#......but then she and everything else has to keep going.

[alllgator-blood]

'FOGGY STREETS AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS'

(part 3/3)

I'm gonna infodump about the backstory of this comic, don't feel obligated to read it because it's not cotl related it's just personal stuff, I just want to be able to write about it somewhere cause I can't really talk to anyone about it.

As always, thanks for reading this far, sorry my stuff has been such a bummer so consistently. This comic goes out to all my "christmas induced depression" homies, I left my house maybe like ~5 times all month and it was NOT pleasant hearing "IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!" on the radio when I'm so ready for it to be over. Gonna take it reaaaaal easy til the year ends, you guys take it easy too!! Got some asks I have to respond to when I'm more stable but probably no new comic pages til january

Alright uhhh so this part of the comic is pretty much taken directly from the last time I saw my great-grandma alive, a few days before christmas. She didn't remember me, but at the nursing home there was a piano, and I sat down and played some stuff because I didn't know what to say. I was really into lisa the painful rpg at the time, and I played that "I've got the joy" song that the villain sings without realizing it was an old christian campfire song. She didn't really say much or move that whole night, just kind of gave me a polite blank smile, but started singing the words when I played the notes to that song.

I kinda stopped in shock, my dad frantically asked me to keep playing, so I did. While the comic I made is way more sappy than the actual moment was, I wish I'd cherished the moment longer. I didn't know it was the last time I'd see her alive. Every family christmas was held at her house when she was around, so it's been weird the past few years. I actually lost another dementia-addled grandma to cancer on christmas eve in 2009, so the holiday was already kind of weird for me on top of everything else that makes me sad this time of year. That's what part 2 was about, I'll spare the details but I wrote leshy to act out how I felt back then. Why are we all sad? This is supposed to be a happy time, all the decorations are up and we're almost all here, so why is everyone smiling yet everything feels so wrong? I feel like since leshy's canonically the most ignorant one to things lurking below the surface, he'd be the one to try and make everyone feel better but not quite understand why everyone is so miserable. My first memory of having self injurious behavior came from then, hence why I had leshy pull his leaves off in the last comic. It was confusing and frustrating and I was just old enough to comprehend something was wrong, but not old enough to understand the depth of it, it DEFINITELY didn't help that nobody helped me back then so I made leshy's siblings actually come in clutch instead of grabbing him/yelling at him.

That night with the piano was something that's stuck with me the few years she's been gone, but I felt kind of strange when I asked my dad and my sister about it and neither of them remembered it. The room we were in was completely empty so nobody else witnessed it but us three. I myself have a history of head trauma and memory loss (plus, native americans are disproportionately more likely to develop dementia... lucky us) so if I ever forgot about that moment, there'd be nobody left to remember it. Sometimes when I do comics, it's my way of going "this happened at some point, and the only evidence it ever happened was me witnessing it, so if something happens to me I want the memory to stay alive in some form."

Anyway. The autistic urge to overshare, am I right? Idk what my religious ass great-grandma would think of me drawing demonic comics about my last memory of her, she'd probably think it's funny though cause she raised my dad whose interests have always been "death metal and devil worship". I'm not sure if anyone read this far, I just hope my dumb comics can convey the things I can't say with my voice and struggle to say through text. None of this was supposed to be "feel bad for me!! Woe is me!!", it was supposed to me more like...cathartic? Healing? I almost didn't post this comic because it felt kinda weird, but seeing people connect with it made it worth it imo. Thank you

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON - not for the money

x FEM!reader - MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: you are scared that rafe thinks you’re only in the relationship for his money

WORD COUNT: 833

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: soft!rafe cameron

the scent of saltwater and pine carried through the open balcony door of rafe cameron’s bedroom, where you perched, fidgeting with the hem of your sundress. it had been a week since you overheard them—the cruel whispers in the back of the country club that claimed you were only with Rafe for his money.

“she’s so lucky,” one girl had sneered. “he pays for everything. i wouldn’t lift a finger either if i had a guy like that.”

“she’s totally using him,” one said, her tone dripping with disdain. “i mean, look at her. rafe’s always paying for everything.”

“right?” the other chimed in. “hair, nails, those dinners? she’s just in it for the money.”

another had laughed. “she just loves the chanel.”

the words striked you like a blow. was that really how people saw you? you’d never thought of yourself as someone who’d take advantage of him, but now, doubt crept in, wrapping around your chest like a vise.

their words kept echoeing in your head as rafe entered the room, his usual confident swagger softened by the adoration in his eyes. he set a bag from your favorite boutique on the dresser—a clear sign that he’d picked up yet another surprise for you.

“hey, sweet girl,” he said, crossing the room to kiss your temple. “i got you something.”

your chest tightened, guilt swarming you.

“baby,” you started, forcing a smile as you turned to face him. “you didn’t have to—”

“i wanted to,” he interrupted, his brows knitting together. “what’s mine is yours, sweet girl. you know that.”

you hesitated, the nagging doubts pulling at your resolve. if the people at the club thought you were a gold digger, you couldn’t stand the idea of him believing it too.

so, that’s when you decided: no more gifts, no more dates entirely on his dime. you were going to prove that you loved him for him.

the next week, your new approach to things began to show.

at your usual dinner spot, when the waiter brought the check, you quickly grabbed it before rafe could.

“what are you doing?” Rafe asked, blinking at you in confusion.

“splitting it,” you said firmly, pulling out your card.

“splitting?” He looked at you like you’d spoken a foreign language. “babe, no, put that away.”

“rafe,” you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument. “i’m paying for my half.”

he frowned, but he let you do it. that frown deepened over the next few days as he noticed more changes: no more nail or hair appointments showing up on his credit card statement, no impromptu shopping trips with bags of chanel or prada waiting at your apartment.

by the time your next date rolled around, he’d had enough.

“okay,” he said, sliding into the booth across from you at the diner. “spill.”

“spill what?” you asked innocently, focusing intently on your menu.

“don’t play coy, sweet girl. i know you. you’ve been acting weird all week. no more letting me pay, no more gifts—what’s going on?”

you sighed, setting the menu down. “i just… i overheard some people at the club. they think i’m using you just for your money. and i don’t want you to ever think that too.”

his expression softened instantly, and he reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

“baby,” he murmured, his voice low and full of affection. “that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard.”

you looked at him, surprised by his reaction. “rafe—”

“no, listen to me,” he said firmly. “i don’t care what those people say. they don’t know you. i know you. you’ve been there for me when no one else has. you’ve stuck around through my worst. you think i’m dumb enough to think it’s about the money?”

you blinked, his words sinking in.

“i buy you things because i can and want to,” he continued. “because you deserve the world, and i want to give it to you. not because i think you need it, or because i think it’s the only way to keep you around. got it?”

tears pricked at your eyes, and you nodded. “i just… i didn’t want you to feel like i was taking advantage of you.”

he chuckled softly, standing up to slide into the booth beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“sweet girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. don’t let some jealous nobodies make you think otherwise.”

you leaned into him, a small smile creeping onto your face.

“okay,” you whispered.

“good,” he said, pulling out his card as the waiter approached. “now let me pay for dinner, and stop being weird.”

you laughed, swatting at his chest. “fine, rafe. you win.”

and as you sat there, wrapped in his arms, you finally let yourself believe it—rafe cameron loved you for you as you loved rafe cameron for rafe cameron.

and that was more valuable than anything money could buy.

[vaguely-concerned]

huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

[enderlovez]

Trivia Night

Spencer Reid x BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 791

Summary: Garcia should've known it was a bad idea to put you and Spencer on opposing teams at trivia night, and now she's stuck with two very competitive people who will stop at nothing to win.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Garcia should have known better. Really, she should have.

The idea of a BAU trivia night seemed innocent enough—a fun team-bonding activity after a particularly grueling case. Drinks and snacks and a little friendly competition, what could possibly go wrong?

Apparently everything, when she made the critical error of placing you and Spencer on opposing teams.

"Alright, everybody!" Garcia chirps, standing at the front of the room with her clipboard. "Trivia night rules are simple: answer correctly, earn points; answer incorrectly, face public humiliation—kidding, sort of. Now, let's keep it light and friendly, okay?"

Spencer casts you a sly look from across the room, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Light and friendly," he echoes. "Got it."

You meet his gaze with an arched brow. "Sure, as long as you don't cry when you lose, Doctor Reid."

A ripple of laughter goes through the team, but Garcia sighs, already regretting her decision. "Why did I think this was a good idea?" she mutters to herself, scribbling a quick note to never pair you two against each other again.

The first few rounds go smoothly enough. Questions about geography and pop culture and history fly by, each team racking up points. You nd Spencer trade victories, but the air between you grows increasingly charged with every answer.

"You didn't even buzz in for that one!" you accuse after Spencer correctly answers a particularly obscure literature question.

"Because the answer was obvious," he replies smugly, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh, it's on," you mutter, cracking your knuckles dramatically, much to the amusement of the rest of them.

By the time the final round rolls around, the room is split between two factions: Team Spencer and Team You. Everyone else has resigned themselves to the sidelines, content to watch the show. Even Garcia has given up trying to referee, instead leaning against the bar with a drink in hand.

"This question," she announces, "is for the win."

You sit up straighter, your focus narrowing. Across the table, Spencer mirrors your intensity. His sleeves are rolled up, his tie loosened—classic signs of a man in deep competition mode.

"What is the capital of Bhutan?" Garcia asks, her eyes flicking between the two of you.

Your hand slams down on the buzzer half a second before Spencer's. "Thimphu!" you shout triumphantly.

Garcia checks her clipboard, nodding slowly. "Correct."

You throw your hands up in victory, earning cheers from your teammates. Spencer, however, is already leaning forward, his expression incredulous.

"That was a reflex," he argues. "She didn't even think about it."

You smirk, holding your hand up for a high-five from Morgan. "Or maybe I'm just faster and smarter than you, genius."

Spencer narrows his eyes. "Faster, maybe. Smarter? That's debatable."

The room erupts into laughter as you two go back and forth, your playful banter quickly escalating into a full-blown debate over split-second reaction times and the nuances of trivia strategy.

"Alright, alright!" Garcia finally intervenes, clapping her hands to get your attention. "We're calling it there before this turns into a break up. Trivia night is supposed to be fun, remember?"

You glance at Spencer, who's still staring at you like you've personally insulted his entire academic career. Despite his faux-annoyance, there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"Truce?" you offer, extending your hand towards him.

He considers it for a moment before shaking it. "Truce. But don't think this means I'm letting you win next time."

"Next time, you'll have to try harder," you reply with a wink.

As the room starts to clear now, you linger by the bar, waiting for Spencer to join you. When he does, he's holding two drinks—one for each of you.

"Good game," he says, handing you the glass.

"You're not mad I beat you?" you tease, taking a sip.

"Mad? No," he replies, leaning against the counter. "Impressed? Maybe. I didn't think you'd know the capital of Bhutan."

You grin, nudging him playfully. "I'm full of surprises."

Spencer chuckles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "You know, Garcia's probably ever going to let us be on opposing teams again."

"Probably not," you agree. "But it was fun while it lasted."

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the earlier competitiveness melting away. Despite the antics, it's moments like these—when you're teasing each other, laughing, and completely at ease—that make everything worth it.

"By the way," Spencer says after a moment, his tone casual but laced with mischief, "you buzzed in half a second early. Technically, you cheated."

You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn't fade. "Technically, I still won."

"Technically," he echoes, his lips quirking into a small smile.

And just like that, the competition starts all over again.

[miniwheat77]

Co-Star. (Ghost x Reader.)

!NSFW, Smut, cheating, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), sex coaching, proceed with caution, NO MINORS!

Merry early Christmas, please enjoy this pure filth! Love you guys <3

Unedited*

You smile sympathetically as you push his hips back. “I’m sorry Johnny, it’s not you.” You mumble. “I can keep going, doesn’t matter if I’ve… finished.” He mumbles. “No, it’s okay. I’m too sensitive.” You laugh. “You want me to try anything else?”

“No- no it’s okay.”

That’s usually how it went when the two of you were intimate. It didn’t matter how long Johnny lasted or what he changed, it never seemed to be enough. No matter what he did. He was frustrated with himself for not being able to get you there.

When he arrived home, he saw Ghost sitting on their shared couch. He was watching a show. Johnny knew about his reputation with women. He sighs.

“Something the matter Johnny?”

“No. Well… yeah.” He mumbles. He walks into the room completely and sits down. Ghost pauses the show. “What’s going on?”

“It’s awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… every time Y/N and I-“ he pauses. “Are intimate, I can’t satisfy her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Literally nothing I do will get her there.”

Ghost goes quiet for a second, crossing his leg over the other. “You rub her clit when you fuck her?” He asks, tipping his beer bottle back and taking a swig. “Christ… uh. Yeah. Yeah I’ve tried everything.”

“I mean I can go down the line but it’s not hands on so it won’t stick.” He shrugs.

An idea suddenly comes to Johnny’s mind. “If I ask her and she’s into it… you think you can show me?”

Ghost immediately feels the pit forming in his lower stomach, arousal.

“You mean you want me to fuck her?”

“To show me how to.. make her cum. Yeah I guess so.”

“Nothing weird though, right?” Ghost narrows his eyes. Johnny looks at him. Ghost stands up, stretching. “Obviously. I guess I’ll talk to her. Thank you Ghost.”

“Course Johnny.”

Ghost has to go take a shower and relieve himself. The thought of being inside you after being teased by you multiple times a week is overwhelming him.

A couple days later when Johnny is at your house again, he’s unsure how to bring it up to you. He wants his step brother to fuck you so that he can take notes and then MAYBE he’ll be able to make you cum? It sounds crazy to him even, how he’s supposed to get you to agree is beyond him.

“Johnny, you okay?” You pause the movie. He’s been acting weird all night.

“Uh.. yeah.” He mumbles. “You sure? You’ve been acting funny all night.” You sigh. You sit up on the couch, you’d been laying with your legs draped across him. “I.. I was talking to Ghost about… how I can’t satisfy you.” Your eyes widen. “Johnny!”

“I know I know. It’s not your thing to tell others about our sex life but I just want to be able to make you cum.” He laughs. “But I have a really weird request.” You look at him awkward. “He agreed to help me. Because obviously I’m not going to learn just by what he says.” You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” You ask.

He chews on his lip nervously. “I mean.. if you’re okay with it. He’s going to show me how to please you. Hands on.”

“What do you mean Johnny? How is he supposed to show you anything hands on without touching m-“ you cut yourself off, eyes going wide. “Woah! Woah. No way. No fucking way Johnny.” You stand up. “Look.. I know it’s a lot to ask. I know.”

“Of course it’s a lot to ask, you’re asking me to have sex with another guy! Your step brother of all people. Christ Johnny.” You sigh. “Look. It’s just once. Just once so that I’ll be able to make you cum every time we have sex. Just once Y/N.” You close your eyes. “One time for the rest of our lives together.” He smiles. “I’ll think about it Johnny.” You mumble. “Okay. Awesome.” He smiles.

So you do. For a few days you think about what he wants you to do.

Have sex with someone else.

Sleeping with Ghost was definitely not on your mind. You liked him of course, you got along well and shared a few of the same hobbies with him. But you were okay just being his sister-in-law someday.

Having sex with Johnny once was enough to convince you. It was so bad and you had no idea why.

So the very next morning you approached him about it.

———

“Are you sure about this?” You ask him. He’s just pulled into the driveway of his shared house with Ghost. He laughs, clearly seeing how nervous you’ve gotten. “Are YOU sure about this?” He smiles. You sigh.

“I guess so.” You mumble. You follow Johnny into the house and see Ghost sitting on the couch. He finishes off his beer and stands up, turning the TV off.

You cross your arms with a sigh as the three of you stand there staring at each other. “This is as awkward as it’s going to get, let’s get this over with.” You turn your back and head into Johnny’s room.

You start tugging your clothes off. Jacket and shoes coming first, Johnny and Ghost watch until you’re in your bra and jeans. “Alright. You two get started I’ll be back in like… 10 minutes to see what you’re doing wrong.” Ghost mumbles, heading into his bedroom just down the hall. The wall is shared and he rests up against it like he has before, listening to you. You sound so pretty.

But you don’t sound nearly as good as you could. He wants to hear you when you cum.

He listens for a while. He finally has enough, going in. Knocking at the door before he just walks right in. “Anything feel different?” He asks. You chew at your lip, shaking your head. Johnny sighs.

“Alright. I didn’t even need to see it to know you’re really bad at this, Johnny.” He snorts. Johnny rolls his eyes. “Move away, I’ll show you.” Johnny stands up, sliding himself back into his jeans. Ghost moves toward you, your nerves are completely shot as he throws the blanket off of you, revealing you to him completely. You’re nervous. He’s very blunt in his movements.

He wipes his lips with his sleeve, trying to distract himself from you. He grasps two pillows, sliding one under your head. “Raise your hips up.” He nods, helping raise your hips as he slides it under you. “It’ll help raise her pelvis so that you can go deeper.” He glances at Johnny. He nods his head. “Got it.. just. Do your thing.” He mumbles.

Ghost reaches for his waistband. You swallow hard, making eye contact with Johnny. You’re clearly very nervous. “S’alright, no need to be nervous. Just try to relax.” Ghost has exposed himself to you. He’s moved himself between your legs. “When people say that bullshit on TV about foreplay it’s true. It’s easier to cum the more turned on you are.” He mumbles, sliding into you. Your eyes widen, clutching at the sheets. He fills you up to the hilt, cock deeper than you’ve ever felt. “Does it feel better?” He asks. You swallow hard, nodding your head. “Y-yeah.” You breathe.

“Alright. Sometimes you have to adjust the way you’re angled-“ he moves a little bit and thrusts a couple of times, trying to get a feel for you. He lowers himself slightly, adjusting just right and thrusting. When he hears you gasp, feeling you tighten around him. “To find that spot.” He takes a deep breath. “Once you find it, don’t move or adjust and keep hitting it.” Ghost is thrusting, not too fast and not too slow. “O-oh god.” You breathe. Feeling yourself tighten around him. He clears his throat, turning to look at Johnny. He’s watching you intensely. Seeing that you’re obviously on the edge, as you’ve never looked like this before. “When she’s close, don’t move and don’t pick up the speed. If you do, you’ll lose your rhythm and overstimulate her without getting her there. I assume that’s what happens regularly.” He breathes. He reaches down between you, thumb pressing into your clit. “Not too hard now..” he breathes. Gentle touches and gentle circles.

Tears gather in your eyes, you’re right there. “Oh fuck!” You hiccup. “Go ahead, cum for me.”

Johnny’s cock is hard, the way you’re reacting is something he hadn’t ever seen before. Your eyes roll back, screwing shut as you reach your peak around Ghost. He thrusts a couple more times to ride your high out completely before pulling out of you.

He stands up. He wants nothing more than to kiss you. To help you come down from your high. But it’s not his place and he knows it. ���You get the idea Johnny. Just.. take your time with her.” Ghost needs to hurry, he’s about to lose that high. He excuses himself quickly, hopping right into the shower. He realizes that he’d forgotten a condom completely. He’d just fucked you raw right in front of Johnny and nobody stopped him.

“You alright?” Johnny asks. “Uh.. yeah. Yeah. It’s getting a little late though. I have work tomorrow.” You mumble. You stand up but your legs buckle. Johnny laughs. “He uh.. really knows his stuff huh?” He jokes. You smile nervously. “Yeah, yeah he does.” You mumble. You say goodbye to Johnny, leaving to your apartment.

The way you feel isn’t good. You’re not sure what these feelings are.

———

A few nights later, Johnny comes in. He’s clearly frustrated. “Everything alright Johnny?” Ghost asks. “No, I still can’t make her cum. I do everything you showed me and it just doesn’t work.” He groans, sitting down. “You know what… I’m gonna go out for a drink. You wanna come?” He asks. “No, I’m good. Got drills early tomorrow.” He laughs. “Loosen up Johnny, you’ll learn.” He mumbles. Johnny leaves and right as Ghost is changing, he hears a knock at the door. “Damnit, forgot his fucking keys that fast?” He mumbles under his breath, opening up the door. “Uh.. sorry to bother you.” You mumble. “Y/N? You know you don’t have to knock right?” He asks. “Oh yeah- yeah I know.” You shake your head. “Is Johnny here?” You ask. “Nah he just left, come in.” He moves to the side. He’s shirtless. “He said things didn’t go well.”

You shrug. “He just- acts like he’s in a hurry.” You breathe. “Tonight he just.. got mad and left right in the middle. Said.. it shouldn’t take me that long.” You laugh, cheeks red. He rolls his eyes. “He’ll get it one day.” He mumbles.

Ghost knows that what he’s thinking about is wrong. Pushing you down and spearing you on his cock until you’re sobbing. He hates that he can’t have you.

“Do.. do you think that-“ you pause. “I know it’s wrong but, can you help me?” You look up at him. His blood about freezes at that question, words he never imagined out of your mouth in a million years. “Y/N…” he mumbles. “Johnny would be pissed if he found out.”

You laugh, looking down. “Yeah- yeah you’re right. I know.”

“I just can’t shake the way you made me feel. I’ve never ever felt like that before.” You breathe. “Thanks anyways- sorry for bothering you.” You mumble, turning to walk out the door. He sighs. Reaching out for your wrist. “Wait.” He breathes. “Just once, and we keep it between us alright?” You nod your head. Before you realize the severity of what you’re doing, he’s pulling you into his bedroom.

He’s got a pillow under your hips in just a few seconds and your heart races in your chest. The excitement you feel to cum like this again is near pathetic. “Try to keep up with me, I’m gonna be rough.” He mumbles. You nod your head. He slides into you and gives you a few seconds to adjust. You’re full once again, relishing in the way he feels inside of you. He feels so much different from Johnny, just the slightest bit difference and you’re falling over that edge.

He pins your hips to the bed, starting his bruising thrusts into you. He’d usually warm you up with foreplay but he knows with Johnny out for a while, he doesn’t have that kind of time.

You whine out, hands clutching his bedsheets. He can’t believe this.

He’s inside of you again. And not for another fucking lesson, just because.

Just because you want him.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp. Your moans draw him back down to earth. “Fuck- you’re so fucking tight.” He hisses. Butterflies overload your stomach, you’re already close to your high. He hadn’t even touched your clit and you’re already there. “Simon-“ you mewl his actual name. He didn’t even know that you had known it. It’s unexpected and something he didn’t think he’d ever hear out of you. You cum around him and he doesn’t expect it, the tightening of you around him sends him flying into his own orgasm. Gasping out as he reaches it. He lets out a string of curses and moans as he cums, body tense and shaking. It’s by far the hardest he’s ever cum. “Fuck- fuck. I came inside.” He breathes. He draws back from you. “Shit..” you mumble. “It’s- it’s okay I’ll pick something up for it.” You pant. He nods. “You okay?” He asks. Now, he can comfort you. He can’t kiss you, he knows it. But he can comfort you.

He lets you calm down in his bed until you’re ready to leave, but when you get out to your car, the dread sets in.

The fact that you had just cheated on Johnny with his step brother.

You drive home in shambles.

When Johnny comes home, it’s late. But Ghost hasn’t slept. He can’t.

“Thought you said you had drills?” Johnny asks. “Yeah, can’t fucking sleep.” He mumbles. Breathing out. “I did something stupid.” He breathes. “What? What happened?”

“I fucked another girl.” Simon’s eyes widen. “Johnny.. seriously?”

“Yeah.. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell Y/N.”

Ghost shakes his head. “That’s the end of it yknow?” Johnny swallows hard. “What?”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of girl to put up with it, that’s the end of your relationship.”

Ghost picks a water up out of the fridge. “That sucks, rather liked Y/N, she’s a good girl.” He sighs. Walking back into his room. Johnny takes a deep breath. He hasn’t thought this through. The end, he hadn’t thought about it.

The next day, when Ghost comes home from work, Johnny isn’t home.

He’s not usually but this time, he wonders what’s going on. If the two of you will come clean or try to work things out. If Johnny will come right home and sock him right in the face, Ghost wouldn’t blame him. He kind’ve deserves it actually.

He hears him pull into the driveway, and he walks in with a box of his stuff. “So.. it didn’t go well?” Ghost mumbles. “Nah- it went alright.” He mumbles. “It did?” He nods. “Yeah. She came clean about something though.” Ghosts hair raises, he just knows he’s gonna have to fight Johnny off.

“She said that after that day- when you fucked her to show me how to make her cum, she caught feelings for you. Told me she forgives me but it wouldn’t have worked out anyways.”

“Wait- what?” Ghost mumbles.

“Yeah. So I gave her your number.” He laughs. “Would you even be okay with that?” Ghost is taken completely off guard. “I like Y/N, don’t get me wrong. I thought I’d be more broken up about it. But the intimacy just wasn’t there. She felt more like.. a sister than a girlfriend. I’m glad it’s going this way. Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know you like her.” Ghost takes a deep breath. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

‘Hey. Want to meet?’

Ghost doesn’t even need to ask to know who it is.

“Go get her, Riley.” Johnny laughs. “There’s no way you’re okay with this-“

“Ghost. Stop being stubborn. I’ve got a fox waiting for me at the bar, just go.” He laughs. He disappears into his room. Ghost swallows hard, typing back quickly on his phone.

‘On my way.’

He can’t believe this is happening.

He drives way too fast to get to your apartment. Knowing right where to go. He pulls into the parking lot and parks. Throwing the door open and slamming it shut.

He hurries up to your door, knocking a couple times. You open it pretty quick, you’d obviously been waiting. He leans on the frame, smiling.

“Caught feelings, hm?”

You roll your eyes. “So you’ve talked to Johnny, I see.”

He smirks. Stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind him. Locking it. “Yeah, yeah I did. You tell him about last night?” He asks. “I actually left that part out, so keep your mouth shut or else, Riley.” You mumble. “Ah- he’s busy with that girl from the bar. He doesn’t care.”

“Good.” You smirk.

He pushes you backward, lips finally meeting yours. He’s waited forever to feel your lips on his.

“How about I show you how I really do this, hm?” He smiles. He lifts you up by your thighs, walking into your bedroom with you. He lays you down on your bed, helping you get undressed. He takes his time with you. The drastic difference between him and Johnny is confusing.

He kisses you passionately, toying with your clit as he does. He’s working you up.

He kisses down your chest, he’s got you undressed and at his complete mercy. He moves down your body, worshipping you. When you feel his tongue on you, you go tense. Breathing out a jagged breath. “Deep breaths. Relax.” He breathes. You nod your head. He rests his hands on your thighs and you clutch them, moaning out as he starts again. Tonguing your clit. You pant out his name, trying to be as quiet as you can. “Oh fuck Simon-“ you shake. You clench your thighs together slightly, trying not to squish him. He laps at your clit with his tongue. Working you close to an orgasm. He squeezes your thighs with his arms.

His dick is hard and he ruts into the bed. Hearing you moan his name is nearly too much. He knows you’re his now, that he can fuck you and make you cum whenever he wants. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone finding out, or coming home. It’s just you and him together.

You let out a mewl when you cum, something so pretty. He can’t shake the way you make him feel.

He moves up the bed, not giving you much time to come down from your orgasm before he’s sliding into you. You gasp, but he kisses you to muffle it. He works his hips into yours. Grasping your thighs and lifting your hips as he fucks you. Screwing his hips into yours, his bruising pace is brutal. You can barely catch your breath. You clutch his wrist, feeling his muscles clench under your grasp. “Fuck! How are you so good at this?” You cry. He smirks. “Just a natural sweetheart. Focus on cumming for me.” He laughs, it’s taunting.

He slows down, taking in a sharp breath. “Let’s do it my favorite way hm? Can’t let you have all of the fun.” He moves you, forcing you up onto your hands and knees, moving himself behind you. He rests his hand on the middle of your back, pushing down. You arch your back, laying your head into the pillow. Ass up for him. He lines up with you, sliding into you. He lets you adjust, he’s deeper than usual and he doesn’t want to hurt you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds that spot, finding that pace. He’s got you crying into your pillow in just a few minutes. His hands grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises there. You can’t wait to wake up and see them in the morning. He grasps a handful of your hair and forces you up, hearing you gasp. “How about you be a good girl and cum on my cock, hm?” You shiver at his tone. It’s unexpected. You whine out. He lifts you up until your back is flush with his chest. “Need some help darling?” He laughs. He makes you feel pathetic. He glides his hand down your stomach, moving lower. You whimper at the thought of him touching your clit.

It’ll send you right over the edge.

He brushes his fingertip over it, hearing you mewl. “Please- keep touching it.” You cry. “Ask nice baby.” He grits his teeth. “Please Simon- please keep touching my clit.” You’re nearly sobbing as you ask. He puts more pressure on it, circling it. You cry out his name again. He can feel you clamping down around him. About to cum again. “That’s it… atta girl Y/N. Cum now pretty girl.”

You fall forward but he doesn’t stop, finger still circling your clit and keeping his pace as he finishes you off. Tears escape your eyes this time, and you’d thought he’d made you feel good before, but this time was different. Your eyes widen when you feel him cum, feeling it this time. He cums deep.

You gasp as he takes one last thrust, feeling the warmth fill you.

You’re panting, eyes screwed shut. Your cheeks are flushed and wet from tears.

He laughs at you. How you’re exhausted and completely fucked out.

“Fuck you’re good at that.” You laugh. Sitting up. He turns your head, kissing you deeply. “I hope you know this means you’re mine.” He breathes. “Thank god, I can’t go through this again.” You laugh.

“Were you crying? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No- no not at all. You just overwhelmed me that’s all.” You laugh. “Scared me for a second, thought I was too rough.” He snorts. “Not at all.” You breathe. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’ll buy you dinner.” He helps you off of the bed, your knees buckle before you can take a step but he’s quick to catch you.

“Jesus.” He laughs. “Maybe I am really good at this.” He smirks. You roll your eyes. “Very humble of you.”

“Shut up before I make you cry again.” He pushes you forward to your bathroom.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

[hismercytomyjustice]

Ngl I really enjoyed Via’s arc in Sinsmas. She is just SO MUCH like her father that it both delights and hurts me lol.

Their relationship is an interesting take on struggling to try to break the cycle of abuse/neglect.

Stolas grew up with his father not even knowing his name or showing him a shred of affection. He was a means to an end, a tool. The only way he’s ever received any kind of acknowledgement from his father is by doing his duty. Mastering his powers, entering into an arranged marriage, and producing an heir.

You can just so clearly see how he is trying SO HARD to give Via a different life. He wants them to be a family. For her to never doubt her parents love her. To be the father he never had.

To the point he shoves his own wants and needs so far down that he is barely holding on.

Via going from accusing him of not loving her to realizing that he loves her so much that he forced himself to play the role of a good father and husband. To the point he destroyed himself for her…

And that realization just devastates her.

Stolas getting involved with Blitz was the culmination of decades of forcing himself to be the person everyone else expected him to be. He feels he can’t be loved, but he can be useful. And maybe if he’s useful enough, people will care about him.

The reason his connection with Blitz is so strong is because both of them feel that way. The difference is that Blitz was able to create his own found family (tho it took him ages to realize it lol) while Stolas has always been alone. They’re two sides of the same coin. And while Blitz has spent the past few years healing, Stolas has been descending further into darkness because he doesn’t have that same support.

Via has absorbed so many of his insecurities. Especially the fear of not being loved or wanted despite Stolas trying SO HARD to be the perfect father to her. But he’s not. He can never be because he forgot the old adage of “put your oxygen mask on first before helping anyone else.”

I think that definitely can come across as him being neglectful of her. But to me it speaks to his desperation to be such a good father to her that he tries to hold himself to IMPOSSIBLE standards.

He doesn’t fail Via because he doesn’t care. He fails her because he keeps setting up these unrealistic expectations for their relationship. He massively overextends himself and puts his own wants and desires on the back burner so often that his life is imploding around him out of his control.

He doesn’t miss the stars with her because he doesn’t care. He misses them because he’s struggling to put his life back together after finally taking some initiative for himself. He’s trying to deal with the fallout of wanting a divorce from Stella, but he’s waited so long and he’s so overwhelmed by it all that the date slips his mind. And the instant he realizes what’s happened, he drops everything and goes looking for her.

Via keeps watching him make these promises he struggles with or fails to keep and doesn’t realize until she finds all of the happy pills how much he’s overextended himself for her sake. And because she’s her father’s daughter, she immediately thinks she’s at fault. She thinks he would be happier if he hadn’t forced himself to play house all these years for her sake.

She’s not wrong. If he’d separated from Stella years before, they’d probably all be better off. But he didn’t because of his sense of duty. Stolas’s problem is that he never advocates for himself until he reaches his literal breaking point. By then, the damage is more of a tsunami than a ripple because now his meticulously crafted house of cards is falling down around him faster than he can pick up the pieces.

Via is right that he would have been happier, but not for the reasons she thinks. He did it because he loved her, not out of obligation for her. And also because he is deeply broken and flawed.

Via’s dealing with a lot of complicated emotions too. Her father was willing to sacrifice himself for his affair partner, which she initially believes means he’s picking Blitz over her. But really it’s just Stolas trying to save the only other person in his life who understands him and who maybe cares about him.

How could he live with himself if he let Blitz die?

And it’s not like Stolas has time to sit down and think of a rational plan. He rushes to the trial because Blitz is literally about to be decapitated. And then he saves him the only way he knows how. I think part of him was also convinced that, as much as he loves Via, she might actually be better off without him because he is a wreck. He’s convinced he’s ruined his life and the lives of everyone around him.

I think this is why he doesn’t fight Stella much for custody of Via. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he genuinely thinks Stella is a more stable parent than he is and that Via will be better off with her as a result. The man also lacks a backbone too tho because his self worth is -9000.

But then Stolas doesn’t get executed. And the consequences of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks once the adrenaline and panic wears off. He saved Blitz, but at what cost? And, based on his statement in Sinsmas, it sounds like he would’ve done it all over again if given the chance. Because he’s the one who let Blitz use his grimoire even though he knew it was wrong. Because Blitz was in danger of dying because of him. And because he has a very strong sense of morality and justice too.

Dying in Blitzo’s place was a spur of the moment decision and once the dust cleared, Stolas realized how everything he’s tried to do to keep his shit together has fallen apart at the seams and now everyone knows it.

All Via can see when she looks at him now is that he’s hit rock bottom because of her. Again, not true. But Stolas has tried so hard to give her this idyllic family life, thinking that was the best thing he could do for her. Not realizing that she could see the cracks forming. She just didn’t understand why there were cracks until now.

I don’t think Via actually hates him. I think she hates herself. Convinced she’s the reason he’s hit rock bottom. Why couldn’t she see how much he was suffering? Why would he suffer so much for her? So she’s taking herself out of the equation, just like he tried to with Blitz. If she’s not in his life anymore, maybe he’ll stop killing himself to try to make her happy. Maybe he’ll stop being so miserable.

I think a big part of their arc together has been her going from thinking of Stolas as this perfect and larger than life figure to seeing him start to crumble and now getting a peek behind the curtain and realizing how much of that wasn’t real. And it scares and upsets her that her dad isn’t the perfect person he’s tried to be for her. He’s broken and hurting and she doesn’t know what to do to help because he’s spent her whole life focusing on her.

Not to say that he’s done that well. He genuinely hasn’t. He’s overcorrected so hard that he’s fucked her up in a completely different way because he’s overextended himself. He pushed himself until the illusion of a perfect happy family cracked along with him. He’s also made it difficult for her to know how to help him because he’s sheltered her so much.

I think this sometimes makes Stolas come across as selfish. He seemingly “ruined” his marriage and his relationship with his daughter for Blitz. But really it was just the pendulum swinging wildly in the opposite direction. He was so starved for happiness and connection that now he’s trying to live two separate lives and it’s just not possible and he’s falling apart even faster.

Stolas was so desperate for affection and to be of use that he lets Blitz have his grimoire, under the impression Blitz is attracted to him because Blitz literally tried to seduce him to get it. He also does all of the dirty talk because he thinks Blitz likes it.

I think he initially sets the terms for the grimoire usage because he thinks it’s a price Blitz is more than willing to pay because he showed up trying to seduce him. I think he l also just really wants an excuse to see/spend time with Blitz too. It doesn’t even cross his mind that Blitz might want anything other than sex from him. He’s once again playing a role based on what he thinks is expected of him.

It’s not until Stolas discovers he’s starting to develop feelings for Blitz that he realizes their arrangement is wrong. And the moment he realizes it, he immediately tries to make amends. He hopes Blitz will admit he has feelings for him too, but is willing to step away if not. But he also cares about him so much, he makes sure to give him the Asmodean Crystal so he can freely make the choice.

Meanwhile he has no idea Blitz will just view this as another person trying to abandon him or look down on him. Because Blitz struggles with self worth too and believes the only way people will care about him is if he can be useful. Blitz has a deep seated fear of abandonment while Stolas fears no one could ever love him just for himself. He offers Blitz the crystal to let him know his feelings are genuine and to gauge Blitz’s too.

All of this is to say that I think Via and Stolas will reconcile, hopefully sooner rather than later. I think Via needs some time to process who her father actually is vs who she thought he was. And both of them need to be able to forgive themselves/grant themselves some grace so they can finally meet each other in the middle like Stolas has finally managed with Blitz. Stolas needs to accept Via is grown up now and he can’t shield her from the negatives of the world forever. Meanwhile Via needs to understand everything doesn’t have to be so black and white.

[maxx-the-queer]

The Siege at Weisshaupt is honestly one of the best missions of any Dragon Age game, let alone Veilguard.

The stakes are already high: kill an Archdemon and then kill Ghilan'nain.

Killing an Archdemon - the big bad at the end of Origins whose very presence means apocalypse and certain sacrifice - is just the first step to killing an even greater force.

Ghilan'nain - an Ancient Elven Goddess blighted beyond recognition, whose unchecked ambition unleashed great horrors upon the world - is the real threat to face or else the Darkspawn Army will be the least of Thedas' worries.

The leader of the Grey Wardens, the only mortal force who have thus far been able to protect Thedas from utter annihilation, categorically refuses to face reality. Rook only has a ragtag team of half a dozen guys from all over to face an entire Darkspawn army with.

It's exactly as terrifying and daunting as it sounds, and neither task is something anyone treats with any amount of levity. Everyone is confident in their abilities to perform their task and get Lucanis to the right place to finish this contract, but there's no playfulness or divine certainty about their success.

Rook, whose only game plan is "get in and win by any means necessary," is then immediately confronted with the reality of their situation as absolutely everything goes wrong.

The Eluvian isn't where they thought it would be, the Grey Wardens are overwhelmed by Ghilan'nain's forces, and just to add to the sheer horror - there's a young child running through this battlefield of Darkspawn in search of her father and she will not listen to your pleas for her to get to safety.

All of that happens in the first ten minutes of the mission, mind you. This isn't even including the fact that Ghilan'nain appears as a damn spectral cloud face - which Lucanis rightfully points out is who he has to kill and "how am I supposed to kill a damn cloud?!"

Rook runs through the fortress, makes it to the East Battlements and hears the sounding of a horn begging for reinforcements, only to realise that they're the only ones coming and everything is falling apart, but they have no choice but to keep going.

Retreats are called, everywhere Rook goes is the wrong way, the forces are overwhelming beyond measure, and this battle is no longer about killing but surviving, because they're cornered like prey by horrors beyond comprehension.

When all of a sudden, the world's bravest little girl rushes in like a hero and guides them through impossible odds to somewhere with some semblance of safety. She's the only reason they haven't succumbed to death already and despite the waves upon waves of Hurlocks, Spikers, and Ogres - she finds her father.

Thanks to Mila, there's a moment of reprieve. Rook gets a chance to breathe. The Veilguard regroups, replans their approach. Distract Ghilan'nain with the dagger, trap her Archdemon in a dragon trap, and kill it to render her mortal. With time to breathe comes time to doubt, to fear.

A Warden has to die to kill the Archdemon. Davrin knows this, and is ready to go. But is Rook? What if they can't do this? What if this is how they die? Can they even spare the time to think about it?

Regardless, they fight through to the dragon trap. The Archdemon approaches as Rook all but dangles the dagger within reach. She takes the bait and sends her Archdemon forth, it seems all too easy - like putting cheese out for the mice.

The Archdemon is trapped. Davrin says his goodbyes, but the First Warden surges forward insistently. He plans to end this according to tradition. He'll die with dignity, he's not asking for your permission to do what all wardens must. He steps forward. Sword in hand, ready to end the Blight.

Ghilan'nain will not be so easily beat. She will not play by the rules they're used to, and the First Warden does not get to die a hero. She seizes him in her grasp, sucks the life out of him to empower Razikale, and changes the game once more. Her Archdemon is unlike any seen in history, and there's no time to revel in it because it's do or die and Rook cannot afford to die yet.

Every blow brings it closer to death, and therefore Ghilan'nain herself as she becomes more and more desperate. One snakelike head becomes two, becomes three, with blight everywhere - the time is at hand.

Davrin is the only one left who can kill the Archdemon, his death is inevitable, and he's ready to go as he sinks his sword in for the final blow.

Except, if there's one thing this seige should have taught them all, it was this: the rules have changed. Davrin is still standing, and he doesn't have time to think about why, because Ghilan'nain is mortal and the time to strike is now.

Rook tosses the Lyrium Dagger to Lucanis. He surges up, wings of Spite propelling him up to kill a goddess like she's any other target, because it's all that he came here to do.

And then, he misses.

With everything at stake, and everything to lose... Lucanis Dellamorte misses.

They don't have time to try again. If they stay, everyone dies. And so, the Veilguard flees through the Eluvian and back into the Lighthouse. It was a victory, but at what cost?

Nothing is how it's supposed to be. Weisshaupt is fallen. The Wardens are scattered. Razikale is dead, Ghilan'nain is mortal. And yet...

It wasn't enough.

[feministfang]

I am not even anti-billionaire when it comes to rich women. Women deserve to be ultra rich and live however we want; having financial freedom, real independence, enjoying luxury, not owing our time and energy to anybody, and being impossible for men to exploit us cause we don’t need them for anything. I myself am working hard to be rich enough that i don’t have to work hard anymore and so i can enjoy my life while fulfilling my desires that are far beyond my basic needs. If i ever become as rich as Taylor Swift, i'd love to have my own private jet as well and use it to travel everywhere while leaving the carbon emissions on every jealous hater’s face to make them feel suffocated so they can shut their mouths for once!

These low-life, chronically online, judgmental freaks who talk about caring about humanity or the environment only do their judgmental shit talk when they have to target or blame a woman. Meet them irl and you’ll see they are just jobless, miserable nobodies sitting behind their phones all day scrolling and pointing fingers at other women thinking they can bring them down to their level. Sigh!😮‍💨 And they fail every time. You will never find these people actually doing something nice for the world themselves because they think hating and blaming women automatically puts them in the "good people" category and gives them the validation of everyone else pretending to be a good person on the internet! They are so horrible they even defend cyberbullying rich successful women with comments like:

“but she’s a billionaire she deserves backlash”

“oh she’s so rude and obsessed with herself she deserves all the hate”

“oh but she has never donated her money to charity she’s so selfish”

The so called angry liberal activists, including some of the radfems, go in all their way to pass such stupid ridiculous comments; no wonder so many women are leaving feminism because what we want is freedom, rest and to own our lives. We are not here to carry the burden of everything y'all like to put on our shoulders. Feminism is only about our liberation from men and patriarchy so put your focus on that, whatever we do other than that is none of anyone’s damn business. Stop expecting feminists to solve every humanitarian crisis as we are not here for that! Stop asking women to cut off our expenses and make sacrifices for the sake of others. No we won’t do that! Cope and cry! And do it yourself if you care!

And to the women who often get guilt-tripped by these miserable insecure losers for wanting a rich luxurious lifestyle, ignore them all! They are not at your level for you to be wasting your energy on them. You are the only one working hard for yourself to gain these privileges, money, and freedom. You deserve to cherish it however YOU want, and not according to these low-value people who didn’t put an ounce of effort in your life but have the audacity to tell you what to do with your blessings. They all didn’t support Taylor Swift in 2016 when she was cancelled, didn’t care about how she was feeling, refused to acknowledge her existence like cowards to be on the safe side of the internet, and also participated in cyber bullying her all over the internet just for fun. Now when she’s a self-made prospering billionaire, all of a sudden she exists in everyone’s mind as a horrible person because she is not living her life the same miserable way as theirs.

Always keep in mind that they don’t even hate you, they hate themselves, they hate their lives, they hate everything about themselves so what they direct at you is just the projection of their own insecurities and they always do it in the form of gaslighting. If Taylor Swift did it while enduring the entire world hating on her, so can you! Stay evil and selfish while sipping on your fav wine in your private jet and let them cry about it because nobody is important when you’re lost in having fun, let alone their opinions. I am proud of you for choosing to upgrade your life, instead of suffering in the same shit! Cheers! 🥂

i will always be anti-billionaire, but it pisses me off when people talk about Taylor swift likes shes the literal spawn of Satan. sure, she does have a very big impact on the environment, but I see males harassing her about her carbon footprint but don't bat an eye at elon musk or any other male billionaire. if you're going to target a billionaire for their impact on the environment maybe focus on all billionaires, not just a woman lmao. don't claim to be doing this to "help bring awareness for the earth" when you literally only talk about taylor

[ghouljams]

Omega dynamics with multiple alphas in their inner pack! Also just gimme whatever you have cooking chef

So as I have established in my omegaverse au Omegas are the head of the sortie, they're the decision makers and the ones establishing territory. They're extremely territorial and picky creatures, everything has to be just so in order for them to be comfortable and if they aren't comfortable then they're prone to irritability and anxiety.

Add in a bunch of reactive alphas who will jump straight into "overbearing" if left to their own devices and you're going to end up with a very annoyed omega. An omega at the head of a sortie with multiple alphas has to get very good at delegating and keeping the alphas occupied or else they'll start doing things, messing up the nest and such. I think I've called alphas "herding dogs" before and that's such a great way to think about them lol, they need enrichment from their sortie or they'll start getting depressed.

Alphas really desperately want to form groups, so a sortie with multiple alphas will be incredibly tight knit and hard to break into (or out of) and will function stably even without an omega. That said having an omega around means that the alphas in the sortie are able to get their emotional needs met and not just fulfill their need to be useful. So yeah, lots of finding things for the alphas to do because they'll just keep bothering you for some way they can help out until you finally cave and tell them to do the dishes.

The best "alphas out number the omega" sortie I have in my collection is probably Duck with Price and Goose. Duck has spent much of her life assigning tasks to her high energy alpha husband and even higher energy alpha daughter. Especially with a mate and a child, it's hard to divert attention away from herself because alphas desperately want to be involved with the sortie, there's only so many times Duck can send Goose out to chop wood before she caves and lets her help with cooking.

Alphas are also early risers, and omegas are late sleepers, so having one omega and multiple alphas is absolute hell on an omega's natural circadian rhythm. Stop trying to get me up before 9, it isn't happening, no I don't want to see the sun rise, why don't you take the dog on a run and let me sleep?

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

The Book of Yemoja

18+ mdni, please check master list for the content warnings

Master list

Chapter 1: Noctilucous - shining at night.

I hope you find some peace of mind in this lifetime

Tell them, tell 'em, tell them the truth

I hope you find some paradise (tell them, tell 'em the truth)

Tell 'em, tell 'em, tell 'em, tell them your-

“Captain Price, I'm afraid that if you try to separate them too soon, Kyle may go into shock.” The psychiatrist tries to gently explain. “Not to mention the young woman that is with him.”

John stares at his pack's omega and he feels like a failure. They thought he was killed in action. Gone from them for good. He's ashamed that he was ready to write it all off despite Soap saying he could feel it in his soul that Kyle wasn't lost. He doesn't even try to pretend to be concerned about anyone else other than his Kyle. Yeah, it's nice that this woman managed to save him. What's not nice is the unhealthy codependency. They orbit each other, always within arms reach, growling whenever someone gets too close. When one sleeps, the other keeps watch. They never eat at the same time or even eat the same food. John can't imagine what kind of hellish abuse happened to where neither of them will eat together. 

Right now, both of them are lying on the bed. There are soft whispered words between the two of them. They lay in each other's arms, tracing soothing patterns on each other. Kyle has his back facing the observation window. He's hiding her. While Kyle was worse for wear when they found him, the girl was feral and extremely violent. It's clear that she's not all there, but there are moments where John swears she's clairvoyant and is always three steps ahead of the staff that has been tasked with watching them.

She counts a lot. She counts the amount of grapes in the bowl from their lunch. She counts the number of tiles on the ceiling and walls. She counts how many staff members pass the doorway window. John is sure she is keeping count of time, but he isn't sure how because there's no clock in the room, but she always makes sure she is up at each shift change. 

“I guess she's stuck with us for now.” John sighs, turning away from the two way mirror. 

I've been goin' through somethin'

One thousand, eight hundred and 55 days

I've been goin' through somethin'

Be afraid

Heat. Blistering itchy heat. Kyle wants to crawl out of his skin. It's so bad. The cold stone floor does little to give him relief. He imagines in his mind that Johnny will tease him. Nip at the bond mark on his neck, finger him open, and then slowly push himself into him. A sweet joining of flesh to prepare him for John and Simon. It would then be a week of non-stop fucking, and at the end he would he would be pleasantly sore. 

“Suppressants aren't-” a voice says through the thick fog of his concussion and heat addled brain.

There's growling coming from above his body. A weight presses down on him, and it feels like when Simon lays on him. A weighted blanket that's growling and hissing. There's a clang and the sound of glass shattering. Pained grunts and muffled shouts.

“Fuck! Sedate-” another voice is yelling and it makes his head hurt. Then it's all quiet or he thinks it's quiet. 

“You're okay.” A soft voice that sounds like it has swallowed rocks says to him. A warm hand touches him, and he hisses. “We'll get through this.” 

He opens his eyes, and the splitting headache he has only gets worse. Her eyes are wild like a caged animal, hair a matted mess. Despite this, she gives the visage of a bright light shining dimly in the dark of night (he is delirious with pain and heat). He's about to close his eyes again, but she taps him on the cheek.

“Hey, stay up. You have to stay up.” She moves him and holds him close to her breast. “Are you in heat? How long does it last?”

“Six or seven days.” He manages to croak out. Promptly after everything becomes a blur and haze.

His body doesn't feel like it's his own, but his inner omega feels good. The heat in his body is still blistering, but right now, the edge is being taken off. He grips at the flesh of her hips as he rocks into her body. He almost never is on top. His own dick never really enters any of his alphas. It's always him on the bottom, so this feels different. She's got the smooth column of her neck bared, submitting to him fully. His body bends over her, and his hips work into her, trying to desperately find relief. His dick is covered in an obscene amount of her slick, and it's mixing with his own. 

He whines, a guttural sound coming from his chest. He pants when he kisses her, bites at her lips, and shoves his tongue into her mouth. She sucks on his tongue and moans into the kiss. Her nails are bitten to the quick drag along his skin, and there won't be any scratches or welts on him. He still likes the feeling all the same. Somewhere in his mind he knows this isn't what his body of craving, he craves a knot, he desires to be ruined in the only way Simon can, to be choked and have his Captain’s beard leave a tingling feeling across his skin, to feel the jackhammer of Johnny's hips against his own.

This. Two omegas fucking. It feels like too needy pups that just discovered what sex was and didn't want to commit to the act with an alpha. 

But fuck if it doesn't feel good. It feels wet. It feels hot. It feels like the frayed edges of his mind are being cooled. It feels good to dominate her body and flesh.

When his heat breaks on the last day, he finally is lucid. The two of them are in a tangle of limbs. Sweaty bodies pressed close together at the far side of their cell. They don't bother with clothes. The thin, scratchy blanket that covers them is enough for now. She keeps her back towards the cell door, and he faintly realizes she is trying to hide him.

“What's your name?” His eyes feel heavy with sleep. Voice raw from voicing his pleasure. “My name is Kyle.”

She is quiet as she stares back at him. He is a little unnerved by how she doesn't answer right away. Instead, a small smile graces her cracked lips, and he thinks about the dangers of dehydration. She has not, to his memory, drank enough water, and she certainly only allows him a few sips here and there. Her fingers trace over his cheekbones and lips. Hands cupping his face with reverence, almost like she can't believe that someone else is in here with her.

It's a long moment of silence, and he is drifting off to sleep now. “How many days has it been?” He asks. He is trying to get her to talk. One of the first things to go as a POW is sanity. Maybe hers is already gone?

“It's been two weeks.” She tells him. “They put it in the air…I'm sorry.”

“Hm?” He cracked open his eyes, “I just got here.”

“No. The suppressants and sedatives were put in the air when I wouldn't let them inject you.”

He lost time. A big mistake, a rookie one at that. He can already hear Captain scolding him. He takes a deep breath. The come down from his heat is pulling him under into sleep. He needs it so that he can figure out with a clear head on how to escape and get back to his pack.

Before his fitful sleep finds him, he hears her speak again.

“Call me Yemoja.”

Everybody grieves different. 

I grieve different. 

Huh.

a.n: hello everyone. I plan on making you all hurt in this one. Love you. 😘

Song: United in grief. Kendrick Lamar

Tag list: @uraeus56 @littlelovebug98 @mochroialainn @gazsluckyhat @chickennuggetuwu @beloveds-embrace @leahnicole1219 @curiouslittleprincess

[reverieblondie]

What if Raphael teleported himself to Tav and she just so happens to be completely naked? Like they haven't really begun courting yet, and BAM! Now he is in her home and he is seeing the object of his affections interests in all of her glory when he wasn't expecting to.

Bonus points if Tav is super calm about it - minus any initial surprise - and just sighs and casually goes to start covering up, maybe while saying "So what can I do for you, Raphael?" or mumbling something like "And this kind of thing was why I asked Korrilla to tell me when to expect you. So much for 'that would never happen'... "

You can decide what happens from there.

A/N: Thank you for this ask! I actually have made this ask a part one to another ask that will be its part two. ( I hope that makes sense! ) Anyway, sorry for the wait and hope you enjoy! Starts off steamy but the ending is more silly. MDNI! 18+ only!

Oops...

He tries to focus on the show in front of him. Raphael crosses his legs. Lounging back in his chair, he intently watches as Harrlep makes the moaning tiefling bend over on all fours. 

These are always his favorites when a client so enamored with him is rewarded with Haarlep. It's the perfect cycle, the client is rewarded for their loyalty, Haarlep is fed, and Raphael gets to feel the ghost of pleasure on his cock as the person is beautifully ravaged. Always so captivated as sharp claws traced down their backs letting beautiful drops of crimson cascade down their skin and decorated his satin sheets. Then there is the musical sound of horse wanton moans with desperate cries of more. 

But today… It's doing nothing. 

Even as Harrlep yanks on the man's tail, making him scream and rut himself back on the incubus's  cock faster. It still stirs nothing; Raphael looks down at his crotch, where he feels everything but nothing in making it swell. He's never had this problem before, and now he's bored of this show.

"Stop, stop," he commands, making Harrlep pause their thrust. 

Haarlep sighs, rolling their eyes while pulling the man's tailback, keeping his ass warming their cock. "Do I need to remind you about critiquing my fucking again?" 

Raphael sneers at the incubus, "No. I'm simply bored." 

Haarlep smirks, leaning down to the man, lifting his head by the horns to face Rapheal. The man's dark eyes are full of tears, his cheeks flushed and panting for breath. "Hear that, darling? You're boring the master…" 

Their words of cruelty taunt as the man's cock throbs, precum drooling out as he lets out a sob. Haarleps's hips started to roll again at the delicious sound and the feel of his quivering. Incubus are always so torturous to their meals. 

Raphael waves a hand before Haarlep can resume their pace, "Go take him somewhere else; leave me alone." 

Haarlep hums, continuing to tease their current meal, til a cruel smirk twists to their lips. "So sorry, pretty boy, but Raphael would have preferred to watch a little mouse instead."

They snap their fingers before Raphael can yell at Haarlep and disappear with the man. They will take all they can from him to get their fill. Raphael has been rather neglectful to his incubus as of late… but to mention you of all people…

Raphael twists his chair to face his desk where contracts sit, waiting in their draft forms. It takes no effort from him to pluck up one of the rolls of parchment and find the contract he had written just for you. You're so clever, having never signed it, much to Raphal's annoyance. Though his mind still lingers back to you. And though your name is not here, it still echoes in his mind. Haarlep, as insufferable as they are, does have a point… Raphael longs to see you, to see you in his bed… though he wouldn't be just watching on the side, Raphael would be the one tracing his long nails down your body, the one to be thrusting you into submission as your body sweats and quivers to take all of him. 

The mere thought of it makes his body grow hotter, and his cock finally twitch. Raphael rolls his eyes at himself; those thoughts get him to stir. 

Not only has Raphael been thinking of your body and how it could be twisted for all of his pleasures, but he also just wonders about you and what you're doing… He could send Korrilla to spy on you, though he doesn't know if he could merely be satiated with retelling your daily happenings. No, he wants to witness it, watch as you wake, follow you as you stroll through the city, and see your wit and quick nature to the worms that dare test you or flirt with you.  

The thought makes him sneer. He needs to get eyes on you; the sooner, the better. Standing, Raphael makes sure his hair is fixed, and his clothes are present. Once he deems himself suitable, he snaps his fingers and lets the blaze transport him. 

Raphaels is already practicing what he will say once he sees you again, but as he's transported to you and finally sees you, all of that rehearsing goes out the window. When the cambion, after all this time, finally gets to see his little mouse, he gets the privilege of seeing her in all her natural glory. From the steam and water running down the curves of your body, it's clear to him that you have just gotten out of the bath. The other thing he observes is that you don't seem all that surprised to see him.

You eye him up and down before rolling your eyes and reaching for a towel. "You have impeccable timing, Raphael..." You wrap yourself up and stroll over to the cambion. "What can I help you with, Raphael?"

Raphael feels his whole body approach him. You could help him with things... but those desires are forced to wait.

"Mouse, I'm hurt. How do you know this isn't just a friendly visit? "

A scoff leaves your throat as you turn away from him, dropping your towel as you do behind a Changing divider. "You don't do friendly Visits in my experience..."

 Raphael tsk. "my, you are cynical.."

You come from behind the divider in a simple outfit, and only you can enhance it into something beautiful... You fold your arms over and do that slight frown that drives him mad... "What have you come for?"

You... he Wants to say, but he bites his tongue.

Raphael is trying to keep his cool facade and does some quick thinking.

"Well, mouse, if you must know... I'm here for your home."

You look at him confused, "My home? Why?"

Raphael steps forward, carefully brushing your hair from your shoulder. "The house of hope has been... busy as of late... the screams, the questions from servants, Haarleps... loud feeding... it's all so distracting... even a devil needs an escape."

"Why my home?"

Rapheul smiles at the simple question, "You have always been my favorite client's mouse."

A Smile threatens to curl to your lips," so you want to use my house as an escape? What if I'm not here?"

"I can find my way around..."

"What if I'm here

"I wouldn't mind, it is your house…"

You think momentarily, "What if I bring a guest over?

Raphael Shrugs as his fingers trace your skin, "Tell them I'm your roommate ... or your lover…

Raphael feels you tremble, "What's the catch?"

"No catch, just sometimes unexpected company." 

You think long before nodding, "Fine, but I have some terms for you to follow." 

"Deal." 

[tuesdayiminlove]

i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 2/3

where jamie seems to remember everything, and you're just trying to navigate a stitch on your crochet flower (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

part one

A/N: here's part two!!!!! link what yall think, im so grateful for the feedback of the first part, it's super encouraging <33 tysm. also this is NOT proofread oops

word count: 4.5k

When you arrive back inside your home, you’re heavy-breathing with a heartbeat erratic enough for your heart to pop out of your chest. You place your keys down, reaching into your jean pocket for your phone, placing the first call you can manage to muster up. 

Stevie is over within minutes, you think you might’ve heard her light jogging over to your house. 

Her heavy pants echo the room as she tries to muster up the words. “I just got back from work, and I fucking ran! Tell me the emergency immediately.”

“I don’t even know where to begin!” you say. “I mean, I was trying to make some creamy vegetable soup, but I didn’t even get to chop the tomatoes, Stevie! The fucking tomatoes! I—“

“Okay, begin by getting the point, babe." She walks to your kitchen, you following close behind. It doesn’t come to a surprise that she opens your refrigerator, most likely rummaging for the cucumbers and your chickpea hummus. “I love you, but if this is dire, I’m gonna need to know now.” 

You gather your thoughts as Stevie begins to look through your drawers for a knife. How do you even say it simply? “Jamie Tartt thinks I’m his girlfriend.”

Stevie drops the knife. 

In any other situation, you would scold her for doing something close to a hazard in the kitchen. But you understand her actions completely. If you were holding a flower pot when finding out this information, you’d drop that shit, too. 

“Continue before I absolutely freak the fuck out.”

That’s when you tell her about the call and the trip to the hospital. The words are coming out of your mouth at the speed of light, you’re surprised Stevie is managing to keep up. But she does, quietly chopping her cucumbers and dipping a few into the hummus. This is a more collected look than when she dropped the knife, but you’re sure the gears are turning in her head just as much as they are for you currently. 

“I just left his house and I told him I’d be back with—soup!”

You don’t wait to turn the stove back on, shuffling Stevie away from the center of the counter while you go back to cooking. 

She says your name slowly, eyes wide. “This is some romcom-movie-shit, babe.”

You fight a roll of your eyes. “This is real life!” you scold. “And the poor boy is concussed, probably mental!” 

“Mental for thinking he’s dating you? Have you seen yourself? You’re fucking magnificent.”

“Thanks,” you drawl, not in the mood for a compliment. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s just a bit bonkers right now, and I don’t know what to do!” You stir the pot stressfully, watching the ingredients mix around the broth. You’ve put a bit more ingredients, and added more broth to make sure that the serving is good for two, and for any leftovers Jamie may want. You think you’ll have enough to send Steve home with, as well. “The doctor said not to startle him, but I’m pretty fucking startled. So I don’t know how to not startle him when I’m not in the right state of mind! This feels so stupid.” 

“I think you should tell him the truth,” says Stevie. She’s right behind your shoulder, peering over at the pot. She takes a large whiff, and hums. “You making this for him?”

“And for you.” And me! 

“Ah,” she says. “I see. A little compensation so I don’t out you to the press, yeah? Nice thinking!”

“Not funny,” you drawl. It was never a thought that crossed your mind that Stevie would go out, telling people of your current entanglement with Jamie. She’s an editor for a magazine company, and she has a problem telling you all the tips she gets about local celebrities, always trusting you not to tell anyone anything. You don’t doubt that she’ll do the same for you. “So I should tell him the truth, then?” you ask, getting back to the main point of Stevie’s visit. 

“Mhm,” she replies. “Probably not today though, don’t you think? He’s overwhelmed enough as it is, he’s probably gonna be benched in Richmond’s next couple matches. That sad fuck is probably groveling as we speak. And he can’t even drink to cure the pain! … That’s how concussions work, right?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, don’t do it today. If I were you, I’d play it by ear, you know?”

You nod, having heard all of this from the doctor.

"And one more thing."

Stevie hums in questionn

“… He may have tried to kiss me.”

You think everyone in the neighborhood heard Stevie’s screech when she belts your name. 

It’s later in the day when you ring Jamie’s doorbell. You’d successfully shooed Stevie out of your house, convincing her that she does not need to spy on you from your kitchen window in case Jamie tries to make a move (“I’ll be there in two seconds, ready to make that concussion worse. Just say the word.”). And now you have the soup in two tupperware containers, as well some carrots and dip in your tote bag because that’s what Jamie originally always used you for, right? The familiarity will hopefully make him happy. 

When he opens the door, you’re not surprised to see all the lights are closed, as well as his curtains shut (so much for Stevie spying). The only thing you see that’s shedding artificial light is the lamp by his staircase, but even that looks as dim as it can be. 

“Hey, love,” he says groggily, a certain warmth to it that makes the nickname seem more intimate. He rubs his eyes as he moves to create room for you to come inside. “Sorry I took so long. Took a bit of a nap.”

“Oh,” you frown, concern taking over the nerves of his sudden pet names, “I’m sorry for waking you. I can just drop these off and head out, if you’d prefer?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Don’t be silly. Come in.”

You enter apprehensively, though you’re trying your best to conceal it. This is the second time ever that you are in Jamie’s home. And it’s only been a day. The strangeness of that fact lingers in the air as you close the door behind you.

You trail behind him toward the kitchen, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood floors. Various football plaques litter the walls, as well as many, many photos of Richmond’s team.

“Why don’t you go sit down?” you say as you simultaneously take in his home. “I can prepare these myself and bring them to you.”

“Rubbish," scoffs Jamie, "I’m still mobile, and I’m not leaving my girlfriend to take care of me like you’re some sort of maid. I’m not bedridden.”

The word girlfriend, once again, catches you off guard, and your heart does a funny little stutter. You push it aside. “I just don’t want you to exert yourself,” you reason, brows furrowed. “You’re concussed, Jamie.”

“Who cares about that?” he jokes, waving off your concerns. 

Your jaw clenches. You want to say I care. Because this concussion is affecting you more than you fucking know. But you bite your tongue, and instead ask him where he keeps his bowls and silverware. 

Minutes later, Jamie and yourself are sitting on his couch. You took the liberty of sitting on the opposite end of his sofa, taking up as little space as possible. You’ve tucked yourself into the far corner, legs curled up slightly, trying to occupy as little room as possible. Jamie, on the other hand, lounges comfortably, his socked feet propped on the edge of the coffee table, though his posture is slightly more relaxed than it was earlier. You’d ask Jamie if it would be okay to crochet while you’re here, mainly so you can have something to do instead of sitting there awkward with today’s events before you. 

So, soup now resting on Jamie’s coffee table (you stop every few moments to take a bite), you’re intent on the rose petal you’re making with your yarn. Jamie alternates between eating his soup and watching you, his gaze unashamedly direct, though there’s a softness to it that makes your heart flutter despite yourself.

To anyone else, the scene might look endearingly domestic: the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the living room, him eating soup, you crocheting, the occasional exchange of lighthearted banter. But there’s an underlying element to it. You don’t want to tip-toe around Jamie, because you’re supposed to be acting natural and all, but it’s hard. 

“You’re the most thoughtful thing ever, you know that?” he says, after a minute of silence. 

Your hands pause mid-stitch, your eyes staying fixed on the delicate yarn in front of you as you decide how to respond, stomach churning nervously. “A ‘thing’?” you joke lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “How very gentlemanly of you.”

“You know what I mean!” chastises Jamie. 

Fighting the butterflies in your stomach as his words settle warmly around your heart.

“I do know,” you reply softly, finally glancing up at him. “Why do you say that?”

“The rose you’re knitting—“

“Crocheting.”

“Crocheting. Sorry, love. How many are you making for the old bloke’s grandson?”

The moment you take in Jamie's words, you pause, crochet hook in the air. “What?” 

Jamie looks confused. “Mr. Taylor? That his name?”

You shake your head, mind still reeling. “No, I know who you meant. How do you know I’m making this for his grandson?” You don’t recall telling that to Jamie when you initially mentioned what you wanted to do here. 

You currently have half of a rose petal done, wanting to make something special for Mr. Taylor grandson—Roman. The young toddler is allergic to flowers, getting all sniffly and itchy when you had brought over a hand-made flower arrangement for the Taylors (it had been their 37th wedding anniversary). But Roman had just kept looking at the flowers with such curiosity, despite his body’s affinity for them. When you had decided to take up crocheting (you wanted to make tiny plant plushies yourself—because why are stuffed plushies with cute faces on them so expensive these days?), one of the first things you learned was to make stuffed flower arrangements, just for when Roman would visit. 

How could Jamie possibly know that?

“Because you’re you,” says Jamie. Blush coats over his cheeks lightly when he averts his gaze from hers, hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

“… And," he begins, "one day, I was in me car and I saw you walk over to the Taylors’ house with crochet roses. ‘Made it look like a nice arrangement, too. I wanted to ask you why you had fake flowers when you have fucking millions just in your front yard. Didn’t know if that’d sound weird, though, so…” he trails off, his words getting quieter, “So, I may have asked Mr. Taylor instead.”

You try to recall the memory Jamie spoke of. You do recall the last time you had headed over to the Taylors with the signature bouquet. Jamie had been at the front of his house, getting into his car. Of course she had noticed him immediately, spotting him just by her peripheral vision, but she hadn’t decided to spare him a look until she crossed the street to look back, but he had been preoccupied. She didn’t even think he saw her that day. 

That day had been nearly three months ago. 

Your mouth falls open. Jamie had noticed and asked about you that long ago?

Jamie glances at you nervously, mistaking your silence for something more negative. “I’m not some creep or anything, promise! I just—I dunno—I was curious! You’re always doing stuff like that.” 

You shake your head. “I just never knew you noticed,” you mumble, your nerves growing. Even now, he remembers. You wish you knew what that meant for you two; you wish that the suspicions and hopes in your brain are true. “Or asked.”

Jamie’s cockiness kicks back in at your flustered nerves. “Like I said, I’ve always noticed you. And now I get to be the luckiest guy.”

Your eyes meet his. For a moment, you let yourself pretend. Pretend that this is real—that this is the relationship you and Jamie have built together. That you’re a couple, and this is just one of those moments you get to stumble upon—a sweet realization that Jamie had liked you long before either of you dared to admit it.

You let yourself hold on to the fantasy, just for a moment.

It has to be just a moment... you think if you stare any longer at Jamie your body is going to take over and grab him for a kiss, just to know what it may feel like. You just know you shouldn’t.

“Four,” you say softly. “I’m making four for Roman.” You turn back to the stitch you had laid on your lap, trying to get out of your frenzie and into your zone. 

Jamie smiles, eyes still twinkling. “That’s his name? Roman?”

You hum. “He’s about to turn four. And he’s just the most adorable kid I’ve seen.”

“I’m being rude, aren’t I?" replies Jamie, "Prodding.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No.” You uncomfortably shift in your seat to hopefully look less odd. “Sorry if I’m being weird. I’m just… zoned out, I guess. Thinking a lot.”

“Yeah?” he says, staring at you intently. “What about?”

“Just… everything about today, I suppose.”

Jamie jokingly smiles. “Yeah, getting a call that your boyfriend got whacked in the head and is now concussed wasn’t really in your daily plan, was it?”

You let out a laugh. “No, it wasn’t.”

“It got in the way of watering radishes, I bet.”

Again, you laugh more, your stomach moving steadily at the action. From the limited conversation you’ve had with him, paired with now, you’ve deduced that Jamie is just a complete pro for lightening up conversations. When your heart races nervously, a quip comes out of his mouth that makes your body go back steady. You don’t even think that this is an individual experience; he seems like he does it a lot. You wonder how that balance comes so perfectly in his life. 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “My gardening has to come to a pause today.” 

“It’s a shame,” he says, grinning. “Would’ve loved to see you in your cute sunhat, or the giant yellow gloves you always wear.”

Your eyes widen at his words. 

Seeing your shock, he adds, “You think I don’t notice these things? I always have.”

You try not to cough up the food you’d just digested. You would like to consider that Jamie is just making things up, but the description of your usual accessories when you’re out tending to your plants remain true. The giant yellow gloves belong to your mom, and there hasn’t been any reason to buy new ones if you’ve already got a pair. 

And the sunhat—well, it’s not everyday you’re seen out with it. It’s usually if the sun ever comes out, glaring at your eyes while you try to focus on a task at hand. You’ve probably brought it out maybe a couple of times since Jamie had moved in next to you; none of those times being as of recent. 

It’s a shock Jamie can even recall it. 

He remembers the little things. I always have. 

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. “Have I creeped you out? Don’t mean to sound like a prick, but I thought what I said was pretty fucking cute. But I understand if it’s creepy again. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, Jamie, I’m not creeped. ‘M kinda just shocked that you notice things like that.” 

He shrugs. “It’s hard to not pay attention. You live right beside me. And you’re you. It’s pretty fucking impossible for me not to notice things about you.”

Your heart is back to racing. All of Jamie’s confessions of things he’s noticed can only insinuate that he’s genuinely seen things about you, whether he had gotten hit in the head or not. They’re not fabricated in his mind from his belief that you two are dating. He’s not like Holy shit, do you remember that time we had dinner together? You think if he started recalling specific memories that never happened, you’d check him straight into the nearest mental institution. 

But he’s saying things that are so undeniably true; things he’s noticed about your being. 

If you aren’t already so conscious and confused of the actual problem at hand, you’d sit here and pretend that he’s yours—just as much as he claims to be. You wish this moment to be real, but it’s not. The sadness and guilt that weighs over you with that fact can overtake any other feeling in this moment. 

“Jamie,” you begin, “I need to tell you something.”

You think about Stevie’s advice, to not tell him today. The doctor saying not to overwhelm him. You know they’re right. You don’t want to. The poor bloke is probably already stressed enough as it is. You want to be here for Jamie, to help him get better because even with your limited experience around him, you care very deeply about his wellbeing. And maybe your feelings are skewed by the crush you’ve been harboring on him, but that’s hardly the point anymore. 

But how are you supposed to keep this up? Pretending to be someone you’re not, filling a role in his life that isn’t truly yours—it feels wrong, no matter how much you want to help him heal.

You don’t think you’re cut out for pretending. 

Jamie looks at you expectantly, a small smile on his face and your heart just breaks. 

“Jamie… I don’t know how to say this,” you admit, your throat tightening. “But I’m not your girlfriend.”

For a second, Jamie looks beyond confused. “The fuck? Did we break up?”

“I got the call today,” you explain gently, shrinking down into the sofa with a racing heart. “When I heard you were in the hospital, I was worried—God, I was worried—but I didn’t understand why they called me. And then Roy said… he said we’d been going out.” You bite your lip, carefully choosing your next words. “It made me realize something had gone wrong. That maybe you hit your head and got things mixed up.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything, his brows knitting together as he processes your words.

“I wanted to do what was best for you,” you continue, your voice growing quieter. “Everyone kept telling me not to startle you, not to stress you out. But I can’t keep pretending we’re in a relationship when we’re not. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel honest. “I care about you, Jamie. I care about you getting better. But I can’t pretend, okay? I’m really, really sorry.””

It’s been nearly two days since you’ve seen or heard from Jamie. You’d practically bolted after your admission, your chest tight with guilt and your hands trembling as you no longer felt worthy of being in his home.

You hadn’t looked back, and he hadn’t stopped you.

It’s all you think about as you sit in the kitchen with your morning coffee, trying your best to catch up on the emails about work that have been piling up while you wallow.

Your work is interrupted when the doorbell rings. 

You immediately think it’s Stevie; she’s been wanting to see you since you had texted and said that you couldn’t even last the night without telling Jamie the truth. You purposefully left out the parts where Jamie pointed out the crocheting for Roman, and the gloves, and the sunhat, and Jamie just noticing you. God knows Stevie will be the first person to jump up and say he’s in love with you, and you’re not ready for that delusion in your head to be spoken out into the universe. 

Especially after Jamie has not spoken to you since. He’s probably freaked out, never wanting to speak to you for as long as he possibly can. 

You close your laptop and head to your front door, not even bothering to check who may be on the other end because—duh—it’s Stevie. 

Only, it’s not her. 

Instead, three boys stand on the opposite end of your door, gaping at you from the moment you lay eyes on them. 

They look vaguely familiar to you, and judging but the sweatsuits they’re wearing with the AFC Richmond logo, they’re Jamie’s teammates. You swallow your anxiety and give them a confused look.

“You’re real,” the man in the middle says, tall and broad with a commanding presence.. 

“Shut up, bruv,” the man to the right elbows the other. “We don’t even know if it’s her. ‘Could be the girl two houses down…”

“Mi amor,” says the final man, eyes light. His warm, melodic voice is unmistakably Spanish, holding up a bottle of wine like a peace offering. “What’s your name?”

You frown, wanting to ask so many questions when a shout intercepts the trio that has lined up at your door. 

“Oi!” 

They boys all turn, and you manage to peek your head out the door, to see Jamie stomping down the steps of his home, clad in sweats and… cow slippers? 

Despite the grumpy set of his face, the sight is almost endearing.

“Jamie!” the trio chorus in unison, like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“You didn’t answer the door,” one of them says, “we figured you’d be at your beautiful lady’s.”

“Don’t mean you can go knocking on doors of people you don’t fucking know,” huffs Jamie, finally reaching them. He doesn’t spare you a glance. 

The boys look ashamed. “We’re sorry, bruv,” says the tallest one, voice gruff and guilty. “Dani made Birria tacos, and Colin’s brought fuzzy socks. I just wanted to say sorry for whacking ya.”

Jamie’s eyes soften at his words. He sighs. “Thank you, mate. I appreciate it, I really do. But I stand by what I fuckin’ said. You can’t go knocking at random doors.”

“But it’s not random!” says the boy you’ve deduced to be Colin. For the first time since they’ve knocked, he turns to you in acknowledgement. “It’s lovely to meet you!” 

“The flowers are gorgeous,” says Dani, eyes g;azing dutifully at your front lawn. “And we apologize for the interruption.”

Jamie nods at them, like a mother watching over their child at the playground after a petty fight breaks out. 

You grin, awkwardness dissolvong. “It's okay. And—I love birria tacos, by the way. Good choice.”

Dani blushes. “I’m sure Jamie wouldn’t mind sharing it with his lady. Wouldn’t  you, Jamie?”

Jamie sputters, looking between the boys, and sparing you the first glance since he’s got here. His mouth opens, then closes. Repeatedly. 

“Um,” you interject, “I would much rather let Jamie enjoy it. Thank you, though!”

Isaac frowns. “That’s how you’re gonna treat your girl?” he grumbles at Jamie. 

“She said it!” argues Jamie. “Not me!”

Isaac shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about no chivalry these days, but he claps Jamie on the shoulder. “Alright, bruv, we’ll get outta your hair. Just make sure you enjoy the tacos. And, uh…” he glances at you with a cheeky grin, “Be nice to your lady, yeah?”

Jamie groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Colin pipes up, “It was lovely meeting you!” His voice is warm and genuine, and he flashes you a smile before jogging after Isaac, who is already halfway down the steps.

Dani lingers a moment longer, holding out the wine bottle to Jamie. “You deserve this,” he says with a knowing smile, his gaze flicking between you and Jamie.

Jamie takes the bottle “Thanks.”

“And don’t worry, we won’t knock on any more random doors. Adiós, mi amigos!” Dani trots after the others.

And then it’s just the two of you.

“‘M really fucking sorry ‘bout them. I didn’t think they’d come knocking at your door when I decided to fucking ignore them.” He stares down at the endearing cow faces at his feet, sighing.

You shrug, a harmless smile tugging at your lips. Jamie looks awfully nervous, which you don’t understand. “Makes sense, honestly. And I don’t mind. Now that you’re here, though, I just wanna ask how you’re doing.”

He looks briefly surprised. “I’m doing alright,” he says eventually. 

“Okay, because I never intend to pry, but I’ve just been pretty worried. And—“

“You don’t need to pretend to care.”

The abruptness of Jamie’s cutoff has you wondering whether or not it actually occurred. His frown, however, only solidifies that those words did indeed come from his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” you reply, voice sharper than intended.

“Listen, I was a fuckin’ idiot and a borderline creep to you. When you left, I really thought about it and how fucked up that whole day was. I can’t imagine how it made you feel; being put into a position where you had to be in a relationship with me.”

You frown. You wonder now if this is why Jamie has chosen not to speak to you; if his guilt for the situation has kept him from reaching out. You refuse for that to be a reality. 

“Jamie, are you serious? I just wanted you to be okay! And that’s still what I want for you.”

His eyes peek up from his slippers to you. “… So you don’t hate me?”

You laugh. “I have no reason to hate you, Jamie.”

“You have every reason to believe that I’m a stalker-creep, by the way!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to see you as one?”

“Obviously fucking not!

“Then stop trying to drill it into my head!” you laugh. 

Jamie stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to argue but can’t find the words. Finally, he lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, softened by the small. And, for the first time in days, the tension between you feels like it’s starting to ease.

“If it’s not obvious,” he begins awkwardly, “I like you. A lot.” He laughs at himself. “Enough to reach stalker status. And clearly my fucking fantasies wanted to take over with me fucking head… but I wanted to do it all the right way. ‘Kinda cheated didn’t I?”

For the first time in two days, the churning in your stomach isn’t anxiety, and instead something entirely more manageable. You grin at him, teasing, “Maybe a little.”

He huffs a laugh, the sound a mix of relief and something hopeful. His eyes meet yours, more sure now, though his voice remains gentle when he says, “I want to do it right. All of it. If you’ll let me.”

The way he looks at you—open, expectant, like he’s giving you the choice and trusting you to give the truest response.

Your smile says everything he needs to know.

(You already know Stevie’s going to lose her mind when you tell her.)

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 13

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 13 - Chasing After You

Tags: Swearing, canon typical violence, panic attack, drinking, mentions of grooming, drugs, arson, juvenile detention, breast mutilation, incest, and underage prostitution. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 7.5k

AO3

… Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

Hanging by a Moment - Lifehouse

You haven’t changed out of your sleep clothes or done your morning routine as you sit on the edge of the bed next to the open black duffel bag on Saturday morning. There is a navy-blue sweatshirt sleeve hanging off the side with drumsticks peeking out. Everything else was safely nestled inside except for the phone in your hand that you were staring at as if willing the device to magically alert you to a response about your text message.

Alpha sent 0534: I think I’m fucked.

You couldn’t talk to anyone at the BAU about your hot and cold relationship with Emily because it would get back to her for sure. The team sucks at keeping personal secrets that don’t affect national security or involving a case. Rebecca wasn’t an option either. She may have been your partner in crime with the fake dating prank, but she’s with Tara and that goes back to the first group of individuals you’re trying to keep this from. Brian was out. No way were you going to drop this bombshell after decades of being a lone wolf of you willingly flirting with the section chief and it being clear that awkward night was affecting your working relationship. He already has his suspicions on your drunken behavior because you are the master of not letting your guard down. And you did.

“Come on,” you urge down at your phone and look at the time shift to 0559.

You’re about to give up when the chime went off that you received a message. Eagerly, you open the message and smile.

Charlie sent 0559: And what did we do this time? 😊

Alpha sent 0603: You promise to not tease me?

Charlie sent 0604: I can make no promises, love.

Alpha sent 0604: 😡

Alpha sent 0605: PLEASE

Charlie sent 0605: Wow. This IS serious. What is going on?

Charlie sent 0605: And if it is something with the mission Brian got your back.

Alpha sent 0606: Not about current assignment.

Charlie sent 0607: 😮

Charlie sent 0607: OK that is a first.

Charlie sent 0607: What is wrong? How can I help?

You pause typing there because now comes the hard part – admitting you are capable of having amorous feelings towards another woman. You press your lips tightly together and fumble with the keypad, typing and deleting your message several times. Then you hang your head when you finally send it with a fiercely beating heart full of fright.

Alpha sent 0612: I really like someone. A lot.

The phone immediately rings and you laugh because it was expected. You answer it while scooting back against the headboard with your legs stretched outwards. You had been hunched over for so long your muscles were screaming in stiffness which makes you grunt against the receiver.

“Woman you tell me everything right now because I am not believing you!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, overwhelmed at admitting this. “Comes as a big fucking surprise to me, too.” You narrow your eyes. “Do you know what I’m doing now?”

“Clearly not the woman that stole your heart.”

You blush hotly and cover your face. “Dude, just … just stop.”

She cackles over the phone. “I have to tease my baby sister that she has a crush.”

“Oh my god, I am not twelve. Stop talking like I’m a child.” But that made you glower into your lap, bringing your mind back to the argument with Prentiss.

“Ouch. That hit a nerve.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s not you. It’s the whole fucking situation.”

“Okay. So, fill me in. And no, Brian hasn’t told me or Echo anything about what you’ve been up to.”

You fill her in on everything regarding Rebecca Wilson’s big favor, working with the BAU as a consultant, the stipend, and all about Section Chief Emily Prentiss. The first rocky week of your partnership, drinks at Buddy’s, making amends with a desk, Diet Coke, and working assignments together. Then you go into explicit details of Emily coming to your unit and collecting you for a girl’s night, the drunken ride home, and the inexplicable attraction that kept you standing there helpless before forcing yourself to move towards your building. And, of course, yesterday’s fight.

“Wow,” she says in amazement, but joy is heard there, too. “I never thought I’d live to see this day.”

“You’re not kidding.” You sigh into the receiver. “It’s so easy. Working with Emily. Being around Emily. It was nice, too. Finding that with someone outside of the fucking CIA and our little group,” you confess soberly. “Then it all got ruined because I’m a dumbass.”

“You’re not a dumbass for having feelings.”

“Yes, I am. I’m not supposed to have them because I’m incapable of having them. And now they’ve fucked up my friendship with her because now I have them. Which only furthers proves I’m a fucking idiot.” You slam your fist against the bedspread and growl in frustration at yourself. “She completely hates me now.”

“You’re only human. And honestly? This just shows how far you’ve come. And no, I sincerely doubt she hates you. You said the fight didn’t escalate like before, right?”

You bounce your head against the headboard lightly in rhythm to think and then stop when you speak up again. “No. It was … rather tame considering.”

“Right. So obviously she isn’t that upset.”

“Then I made her uncomfortable.”

“You made the Emily Prentiss uncomfortable? Girl, get over yourself.” She laughs and you can’t help joining in.

“Okay, point. But she’s obviously affected by what I said without directly coming out and saying it.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And, what?” you ask, puzzled.

“Fucking go talk to her.”

You freeze, feeling all the blood drain from your face and speak with a shaky face. “Uh, yeah. No. Can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m always gonna be two triggers away from becoming a sociopath and she doesn’t need someone like me in her life!” you yell, white knuckling the phone.

“Oh, sweetie. We’re all wired this way. I bet Prentiss is, too. Some just got it worse than others, like you, but even we deserve happiness. You’re long overdue for some.”

She waits for you to get ahold of your ragged breathing that she hears pounding against the other end. You put the phone down and collect yourself, running a hand through your hair and realize that your once comfortable position sitting against the headboard had become you hugging knees to your chest. You roll your head back and forth and begin the familiar pattern of breathing and holding your breaths in fours. With each successful round of grounding, your limbs loosen and fall to the bed. Your neck cracks and stretches the tension away until finally, tight shoulders drop.

You’re back and you bring the phone to your ear knowing Charlie is waiting for you.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now let’s start over and talk about why you deserve this chance and then you can see how you feel about it and make a decision.”

“Damn it,” mutters Rebecca looking at her phone. She’s cozied up against Tara’s side on the couch at her girlfriend’s home.

They wanted to have a quiet night in, but the two of them thought it would a good idea to invite you over to join them. Also, Rebecca hadn’t had a chance to see you since the dinner awhile back and she was missing you. They were waiting for your response but had started on the wine without you.

Tara looked up to respond with a questioning gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“She said no,” Rebecca responded frumpily and tossed her phone down by the furthest cushion. “I really thought she’d come.”

“I’m not,” Tara states emphatically without thinking before taking a sip from the wine glass. They had chosen a cabernet sauvignon to have while watching the movie Till, and the bottle was ready for refills on the coffee table.

Rebecca’s head snaps at Tara with much curiosity. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Tara stopped in mid-sip realizing she was in trouble. “Uh …”

“Don’t uuuuuh me.” She pries the drink from Tara’s hand and sets in on the table. “What’s going on with her that I don’t know because last time I remember, I was her friend first. Which means, I’m on a need to know basis on what you clowns at the BAU have done to her.”

“Hey! What makes you think it’s us?” Tara declared with a tinge of hurt.

“Who else could it be?” she retorts with confidence and goes into lawyer mode. “The only variable that’s changed with her since I’ve known her is working as an FBI consultant with the BAU. And I know your track record with drama. So, please tell the jury who else has upset Agent Whitlock. And remember,” she pauses to bop Tara’s nose with a fingertip, “you’re under oath.”

Tara playfully tries to bite Rebecca’s finger as she pulls away which makes them smile adoringly towards one another. It makes Tara sigh with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not technically the BAU.”

Rebecca raises an unamused brow, but Tara holds up a hand to halt the retort. “I’m serious.” She rocks her head back and forth on how to phrase this. “It’s really just the … section chief of the BAU.”

That makes her brows furrow in defensiveness. “What the hell did Prentiss do?”

Tara leans with a huff. “It’s a long story.”

She takes the remote and pauses the movie. “Girl, I’ve got all night for you to convince me not to tear Prentiss a new asshole. You better get talking.”

User45125 sent 0924: Before we get to that, need assurances. 

FlamePit23 sent 0945: Like what?

User45125 sent 0955: Need a favor done. And if done right, we can go ahead with your present.

FlamePit23 sent 0956: What kind of favor?

User45125 sent 0956: Not here. Want to talk. You game?

FlamePit23 sent 0957: I am.

User45125 sent 0959: Let me take care of some things on my end and I’ll let you know.

FlamePit23 sent 1000: Try not to have too much fun without me.

User45125 sent 1001: Wouldn’t think of it.

FlamePit23: sent 1002: Good. Talk soon.

This conversation happened during the day at the BAU where Prentiss and Garcia could watch the exchange in real time. Soon as you got the first text, you fired off one to Prentiss and Garcia to meet you in Penelope’s lair.

“Good work, my beloved cutie. You’ve gotten one step closer at snagging Spiderboy,” exclaims Penelope giving you a bright smile.

“Thanks.” You nod appreciatively. “Need to be careful though. He sniffs even an ounce of deceit; this plan is fucked.”

“Agreed.” Prentiss remains passive, focusing on the screen. You two haven’t shared a single word that wasn’t work related which was fine by you. “Let’s go over your cover.”

Penelope cracks her knuckles and brings up the digital creation for you. “Meet Nikole Wade – forty-three-year-old woman who barely graduated High School with a 2.0 GPA at Graves County in Mayfield, KY. She has a lovely rap sheet of violence and arson that has landed her in juvie several times because of her abusive father, Liam Wade. Thankfully he tragically died by slamming into a tree because he had a heart attack while driving his truck. Backstory, he was addicted to alcohol and cocaine. Mama Katie Wade in her infinite wisdom, thought she could groom her daughter for prostitution to pay the numerous bills. That’s when Nikole’s penchant for fire starting came to fruition and burned down the house, along with her mother. It was ruled an accident because mommy dearest had too much to drink and kept the stove on. Nikole ends up working a lot of retail jobs and is currently a cashier at the Food City grocery store in Gatlinburg, TN.”

“This fits with the whole nurturing angle that FlamePit23 has on her profile,” you continue. “And with a history like this, it explains her antisocial tendencies and denying friendships. We theorize by previous posts that the user came to this forum to gain new insights into what other arsonists are doing to keep their habits going without getting caught. Then ends up disgusted with how many wannabees there are playing pretend.”

“And this corroborates Green’s explanation of how Sicarius weeded through the users for those individuals that were legit. FlamePit being one of them,” Prentiss surmises.

“Exactly.” Penelope brings up a picture of you digitally altered to look like a teen during the juvie years of your story. “Isn’t she cute!”

Your head drops as you sigh. “You won’t let that go.”

“I will not. Not unless you show me an actual picture of teenage you to dispute your cuteness.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you plead while turning your head to look at her.

“Therefore, you are cute!” Penelope grins with a scrunched nose.

“Both of you focus,” Prentiss snaps, which got both of yours attention. And here you thought she would remain neutral but here comes bitch mode. “What have you done to make Sicarius believe this?”

Penelope’s wide eyes return to normal after being scolded. “Ah, well, the usual. High school records, a sealed juvenile record, uh … different places she’s worked, social security cards, birth certificates. A few police reports and articles about the crash and fire. If he somehow goes deeper than that, we’ll … we’re screwed.”

“But really, a person like Nikole Wade isn’t gonna have a lot to find since she’s kept to herself since becoming of age. I’ve already studied unsolved arsons in the Kentucky and Tennessee area that I can use for a resume in case he questions me,” you add. “Honestly, this is as good as it’s gonna get, Prentiss. Not unless you want me to do an entire photoshoot for new material.”

She heard the roughness in your tone in response to her impatience. She really couldn’t blame you and rises from her seat. “Alright. Let me know when he schedules the call. Until then, I’ll be in my office.”

“Oh, okay, Emily …” Penelope starts talking but Prentiss already was on the move and didn’t make eye contact with either of you. The door closes and she ends up waving to the door. “Bye!”

You roll your eyes at Prentiss’ childish behavior. “Anyway, I should probably get back to my desk since we’re good here.”

Penelope wants to say something so bad, but she can’t. She just can’t! No matter how much she wants to interfere and smack yours and Emily’s heads together to get a clue. Her, Tara and JJ all promised to not tell you anything.

So instead, she nods with agreement. “Yep! Those nasty reports can’t write themselves.”

Two days and there was no further contact from Sicarius, thus the BAU was business as usual writing up reports, analyzing data, and piecing together information to connect the victims in the shipping container to the missing persons. Tara has provided closure to three families. Penelope has made your cover identity as airtight as she possible can with the cyber crime division and what made Prentiss exceptionally happy? That Bailey had nothing to say about any of their work because the expenses were paid for and Director Korogoth’s glowing report of the BAU’s work in Idaho with your expertise made the AG extremely happy. She saw the benefit of Rebecca’s involvement of you, which also made Director Madison happy. The BAU was coming out ahead all thanks to collaborative efforts of you and the BAU.

What personally sucked was the lack of resolution between the two of you. She hadn’t even devised a solution to the problem she, once again, created so the only option was to avoid anything social with you. Admittedly her anxiety over the situation spilled over to impatience with snappish responses to any frivolity in the unit. At least she was consistently bitchy instead of her previous singular agenda against you. What weighed on her mind were things growing more awkward as she dragged out clearing the air with you.

“Hey, Em? Got a sec?”

She looks up from the opened file from New Mexico to address JJ. “Yeah. Come on in.”

JJ closes the door which puts Emily on alert. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, that depends.” JJ takes a seat across from Emily with purpose.

Emily speaks cautiously. “Oh what …”

“On why you haven’t talked with Whitlock yet,” she accuses.

She closed the file forcefully and was defiant. “JJ, I’m in no mood for this right now.”

JJ’s brows raise in disagreement. “Ah, well. Guess what? We’re talking because your mood sucks around here and it’s getting really old, really quick.”

“Are you seriously reprimanding me?” Emily challenged.

“Ah, yeah. Clearly, I am.” She frowns. “You need to talk to someone about it. Why not me?”

Emily starts to respond but doesn’t know how to start, leaving her mouth hanging open. JJ is patient since she sees that she is trying.

“You were right, JJ,” she admits with a long face. “I fucked up.”

“How did you fuck up?” she probed gently.

“Nina … is her mandated psychiatrist.”

Blue eyes look hard at Emily to interpret why this news unsettled her. All of them had mandated therapy sessions at several points in their careers, and now she knew who Nina was. Which wasn’t a woman in competition with her for your affections. “Okay. How is this bad?”

Emily licks her upper teeth as if there was a bad taste in her mouth before holding JJ’s gaze. “Because … I didn’t do as you suggested. And because of that we had another disagreement here in my office. Oh, stop that!” Emily scolds JJ dubious look. “It wasn’t like before. Tempers weren’t so heightened. But …”

JJ leaned in closer waiting for a continuation that never comes. She speaks up, coaxing her friend to keep going. “But what, Emily?”

With a sigh, Emily shrinks back into her chair to avoid eye contact. “Because I didn’t ask her who Nina was like you suggested. Instead, I learned it because she took a call from Nina.”

JJ winces. “Ouch.”

She points emphatically to her. “Exactly.”

“Well, it’s still salvageable,” JJ suggests furrowing her brows with concentration.

“I’ve messed up twice, JJ.” She holds up two fingers for emphasis. “Twice. I’m not willing to gamble the third times the charm.”

“Okay, if you want to be technical, you’ve already messed up three times if you could the first week you worked together with her,” offers JJ with a glint in her eyes. “So, fourth time’s the charm?”

Emily response was crossing her arms over her chest.

“Okay, yeah. Not funny,” JJ agreed, but she wasn’t going to give up on Emily. “You’re gonna have to work together for awhile still. You might as well be honest and apologize to smooth things over.”

“She’s too smart to take just the apology, JJ. She’ll want a reason.”

JJ shrugs. “So, tell her the reason.”

“Tell her she hit on me in Russian?” she scoffs at that. “Like she’ll believe me. She obviously doesn’t remember what happened. And after my behavior, you really think she’ll take my word? Or hell, really anything I have to say?” She looks guilty at JJ. “I really laid into her about the last case. About her call in the field.”

JJ knows how ugly that can get and is sympathetic for you. “Remember what I said when we were discussing this before?”

“That I basically suck at relationships.”

“True, but you needing more information is what I was going for,” she reminds Emily. “I think that if you don’t resolve what is, and isn’t, going on with you and Whitlock, this is just gonna keep escalating further until you have a real blow up. Professionally, that won’t be good and could get someone seriously hurt … or killed.”

She nodded thoughtfully at that, knowing JJ was right. “And what about personally?”

“Oh, that’s simple.”

Emily looked at JJ who was sitting eagerly at the edge of the chair. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I want you to be happy and I really think that if you clear up this misunderstanding, you’ll get that chance.”

The case officially came that evening once logistics were ironed out. Penelope sent out the ‘Avengers Assemble’ text to the team on Prentiss’ behalf and that night you took the jet to Albuquerque, NM. A series of disappearances occurred at different campsites where the victim’s cars were left at NomadLand and Enchanted Trails RV park. Word is the victims stopped there for directions and never made it back to their vehicles. Both families called in a missing person report. Two weeks later, a couple of dirt bike riders found the bodies of the missing women off an OHV* trail by Goose Lake. It was roughly a four-hour drive from Albuquerque. The bodies of the women were found naked with signs of sexual abuse and breast mutilation.

You, Rossi and Prentiss were working with Albuquerque detectives on the geographical profile and pouring over cases that may have been missed similar to the current one. Lewis was interviewing family and witnesses while Alvez and JJ were investigating the dump site and talking to the rider that found the bodies.

By the weekend you had the profile of a twenty to thirty-year-old male who not only wants power over his victims by assaulting them, but also expressing deeply rooted anger by disfiguring the victim’s breasts. It more than likely stems from psychology trauma inflicted upon his mother or another female authoritative figure. As the victims were both similar in appearance and age, they suspect a Hispanic unsub.

That brings you to Gabriel Arellano, a thirty-three year old out of Farmington, NM, a city three hours northwest of Santa Fe. He and his three brothers were raised by their single mother, Elisa Arellano. Several calls to CYFD* were made on the children’s behalf, due to Elisa’s drug and alcohol habits and eventually the children were taken away from her and they were put into the foster care system. Once Gabriel finished High School, he made it his mission to raise his siblings, but no one was aware of the sexual abuse his mother unleashed upon him when she was high and intoxicated.

That inner rage was tempered to protect his brothers, making sure that Elisa only abused him. By researching similar kidnappings, the BAU were able to determine that Gabriel’s killings started once his youngest brother, Ricardo, moved out of their shared apartment. Once alone, Gabriel no longer was focused with family obligations and was triggered by seeing a woman that resembled his mother at a construction job per Garcia’s digging. That disappearance happened six years ago. Paula Sanchez’s body was found outside of the Navajo Nation reservation, strangled, raped, and had bite marks on her breasts, focusing on the nipples. He has slowly escalated since.

State PD had issued an APB* on Arellano’s silver 2002 Dodge Charger as he was lying low since the news broke of his involvement. Law enforcement was confident he was still in state but had collaborated with surrounding states to monitor highways for people matching his description and vehicle.

After a lead on Arellano’s whereabouts turned up cold by a Circle K in Hatch, NM, you were driving back to the hotel in Albuquerque. The ride was under three hours and since it wasn’t hot this time of year, you had the window down enjoying the fresh air with classic rock playing. Prentiss was in the passenger seat checking her phone and Rossi was well aware of the tension between the two of you. Tension that had been building over the last week. Emily’s cold behavior had resurfaced after drinks last Friday night and was avoiding you at work as much as possible. Prior to that, the two of you had an easy working relationship and conversation. You sometimes took lunch together in Emily’s office. That came to a sudden halt on Monday.

He glances between the two of you and smiles. “Pretty chilly up front.”

You have your Ray-Ban’s on, so he didn’t notice you looking up at the rearview mirror. He has this knowing smirk on his face and your stomach sinks. You pray he says nothing. Emily doesn’t even acknowledge him.

“Alright. How about this.” He folds his hands atop his jacket. “Mind telling me what’s going on with you two?”

Prentiss keeps scrolling on her phone but not she’s on edge. Or at least was doing a good job pretending. You shrug. “I’d say I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about but clearly that won’t work.”

Rossi half smirks with a chuckle. “The trials and tribulations of working with profilers.”

Prentiss half snorts as you bit your lower lip in thought. You did not want to have this conversation right now with Rossi present. Or really, at all. You’re still mad at Emily.

He starts tapping his thumbs together thoughtfully as neither you or Prentiss comment further. “Come on, ladies. Something’s clearing bothering the two of you.” He pauses patiently. “What happened?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with Papa Rossi,” you dismiss with a half-smile that Prentiss catches.

“Oh, god. That was fucking terrible, Whitlock,” Emily noted with a huff.

Rossi was happy you two were talking but he didn’t understand what happened. “What was terrible?”

“Dave, seriously? You don’t hear it?” Emily says partially annoyed, but you note a hint of amusement.

He’s baffled. “Hear what?”

“Papa Rossi.” You say again and he looks blankly at you still not understanding the joke. “It’s like … paparazzi ya big fancy famous writer man.”

“Ooooh!” His head rocks back as he laughs just as a silver Dodge Camaro passes your SUV on the other side of the two-way highway.

You looked at Prentiss who was looking at you. Dave was laughing cluelessly. There was only one way to find out if this was your guy and that was to go after the driver. You share a nod with Prentiss and suddenly turn the SUV around for U-turn. This wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and purposefully go off roading for a second to even out the car so you don’t tip over. You thank fed tires for being strong enough to not get stuck in the sand.

“Whoa!” Dave exclaims while grabbing onto the headrest of the passenger seat and the door handle. “What the hell Whitlock?!”

“Camaro that matches the description of our unsub just drove past us,” informs Emily as you start back on the main road to catch up.

“On it,” says Rossi, making a call to the New Mexico State Police.

You work the controls under the automatic gear shift to put in a call to Penelope. The car was synched up to your phone by Bluetooth that was secured on a handsfree mount on the dashboard next to the dash camera.

Her face appears on screen. “Hello my lovelies. What’s up?”

Prentiss speaks up first. “Access the dash cam. We need to ID the car in front of us. Might be our unsub.” And as she finishes saying that the Camaro starts burning rubber and speeds off. “Which has now elevated to probably our unsub,” Prentiss updates.

“Doubt they’re running from a ticket,” Rossi says while announcing different markers on the side of the road so state troopers could intercept.

You hit the accelerator and chase after them. “I need real time reports of traffic. We haven’t seen much but in case this gets messy, I don’t want any civilian injuries.”

“Done and done! Oh yeah … uh, that’s our guy. Plate matches.”

Rossi takes over relaying that information. “We have confirmation that we’re in pursuit of the suspect’s vehicle. New Mexico Plate Tango Charlie One Eight Nine Nine.”

“Wait. You’re driving crazy with Dave in there?”

“Well, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask while Penelope brings real time traffic for you as requested on your display.

“Dave you be careful!”

“I’m the one driving, Pen. Shouldn’t you be telling me to be careful?”

“She’s saying I’m old and don’t have a heart attack,” he says for clarification.

“Don’t worry, Queen Penelope,” you say quickly as you close the distance going ninety and climbing. “I’ve got this.”

“Uh, Queen Penelope?”

You hear the guilt in her voice and call her out on it. “Yeah. Why’s that weird? You are the Black Queen.”

“Right! I’m the Black Queen, hence why you’re addressing me as my sovereign title.” And not because of the chat title she gave herself in the secret chat group she made to discuss two of her favorite people she was staring at during a high speed chase.

“Why you acting weird?” you ask, watching the display and the road ahead of you. There are miles of desert in this area and rest stops. So far, the lack of traffic is on your side.

“Why are you?” Penelope says defensively without meaning to.

“Yeah … no. We’re revisiting this later but right now I need to focus.” You cross the solid yellow line into the opposite lane.

“What are you doing?” Prentiss wonders cautiously.

“Gonna say hi.”

Even Rossi was dumbfounded by this. “Say … hi?”

“Yep.” You speed up and follow alongside the Camaro and see Gabriel is white knuckling the steering wheel.

“Well, that’s definitely our guy.” Prentiss confirms and Rossi relays that information to dispatch as well. What she wasn’t expecting is you waving at the suspect. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I told you; I wanted to say hi.” You see Gabriel meet your gaze and watch his brows raise above the sunglasses in what had to be shock. You then grab Prentiss’ lanyard and hold it up. “Tell him to pull over.”

“I just … I don’t even know what to think about you right now.” Prentiss is exasperated and snatches her ID back as Rossi busts out laughing. “Dave! This is not funny.”

“Actually, it’s quite hilarious and technically by the book.” Dave starts explaining to dispatch what was so funny and then frowns noticing movement in the car. “Oh, looks like he’s reaching for something.”

“Probably a gun,” sighs Prentiss. “It’s always a gun. They can never go quietly.”

“Yep, there it is,” you announce, seeing the flash of metal in the desert sun. “Just needed confirmation.” Then you hit the brakes to confuse Arellano and end up behind the vehicle once more.

Dave was hanging on to dear life and almost dropped his phone. “Warn me next time!”

“OH MY GOD YOU ALMOST KILLED DAVE!” Penelope shrieks over the connection.

“I’m not killing anyone! God. You all need to trust me that I know what I’m doing. And thanks for asking if me and Emily are okay, too,” you bark and straighten out the car.

You both zoom past a small gas station leaving a trail of dust behind and as far as you could tell, the road was continued to be clear, and police were still enroute. You had no visuals either way and it was time to change that. “Pen, we’re still alone out here, right?”

“Ah, yes. No civies and police are about ten minutes away from catching up.”

You surmise that if this goes the way it will, either troopers will open fire on the vehicle and end up killing Arellano, set up tire spikes and have you back off but that would alert him that something was up. You’re aggressively tailing him. There’s also the chance they’ll try and barricade him, and he’ll just slam through it and possibly kill someone.

You keep your eyes up ahead and see Arellano poking his head out to open fire several rounds. You swerve out of the way, rocking everyone inside as tires hit desert sand before pulling the car back onto the pavement. At least he only had a handgun he was currently using, though there may be other weapons in the car, but you make your decision.

“You trust me?” you ask, turning to Prentiss.

Without hesitation, she nods firmly. “I do.”

“Shoot the back right tire after I get him to open fire again. With him distracted, I’m hoping he spins …”

“… off the road. The sand should slow him. Car like that’s not made for driving on sand for too long.”

“And then we surround the car to arrest him while he’s in shock,” finishes Dave.

You hit the accelerator and come up to his right, off roading until you catch up to him as Emily rolls down her window. Emily had her gun hidden from view, but the safety was off and ready to go once you gave her the opening.

You nod your head up and salute Arellano with a cocky grin, which pisses him off after he realizes you were right there again. He quickly points the gun at you. You hit the brake while easing off the accelerator, so all Arellano shot was the passenger window, shattering glass pieces everywhere where you now weren’t. You veer back onto the road, the car’s suspension taking the brunt of force for changing terrain so quickly. You saw how frantic Arellano was trying to control the steering wheel and with you keeping him off guard, it left him open for Prentiss who was already leaning out the window and lining up a shot.

She fires one round into the back right tire as planned and immediately you slow down to bring the car around to the left to avoid impact. The tire blows out with a bang and since Arellano was pulling the steering wheel down to the right, the car spins out in a three-sixty once and diverges off the road. In a panic, Arellano hits the accelerator, kicking up sand and with the loss of traction, ends up spinning his good back wheel deeper into soft sand. He was stuck.

Before he could make a decision on what to do next, you already pulled up alongside his car and put it in park to allow Rossi and Prentiss out. They quickly take sides, pointing their guns at him from both front windows.

Rossi was on the passenger side and saw that in the chaos, Arellano lost his gun. The 9mm was laying on the floor mat of the passenger side.

Rossi tsks as he tries to go for it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Arellano slowly raises his hands, glaring at Rossi with crooked sunglasses. Prentiss keeps the gun training on him while opening the driver’s side. “And you are under arrest Mr. Arellano. Let me list off all the reasons why …”

You were leaning against the SUV with arms crossed watching the state troopers take custody of Arellano from Rossi. It just made sense to wait and hand him off to local authorities, and it was one less thing the BAU had to do. The rest of the team would meet you in the police station in Albuquerque and start the paperwork to tie the case up with a bow for the district attorney.

You became distracted by the sound of the tow truck the troopers called in to take the Camaro. The driver was just finishing attaching the tow hook under the front bumper when you felt another presence join you against the car. You know it was Prentiss, but you honestly had nothing to say to her. Nope. Not even if she still trusted you in the field. Not that it almost made the fight you had in her office sting less.

Emily has her hands tucked into her front pants pockets and watches the car being pulled up the ramp with you. “Your driving was incredible,” she states delicately, testing the waters.

“Thanks.” You then add as an afterthought. “Nice shot.”

“Thanks.”

Silence ensues as you both watch the driver secure the Camaro. You really just want her to go and end this awkwardness, but Prentiss’ stubborn ass is still there.

You hear Emily shift beside you and then a thud. You finally dare to look at her and see her gazing up towards the sky. Silver grey hair was tousled against her shoulders and the car since there was no time for her to put it in a ponytail. Everything happened so fast as the three of you were not prepared for an actionable situation. She looks even more beautiful.

You resist the urge to restart the conversation despite wanting to know what’s on her mind, so you look across the scene and see Rossi looking back at the two of you. He smirks and just walks away and thus, takes away your way out.

Ugh.

“I need to apologize again,” admits Prentiss with a soft voice that takes you by surprise.

You tilt your head slightly while raising your brow. “Won’t hear me arguing.”

She nods. “I deserve that.” You watch her swallow; your eyes dragging along her neck and enjoy the view far too much for your liking before Emily moves her head to catch your gaze. “I am sorry. For the misunderstanding in my office.”

Your eyes squint and give no indication to her if you accept. You need more information. “But why was there one? I mean, I get being miffed that I did my own thing …”

“Miffed?” she questions while cutting you off.

“Put out. Angry. Asserting dominance by being a bitch.” You shrug nonchalantly but Emily heard the underlying hurt in your voice. “Miffed’s being nice, chief.”

“Oh … don’t do that,” Emily says with disappointment.

“Do what?” You know what you did.

“Be all formal like that.”

“Well, I thought we were past all that, but you pulled rank on me.” You didn’t hide the hurt in your voice as you challenged her. “That was Section Chief Prentiss getting pissy with me, so I figured I need to address you that way from now on.”

“But that’s not what I want,” she reveals quickly and that made you pause once your eyes meet brown ones. In that moment, all the sounds became muffled as time slowed. You could feel your heart begin to race under Emily’s intense gaze that were holding all the answers to why your friendship went to shit. You have your suspicions, but it was important to hear it from Prentiss.

“So,” you ask bluntly. “What the fuck do you want? Cuz I’m tried of this bullshit, chief.”

She winces and you hate that as much as you like doing that to her. You want to be vindictive like she was being to you, but in the next breath, you really hate how upset you were making her.

You watch her lips push and pull ever so slightly in thought but somehow, she has the strength not to look away. When her facial features smooth out, you know she comes to a decision and wait for it while holding your breath.

She fists her pants pockets and speaks your name with care. “I want you.”

The air rushes out of your mouth as your chest tightens. You end up playing dumb because you don’t know how to react to this and look away cowardly. “I … what?” Then your defense mechanism kicks in. “Kinda have an audience here, Prentiss.”

She smiles, glad to hear your joke and most importantly you are calling her by her last name again. “Well, I was thinking of a few dates first but hey, we can always give them a show,” she says as her gaze looks out to everyone clearing the scene. She saw Rossi finishing up with a deputy.

“That is the socially acceptable thing to do first,” you agree, then look at her. “But why are you telling me this now? Seems an odd time to do so.”

“That it is.” Her lips press thinly before responding. “I was gonna ask you out last Saturday.”

That made you jerk back and tilt your head in thought. “The day after Fireside?”

“Yes,” she confirms.

“Okay.” You sound as confused as you looked. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I was about to when I overheard your speaking with Brian.”

“Brian?” You’re baffled. “What does my conversation with Brian have to -. Oh …” It finally clicks as you remember your conversation about your ‘date’ with Nina. “Prentiss,” you say teasingly and smirk as she blushes. “All this nonsense was cuz you’re jealous?”

“I am not not saying that,” she sneers, but takes a deep breath before nodding. “But … maybe.”

You’re touched and feel yourself beaming. “Thank you for telling me.”

She looks at you pointedly and sees a resolution reflecting in your eyes. Emily frowns. “But?”

“But this isn’t a good idea. Even with me hitting on you in Russian,” you admit sheepishly.

“So, you do remember!” She grins. “Ass.”

You bow your head at that remark to concede the truth of it.

“And just for the record, I’ve been informed that since Brian is your direct supervisor, you wouldn’t be dating your boss,” she answers, anticipating your next response.

Shit.

Do you keep pressing that you work together and it’s a bad idea despite there being no official reason not to have a romantic relationship with one another. Or do you tell her the truth.

You look down at the sand. “I suck at relationships.” You give her a partial truth.

“That’s alright because you’re in luck.” She says your name and you look up to see her smile knowingly. “I suck at them, too. Like, really suck at them. As JJ will confirm, I’m the master of self-sabotage.”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “That’s a helluva thing to admit to someone you’re asking out.”

“Yes, it is.” Emily kicks at the sand nervously since you still haven’t given her an answer either way.

“You know I don’t date. Like, ever.” You admit and hear Emily’s boots shifting quickly in the sand.

“I, uh, didn’t realize that. But you know I appreciate you telling me this up front instead of stringing me along. Or being utterly rude like I was to you.” Emily was starting to spiral and needed to get away from you to recuperate from this raw emotional state. Damn her for assuming you would just magically forgive her and say yes.

“Hey, Emily?” you start but she was still going.

“No, it’s alright. Thank you for this.”  Her smile was all for show, but her eyes were dull and defeated. “We should get Rossi and head back to meet the rest of the te-.”

“Emily, stop!” You say firmly and that halts her from walking away any further. She hesitantly looks at you despite her body thrumming with anxiousness. She was ready to bolt by words or movement. You take a cautious step forward and decide to go all in like Charlie hoped you would. “I mean, I’ve never dated anyone before. Ever.”

Emily quirks a brow as if she didn’t hear that right. “Like … ever?”

“Never, ever.” You kick the sand now and chuckle nervously. “No one came along that mattered.”

Emily’s lips slowly curl into a hopeful smile. “Really? Not even in high school or …?”

You confirm all of that with a nod, which was far more confident than your voice that cracks. “Yep.” With Emily looking so adorable with that admission you look away. “Fuck, Prentiss. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks taking a step back closer to you with a shit eating, confident grin.

“Fuck it, like that!” you accuse, gesturing at her, with a nervous laugh. Damn her gorgeous smile that just lights up when so thrilled. For once, Emily looks like the weight of the entire world didn’t rest on her shoulders. How could that be because of you?

“So?” she lowers her voice on purpose and stops in front of you, relaxed and back in control of this conversation. You were close enough that if she wanted to, she could reach out and touch you, but she wouldn’t. Not with too many eyes in the vicinity. “Does this mean you’ll allow me the pleasure of taking you out sometime?”

You lick your lips and nervously scratch at the back of your neck, which makes Emily’s eyes light up happily with the effect she was having on you. “Ah fuck it.” You twist your lips, sucking on the lower one as you find the courage to look directly into those gorgeous brown eyes that were distracted by your lips. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Hanging by a Moment cont. - Lifehouse

*Off-Highway Vehicle

*Children, Youth & Families Department

*All-Points Bulletin

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[lucy90712]

Coming home for Christmas- Jude Bellingham

A/n: Happy holidays guys, I have one more Christmas story to come out in the next few days and then a surprise new mini series for new years so get ready Christmas is supposed to be a happy and joyful time of year but this year I just can't get myself in the Christmas spirit. My boyfriend Jude was supposed to spend Christmas with me and my family this year I left a week before Christmas to spend more time with my family and he was supposed to join us after his last league game but due to bad weather he hasn't been able to get a flight. He's been trying for days and last night he text me and said the last flight that would get here on time got cancelled and he wouldn't be able to make it. I had to hide my sadness in front of my siblings as they didn't need me to ruin Christmas for them but once they had gone to bed I did have a good cry with my mum. 

Last year I spent Christmas with Jude's family so this year we were supposed to switch and he'd spend Christmas with my family for the first time. I was so excited to have him here and so were my parents and siblings as they love Jude. We had so many plans and Jude was going to join in with all the family Christmas traditions like the matching pyjamas which I have on while I cry looking at Jude's untouched pair on the dresser in my room. Jude did promise to FaceTime me for most of the day but it just won't be the same as having him here. 

~~~~~~~~~~

I must've fallen asleep at some point last night as I got woken up by my youngest sister jumping on top of me yelling that Santa had been. She was trying to drag me out of bed and straight downstairs but I managed to convince her to wait just a minute which gave me just enough time to brush my teeth and grab a hoodie to keep me warm. It was only as I walked down the stairs I realised I had one of Jude's hoodies on which made me miss him all over again. Yet again I put on a smile as all my younger siblings were so excited and looking at all the gifts waiting for them under the tree. 

The kids really wanted to open presents but my parents insisted we all have breakfast first which in recent years has become my job as everyone loves my pancake recipe. I got the hint and got up to start making the pancakes but before I could get very far the doorbell rang and because I was closest I offered to answer it. My parents didn't say anything which has me a bit confused as I thought they'd be more curious about who was at the door at 7am on Christmas Day but I didn't think much else of it. 

I opened the door still holding the spoon I was about to use to mix the pancake batter but that quickly landed on the ground when I saw Jude stood in front of me. I couldn't believe it he wasn't supposed to be here but here he is stood right in front of me. After taking a second to process what just happened I jumped into his arms which luckily he was expecting and he caught me holding me tightly to his chest. 

"What are you doing here I thought your flight was cancelled" I said 

"I may have lied the flight was delayed for a while but I got in at 3am and slept in the airport for a bit before getting a taxi here to surprise you I thought it would be fun to see your face when I turned up which is why I didn't tell you" he said 

"This is the best Christmas present ever I was so sad that you were going to miss everything but now you're here you can help me make pancakes as that's the first tradition we have" I said excitedly 

"Let me bring my bags in then I'll help make your famous pancakes" he said 

I helped him bring in his suitcases and he took one up to my room but he told me to leave the other one downstairs as it had presents in. He greeted all of my family on his way back down and  made sure to act over the top excited when the kids showed him all the gifts under the tree. Eventually he escaped and helped me make the pancakes and serve them as they came out the pan. As Jude can’t take anything seriously for more than five minutes once I'd made both of us some pancakes he grabbed the whipped cream and put some on the pancakes but also my nose. He managed to take a picture before I could wipe the cream off and put it in his face instead. We had to clean up otherwise I'd get in trouble but we laughed the entire time which really made me happy as this is exactly what I wished today would be like. 

After breakfast it was time to open presents so Jude went and got his second suitcase which was completely filled with presents which he'd clearly wrapped himself as they weren't very neat but it's the thought that counts. He'd got a couple presents for all my siblings and my parents then he piled the rest of them up in front of me. He has a tendency to go a bit overboard with presents but I didn't expect him to get so much for the rest of my family too as I told him that he didn't have to and I could put some of my presents from him too. The kids all opened their presents first which they were very happy with especially their gifts from Jude as he got them all things they really wanted so they were happy. 

While they played with their new toys the rest of us took turns opening gifts. Jude really showed me up with the gifts he got my parents but I'm ok with it as it just shows me that I picked the best boyfriend who cares for my entire family not just me. I managed to redeem myself with my presents for Jude as I went all out I got him things I knew he'd like but also some more sentimental personal gifts which he seemed to really love. Jude can be hard to buy for as he already has everything and he makes a hell of a lot more than I do but I like getting him things that mean something. Jude like always got me things he knew I'd love and like always he was right although I think I'm going to need another suitcase to get it all back out Madrid. 

Just when I thought he couldn't possibly have bought any more gifts for me he grabbed my hand and took me to my room upstairs where he handed me a small wrapped box. I took the wrapping paper off but hesitated for a second before opening the box because part of me wondered if it was an engagement ring and as much as I love Jude we said we would wait a bit longer to take that next step in our relationship. My heart rate felt like it tripled when I opened the box and saw a beautiful but delicate ring but Jude quickly managed to calm me down. 

"Don't worry this isn't an engagement ring I know we agreed to wait for that but I wanted you to have something that showed how much I love you and shows my commitment to you until the day I give you a proper ring so I guess this a promise ring my promise to always be there by your side and to love you" he said nearly making me cry 

"Jude that's the sweetest thing you've ever said and this ring is beautiful" I said 

"I hoped you'd like it and I get if you don't want to wear it on your ring finger we don't want to give people the wrong impression but I thought you could wear it on your right hand and it could be our little secret only we know the true meaning behind it" he said 

"Thats a great idea" I said leaning in to kiss him 

"I do have them sometimes" he joked 

I gave him another kiss before he put the ring on my finger and we headed back downstairs. It was a matter of seconds before Jude was stolen from me by my brothers to play football even though it's freezing outside. Before I knew it I'd been roped in too and I was forced to be in goal but it was kind of ok with me as it meant I could put on thicker gloves and pretend they are goalkeeping gloves. Jude taught the boys a lot of little tricks which they picked up quickly and soon they were able to get just as many goals past me as Jude. They had fun but eventually even they felt the cold and we all got to go back inside where my sister was waiting with her new dolls that Jude got her so he was made to play with her but he didn't seem to mind. One of the many reasons I love Jude is because he's so good with all my siblings and they all love him so much when I come home they always ask for Jude even when he's not with me. 

Jude eventually got freed from doll playing duties and we got to relax for a little while before my mum started cooking the Christmas dinner and I agreed to help along with Jude who decided he didn't want to leave my side. I was a little nervous about him helping as he's not the best cook in fact he's the worst cook I know but with detailed instructions he did quite well dealing with the vegetables. As he watched the water bubbling his arms wrapped around my waist while I made the Yorkshire puddings which didn't help me at all but he's cute and I've missed him in our week apart so I let him. Once my part was done my mum made us go and enjoy ourselves which we didn't need to be told twice we finally got a few minutes to ourselves to relax and cuddle on the sofa. 

Dinner was lovely my mum did a great job and Jude was proud of his contribution so I didn't bother telling him the carrots were slightly overdone. For the whole meal he had a hand on my thigh occasionally rubbing circles on it all while smiling at me like he'd just seen a puppy. His smile was so infectious that we were both smiling at each other throughout the entire meal and completely in our down world. This is exactly how I pictured Christmas with Jude being the little moments like playing with my siblings, cooking together and enjoying dinner together really just made my heart feel filled with love and the Christmas spirit. 

After dinner we didn't have to help with cleaning up as we both helped cook so Jude carried me upstairs over his shoulders to my room. He insisted that we put on our matching pyjamas as he missed that part of my family tradition and then he made sure we took pictures together which he promised he would post but I know in a few hours one will be on his instagram story. Despite it only being 8pm we got ready for bed and got under the covers to cuddle as that's the only thing that felt right to end off the perfect day. Just when I thought things couldn't get any better Jude put on miracle on 34th street which I love to watch but he doesn't so I know he did it just for me. 

"I'm so glad you could make it today has been the best day" I said 

"Me too your whole family are so lovely your brothers are going to be great footballers, your sister has one hell of an imagination and your parents are just so kind to me" he said 

"They all love you so much probably more than me but that's ok because I love seeing all of you get along" I said 

"Well my family loves you more than me so I guess we're even" he joked 

"I guess we are" I smiled kissing him before settling back down to finish watching the movie

[threepandas]

Bad End: Trust

"Meet your new mates, cargo! Get breeding!"

I didn't understand the bellowed noises at the time. It was just incoherent gibberish. Heaped on top of what was likely a concussion, mixed with what ever drugs they had pumped me with. Thrown into a cell, roughly, and hitting the ground hard. I couldn't have caught myself if I had wanted too. My limbs, unresponsive and dragging meat, that I could barely FEEL.

Please, god, I had thought. Don't let me be paralyzed. Not on top of everything else.

They'll kill me.

Behind and around me, the weeping cries of sorrow and fear rang out. Screams of violence, born of desperation. Countless races, bound together, suffering in this hell. Newly enslaved. I didn't... I couldn't understand. Shaking and struggling to remain conscious, laying on the blood stained floor. The world swayed violently. It was all I could do, to barely keep from passing out.

It was so cold. The air, the floor, the deep and clawing despair, sinking like knives into my gut. Those furry... things, had grabbed me while I was alone, before I could react. W-would anyone notice? Could anyone DO anything? I wanted to get away from the door. Curl up in a corner and... and cry. But I could not move. Like a doll, dropped thoughtlessly on the floor, I could not... could not move.

Tears I likely could not afford, threatened to choke me.

I... I was scared.

Then, deeper in the hovel that was my new home, movement. The heavy clink of chains. Shifting, slow and careful, followed by the drag of metal. A warm hand. Fingers, calloused but careful, checking my neck. My pulse, for injury perhaps, I couldn't tell. But... god, i could have sobbed in relief. They... they felt human.

How terrible of me. That I was GLAD not to be alone. T-That it was relief, to have another person here. Someone who might know what's going on. What to do. To.. to stick with. I... I should wish it was just me, right? That they captured no one else? But... oh god. O-Oh God, I can't! I'm scared. Please. P-please...

I'm so scared.

The person checking me hummed low and soft. Their voice crackling like an old radio that's been left sitting on a shelf too long, unused. How.. how long has it been? Since they last had anyone to talk too? They sounded male, but.. but I didn't want to presume. Could just have a low voice. Throat injury. Might be Trans. I didn't care, couldn't care. I was pretty sure? We were all we had now.

They... no, He, found nothing alarming enough not to move me. Shifting into view as he gently slipped his arms under me. Enough to pick me up and carry me away from the door. He was... is... pretty handsome.

Okay, REALLY handsome.

Horrifically enough? I could see WHY they grabbed him. Athletic as hell, TV ready, really smart. If you were going to ignore ever bit of decency and morality to ever exsist? Might as well go for the best, I guess. Don't know why they grabbed ME, but I guess? They need a stand in or something? Or my predecessor is dead.

(God, I hope she's dead. The alternative...)

Pretty quickly became apparent, though, that one of the main problems (of so, SO many)? Was we don't actually speak the same language. Which... I mean... Well, shit. That's, putting it mildly, "less then ideal". Being unable to communicate with the only other person nominally on "My Side"? Kinda bad! But, I AM learning. And I am teaching him english! So there's that.

We have nothing but time, after all. It helps distract from the suffering just outside. The weeping and screams. The sounds that must be begging, in alien dialects. All the mercies they do not find.

(Is it terrible? That I am glad I can not understand what they are saying? Their cries for help? I can't help them. It hurts. Helpless to even save my self. God, I'm sorry. Please... I'm... I'm so sorry...)

Food gets shoved in. Lights flipped on. Lights shut off. The timer odd, but probably standard for somewhere. It's like being told to go to sleep halfway through the afternoon. Yanked awake before full nights are done. I struggle to adapt, even a little, following my fellow prisoner's lead. Or, well, trying too. There's a lot of charades at first.

Then, practicing our languages. Taking what naps and cuddling for warmth we can. Harsh lights be damned. It's cold, we're tired, but we have to keep our strength up. Right? Throughout it all, I try to ignore the weird smells they pump in. Still not used to getting random scents blasted at my head from above, from the air vents in the walls.

Day in, day out, rinse and repeate. The weird gasses smells like people have had sex, to be honest. I think? But don't quote me. They might be trying to get us to "mate", like animals, so they can sell our kids. Induce some nonexistent human heat cycle or something. I've kinda started to worry, not gonna lie, about what they'll do... you know, once they finally get frustrated. Figure out, we don't work like that.

Or... more relevantly, might not even be? Compatible?

Cause Azenari is DEFINITELY not a human. They fucked uuuup. Cause if he is? There is some probably serious divergent evolution going on. He did NOT get nabbed from Earth. HE got nabbed from his SHIP(as in, yeah, a fuckin Space Ship). Because HIS people are space faring! The man has pointy ears for fucks sake! Some seriously fangy canines. And while, yeah, seriously kinda cool? No idea if our species are related, or... you know...

So yeah, The Fur Covered Slaver Bastards are apparently Humanoid face blind, on TOP of being just generally terrible. Or dumb! Might be dumb, honestly. Wouldn't put it past them. Banality of evil and all that. But recently? There was a... tension. Something was coming. The Bastards seemed twitchy.

"Not long now, beloved. We're two stops from the extraction ambush." Azenari murmured, from where he was tucked loosely around me as I watch the latest patrol pass, one arm cradling me tight. Even as, with the other hand, he sleepily stroked my back. "You'll look lovely in proper robes. You deserve finery, my love."

I couldn't understand most of the sentence. Normally he simplified for me, since I was still learning. He seemed... pleased? Smug? The more tense and twitchy the Bastards got, the more darkly amused he seemed to become. As though he knew exactly why. As though he was laughing inside.

"My magnificent darling, you'll belong to me in everyway that matters. I'll take safer jobs. No more slave ring stings. I promise."

Oh. I think I got it. Azenari though of me as family! Yeah, that tracked. Trauma bonding and all. I did too. Couldn't help but smile, hugging him back, much to his clear delight. Yeah. We were in this together.

I'm glad I had someone I could trust. The universe was big and I would be pretty much alone without him. All but thrown at his feet and told I was his, Azenari had every chance to hurt me. But he didn't. He was a good man. Solid and stable when everything when frightening, warm and there when I needed to hide.

Really, it was only a matter of time before we would be chatting like old friends!

"You are NEVER going to escape me, beloved."

"I Love You."

[venomwrites]

Pure unadulterated post-cannon Christmas fluff/angst to say thank you for being the best readers. On Ao3 too

Caitlyn wakes alone on Christmas morning. 

It’s not strange in itself. The room shuffling that has taken place still has her waking up every morning wondering why she is in her parents bed. Then she remembers it is her bed now. Some mornings it makes her want to cry. A lot of mornings that feeling wins. It’s not where she wants to be. She wants to be back in her room. She wants her mother and father to be in this bed. She wants to feel awkward perching on the edge of it. No, she wants to go back to the days where she refused to perch on the edge of it because that bed was where her parents kissed. But time does not allow her such luxuries. So she wakes to the grander room every morning. And every morning she wonders if she has somehow ran to her parents for comfort like a a child. But the nightmare is not when she is asleep anymore. It greets her every morning. Stretches endlessly in front of her as she looks at the thing she calls a life and wonders if it will ever make sense. 

She doesn’t even remember it’s Christmas until she smells the perfumed soap in the cavernous bathroom. Her parents bathroom is a double, massive thing. Two sinks, two showers, two toilet closets. In the center is a massive tub. It’s completely foreign to her bathroom in everything except color. Everything is settled in different corners. Which is fine by Caitlyn. She refuses to use her old bathroom. To this day, she would rather mess herself than step foot in that place. When the staff had put her things here they had nestled them in the middle, but she had immediately gravitated towards her mother’s side. Now her bottles nestle next to her mother’s. Sometimes Caitlyn mixes them, but she wants to make all those products last. Wants to keep anything her mother touched for as long as she possibly can. It’s foolish and she cannot stop. On days when it is unbearable she washes her hands in the other sink and ignores everything. 

That’s the benefit of having two of everything.

The rest is just drawbacks. 

This room is not designed for one person. Especially not one who lives most days half scooped out. She was not supposed to occupy this room until she could make it her own. And even then, she was not supposed to occupy it alone. This room was her parents, but truly it was her mother’s. And before that it was her grandmother’s. The room is a suite for the head of the house and their partner. It is designed to make the task of running the Kiramman family as easy as possible. Two wardrobes, two desks, endless nooks and crannies and cabinets. Two people are supposed to have a life in here. Caitlyn tried to bring something over to the other side but snatched it back. Her things are sparse on the side she has taken for herself. The other is just bare. Caitlyn doesn’t know who it is waiting for yet, but she cannot bring herself to touch the room and admit it may be waiting for no-one at all. 

Caitlyn dresses in her usual black and heads down the hall. She raps on the door gently but it swings open to reveal an empty room that was once hers. 

She never would have agreed to the move if not for Vi. 

She tucked Vi into her bed after the fight with Warwick and she just never truly left. During those weeks of preparation they would tangle there and talk. Vi brought such life back to the space it made it tolerable. Before that Caitlyn had just occupied a guest room, unable to bear the thought of returning to her own bed. After the fight when Vi had staggered down and walked past the ashes of at least one member of her family, when the medical team had finally released them, she had just staggered back to the bed. Caitlyn would never have given up her room for anyone else, but if Vi was willing to collapse there, then Caitlyn was willing to surrender it. Surrender was somehow the tenant of Noxian warcraft she was drawn to. So she surrendered her girlhood room. Surrendered to her father’s quiet, tearful insistence that she belonged in her mother’s old room. Pressed another key into her unworthy hand and choked out that she would have wanted to give it to Caitlyn herself. Then he retreated as he always did. 

The bare walls of her room seemed ill suited to someone like Vi. But Vi had no things of her own. So Caitlyn has dragged in things she might like when Vi is off on an endless walk or a long-fought over medical appointment. Caitlyn picks out books and pretty things and piles them on the shelves that once held her shooting trophies. She may leave one or two of those there as well. She leaves out a paint set and a ball of yarn, little things that Vi can do with her hands if she wants. Sometimes Caitlyn catches a glimpse of something moved, but she tries to give her privacy. Mostly, Vi reads. The place where she lay next to Vi has become it’s own small library of whatever she is working through at the moment. Caitlyn knew Vi could read, but she also knew she had little access to books. Vi is not fast, she does not sit for hours turning pages. Sometimes Caitlyn hears the sound of something heavy and book like hitting the ground. But then it is always picked up a moment later. 

Caitlyn doesn’t care, Vi can burn the books for all she cares. But Vi handles them with upmost care. When she’s finished she leaves them in a neat stack on the table by the door and Caitlyn makes sure they are always replaced if she is unable to do it herself. 

Today there is just a note there with a single word on it. 

Kitchen

As Caitlyn makes her way down, the hallway takes on a wonderful smell. Savory, sweet, tempting. Caitlyn has been eating when she is hungry or when it’s insisted, but she can’t remember the last time she felt her stomach rumble with want. The gurgle is almost embarrassing. But no-one is here to hear it. Actually, when Caitlyn glances around she realizes the house is shockingly empty. There is usually a skeleton staff on the holiday at least. Maybe they were lured in by the smells coming from the kitchen. Caitlyn realizes the kitchen she’s walking towards is not the polished one for entertaining but the one the staff uses more regularly. One where they can make a mess and no-one will see. It’s a large, rectangular room with an island in the middle and appliances tucked on the sides. It’s always warm thanks to the stove that hums in the corner. Caitlyn was petrified of it as a child. Even now she rarely comes down here. But she can tell that is where Vi is. 

Actually, it’s where everyone is. 

Staff, her father—everyone is gathered around a table filled with food. There’s meat and rolls and golden brown cakes with butter and syrup. But more than that there’s Ionian dishes from Caitlyn’s childhood. Congee and dark marinated eggs and green briny seaweed sprinkled with sesame. She enters and no-one looks up. No conversation stops. People glance at her but only to see her come in. It’s strange to enter a room and not destroy the sound of chatter like taking a needle off a gramophone. It just continues around her. Caitlyn swallows against the lump it brings to her throat and finds the culprit easily amongst the chaos. Mostly because one of the cakes goes sailing up in the air and she catches it in the pan she’s holding to voracious cheers. 

“Hey,” Vi says with something almost resembling a smile, “merry Christmas. I made some of everything.”

“It smells wonderful,” Caitlyn says politely as her stomach makes the rudest noise. She can feel Vi watching as she picks up one of the bowls. Caitlyn is determined for it to be wonderful, but she’s caught off guard when it actually is. Texture, flavor, all of it is flawless, “how on earth—“

“You left a cookbook,” Vi says with a proud shrug, “I just followed the instructions,” she clears her throat, “it’s gotten better though.”

“It was good from the start!” Someone calls and Caitlyn realizes much more work went into this than she thought. 

“Save some room,” Vi says as a ding rings out. She hefts a tray of scones from the oven and Caitlyn’s mouth waters at the sight. Especially when she spots the pot of blueberry jam on the table, “your dad said it was your favorite,” Vi tells her. 

“What’s yours?” Caitlyn asks. She hadn’t even thought Vi was eating, let alone that she was cooking. Vi gives her half a genuine smile and jerks her head towards the skillet on the stove, “share that with me.”

Something lights in Vi’s eyes and she nods. Vi likes her pancakes dripping with butter and syrup. There have to be at least two though, so the butter melts between them. They are tangier than Caitlyn ever remembers and completely delightful. Vi is suspicious of the scone when Caitlyn holds it out, but agrees to take a bite. She seems equally surprised and delighted by the taste and texture. Despite never making them before, she’s managed to do it nearly perfectly. People come in and out of the room through the morning as they try each other’s favorite dishes. It’s a new sensation to learn each other. Somehow it’s the easiest conversation they’ve had since Caitlyn lost her eye and Vi lost everything. Jinx’s name even slips from Vi’s lips a few times without the gut punch of emotion that usually follows it. The only miss between them is when Vi wraps some kind of cured meat around a briny pickle. Both of them immediately decide it’s too salty and choose something else from the spread. 

“Who told you to do that?” Caitlyn questions. 

“Ekko,” Vi says, taking a large sip of tea, “do me a favor and say you loved it if he ever asks.”

“Is he coming?” Caitlyn asks, looking around. 

“Here? Nah,” Vi says, “I wouldn’t bring him to your house.”

“You live here too,” Caitlyn points out. Vi shifts her weight and shrugs.

“Yeah but—“ she mumbles something that sounds like fancy.

“So bring him here,” Caitlyn says with a shrug. Vi looks surprised. Caitlyn isn’t sure why unless she considers that Vi has only witnessed people coming through the front door and being led to the sitting parlors, “you know you can bring people wherever you want, right?” Caitlyn asks gently. 

“Course,” Vi says, her finger fidgeting on the tabletop, “yeah I just figured—“

“Vi I brought you in through a window,” Caitlyn points out. Vi still looks hesitant, “you weren’t the first. You can bring Ekko into the kitchen.”

Vi is silent for a moment. Caitlyn braces herself for whatever Vi is abut to say. But her face breaks into something not miserable. Something almost mischievous. 

“That’s why the lock was broken on your window,” she says and snaps her fingers, “that’s why your mom looked annoyed.”

Caitlyn drops her head to her folded arms as Vi laughs. The sound catches her off guard, though not as much as the laugh it pulls from her own lips. The notion that Vi was able to see past the shotgun to her mother’s annoyance makes a warm feeling settle in her chest. She raises her head to see the first genuine smile she’s seen on Vi’s face in a long time. It echoes on her own as they laugh. For once Caitlyn doesn’t think about sitting up straight. She lets her head drop into one of her hands and gives into the urge to press the heel of it to her currently empty socket. It’s a constant urge, one she’s fighting not to become a nervous tick. But at the moment it feels wonderful to just sit in the warm kitchen with Vi and be comfortable. Even Vi’s posture has shifted to something more relaxed as they chuckle about her mom’s annoyance at Caitlyn bringing girls through the window. 

“It’s your room now,” Caitlyn says, “I invite you to continue the tradition of bringing people through the window,” she motions, “it will probably be easier for Ekko on that board.”

“Yeah,” Vi says and seems to perk up a bit, “maybe, yeah.”

Fully fed and pleased with this turn of events, Caitlyn picks up the gift she tucked under the chair and holds them out to Vi. 

“Since we’re exchanging,” she says motioning to the food. Vi hesitates, “I picked them out myself,” Caitlyn adds. 

Vi takes them in her hands with a mumble of thanks and undoes the red twine. Caitlyn forwent all the fancy papers and wrapped them in simple brown. She can’t help but watch as Vi tears one of the corners carefully. Her face shifts and the paper comes off the first parcel much more quickly. She turns the book over in her hands and slides her fingers into one of the dented letters, looking at the list of words that spiral across the page. Her eyes light up with a hunger that has nothing to do with food and Caitlyn feels a beat of pleasure. Vi is smart, but Caitlyn knows some of the books use words she might not be familiar with. The dictionary is the only book that has not moved from the shelf, as though Vi does not want to admit some of them are strange. But the books Caitlyn hears her throw in frustration are ones Caitlyn often needs a dictionary for. 

“I figured you needed one you could mark up,” she says. 

“This is—“ Vi swallows, “thanks,” she says and the tone is so sincere it makes Caitlyn’s heart ache. She picks up the second package and tears the paper a little more carelessly this time, but Caitlyn can see when it clicks on her face what she’s holding, “no way,” she breathes. Her head flies up, “how?”

“Abuse of power?” Caitlyn says. Vi’s eyebrows shoot up, “and Sevika.”

The name makes Vi’s throat bob but her focus is drawn back to the book. All things considered, it was a mild abuse of power. Just a bribe really to get into the Enforcer archives. It wasn’t like anyone was actually doing anything with the contraband from an old half war. She had made Sevika aware of it’s existence and she had immediately demanded access. She was part of that fight. She took most of it back to Zaun, where it belonged. Where it always should have been. Caitlyn had simply smoothed the wheels so the Enforcers didn’t kick up too much of a fuss. Sevika had almost yelled when she had asked if there was anything in there of importance to Vi. Caitlyn had learned it was a good idea to let Sevika yell first, then let her consider the request. Then she had told her she had no idea. Then two weeks later she had dropped the book on Caitlyn’s desk. She didn’t bother saying what it was, Caitlyn didn’t need to ask. It took longer to have it properly cleaned up from the dust and decay of sitting in a box. But every cent had been worth it to see Vi reverently brush her fingers over the cover. 

“What is it?” Caitlyn asks. 

“You didn’t look?” Vi says. Caitlyn shakes her head. Vi gets up and comes around to her side of the table, sitting on the seat next to hers and thumbing open the book. Caitlyn is surprised to see pictures accompanying the words, “our families would pass it around when there was a new kid,” she says, “so you could read a crying baby to sleep,” a smile tugs at her lips as she looks at the page, “when Mom said she was gonna have a baby, I was so excited because I knew it’d be our turn,” she lets out a laugh, “I think I was more excited for this than I was for Powder.”

“May I?” Caitlyn asks and moves the book before Vi’s tears can stain the pages. Vi wipes messily at her cheeks, “did you read to her?”

“No, I’m shit at reading aloud,” Vi says, “I remember telling my mom she had to show her the pictures though. I really liked those.”

Caitlyn does not know how to comfort her. She knows they are not just sad tears, that Vi’s memories usually bring them up. Risking it, Caitlyn tucks a piece of hair behind Vi’s ear. Just something to let her know she’s there. Vi sniffles and wipes again at her cheeks before looking over at her with a wet, honest smile. 

“Thanks, Cupcake,” she says, “these mean a lot.”

For the first time in her life Caitlyn helps with the dishes. 

Vi takes pity on her and assigns her drying duty. Caitlyn knows better than to point out someone else can do this. Vi won’t hear of it. Vi scrubs, she dries and then Vi directs her where things go. By the time they are done, Caitlyn half knows her way around the kitchen. That is also incredibly strange, but Caitlyn tries to commit it to memory. It wouldn’t be terrible to make a cup of tea down here every so often. Especially if this is where Vi spends a lot of her time. Vi makes sure her hands are dry before she gathers her precious books in her arms. Caitlyn has seen Vi lift impossibly heavy loads with and without the Gauntlets, but she wraps both her arms around the books like they might fall away. They both go back to their rooms to attend to various things and Caitlyn expects Vi will go on one of her long walks. There’s some silly bead of hope in her heart that maybe Vi will invite her along. But she pushes that aside. She knows those walks aren’t for her. Maybe one day, but not yet. It’s something that makes physical therapy a bit more bearable as she learns to navigate her new world. 

Still, her heart jumps when there is a knock on her door. 

“Come in!” She calls and watches Vi step into the space. 

She doesn’t spend a lot of time in the room. Caitlyn can’t blame her. She’s lucky Vi was willing to accept her old room and she half thinks that’s only because it was somewhere she could navigate to and from with minimal help. This room is worse somehow. It’s even more grand. The ceiling is set with colored glass that sends rainbows across the polished floors. It takes two fireplaces to give it any kind of heat and Caitlyn thinks when it is empty when she one day changes it, there will be an echo. The only part of the room Vi ever lingers near is the balcony. It’s still set with the small table and two chairs from when her parents would sit every morning before the day began. Caitlyn hasn’t set foot on it. Vi’s eyes sweep the grandeur and the balcony before they settle on her. Caitlyn turns to face her but Vi doesn’t cross the room. She half fidgets in the empty space, her book of fairytales clutched to her chest. Her eyes are still reddened but there’s a set in her shoulders that makes Caitlyn aware she’s come to some decision. Feeling oddly nervous, Caitlyn pushes herself to her feet and stands on her side of the room. 

“I don’t want to bring anyone but Ekko through the window,” Vi says and Caitlyn’s heart begins to race, “I know there’s a lot going on and you’re sleeping here now but—I’m not bringing anyone else through the window.”

“I’m sleeping here so you can be comfortable,” Caitlyn blurts out. 

Vi swallows and runs her fingers over the edge of the book, like she’s drawing comfort from it. They tighten on the corner and she looks almost nervous for a moment. 

“I thought I could—“ she jerks her head towards the empty shelves, “if it’s okay with you.”

“They’re yours,” Caitlyn says without meaning to. Then she realizes what she’s said and has to fight the urge to throw herself off the balcony, “I—“

“Yeah, okay,” Vi says simply. 

As if Caitlyn has not just said the most embarrassing thing. She says it as if she knows it too. Caitlyn realizes she may be the only one who was hoping and everyone else just knew. She watches as Vi walks over to the empty shelves. Caitlyn realizes it’s not just the fairytale book in her arms. There’s that one, two cookbooks and a book on cartography. Vi settles them on the shelves sandwiched between two heavy metal bookends that made Caitlyn think of her tattoo. It’s just a corner of the shelves but immediately they look better. Vi considers her handiwork calmly as Caitlyn stares at it with a pounding, hopeful heart. Then Vi takes the fairytale book from the shelf and walks over to the empty desk. She pulls out the chair and seats herself in it, shifting her weight on the upholstery to get comfortable. She winds up with a knee drawn to her chest in what Caitlyn’s learning is a comfortable position for her. She thumbs open the book as Caitlyn sits back in her own desk. Whatever she’s supposed to be doing is forgotten as she looks at Vi sitting there. Vi is aware of her gaze but is focused on the book. So Caitlyn forces herself back to her own work. 

“We can change anything,” Caitlyn says to the paperwork, “make it our own when you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” Vi says quietly, eyes still on the book, “can Ekko come through the balcony?”

Caitlyn is silent long enough for Vi to glance over at her. 

“That lock isn’t ‘fixed’,” Caitlyn says finally and Vi snorts out a laugh, “I wasn’t planning on sneaking in when I took this room!” Caitlyn defends hotly, “if Ekko comes though the balcony you’d have to actually unlock it from the inside.”

“Noted,” Vi says and turns the page. 

Suddenly the life that stretches out before Caitlyn seems a bit less impossible and a bit less scary. She tries to imagine the room with a tangle of Vi’s books and her things. Closets jumbled together because they will probably keep things like gear in the other. Mornings at the sink and night in the bed. Her throat tightens at the thought of coffee on the balcony and one day the sound of smaller feet running to their bed in the middle of the night. She’s not sure she deserves the thought of any of it, but when she glances at Vi’s half smile, she knows she probably never was worthy of it. Not with someone like Vi. But Gods, Vi is worthy of all of it. Deserves all of it. And if she wants it to be with Caitlyn, Caitlyn vows that she will rise to the occasion. But for now, it’s just nice to sit in the room at the two desks. She’s glad it feels nice. At some point Vi uses the bathroom and settles into a chair by the window. She’s a bit closer but it only takes a minute for Caitlyn to move to the neighboring chair. 

“What are you working on?” Vi asks. 

“Staff payroll,” Caitlyn says. Vi actually looks interested though Caitlyn finds it unbearably boring, “do you—“ she holds up the paper. 

“You can show me another time?” Vi offers, “if you’re busy—“

“I don’t mind,” Caitlyn says. Vi swallows but the interest doesn’t wane from her eyes. Caitlyn doesn’t know what possesses her. Maybe the books on the shelf or the fact that Vi is sitting here, “it’s a lot to learn,” she warns, “but it would be easier if we went slow,” she tries to smile against the sudden burning in her eye, “I wouldn’t recommend learning it all at once alone.”

“Cait,” Vi is suddenly half on the chair with her.

She wedges them tight together. It makes the burning worse but Caitlyn fights the urge to cry. Vi has been stupidly wonderful and Caitlyn doesn’t want to burden her. Not when Vi has lost everything and Caitlyn is only dealing with the consequences of her own foolishness. This is Vi’s first Christmas with them and Caitlyn wanted to make it special. Instead she’s fighting tears as Vi wraps her arm around her shoulders and presses her lips to her temple. 

“You’re not alone anymore,” she says in that firm, convicted way of hers. Caitlyn shakes her head, “I’m here.”

“No,” Caitlyn protests, “you shouldn’t be taking care of me,” she sets the paper down and wipes her cheeks, “I suppose payroll really does bore one to tears,” she says, fumbling for the humor even though it feels dangerously like she might sob. 

“Great,” Vi says and takes the paper, “I need to start with something boring before we get to the hard stuff.”

“But—“

“Hang on, I need to concentrate,” Vi says and tightens her arm around her shoulders. 

If she’s not talking though, then there’s nothing to do but choke on her sobs. And if there’s nothing to do but that, then at some point her body forces her simply to cry. Even though she’s been dreading it with the lack of an eye. It feels terrible, as crying usually does. The lack of an eye is worse but the feel of Vi’s arm around her shoulders is better. Somehow it puts her back even with the miserable tears that remind her she’s powerless against some things. 

“Gives us a minute!” Vi calls and Caitlyn realizes someone has knocked. But Vi holds her close so she can be tearful in peace. She somehow lets Caitlyn have privacy and let’s her know she’s not alone, “tell me how to help,” Vi murmurs into her hair when the tears have slowed, “I was gonna invite you over to the old room,” she says, “what if we stayed here?” Caitlyn nods.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Vi says, tightening her arm around her shoulders, “I’m sure.”

“I can’t believe I made us both cry your first Christmas,” Caitlyn says, embarrassment churning in her gut, “that wasn’t my intention.”

Vi gives her a long look and then tugs her upright. She guides her over to the bed and spares one fond, annoyed look towards it. Caitlyn rolls her eyes. This bed is even larger than the monstrosity in her room. Despite all her tossing and turning, the other side of the bed is completely untouched. It’s that big. Vi guides her down until Caitlyn’s head is resting on her lap. Her remaining eye still trickles with tears. Vi makes sure her hands are dry and thumbs open the book. Caitlyn realizes she’s already tucked a scrap of paper into one of the pages. When Caitlyn looks at the illustration, she can see why. Multiple girls are twirling in some kind of ballroom, but two that clasp hands are dressed in pink and blue. 

“I told you I’m shit at this, right?” Vi says. Caitlyn nods and curls her fingers around Vi’s thigh in a silent plea. 

Vi clears her throat. 

And starts to read.