and flicks of eyeliner against your skin.

Soap, for his part, had begged for you to let him do your hair -- but considering his only experience was his mohawk, you were less than lenient. With a huff, he’d let you go to Laswell’s wife with the request, as long as he picked out your jewellery.

And now, hours later, your heels click against the stone tile as you enter the museum.

Soft lighting cascades all of the guests in gentle hues of yellow, laughter and polite mingling surrounding you as you enter the main ballroom, skirts brushing against your legs.

Chandeliers above glisten, a live-band plays beautiful jazz, and servers walk around with trays of champagne and finger foods.

It's nothing like you've ever experienced.

This mission, somehow, terrifies you more than the weight of a sniper in your hand and an order to neutralise.

"Target, six o'clock," Ghost's voice carries through your comms as you take position near the corner of the room. There’s fewer people here, and it allows you a moment to breathe and recalibrate.

Your eyes dart to the direction your lieutenant has supplied, and you catch sight of your target immediately. "Got eyes," you murmur softly, smile on your face as you pretend to fix your hair.

"Affirmative," König answers then.

"I haven't seen you before."

Whipping around to the source of the words, you find yourself face to face with a man who you've seen the face of too many times to count.

"Apologies for startling you," he inclines his head respectfully. He's got a few inches on you -- although you find it hard to consider him tall when you're with your superiors more often than not. His skin is closely-shaved, his blonde hair gelled to the nines -- and a smarmy, trust-fund baby smirk to top it all off.

Extending his hand, he announces, "I'm Phillip. Phillip Graves."

...Graves.

The last name of your target -- the son of your target.

"I'm Louise," you say with a sweet smile, taking his hand and shaking it. Your undercover name was going to have to come into play sooner than you'd hoped. "It's a lovely atmosphere, isn't it?"

"Positive, Diamond?" Ghost's deep voice instantly responds to your subtle codeword.

"Not as lovely as you, I'm sure," Phillip flirts, and you pretend to bat your lashes and hide your face from him.

"Ah... thank you, Sir. You're quite dashing yourself," you meekly reply, giving him a soft smile. 

Men like this were so easily played, you found. Not at all like the military men you were surrounded with on such a constant basis. Not at all like…

You can hear both König and Ghost swear underneath their breaths. Releasing the hold on your bracelet -- the one with the built-in comms button -- you shyly bite at your lower lip.

Phillip’s eyes track the movement, and if not for the stakes of this mission, it'd be almost comical.

"May I have this dance?" He asks, offering his arm for you to take. He’s adorning an obviously wealthy suit, dark blue and silky – and it rubs you in all the wrong ways.

You can hear your heart pound in your ears -- this wasn't the way the mission was supposed to go. But, then again, you didn't get into Task Force 141 by expecting every mission to go as planned.

"I would love to, Sir," you smile, wrapping your hand around his arm, allowing him to escort you to the main dance floor.

Subtly folding your hands together around his arm, you're able to push down the button on your bracelet. "You want us to dance in the middle of everyone? I'm not the best of dance partners..."

Phillip chuckles, but through your inner ear piece, you can hear König report, "Got eyes, Diamant."

Chills run down your spine. Either from this situation or…

Or something else that you're not entirely supposed to -- or allowed to -- feel. Not for those two men, and certainly not for your superiors.

"I'll lead you, darlin’," Phillip leans down to whisper into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. They’re thin, and chapped against your own skin.

His hand moves to sit at your lower back, just above your ass, and the other moves down your arm to interlace your fingers with his. It's an intimate position, your front pressing against his as he starts to lead you with the beat.

Of course you knew how to dance; you wouldn't have been picked for this role if you couldn't. 

However, you deliberately misstep a few times, just to play into Phillip’s ego -- his desire for control and intelligence. 

"For such a beautiful girl, you sure aren't the smartest," he jests, and it takes everything within you not to just swing your fist and leave him twitching on the dance floor. You could, realistically speaking, but that would cost you all the mission. And you would not let yourself, nor König or Ghost, down.

Instead, you nervously flit your gaze from him, moving in closer to his chest. By his squeeze on your lower back, you know it's the right decision. "I... I'm doing my best, Sir."

You want to crawl out of your own skin at the way you’re feeding into his misogyny, how you’re downplaying your own strengths.

He huffs, a demeaning, cruel thing.

"I want to shoot 'im," you hear Ghost mutter, and you'd be a liar to say that those words in that tone don't make you clench your thighs together as you sway against Phillip.

"Make it a competition, ja?" König quips. There's... irritation -- anger, maybe -- behind his question. It's so unlike the gentle giant of a man, and that fact alone has your breath coming out in a short pant.

Phillip, of course, thinks it's him making you so flushed.

With a vindictive smirk, he spins you, completely throwing you off balance. Maybe a tad too dramatically, you find yourself falling into his arms, giggling a little bit.

...It's worth it to hear Ghost grumble under his breath through the comms.

This whole situation doesn't feel quite real, and you know that their attitudes are nearly definitely due to the stray in plans. That's fine. That's all it can possibly be. It’s all that you’ll allow it to be.

But your mind has never been kind, and your imagination has always had the habit of wandering.

"Let's go get some drinks, hm?" Phillip asks, his hand falling dangerously close to 'inappropriate hand placement' territory.

You shoot him a seductive smile, nodding as he pulls you to the open bar, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, leaving you glued to his side. It’s a possessive position, and you find yourself wishing it was either of your superiors holding you in such a way instead.

"Don't drink anything he offers you," Ghost warns. You almost have the mind to chew him out for not trusting you with something so obvious, but... There's something about such subtle 

protectiveness that only feeds your elementary style crush on the man.

"I would love to," you reply as Graves leads you to the bar, hand only moving lower with every step the two of you take. Fear trickles down your spine, your hands squeezing tightly together at your front.

"Say the word and we get you outta' there, Princess," Ghost quips, sharp and to the point.

With your hands already together, you manage to reply an agreement in Morse code -- quick, successive taps of the communications button.

"Good girl," König replies, just a touch breathy from the quietness of his words.

You manage not to trip on your feet, but it's a close thing.

a small snippet, because i feel really bad for my lack of posts!! life is so insane atm its like a satire.